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Grazie. Prego. Kiss Kiss. [AMW Only]

Where nations come together and discuss matters of varying degrees of importance. [In character]
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Nuova Lombardia
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Founded: Feb 14, 2019
Ex-Nation

Grazie. Prego. Kiss Kiss. [AMW Only]

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Sat Mar 09, 2019 2:43 pm

Palazzo Sforzesco
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
15:00hrs Local Time, February 2, 2019

To say that the Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia had complicated beginnings was quite an accurate statement. The nation's origins lay in the overthrow of the Borgia-ruled Roman Empire and the subsequent rise of the new Roman Republic, as the political upheaval saw many noble and mercantile families re-evaluate their positions. Many sided with the new Republic but there were those who did not do so, either out of disdain for a republican system or because rival families were positioned against them. The latter reason was why the House of Sforza-Riario abandoned their ancestral holdings and fled to the New World. The Sforzas had absorbed the Riario family following the Riario loss of lands at the hands of the Borgias, then ingratiated themselves with the Borgia dynasty while collecting other dispossessed families from around Italy. These families included the House of Pazzi, ejected from Florence for trying to usurp the Medici (with covert assistance from the Sforza-Riario via Girolamo Riario, the husband of Caterina Sforza). The House of Sforza-Riario inevitably found themselves isolated when the Empire fell as their previous plots came back to haunt them, so they fled with their collection of dispossessed families and any assets they could safely transport to Central America. They spent just over a century worming their way into the colonial administration and successfully deflecting investigations from the homeland before leading the colony of Guatemala to their independence from the Roman Republic. The new state was renamed as the Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia with the House of Sforza-Riario as the newly-installed royal dynasty. In the following four centuries Nuova Lombardia had developed into an ethnically diverse nation with two official languages, Italian (due to the ruling class) and Spanish (as the majority of immigrants to the kingdom over the years had come from Spain). The population consisted primarily of 'Euro-Lombardians' ('white' European ancestry; 17%), 'Mestizos' (mixed European and indigenous ancestry, named using a Spanish term; 37%), indigenous 'Amerindians' (38%), and 'Afro-Lombardians' (African ancestry; 6%); the remaining 2% of the population consisted mainly of Asian-Lombardians and a small Jewish community which had arisen over the centuries. Primarily an agricultural nation organised along similar lines to the hacienda system, Nuova Lombardia was still the playground of the Sforza-Riario and their cronies. A Sforza-Riario always occupied the throne with the rest of the royal family acting as advisors and sometimes enforcers (depending on the temperament of certain family members) for their monarch. The Pazzi had settled into a 'management' role where they too provided advisors to the monarch but they also handled the administration of industries described as being of 'strategic national significance' including the major utilities such as energy supply, water supply, and communications; these industries operated as monopolies under Pazzi management. The family also maintained substantial influence over the kingdom's burgeoning financial and banking sector. The two families had worked together for so long that a saying had developed within the kingdom that 'the Sforza rule and the Pazzi manage'. The other families who traced their line back to the original exodus alongside the Sforza-Riario, such as the Borromeo and the Albergoni, had become prominent landowners and owners of large family-controlled conglomerates within the kingdom.

It was a glorious Saturday afternoon in the capital of Nuova Milano, with a temperature around 25°C and a relatively comfortable level of humidity. The city was divided into twenty-two zones for ease of navigation, with Zone One containing the national library, the national theatre, and most importantly the Palazzo Sforzesco (Sforza Palace). The Palazzo Sforzesco was the primary residence of the reigning monarch and also possessed a spot regarded as the 'Kilometre Zero' of Nuova Lombardia, regarded as the point of origin for all roads within the kingdom. The front of the palace faced out into the Piazza Reale (Royal Plaza), a public park and garden area which was often used as a gathering point for the public to hear addresses from their monarch. The Baroque and Renaissance-style Palazzo Sforzesco appeared to have a very light tinge of green to its exterior due to the mix of concrete and oxidized copper used to coat the building, a procedure performed because the reigning monarch at that time liked the colour green. The palace had been constructed between 1939 and 1943 in order to provide the monarch with a more modern residence at the heart of the capital; while it did not feature extensive grounds, the walled-off palace was more than adequate as a royal residence based on the interior. There were two open-air courtyards built into the centre of the palace so that the residents could enjoy pleasant weather, although in recent years one of the courtyards had been covered over and tranformed into a Renaissance-esque swimming pool area. The rest of the interior was decorated in obvious Renaissance styles in a nod to the previous high point of the Sforza-Riario fortunes in Italy, with a large number of tapestries, murals, and mosaics displayed throughout the palace. Authorised regular visitors to the palace were permitted access to the high-security underground parking area beneath the Piazza Reale which was linked to the palace, while other visitors used the small ground-level parking area which lay between the palace and the Piazza Reale.

Aurelio Pazzi thanked his driver as he opened the rear door of Aurelio's silver Bentley Arnage, allowing the Lord Chancellor of Nuova Lombardia to exit the vehicle followed by his personal secretary Isabella Milanesi. With styled gray hair and a neat gray beard and moustache, the sixty-seven year old Aurelio wore a gray business suit accessorised with a light brown tie; the thirty-eight year old Isabella wore her black hair tied back and was dressed in a cream skirt suit accessorised with a wide black belt. The pair crossed the underground parking area in the same manner as every other visit to the palace, Aurelio leading the way while Isabella followed a few steps behind, holding a black leather briefcase. After having their identification checked at the guard post which was situated before the elevator up to the palace, the pair entered the elevator in the knowledge that they would be greeted by additional security once they entered the palace proper. The security of the palace was handled by the Sforza Royal Guard, an intensely trained brigade-sized unit of six thousand troops which provided security at all royal residences. The Royal Guard were unofficially known as the 'Black Guard' due to the fact that all of the personnel were of African heritage, a throwback to the practise of recruiting slaves as the Royal Guards during the slavery era; the slave soldiers were believed to be more loyal than free men because they relied on their monarch for their lives. The modern Sforza Royal Guard were recruited from the Afro-Lombardian population as well as from Africa itself if the possibility arose. Dressed in dark green uniform with a black tactical vest and a red beret featuring the heraldry of the royal house, the Sforza Royal Guard had an excellent reputation as no Lombardian monarch had been injured or killed by would-be aggressors since the brigade's inception. Upon exiting the elevator Aurelio and Isabella were greeted by yet another member of the Sforza Royal Guard who escorted them to the swimming pool area, where the three primary members of the House of Sforza-Riario were wiling away the afternoon. Queen Mother Graziella and Princess Valentina were sat at an ornately-carved Lombardian mahogany garden table in high-backed mahogany chairs, chatting about various subjects while sipping at glasses of Limonada con soda, a Lombardian beverage made from fresh squeezed lime juice, sugar, and carbonated mineral water. Both were dressed in comfortable clothing, Valentina wearing a white knee-length dress while Graziella wore white trousers and a flowery patterned blouse. As Aurelio stepped into the vicinity, the two women waved in greeting before Graziella gestured towards the pool.

King Fiorenzo II was idly swimming around in the clear blue waters of the palace pool in a pair of white swim shorts, performing a rather lazy version of a breaststroke before he noticed Aurelio and Isabella patiently standing in anticipation of his attention. The twenty-three year old monarch slowly made his way to the pool ladder and climbed out, instantly being handed a fresh towel by Matteo, the household's fifty year old bespectacled butler. Slightly shorter than his youthful king, Matteo always wore black trousers with a white shirt, black waistcoat, and a burgundy tie. After handing over the towel Matteo quickly retreated while Fiorenzo dried himself, eventually draping the towel around his shoulders and wrestling his neck-length brunette mane into some form of order before finally addressing his chief advisor.

"My apologies for calling you in for a chat on a Saturday, Aurelio. Would you like some Limonada?"

"I appreciate the offer, Your Majesty. Thank you." Aurelio then waited as Fiorenzo gestured with his fingers, the cue for Matteo to approach with a six-inch long silver cigarette holder which was decorated with the Sforza vipera. Fiorenzo took the cigarette holder and casually placed one end between his lips as Matteo produced a silver lighter and lit the Lombardian-made cigarette which was perfectly set in the mount at the opposite end of the silver tube. Fiorenzo took a draw and then exhaled the smoke before continuing, while Matteo moved to the table and poured two more glasses of Limonada, handing one each to Aurelio and Isabella before once again retreating into the background.

"So I've been giving some more thought to our refugee programme idea. It would be wonderful if Nuova Lombardia could become a refuge for the displaced but cold reality means that we cannot simply let anyone in. There are nations that would shamelessly use the programme to insert spies and agitators into our kingdom, abusing our good intentions in order to advance their ambitions of making every other nation into their obedient puppet through violence. We would require some safeguards against such infiltration."

Aurelio nodded. "Quite correct, Your Majesty. We would need definitive proof of each refugee's identity and homeland, evidence of why they require refuge, and secure accommodation to house them while we verify these things. We would also need to keep them under long-term observation once they pass the requirements in order to ensure that they are genuine refugees, and we would have to provide them with employment, homes, and the like."

Fiorenzo pointed at Aurelio with his cigarette holder. "Now that I think about it, there's also the matter of transporting them here in the first place."

Aurelio sipped at his drink before replying. "Indeed, no small feat. I hate to say it, Your Majesty, but the cost of taking in refugees will probably outweigh the value that they could provide to the kingdom. Perhaps if we reduce our ambition to accommodate the reality of the world? Rather than announce a refugee programme we could simply wait and see if anyone requests asylum. We can then handle each asylum request according to their unique circumstances. If we suspect an attempt at infiltration then we can put the onus on the applicant or applicants to prove themselves."

"It would also make it much easier for us to refuse requests on that basis. Wise counsel as ever, Aurelio."

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Nuova Lombardia
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Ex-Nation

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Sat Mar 16, 2019 12:43 pm

Palazzo Sforzesco
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
14:30hrs Local Time, February 4, 2019

As it was a Monday afternoon, the weekly meeting of the Royal Council was taking place in the Palazzo Sforzesco. Comprised of various ministers of state, the Royal Council was charged with 'drafting and overseeing the implementation of the internal, external, financial, economic, educational and defense policies, and general affairs of the state', fulfilling much the same role that a Cabinet fulfills in other nations. The competence of the ministers of state could vary wildly depending on the whims of the reigning monarch, as some rulers preferred sycophants while others preferred to actually be advised by people who possessed knowledge that their ruler didn't. Thankfully King Fiorenzo II was of the latter inclination, meaning that he was often advised by people wiser than himself on certain matters. The Royal Council was headed by the Lord Chancellor, who as the highest-ranking member of the Royal Council could lead meetings of the council as proxy for the monarch when the ruler was absent for whatever reason. Unlike several of his predecessors King Fiorenzo was a regular attendee at Royal Council meetings as he believed that a monarch should know what was going on within his kingdom. The conference room where the Council always met was decorated in mahogany wall panelling with golden gilding, while a variety of portraits and landscapes in gilt frames were displayed at regular intervals around the room. The large rectangular mahogany conference table which dominated the room was surrounded by eighteen matching mahogany chairs with plush red and gold upholstery, nine on each long side, while a larger red and gold throne was positioned at the head of the table; the eighteen chairs were currently occupied by the various Council members and the throne was occupied by King Fiorenzo himself. Fiorenzo sat with his legs crossed at the knee and his arms resting on the arms of the throne, listening intently as his Council members relayed weekly reports on their areas of expertise, occasionally reaching forward to take a sip from the glass of rosé wine situated on the table before him. The meeting had been going on for about thirty minutes and as one of the Council finished speaking, Fiorenzo spoke up.

"Uncle Umberto, what are we doing about our embassy in Madagascar? The Roman presence there concerns me, I doubt that they can truly be trusted to guarantee the safety of our diplomatic staff."

Umberto Sforza-Riario was the kingdom's Councillor for Foreign Affairs, a stylish fifty-five year old who always kept his hair neat and maintained designer stubble. He smiled warmly at his nephew as he responded.

"Your Majesty, I know that I speak for the entire Council when I express my own concern regarding the Romans in Madagascar. Rest assured that we are not leaving our embassy staff in any peril, we intend to evacuate them within the next few days. We plan to dispatch an A350-900ULR airliner to fly to Madagascar in order to collect our embassy staff and their families, we hope to have them home within the week."

"You want to dispatch the flagship aircraft of LombardiAir? Very well, I agree to this plan. Please expedite their evacuation as much as you can, I hate the thought of them potentially being reliant on those Roman barbarians for their safety. Once they are home we'll step up our denouncement of Roman aggression, calling it rampant colonialism and openly questioning their intentions towards the Madagascan people. It's highly unlikely that they would withdraw but we must make our voice heard on this matter."

Umberto bowed his head respectfully. "Of course Your Majesty. I shall have several denouncements drawn up so that you may select the one which you deem most appropriate."

------------------------------------


Once the meeting concluded, the Council members began to filter out of the conference room while Lord Chancellor Aurelio Pazzi rose from his seat and rubbed his right temple with two fingers.

"Your Majesty, might I have a word?"

"Of course." Fiorenzo rose from the throne and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What would you like to discuss now that we couldn't discuss in front of the Council?"

Aurelio smirked slightly. "Always on the ball, Your Majesty. It's regarding the Madagascar evacuation flight, I would request that my brother be given a seat on it."

Fiorenzo narrowed his eyes at the mention of Aurelio's brother. Cosimo Pazzi was younger than Aurelio and far more down-to-earth; he was also something of a fixer, with various contacts among various dubious groups and in various dubious places. "Since he's currently in Nuova Lombardia, you want him to fly out there for some reason. I take it that he'll be coming back and not staying in Madagascar?"

"Absolutely, Your Majesty. There has been a development that we would prefer to keep as quiet as possible, Cosimo can conclude something potentially delicate if he is on that aircraft when it arrives in Madagascar. It will not delay the flight by any means and, well, it may prove to be of great interest to you when he returns."

The young monarch seemed unconvinced. "You could not have made that explanation any more vague, Aurelio. While I certainly trust your intentions and those of your brother, I require more information than that."

"Something not completely unlike the time when Nuova Lombardia gave refuge to the poor souls who fled the leftist revolution in Eastern Europe, Your Majesty. I am hesitant to say more because my brother and I would like to keep it as a surprise for you."

Fiorenzo was thoughtful for a few moments before nodding. "Very well. Cosimo gets a seat on the flight to Madagascar." He then pointed at the Lord Chancellor. "This had better be a good surprise Aurelio, and your brother had better know exactly what he's doing. I don't want a Madagascan government minister showing up in Nuova Lombardia without my prior knowledge. The surprise isn't a fleeing government minister, is it?"

Aurelio chuckled and shook his head. "No, of course not." He shrugged as he continued. "Unless they had at least fifty million to give as a gift to you in return for citizenship, we wouldn't even consider the idea. Your Majesty simply does not need refugee government ministers clogging up the place wanting handouts, and audiences, and land ownership, and probably official recognition, and all the other parasitic demands that would come from a displaced career politician. This is something that may be useful."

Fiorenzo's mood seemed to improve at the mention of 'useful'. "Well the surprise can't be a Madagascan government minister if it's potentially useful. Go, make sure that Cosimo is on the plane. If my uncle Umberto asks why, then tell him whatever smart thing you think of in the moment."

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Nuova Lombardia
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Founded: Feb 14, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Wed Mar 20, 2019 8:13 am

La Tigre International Airport
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
09:17hrs Local Time, February 10, 2019


Named in honour of the 'Tigress of Forli' Caterina Sforza, one of the more famous historical members of the House of Sforza, La Tigre International Airport was the primary airport for Nuova Lombardia and the homebase for the national airline LombardiAir. Located roughly four miles south of Nuova Milano's city centre, La Tigre had been regularly upgraded throughout the years and now consisted of two passenger terminals. Imola Terminal featured twelve traditional gates and three remote gates while Forli Terminal was used for larger aircraft, providing between four and six gates depending on the size of the aircraft. La Tigre only featured a single runway but in all honesty that was sufficient for the current level of air traffic that utilised the airport. Many of the flights that used La Tigre were internal flights, with flights from other nations often being either weekly or twice a week for the most part, although there were nations around the world which did not have scheduled flights to Nuova Lombardia for a variety of reasons. Passengers who did visit La Tigre found the terminal interiors to be surprisingly grand, decorated in Renaissance-style murals while all staff wore a uniform which was black with gold trim. Among the duty-free retail outlets you could find what was best described as a 'Caterina Sforza gift shop' where you could purchase all manner of items depicting her likeness or one of her more famous quotes. If a customer happened to purchase the official family-authorised biography of Caterina Sforza then it would be difficult for them to miss the clear anti-Roman sentiments contained within, as the House of Sforza-Riario would never let the truth get in the way of expressing their distaste for the Republic. Even when it came to souvenirs.

After the necessary time taken to prepare the flagship airliner of LombardiAir for its trip to Madagascar, requiring airline schedules to be reorganised and proper permissions granted for the aircraft to land and refuel at Ivato International Aiport in Antananarivo, the A350-900ULR known as 'Caterina' (as all LombardiAir aircraft were given female names and, no surprise, the flagship airliner had been named after Caterina Sforza) had made the long journey from Nuova Lombardia to Madagascar with a stop at Saint-Artois in the Caribbean nation of Saint-Laurent to briefly refuel so that the airliner would be able to reach its destination. The embassy evacuation had been conducted with efficiency as the principle embassy staff had consisted of the ambassador, two lesser-ranked diplomats, an intelligence officer, four secretaries, one chancellor who was in charge of the day-to-day administration, two receptionists, one chauffeur, and ten security personnel. Put simply, the Lombardian embassy in Madagascar was not a particularly large one as the two nations rarely had any reason to discuss matters of importance. The airliner's size would therefore intially make it appear as 'overkill' because there were not that many Lombardian citizens in Madagascar, but King Fiorenzo II had issued an emergency decree that any native Madagascans who were working for the embassy would be eligible for evacuation and subsequent Lombardian citizenship in return for their 'dutiful service to the Crown', along with their immediate families. Along with the families of the Lombardians working in the embassy, this led to one hundred and twelve men, women, and children boarding the aircraft after having their various forms of identification checked by the twenty Lombardian military personnel who had travelled aboard to ensure that only the correct individuals were allowed on. It was then that Cosimo Pazzi emerged from the aircraft and greeted a second group of individuals who had been hanging back slightly from the rest. After some handshaking and backslapping, Cosimo handed out correct identification to this second group which was comprised of thirty-one men, women, and children. A briefcase was handed to him by the lead individual of the second group and they were ushered onto the airliner as well, followed by Cosimo and the Lombardian military personnel. The flight back to Nuova Lombardia had seen a second stop at Saint-Artois to ensure that the airliner had sufficient fuel to return to Nuova Milano, and it was now morning in Nuova Lombardia as the airliner finally touched down on Lombardian soil once more.

After disembarking and being given some time to stretch their legs, the original group of one hundred and twelve were loaded onto comfortable coaches and ferried to the Palazzo Sforzesco while the second group of thirty-one were accompanied by Cosimo Pazzi on a coach to a nearby hotel. Upon arriving at the Palazzo Sforzesco, the group of embassy personnel and employees along with their families were greeted by King Fiorenzo II in the palace's grand reception hall. It was essentially a glorified propaganda stunt with Lombardian state media broadcasting the event live, with commentary which hailed Fiorenzo's statesmanship and benevolence for evacuating Madagascan families from the 'war-torn shell of their former nation, as caused by Roman aggression'. Of course it was conveniently not mentioned that the number of Madagascan families evacuated was actually rather low. The young monarch was clearly in his element as his beaming smile was unmissable, pleased to not only be seen to be benevolent but also potentially tweaking the nose of the Roman Republic in the process.


------------------------------------



Palazzo Sforzesco
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
13:30hrs Local Time, February 10, 2019


With lunch concluded and still smug over the morning's propaganda event, King Fiorenzo II was regaling Queen Mother Graziella with yet another retelling of the story before she was rescued somewhat by the arrival of Lord Chancellor Aurelio Pazzi. Remembering Aurelio's previous insistence regarding Cosimo's presence aboard the airliner, Fiorenzo crossed the lounge to Aurelio, almost bouncing with each step which caused the dark brunette waves of his hair to slightly bob up and down as well.

"Is this about...?"

"The surprise? Indeed it is, Your Majesty. The time has come for the reveal."

Fiorenzo clasped his hands together with excitement before turning to address Graziella. "Please excuse me, Mother. The Lord Chancellor needs to discuss important matters of state with me."

Graziella waved for the pair to leave. "Go on then, you can tell me the story another time."

Fiorenzo and Aurelio left the lounge and began walking down the corridor, side-by-side, with Fiorenzo clearly trying to contain his brewing excitement. At the end of the day he was still only twenty-three, after all.

"So what is it, Aurelio? You said that it was not unlike the time when this kingdom took in exiles from Eastern Europe who were fleeing the revolution. So I take it that we're talking about people rather than one person."

"Indeed, Your Majesty. I would prefer to have my brother give you the details however, as this has become possible due to him."

"So you think I'll like it?"

Aurelio chuckled slightly. "I think that you will, Your Majesty."

The pair continued along the corridors of the Palazzo Sforzesco, Aurelio occasionally directing his monarch in a specific direction until they finally reached the entrance to one of the smaller and less often-used lounges of the palace; with three hundred and fifty rooms, there were several rooms within the palace that did not see as much use as others. Cosimo Pazzi had been waiting for them, standing outside the lounge with the door closed and clutching the briefcase that he had been handed in Madagascar. Aurelio slowed down slightly while Fiorenzo advanced towards Cosimo, his excitement still continuing to bubble away.

"Cosimo."

Cosimo bowed slightly. "Your Majesty. I have a gift inside this room for you but first I would like to tell you a short story." He grinned as Fiorenzo nodded, and then continued. "The so-called people's government of Madagascar held onto power through a variety of means. Propaganda, work programmes, occasionally the threat of military force, and their secret police. Even with all of that at their disposal, they wound up with rebels acting against them."

Fiorenzo interjected. "The same rebels that we understand to be helping Rome in their conquest and subjugation."

Cosimo gestured excitedly. "Exactly right, Your Majesty! Now, how do you handle rebels who won't obey you no matter what you do? You eliminate them. A bloody and unfortunate business but a necessary one." He opened the briefcase and produced a collection of thin folders which he handed to his monarch.

"What are these?"

"Personnel files, Your Majesty. Nineteen of them. Corresponding to the nineteen men awaiting your presence in the lounge behind me. They are, or more accurately were, members of the Mainty Ekipa."

Fiorenzo furrowed his brow at the name and smiled somewhat sarcastically. "That sounds like some form of native dance troupe."

Cosimo laughed and shook his head. "That's a good one, Your Majesty. I wouldn't repeat it in front of them though. Roughly translated, Mainty Ekipa is Malagasy for 'Black Team'. Or 'Team Black', I can't remember exactly how it works. The point is that when rebels were proving particularly difficult to solve, the Madagascan government would send the Mainty Ekipa into the area to solve the problem once and for all. Very few ever survived to tell the tale of what these guys did."

Realisation finally dawned on the young king as he began reading the first dossier. "They're a death squad. Cosimo Pazzi, you've brought me an African death squad."

"Well, technically they were just members rather than the entire organisation, the Mainty Ekipa was a few hundred strong from what they've told me. Many of their comrades have been killed in fighting with the Romans and their rebel friends, understandably these guys have no appetite for being thrown against such a superior force. They constitute almost a full Mainty Ekipa platoon, due to their responsibilities their commanding officer is a captain. That captain is smart, he approached our embassy's intelligence officer and got put in contact with me. We negotiated for a bit and here we are. He also speaks good Italian, I wouldn't have thought that any Madagascan would want to learn it but hey, there it is."

Fiorenzo continued reading the dossiers which had been handed to him, speaking up as Cosimo finished. "So what exactly are they here to do?"

Cosimo opened his arms wide and gestured towards Fiorenzo. "To serve you, Your Majesty. To do your bidding."

"If they previously served a people's republic, isn't it rather mercenary of them to switch allegiance to a monarchy?"

"Well yes, yes it is. Look at it from their perspective though, Your Majesty. Their nation's been invaded by a far superior military. Their comrades have been killed. The Roman presence in Madagascar means that their regime is pretty much dead, if we're realistic. If they get captured or arrested then they'll probably get lynched or put on trial and then lynched. Some of them have families, young children. Their captain figured that a nation on the other side of the world with a dislike for Rome would be a good place to go."

Fiorenzo closed the dossier that he had been reading and handed the collection back to Cosimo. "So we give them Lombardian citizenship and a new home, and in return they serve their new king? I already have plenty of trained personnel ready to obey me if I need violence carried out..."

He trailed off before smirking slightly at Cosimo and continuing. "...but I don't have any who used to be part of a Madagascan death squad." The king grinned at that. "Sounds so exotic, doesn't it? Well I suppose I had better meet them, hadn't I?"


------------------------------------



Cosimo opened the door to the lounge and stood aside to allow Fiorenzo entry, at which point the king strode into the room with a confident demeanour. He was greeted by the sight of nineteen large Madagascan men, all dressed in off-the-rack suits which had been provided by Cosimo so that they had some form of appropriate attire for the palace. Several of them had visible facial scars undoubtedly acquired during the course of their service, and all of them bore short hairstyles of some description. To his credit Fiorenzo's demeanour did not waver as all eyes in the room were turned in his direction, and he maintained his confident manner as one clearly muscular individual stepped towards him. With a hairstyle best described as 'locs and a fade' and facial hair styled as a chinstrap with a mustache and soul patch, the individual was also clearly not lacking in confidence. Having followed the king into the lounge, Cosimo and Aurelio exchanged cautious glances as the Madagascan stopped just before Fiorenzo, who was still standing his ground despite the approach of the intimidating taller male. The two Pazzi brothers then both breathed a silent sigh of relief as the Madagascan smiled and bowed his head before speaking in remarkably good Italian.

"My name is Zakari Mananjara, former captain in the Mainty Ekipa. These are the men who were under my command."

Fiorenzo narrowed his eyes slightly before also smiling. "Fiorenzo Ludovico Giovanni Sforza-Riario. More commonly known as King Fiorenzo II, King Fiorenzo, or Your Majesty."

"It is an honour, my king."

The Lombardian monarch raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You only arrived here this morning and you're already calling me your king?"

Zakari nodded as a sincere expression crossed his features. "You've saved us from a likely death and taken us in. Some of my men have families, they would've likely been targeted as well. You could say that we owe you our lives." He then smirked slightly. "So as far as we're concerned, you're our king."

"Hmm, fair enough. No lingering loyalties to Madagascar or the 'people'?"

Zakari slowly shook his head. "Nah. The Romans will likely be the undisputed rulers of Madagascar soon and at that point there'll be nothing left to be loyal to. As far as the ideology that we served is concerned, it would probably end up killing us. If we went to the CSR they'd most likely want to rearm us and send us back to fight the Romans, in fact pretty much any 'revolutionary' government would want us to go back. Others might call what we're doing 'selling out' or 'betraying the revolution', we call it surviving."

Fiorenzo regarded Zakari with a degree of interest after that. "So why Nuova Lombardia? Why not the British Empire, or the Empire of Australisia? They'd have been much closer."

"True, but potentially not as welcoming. Nuova Lombardia is on the other side of the world from Madagascar, with a clearly intelligent and discerning monarch." Zakari grinned after the attempt at flattery. "Besides, you don't like Rome. We're fleeing from Rome. It made sense."

Fiorenzo folded his arms as amusement began to creep across his face. He hadn't expected the captain of a Madagascan death squad to be as articulate as Zakari appeared to be, and he was starting to draw some entertainment from the conversation. "So if I am, as you say, your king, how will you serve me? What talents do you bring with you?"

Zakari began to relax as he realised that Fiorenzo was warming to him. "Proficiency with firearms and close quarters combat including a variety of weapons. We're also well-versed in intimidation, interrogation, abduction, torture, and we all know a whole host of ways to kill someone. Specifics can be found in our personnel files, which we appropriated from headquarters and subsequently handed over to Mister Pazzi as proof of our identities and résumé. Just give us a target and watch us work."

Fiorenzo nodded agreeably. "Alright, we'll see how this goes. I don't have a target for you right now but I'm certain that I can think of someone. Now before we go any further, I need to hear six very important words. Just in case any foreigners ever query anything, it'll make everything official."

"Six words?"

"We request political asylum, Your Majesty."

Zakari chuckled. "We request political asylum, my king."

Fiorenzo clapped his hands together once and laughed. "Close enough! Aurelio?"

Aurelio stepped forward. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Make sure that these unfortunate refugees from Roman aggression and their family members have somewhere comfortable to reside for the time being, while more permanent accommodation is organised for them. There's no need for their previous employment to become widely known, I shall decide who needs to know about it and who doesn't."

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-Roma Invicta-
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Founded: Dec 14, 2018
Ex-Nation

Postby -Roma Invicta- » Tue Mar 26, 2019 3:58 am

Centurion Lucius Modius Curio
Juana Díaz Military Radar Site, Puerto Rico
Monday 11th February 2019, 0600hrs Local Time


“What is that?” Lucius Modius Curio frowned, glancing up at the main air picture for the first time in an hour. “Beta 14; that’s an awfully low number for this late in the shift…”

Over at her console, Decanus Flavia Avita, looked over at the duty officer before glancing back down at her notes. She and Modius Curio were part of the small night staff for the Military Radar Site (MRS) Juana Díaz, the southern of the two major military radars on the Roman Colony of Puerto Rico, responsible for generating an military radar plot for the entire Caribbean airspace (which of course included several Roman colonia). As with any other Military Radar Site, Juana Díaz was equipped with powerful, long-range radar which provided Roman military commanders with a detailed and accurate view of the activity in the airspace around them. As with all MRS, it was manned by a contingent from the Vis Volantes, the Roman Air Force, and were almost exclusively posted to Legio Volans III Caribbeanus, which commanded all Vis Volantes units and personnel stationed across the Roman Province of the Caribbean; or Caribbeanus Proconsularis. Alongside the Roman Navy’s Caribbean Fleet (Classis Caribbeanus), the Vis Volantes’ presence was the main source of regular military forces for the province. There were no Legions stationed in Caribbeanus Proconsularis, ill-suited as they were for combat in relatively small-scale environments, instead fifteen Auxiliary Cohorts, spread across the various islands, protected Rome’s colonies.

“Oh that is left over from yesterday,” Decanus Avita replied after another moment. “It’s the Nuova Lombardian diplomatic flight.”

“Ah,” Modius Curio nodded his understanding, recalling the hand-over brief.

As he recalled, it had seemed that the Neuva Lombardian’s had decided that, contrary to Rome’s assurances that foreign diplomatic missions in Madagascaria’s capital would be specifically protected from the wider Roman invasion of the island in support of the rebels against the authoritarian regime, they needed to evacuate their personnel from the Embassy. Eyes had rolled in the Basilica Militum in Rome when news of their intentions had reached them, or so Modius Curio was told, and arrangements were made so that the Lombardians did not find themselves blasted out of the sky, by either the Romans or what was left of the old regime’s military. It had, seemingly, amused the Magistrates and senior officers in Rome to provide the diplomatic flight with an escort of two Bellator fighters to ensure that it proceeded in and out of the war zone without any problems. The Praetorian Guard, Rome’s intelligence service, would have liked to have boots on the ground during the evacuation to keep an eye on the interlopers, but unfortunately Roman troops were still only on the outskirts of the Capital and even a long-range reconnaissance patrol from Cohors VII Praetoria had been unable to get in position in time.

The Kingdom of Neuva Lombardia was an area of some interest for the Roman military presence in the Caribbean. Sure, the colonial holdings of the British, Americans and Walmingtonians was of more potential importance they were, largely, only a concern for a major general war with either of those powers. Neuva Lombardia was of more interest to Rome, not because of the military threat it posed, but rather due to its historical origins as place to which various prominent Italian families who had fallen out of favour with the new Republican government upon the downfall of the Borgia Pope-Emperors. As a result those families were viewed with scorn by most Romans, although the House of Sforza was far and away the most successful of those families in exile, having claimed themselves a Kingdom to replace the Duchy they had left behind in Italia. It might be small, compared to Rome’s holdings in total, but regionally it was significantly larger in both population and economy to the Caribbeanus Proconsularis. It was largely due to the presence of Neuva Lombardia that there was a reasonably large Roman military presence in the province in the first place; it was not inconceivable that the House of Sfroza would consider trying to push the Roman’s out of the Caribbean in payback for historical slights.

Fortunately, the Roman Military was well-equipped and well-prepared to fight a prolonged conflict away from its centre of power and there was a reason why, at any given time, there was a Roman aircraft carrier in the Caribbean. The stance that Rome held against their former foes was that they might be able to accomplish some victories in the Caribbean in the short term, but that in the long term things would end poorly for them if Rome turned its full attention to the Caribbean.

“What have we got up?” Modius Curio queried, more as an ad hoc training exercise than a real tactical response.

“Flight of two Bellator, roughly twenty miles south of here,” Decanus Avita replied. “Do you want to intercept them?”

Modius Curio smiled wryly; the duty officer of a military radar site had a standing authority to issue interception orders, if they believed that the short time it would take to pass the details on to the regional air defence co-ordination centre would be detrimental to the security of the Republic. He did not, however, have the authority to harass a civilian aircraft under a diplomatic charter just to mess with people that Rome didn’t have much love for, and he sure wasn’t going to risk his commission to proceed with doing just that anyway.

“No, regretfully no,” He shook his head. “Send the details over to central, let them know that Beta-14 is on its way back through.”

Decanus Avita did just that and turned back to her console to flag the contact for special interest at the Central Regional Air Detection Centre. Doubtless they wouldn’t do anything about it either, it simply wasn’t in the diplomatic interests of Rome to harass the Lombardians, especially not when the flight was returning from ‘evacuating’ their civilians from the warzone of Rome’s own creation; it was a propaganda coup waiting to happens. However, the entire affair had certainly raised eyebrows in Rome, as the Sforza were the only members of the international community to even come close to meddling in the Madagascar Affair and that was unlikely to be a coincidence, as it was well know that they still held a grudge. Of course, Praetorian Intelligence did everything it could to be an irritant as a matter of good spycraft, and the Senate maintained that it was their determination that the Kingdom be treated with a ‘degree of hostility’. However, the Kingdom had never presented itself as a real military threat to Rome, and for all they might like to, the Senate could not authorise military action against a sovereign state just because its leadership was distasteful.

“What do you think they’re up to, Sir?” Avita asked quietly as Modius Curio came to stand by her station.

“Most likely they’re just trying to thumb their noses at us; by putting on this whole show they make it look like they needed to evacuate their people from Madagascar due to the supposed danger, even though they were never at risk,” The Centurion shook his head again. “They won’t let a little thing like the truth get in the way of making a point; and when they can ignore the facts on the ground and paint Rome as aggressive they get a win, the fact that by opposing our action they’re effectively airing their support for an authorisation dictatorship is beside the point.”

“There’s a reason Madagascaria was chosen?” Avita queried. “Of all the places the Senate could have encouraged to join up with Rome?”

Modius Curio smiled wryly and nodded his approval of her understanding; it was well known that the Senate had been eager to encourage an expansion of the Republic’s territory, short of outright conquest, but he was pleased to see that the young enlisted woman was engaged enough to understand the benefit of going down the route they had gone with supporting Madagascar’s rebellion. Unlike in the Legions, the Roman Vis Volantes had a hard-limit for promotion from the ranks, as did the Navy, for unlike in the Army, many of the officer positions were highly technical or specialised and required dedicated, and expensive, training. It was therefore impractical and inefficient for enlistees to work their way up to gain a commission, instead the Vis Volantes and Navy had adopted an increased system of grades of the enlisted ranks to provide a career structure, whilst officers, generally, but not exclusively (again, unlike the Army), from the Equestrian and Senatorial ranks, and were trained at specialist institutions; the Roman Volantes Academy and the Roman Naval Academy. Never the less, promotion from the ranks was rare but not unheard of, and Modius Curio had been keeping an eye on Avita, who was young for her rank, with an eye to recommending her.

“Only a fool does a thing for one reason, or without considering the wider context; and whatever else you might say about the Senate, cantankerous old bastards that they may be, they are no fools, and you don’t get elected Magistrate a fool either,” Modius Curios commented wryly. “No; we might have our own interests in what is going on in Madagascaria, but those who made the decision were smart enough to ensure that our interests weren’t the only ones we were furthering, that way we’ve got ready made allies to support our intervention.”

“Making it difficult for our rivals to paint our action as solely for our own benefit, without being wilfully blind to the people that we are actually helping throw off the shackles of tyranny,” Avita nodded her understanding. “So either they have to acknowledge that help, or they have to try and pretend it doesn’t exist, either of which undermines their credibility, maybe not internally, but internationally…”

“Exactly; the Sforza might be able to convince their own people, but they’ll just come across as either ignorant or delusional internationally, and whilst many might disagree with our military adventurism, most will at least concede we’ve overthrown a tyrant,” Modius Curio agreed. “Now that we need international support, Rome has always forged its own path, but with one of the Consuls due to go to the Global Economic and Trade Summit next week, I’m sure he’ll appreciate having the Madagascar Rebellion to fall back on.”

“Yes sir,” Decanus Avita nodded. “What should we do about Beta-14?”

“Nothing, for the moment,” Modius Curio shrugged. “Just make sure it’s in the handover brief, its nearly the end of our shift.”

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Nuova Lombardia
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Founded: Feb 14, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Fri Mar 29, 2019 6:46 pm

Royal Hunting Lodge
Porta Giovanni, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
14:34hrs Local Time, February 15, 2019


Located on the Pacific coast of Nuova Lombardia and roughly sixty-six miles south of Nuova Milano, the city of Porta Giovanni held a population of only around twenty thousand people. The city's major employer was the Porta Quetzal port complex which was situated just under six miles to the east of the city centre, although Porta Giovanni also had a burgeoning 'tourist' industry which catered to wealthy week-enders from Nuova Milano. The primary reason for these wealthy week-enders visiting Porta Giovanni was that the House of Sforza-Riario had a hunting lodge located on the northwestern outskirts of the city, so various nobles and other would-be sycophants liked to visit the city in the hopes of somehow encountering members of the royal family. On this particular Friday the lodge was indeed occupied as King Fiorenzo II had elected to have a weekend away from Nuova Milano; if he was needed for anything major then he could always be reached by telephone or someone could drive down to fetch him if necessary. The lodge was a three-storey square structure with an open central courtyard, built in typical Renaissance architectural style, complete with a moat and bridge. The surrounding fields and woodland were used for hunting parties and more general equestrianism as well as the more recently introduced falconry hunts, as King Fiorenzo was a keen falconer who enjoyed exercising his prized hybrid saker-gyrfalcon which he had named 'Luchino'. The king's visits to the lodge invariably saw him joined by the more hunting-oriented members of the House of Sforza-Riario and this visit was no exception, as he had been joined by his uncle and aunt, Enrico and Vittoria Sforza-Riario. The married couple were regarded as true scions of 'old nobility' and were rather hawkish in their general outlook, believing that incompetent servants should be whipped and that non-monarchical forms of governance were the result of a breakdown in the respect that nobility naturally deserved. Thankfully they also knew better than to utter a political belief like that in front of representatives from non-monarchical governments. Aged fifty-seven and fifty-four respectively, Enrico and Vittoria were also firm believers in the monarch's right to conduct his daily life in any manner that he desired; as the pair often put it, 'scandal for a Pope is abhorrent, scandal for a King is prerogative'. Not that Fiorenzo was a particularly scandalous monarch, but his aunt and uncle had made sure that he knew he could be if he wanted to be.

Due to the pleasant afternoon weather the lodge staff had erected a large open-faced white canopy tent about quarter of a mile away from the main lodge, with a selection of so-called 'campaign furniture' within to provide comfort for the three Sforzas as well as a selection of fresh cold cuts and other 'finger foods'. Enrico and Vittoria were sat underneath the canopy sipping at wine and chatting about various matters while King Fiorenzo was stood outside, smiling broadly as Luchino returned to him after soaring through the air in search of prey. He set the falcon onto its perch and gently rubbed its chest before heading back under the canopy for his own glass of wine, at which point Enrico shifted in his seat to address him.

"Your Majesty, these Africans that you've taken in-"

Fiorenzo held up a hand. "Are we talking about the embassy employees or the refugees?"

Enrico scratched his dark beard idly as he replied. "Do we really have to call them refugees? It's just the three of us, we all know who they are."

"Go on then, uncle."

"These trained murderers that you've taken in, have you found a use for them yet? Will they be added to the ranks of the Royal Guard, kept separate, kept secret, what's your plan?"

Fiorenzo took a drink of his rosé wine before responding with a thoughtful expression. "I honestly haven't decided yet. I'm leaning towards keeping them separate though. Although I'd be well within my rights to incorporate them directly into the Royal Guard I don't think that the existing guards would really appreciate it. I'll have to think of a new name for them though, I don't like the name 'Mainty Ekipa'. Something that's a little poetic and dramatic."

Enrico chuckled and drank some more wine. "Since they're from Madagascar, how about the 'Royal Lemurs'?"

"I don't think so, uncle. Aunt Vittoria, what do you think?"

Vittoria drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair as she considered some ideas. "Rather than giving them an official name and an official existence which would undoubtedly attract attention from certain corners of the world, why not keep them unofficial? Refer to them as your 'wolfpack' or something similar in conversation, the only people who really need to know anything about them are certain members of the family and a handful of others. The next time you receive a report from the Razors about disloyalty or disrespect, send your wolves to take care of the individual or family in question. For dramatic effect they could leave behind some form of calling card which directs people to calling them 'wolves'. In time people will start whispering about the wolves who murder your enemies and all manner of outlandish claims will be attached to them, no proof of anything but it'll enhance your reputation as a ruler not to be messed with."

Fiorenzo nodded. "Oh I like that. I really like that. Although perhaps we could play a bit on the beliefs of the natives who used to rule this land, I seem to recall reading something about werejaguars but I can't remember what the native word for them was. It might add a little more of a fear factor. Something to consider, for certain. I can fund them out of the Sovereign Endowment, there's always a few million left over at the end of the financial year. That way the armed forces don't have to lose any of their budget and I can give my 'jaguars' whatever I want."

Enrico and Vittoria both nodded at that. The Sovereign Endowment was an annual payment made to the House of Sforza-Riario out of the national treasury, usually around fourteen billion florins (OOC: roughly $1.85 billion). The Endowment was used to pay for residence upkeep, staff wages, the Sforza Royal Guard, and any other expenses that the House of Sforza-Riario incurred during a given year. Of course the Endowment was not the only source of income for the royal family of Nuova Lombardia. The large nobility-controlled conglomerates of the nation all granted a ten percent share to the Sforza-Riario; combined with the family's majority ownership of the Stella Reale agricultural corporation as well as various other investments managed by the Pazzi, the Sforza-Riario received a healthy annual income which more than covered the expenses of their lifestyle.

"And if the Romans manage to work out that we gave political asylum to individuals that they want?"

Fiorenzo shrugged and then grinned broadly. "What of it? What are they actually going to do to us? If they lodge a diplomatic protest, I'll ignore it. If they try hitting us economically then we can turn it to our advantage, we could spin it as Roman bullying and our people would rally behind their king as I valiantly stand up to the much larger Republic. The same possibility would arise if they tried flexing their military muscle off our coast. If they invaded us then we'd make them pay for every inch of Lombardian territory that they violate with their presence. If they sent in some form of special forces team then we'd be able to prove it because the Madagascans would have disappeared from our territory." He took another drink from his glass. "The wider world might not care about helping Madagascar, but if the Romans followed it up by invading us then I think that they'd find growing hostility from the rest of the world.

"If they present 'irrefutable proof'", a term emphasised by Fiorenzo as he formed air quotes with his free hand, "that we granted asylum to death squad members then we'll just question the validity of their so-called proof."

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Nuova Lombardia
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Ex-Nation

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Thu Apr 04, 2019 11:59 am

Palazzo Sforzesco
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
16:00hrs Local Time, February 17, 2019


"Your Majesty, your uncle Pellegrino is here to see you."

King Fiorenzo looked up from his reading, taking a moment to place a silken bookmark onto the page that he had just started. He then gently closed the hardback volume and set it down on the mahogany garden table next to him before responding to Matteo's announcement.

"Please, bring him through."

Matteo bowed slightly and left the outdoor swimming pool area, heading back inside the palace to escort the kingdom's senior ecclesiastical leader into the king's presence. Fiorenzo had been enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon by the poolside with a good book and a cool drink, as his mother and sister were currently occupied with a variety of matters that the king had no real interest in. He let out a lazy yawn and stretched before Matteo returned with one of the king's uncles in tow. Pellegrino Sforza-Riario was forty-nine years old with his short dark hair in a left parting and he was dressed in a simple black suit with a white shirt and black necktie. His rather unassuming appearance concealed the fact that he was the Direttore of the Ksirifai, the kingdom's pervasive intelligence agency and secret police. More widely referred to as the 'Razors' or the 'Razor Inquisition', they infiltrated universities, schools, hospitals, other workplaces, and communities through actual agents and a vast network of citizens-turned-informants. Informants were made to feel important, given material or social incentives, and were imbued with a sense of helping to protect the kingdom; as such, the vast majority of them volunteered of their own free will. King Fiorenzo rose to his feet as Pellegrino entered the poolside area and smiled as his uncle bowed respectfully.

"Your Majesty."

"Uncle Pellegrino, always a pleasure. Please, take a seat. Would you like a drink?"

Pellegrino sat in the high-backed mahogany chair that Fiorenzo had gestured towards, settling back as he replied. "That would be most welcome, Your Majesty."

Matteo quickly made his way to the table and poured a glass of Limonada for Pellegrino before retreating into the background once again, while Fiorenzo took his seat and crossed his legs at the knee. "So what can I do for you?"

Pellegrino set his jaw before responding. "Your Majesty, we have recently confirmed an issue regarding a village in the north of the kingdom called Zocotzal, approximately fourteen kilometres north of Lake Petén Itzá. Just over four hundred people and located near two Mayan ruin sites. Our informant in the household of Conte Giacomo Andreani reported two months ago that the Conte had purchased an obsidian knife of clear Mayan origin, apparently obtained from the ruins of El Zotz. Conte Andreani was most eager to cooperate once he received an official visit from us, and our subsequent investigations have revealed the existence of a small black market operation in Mayan artifacts and other pieces based out of Zocotzal. I am here to request official permission to lock down Zocotzal in order to conduct a thorough sweep of the village and apprehend the black marketeers."

Fiorenzo sat quietly for a few moments with a thoughtful expression. "Indigenous population?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. All of Amerindian descent."

"I'd like you to prepare for a lockdown operation but don't implement it just yet. Keep observing the village and by all means arrest anyone under suspicion who leaves the village, but don't move in. There's something I wish to try first."

A wry smile developed on Pellegrino's face as he quickly discerned the king's intentions. "If you're thinking what I think you are, it would be an excellent proving ground. If there is any way that we can assist, then give the word."

------------------------------------


Palazzo Sforzesco
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
19:40hrs Local Time, February 17, 2019


Zakari Mananjara couldn't help but cast his gaze around as he was escorted through the corridors of the Palazzo Sforzesco, as he passed numerous examples of Lombardian artwork which adorned the interior walls of the royal palace. His escorting servant seemed to pay him little attention, evidently more concerned with leading the Madagascan to his meeting with King Fiorenzo. Zakari had not been expecting a summons to the palace but he was glad to have received it, as it was possible that the young monarch had finally found a target for him and his men. As the two turned a corner Zakari recognised the artwork on the walls, as they were apparently heading for the same lounge where King Fiorenzo had first met Zakari and the rest of the ex-Mainty Ekipa members. Eventually they reached the door to the lounge, at which point the servant knocked and was greeted by Matteo.

"Very good, you may leave us."

The immaculately-uniformed servant nodded quietly and began heading back down the corridor while Matteo turned to face back into the lounge. Zakari took the opportunity to smooth down the front of the off-the-rack black suit that he had kept for palace visits in an attempt to appear somewhat respectable, listening as Matteo addressed the king.

"Your guest has arrived, Your Majesty."

"Show him in please."

Matteo stepped aside and gestured for Zakari for enter. Although the lounge was not as often-used as others in the palace, the furnishings were of as high a quality as every other room. The wall panelling was a deep shade of burgundy with gilt trim while the furniture was constructed of red marblewood with upholstery which was a similar colour to the walls. Zakari stepped onto the plush carpet and bowed his head as Fiorenzo grinned at him.

"My king."

"Zakari. Matteo, you can leave us."

The household butler quickly left the room and pulled the door shut behind him, taking up a waiting position in the corridor outside. Fiorenzo began to slowly pace around the outer edge of the lounge while Zakari remained standing in position, his hands clasped behind his back as he listened to the king addressing him.

"I have a task that I would like you to carry out for me. It's not exactly what you might be used to doing but I think that your skills will serve you well."

"Just give the word, my king. What would you like me to do?"

"I would like for you and your men to go to a village called Zocotzal, transport will be provided so you don't have to worry about getting there or finding it. Intelligence reports suggest that there is a small black market operation based in the village, trading in Mayan artifacts and the like. Our secret police are itching to go in but I thought that you might like to go in first, so that you can soften the villagers up and make them more amenable to cooperation."

Zakari smirked as Fiorenzo came into sight and the pair made eye contact. "How many villagers?"

"About four hundred. There's no need to go wild though, there is an additional aspect to this that I need to discuss with you." Fiorenzo stopped pacing and settled into a plush armchair before continuing. "After some consideration I have decided that I wish to keep you and your men as an unofficial group. If I made you an official group with official status then your presence here would be far easier to notice, and besides my aunt gave me an entertaining idea. Have you ever heard of a nagual?"

"Never, my king."

Fiorenzo nodded understandingly. "It's an indigenous folk belief, a nagual is a human being who has the power to transform either spiritually or physically into an animal form, sort of like a werewolf. In this version, there are several possible animals but the one I'm more focused on is the jaguar. Pre-Lombardian peoples believed that the jaguar had the ability to cross between worlds and was part of the underworld, and those folk beliefs have been passed down through the generations. I want you and your men to go into the village at night, wearing jaguar-style masks and jaguar-style markings on your gear, and I want you to terrify the villagers. You will be provided with specific targets for elimination and I want you to leave some form of evidence behind which points to them having died at the claws of a nagual. My thinking is that they might not be so eager to pilfer from ruins if they think that underworld spirits are going to hunt them down."

Zakari chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "That's, I mean, wow. Using their own folk mythology against them is inspired, my king. I'd suggest not using firearms in this situation, we could use bladed weaponry to simulate claw slashes and that sort of thing."

Fiorenzo wagged his finger at Zakari and beamed with glee. "I like your thinking. My intention to give you and your men the unofficial name of 'naguals' so that the right people know what I'm talking about but others won't be so sure. Although that does rather rest upon the success of your mission."

"Understood, my king. We won't let you down."
Last edited by Nuova Lombardia on Thu Apr 04, 2019 11:59 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Nuova Lombardia
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Founded: Feb 14, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Wed Apr 17, 2019 12:27 pm

Palazzo Sforzesco
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
20:00hrs Local Time, February 22, 2019


"So everything went the way it was supposed to go?"

Pellegrino Sforza-Riario and Zakari Mananjara both nodded at King Fiorenzo's question. It had been a few days since the Lombardian monarch had given the go-ahead for the operation involving the village of Zocotzal and now it was time for him to receive a report on the operation's success. Pellegrino and Zakari were both dressed in black suits and stood side-by-side in the presence of the king, who was reclining on a burgundy-upholstered antique chaise lounge in the palace library with a book resting on his lap. Fiorenzo wore a black shirt, black trousers, and a floral design waistcoat; his shoes were positioned by the side of the chaise lounge as he never put his shoes on the furniture. He looked expectantly at the pair before Pellegrino went into a more detailed response.

"Your naguals went in under cover of night on the nineteenth, Your Majesty. Three suspected black marketeers had their homes invaded and they were found dead with multiple slashing wounds...while their blood had been used to write the Qʼeqchiʼ word for 'thief' on the wall of each home."

Fiorenzo raised his eyebrows as he looked in Zakari's direction, earning a slight smile and a respectful nod from the former death squad captain. Pellegrino continued.

"We waited until the following afternoon to initiate the lockdown operation to give enough time for rumours to start circulating. When we entered the village, many of the inhabitants were talking about a possible nagual attack, including several villagers who claimed to have seen a 'pack' of naguals the previous night. The growing hysteria led to the villagers cooperating fully and we apprehended the remaining black marketeers, and the villagers were rather vocal in calling for them to die as an offering to placate the naguals. If we had waited any longer before initiating the lockdown, it is possible that the villagers would have rooted out and killed the remaining black marketeers on their own."

"An operational success then." Fiorenzo drummed his fingers on the hardback cover of the book in his lap. "Find out everything you can from these criminals and then offer the villagers an opportunity to kill them if they so desire. If they don't wish to do it themselves then have the criminals disposed of in an expedient manner."

Pellegrino nodded. "As you say, Your Majesty."

"Thank you for the report, Uncle Pellegrino. Now I would like to speak to my 'nagual alpha' alone."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Pellegrino bowed slightly before leaving the library and closing the door behind him. Fiorenzo then yawned gently and stretched before getting up and placing the book on the chaise lounge, then he turned to Zakari and shook his head in amusement.

"I can't believe you and your men actually used their blood to write on the walls."

Zakari shrugged nonchalantly. "You wanted us to put fear in them, my king. We did exactly that."

"Indeed you did." Fiorenzo stepped closer to Zakari and locked eye contact with him. "You told me once to give you and your men a target and watch you go to work. You did not disappoint. You told me that you wouldn't let me down and you didn't. I appreciate individuals who impress me, especially since they come along so infrequently. So, my naguals deserve a reward.

"All of you will receive monthly payments, you will personally receive a bit more as you are the commander. You will all be issued with Lombardian passports and you will all become official citizens of Nuova Lombardia, rather than political refugees from Madagascar. You, your men, and their families will be offered either a condominium here in Nuova Milano or a small village on the outskirts to live in as a group. Tutors will be provided to help your men and their families to learn Italian as I am aware that you are currently the only Italian speaker in the group, and the children of your team will be provided with schooling together. They will not have to attend regular Lombardian schools at this time as they do not yet speak an appropriate language, but hopefully in time they will be able to converse freely with Lombardians. You and the rest of my naguals will also have access to training facilities and anything else that will allow you to remain in top condition."

Zakari bowed his head respectfully. "You are most generous, my king. We naguals will serve you to the best of our ability in all things."

Fiorenzo smirked. "Excellent. Oh, I do have one request of you at this time." The young king gestured to Zakari's clothing. "Please stop wearing off-the-rack clothing to the palace. You're a favoured friend of the Crown, I want to see something a bit more unique next time you visit. I like to see a diverse court around me."

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Saint-Laurent
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Founded: Nov 08, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Saint-Laurent » Sat May 25, 2019 11:07 am



• • • † • • •



Sunday, 10th February 2019 | 07:05 hrs [UTC-5]

Saint-Artois, Saint-Laurent | Saint-Artois International Airport
18° 38' 26" N, 72° 18' 22" W






Marcel Simard was the chief of security for Saint-Artois International Airport. A former gendarmerie, he'd spent fifteen years in uniform before leaving to pursue a more lucrative career. It was during those fifteen years that Marcel had worked his way up to the rank of chef d'escadron, a respectable position for someone without a university degree. He had instinct and a natural grasp of how security matters worked and, had he joined the military, he would have been a prized candidate for any of the intelligence-related positions. Alas, Marcel wasn't motivated so much by patriotism or service but rather stability. The gendarmerie had offered job security but working for the airport offered far more and he was good at his job. Overseeing the safety of an entire airport, especially one as sizeable as Saint-Artois was, wasn't an easy endeavor. He took calls at 02:00 and attended meetings with politicians concerning "incidents" with individuals gone amok.

He liked to say that he knew everything that was going on in his airport but that was just a phrase. Marcel couldn't know everything that was happening in the airport, no single person could. Yet, he boasted that phrase whenever it was necessary. On this particular Sunday morning, he should have been at home, preparing to go to Church with his family but instead, he'd come into work because the government had granted a diplomatic flight from Nuova Lombardia permission to land and refuel. On the surveillance cameras, Marcel watched as the Airbus A350 taxied to a special parking area reserved for VIP flights and personnel. It was from this same area that the country's own presidential airliner departed. The Airbus itself would only need a quick servicing. Rather than wait an hour or two to clean the plane, service the toilets, and so on and so forth, the large Airbus needed only fuel and not a particularly large amount of it either, given its destination was around eleven hundred nautical miles away.

The Nuova Lombardians didn't want anything special beyond some fuel and a safe, secure place to stretch their legs, both of which Marcel could provide to them with the VIP terminal. Those who wished to get off did so where they would be treated with bathrooms, comfortable chairs, and light refreshments. No one was to leave the confines of the terminal since no one had gone through customs clearance. Watching on the surveillance monitor, Marcel noted the arrival of a fuel truck emblazoned with airport's logo and lettering unmistakably declaring it to be hauling Jet A fuel. The operator got out and hooked up a hose and returned to the truck to start the bump. Over Marcel's Walkie-Talkie came static and then a voice saying, "Novembre Lima Lourd, le ravitaillement a commencé." [November Lima Heavy, refueling commenced.]

"Copier Novembre Lima Heavy." [Copy November Lima Heavy.] Someone answered. Just then, there was a knock on the door and Marcel rose and looked through the peep hole. It was the airport's chief administrator, Christabel Girard. Marcel opened the door for her and she entered.

Taking a seat on a couch that Marcel had in his office, particularly for late nights or when he had a large meeting, she crossed her legs and yawned. "L'avion diplomatique est ici, je vois." [The diplomatic plane is here I see.]

"Oui, ça l'est," [Yes it is,] answered Marcel as he returned to his chair after shutting the door. He was dressed in business casual for the day whereas Christabel was in casual with jeans and a blouse. Neither of them usually worked Sundays unless there was a need. At fifty-nine, Christabel was very attractive still, her skin tone reflective of her mulatto heritage. She had the skin of her black mother and the hair of her white father, an ideal combination she would say.

"J'espère que tout se passe bien alors?" [I trust it's running smoothly then?]

"Ils viennent juste de brancher la conduite de carburant. Nous leur donnons assez de carburant pour se rendre à Nuova Milano et revenir plusieurs fois." [They only just hooked up the fuel line. We're giving them more than enough fuel to fly to Nuova Milano and back a few times.]

"A soixante-huit couronnes le litre, ce sera une grosse facture." [At sixty-eight couronnes a liter that will be some big bill.] Christabel answered with a smile. The cost of Jet A was $26.7628 per liter and with an exchange range of ¢2.544 for every $1 that amounted to a bill of ¢68.0845 per liter. A fully fueled A350-900ULR carried a stunning 165,000 liters of jet fuel. To fill the entire tank would require just over seventy-three minutes at a rate of 2,250 liters per minute though the pump on the fueling truck could go up to 3,000 liters per minute. The A350 was going to take on 65,000 liters of jet fuel, which meant over ¢4.4 million just to fill up her tanks. From start to finish it would be about thirty minutes of refueling and another fifteen minutes between both ends to get everything set up and oriented. All told, the aircraft would be on the ground for less than an hour. "Avez-vous enquêté sur cet avion?" [Did you make inquiries into that aircraft?]

Marcel shook his head, "Non je ne l'ai pas fait. Le manifeste de vol l'a fait voyager de Madagascar. Avec les problèmes à Madagascar, je ne voulais pas demander. Ce n'est pas notre affaire, n'est-ce pas?" [No I did not. The flight manifest has it traveling from Madagascar. What with the troubles in Madagascar I didn't want to ask. Its' not our business, is it?]

"Il a été dûment autorisé par le ministère d’État." [It was properly cleared through the Ministry of State.]

"Alors c'est tout ce que nous devons savoir." [Then that's all we need to know.] Marcel flipped to the surveillance cameras in the terminal. The visitors were milling about, having just gotten off of a very long flight. They still had about two and a half hours to go, give or take, before they were in their own home city so it was more than reasonable that they had a bit of cabin fever.

• • • • ‡ • • • •


Thursday, 28th February 2019 | 06:05 hrs [UTC-6]

Caribbean Sea | 20 nautical miles north-northeast of La Ceiba
16° 5' 5" N, 86° 38' 58" W






The sun had finally broached the horizon, rising in the east and casting the first direct rays of sunlight on the western reaches of the Caribbean Sea, which included the luxury yacht Artemis, a 200-tonne vessel that was thirty-seven meters long. The vessel, beautifully painted in white and carrying the flag of Saint-Laurent bobbed up and down in the water as she drifted with the waves. She'd been adrift now for the better part of the past two-and-a-half weeks, drifting along at an average of just one knot, carried by the currents from where she'd been approximately halfway between the island of Saint-Genevieve and Honduras. Now she was barely twenty nautical miles north-northeast of the Nuova Lombardian city of La Ceiba, a port city at the entrance to what was known as the Gulf of Honduras.

The Artemis was a luxury charter. A week's rental cost upwards of ¢90,000 in the low season and ¢100,000 in the high season. She had a crew of six and four staterooms for up to nine guests. When she had been rented by Anton Barrientos, it had been for four weeks so that the vessel had not yet returned to port in Saint-Montague was not an issue, though the fact that no one had heard from her in eighteen days was rather alarming. The vessel's itinerary had her going into the Caribbean and visiting several ports in Nuova Lombardia but she'd yet to make a single port visit. AIS data had been lost so that no one knew where she'd gone. The Saint-Laurentian Coast Guard had made an effort to find her but had not had luck, largely because where the vessel had been lost was too far for helicopters and the service's cutters were unavailable, thus the Artemis drifted westward with the currents.

When the sun breached the sky and cast its first rays of light onto the Artemis, it cast its rays onto a scene of terror and horror. On the rear deck, where a dinner table sat for the yacht's guests lay two bodies, one male and one female, the latter stripped to her birthday suit and the former without pants. Both had gunshot wounds to their heads so that the bloodiest mess possible had coagulated onto the deck. In the warm temperatures of the Caribbean, where the temperature stayed around 26.5°C, decomposition had taken its toll. Further into the ship, another young girl who'd once been a model would be found dead behind a bar, a glass that had been in her hand having long since fell out and rolled away. Like the others, she had a gaping hole in her head as well. The crew would be nowhere to be found, all having disappeared without a trace.

Anton Barrientos would be found in his cabin in the company of both his personal assistant who doubled as a friend with benefits and another model. The two females would have been killed in an identical manner, having being shot in the head with a .45-caliber pistol. Anyone looking for shell casings would find nothing of the sort and certainly no fingerprints or DNA evidence from anyone but the guests and the disappeared crew. Barrientos, unlike the five other guests aboard the yacht, had not been killed in the same manner. Rather he would have been the last to have been killed, first shown the catastrophic scene of macabre punishment and then returned to his cabin to be garroted with piano wire in the manner accustomed to Les frères de la côte or in English, The Brethren of the Coast.

The Brethren or Les frères as they were known in Saint-Laurent, was the oldest criminal organization in the country, dating back to the mid-1700s when the Saint-Laurentian Navy finally put a formal end to piracy. The pirates who survived went underground, forming another kind of criminal organization but one with a legal registry. They gained their wealth not by piracy but rather by smuggling and offering their services in a murder-for-hire scheme. They operated slave ships to and from Saint-Laurent and Nuova Lombardia and grew in wealth, power, and influence. By the middle of the 19th century, The Brethren had become the dominant criminal syndicate in all of Saint-Laurent. It was then that the current organization was born, unified and reformed to outlast the effects of time and law enforcement.

As it stood today, the organization was made up of three kinds of members. There were officers, who were the elected - yes the organization practiced its own version of democracy - to leadership roles, whether they be of a cell or of the organization as a whole. There were corsairs, a holdover term from the old days, for voting members of the organization, who had a stake in ownership, however small it may be, and who were considered "made men" to copy the parlance of La Cosa Nostra. Underneath them, at the lowest level, were associates. Simply put, associates were members of The Brethren but they didn't have a stake nor did they have voting rights. There was also a subgroup of people, they were either corsairs or associates, known as specialists. Specialists were assassins, safe crackers, et cetera, anyone with a particular skill that differentiated them to a specific role within the organization.

The organization itself was broken into a number of semi-independent cells. Each cell was led by a captain, another holdover term, who had as an immediate subordinate a first officer. Below them were the corsairs, specialists, and associates. They were semi-independent because while they could act within their own territorial purview, they still had to kick a percentage up the ladder and they still needed permission to go beyond their boundaries, whatever those might be, whether physical or professional.

At the top of The Brethren was a seven-man leadership council. At the very top was the grand master, the leader of the organization, who was elected every two years by all voting members. Generally speaking, a grand master never served more than two years in the role. Underneath him were the first officer and the second officer, each serving a four year term. The former would be the longer serving of the two and they alternated so that every two years the leadership switched between Saint-Laurentians and Nuova Lombardians. The officers were, respectively, of such alternating fashion as well. Below them were the first and second deacons, assistants who provided support for the officers and carried their messages. An organizational treasurer and secretary provided financial and record-keeping matters. The deacons were not elected though the treasurer and secretary were, thus the deacons changed with each change of a first or second officer. Theoretically speaking, neither of these four officers had term limits, thus the treasurers and secretaries usually lasted years and decades, keeping within them the secrets of The Brethren.

Anton Barrientos, perhaps the country's most popular movie star, had been in deep debt to The Brethren, both because of his fame and because of his gambling habits. He been allowed to get into debt to the tune of ¢5 million and he'd still have been alive had he not balked at repaying and gone to the Gendarmerie Nationale offering to wear a wire. The Brethren had penetrated the GN just as they had the aristocracy, the Sénat, and even - in times past - the Presidency. There was no aspect of Saint-Laurentian society that The Brethren hadn't invaded, which even included the Church itself, though their influence there was waning as religious fervency amongst the younger generations waned. Anton had made his offer and told to lay low while corruption did its job and The Brethren worked out their plan. Anton, in expected fashion, took his manager, his personal assistant, and three women, which included one model and two young actresses who wanted to make a name for themselves, onto a charter yacht for a month. Because of him, they were all dead and the crew as well. Though they were innocent bystanders, simply caught up in the matter, they'd been killed to avoid witnesses, though their bodies had been weighted down and dumped into the Caribbean. It would give the authorities an especially difficult case, perhaps suspecting the crew, perhaps not by the telltale execution methods employed.

The Brethren had made their mark and the country would more for its dead star, who was only thirty-eight years old and something of a stunner with the women both young and old. Yet the message was clear and it would be publicized as such, should the Artemis be discovered, a mishap on the part of the assassin sent who had not been as familiar with the anchor controls as he'd believed he would be. Instead of lowering the anchor, he'd in fact disconnected it, unbeknownst to himself or everyone else involved in the grisly crime. The goal had been for the yacht to sit in the middle of the Caribbean until a storm sunk her or something else, not to have her come adrift and approach land for discovery. It was a mistake, a forgivable one but one that would expose The Brethren further. It wasn't that society didn't know about their existence, quite the contrary, but they prided themselves on being invisible within modern societies reaches.



• • • † • • •


.:. Puppet of Layarteb .:.
En Dieu, la liberté | Guide to My Stories
Earth II | Earth II Discord
Saint-Laurent is a region-free account
• • • • † • • • •
• La République de Saint-Laurent •

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Nuova Lombardia
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Posts: 13
Founded: Feb 14, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Tue Jul 30, 2019 2:52 pm

Polizia Reale Headquarters
Nuova Milano, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
09:30hrs Local Time, February 28, 2019


"Ugh. What a mess."

Ispettore Romano Scala looked through the photographs that were now filtering through to the national police force via the Lombardian coastguard after the discovery of the grisly scene onboard the luxury yacht Artemis. The vessel had been boarded by the coastguard an hour and a half beforehand after it had been reported adrift by a Lombardian merchant vessel and repeated attempts at contact had failed, and the yacht was now an active murder scene. It was currently being towed into port at La Ceiba where standard procedure called for it to be cordoned off from all public access while forensic teams performed their investigations. Thankfully the state-controlled media of Nuova Lombardia meant that news of the murders would only travel via word of mouth and rumours, so the vast majority of the Lombardian population would be kept completely unaware of the yacht's presence in La Ceiba, let alone what had happened onboard. Ispettore Scala was receiving the photographs as he would be the 'lucky one' sent to La Ceiba, a move being precipitated by the celebrity nature of the apparent murders. Not so much because the Polizia Reale saw it as necessary to the case investigation, but it was more to give the Department of Foreign Affairs something to tell the Saint-Laurentian government to assure them that the Lombardians were doing everything they could in regard to the investigation.

In an even more covert move, the Ksirifai agent within the headquarters of the Polizia Reale relayed all gathered information to his own agency, as the kingdom's secret police would undoubtedly want to conduct their own investigation.

----------------------------------------------

Mancarrón Palace
Lago Nicaracqua, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
14:00hrs Local Time, March 2, 2019


Located roughly four hundred and forty miles southeast of Nuova Milano, Lago Nicaracqua was the largest lake in the Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia as it covered an area of over three thousand square miles. The name of the lake was a portmanteau of the name 'Nicarao', which had belonged to an indigenous ruler of the area, and the Italian word for 'water' due to the large lake within the area. The lake featured over four hundred islands of varying size and the House of Sforza-Riario had claimed the Solentiname Islands towards the southern end of the lake as one of their residence sites. The largest of these islands was Mancarrón Island and the royal family had constructed a large Renaissance-style palace complex on Mancarrón's easternmost peninsula, complete with expansive grounds for a wide variety of outdoor activities. The Solentiname Islands were tropical in every sense of the word, one of the major reasons for their selection as a royal residence. Covered in tropical tree species, the islands enjoyed a tropical wet and dry climate and were home to approximately seventy-six species of colourful birds including various kinds of parrot and toucans. The surrounding lake was home to roughly forty-six different species of fish including tarpon, sawfish, swordfish, and bull sharks. The presence of bull sharks in the expansive lake was another deciding factor in the location of a royal residence on Mancarrón Island, not because any of the Sforza-Riario monarchs had tried fishing for them but rather because some of the more ruthless rulers of Nuova Lombardia had enjoyed taking traitors and the like to Lago Nicaracqua for execution; the executee would have several cuts inflicted upon them to begin drawing blood before they were thrown into the lake with a weight chained to their ankle. The executee usually died from drowning rather than shark attack, but that didn't stop various monarchs proclaiming that a criminal's sentence was 'to be fed to the sharks'.

Mancarrón Palace was bustling with activity as King Fiorenzio II had decided to relocate the court for a few weeks, one of the many acts that he had every right to do as monarch with as much or as little notice as he wished. As was traditional for such movements, the first Saturday evening of a court move required the hosting of a royal soiree, and King Fiorenzio was currently performing a final inspection of the main ballroom and the various decorations being distributed around by the palace servants. His inspection was interrupted by a gleeful calling-out.

"Fio! How long has it been, mio amico?"

Fiorenzo turned and grinned as he was swiftly approached by the blaze of fashion that was Narciso Jiang, a Serican-Lombardian who was the same age as the monarch and undoubtedly one of his favourite friends. Narciso was the son of Constanzo Jiang who held the position of Capitano Serica. The position existed due to the political status that Serican-Lombardians possessed, a holdover from the period when Sericans travelled across the Pacific Ocean to Nuova Lombardia under contracts of indentured servitude. The vast majority of them had settled in Lombardia's northwest where they performed agricultural and mining work, eventually forming their own organisations and receiving a considerable degree of self-rule when indentured servitude contracts fell out of favour. The Capitano Serica was the leader of the Serican-Lombardian community, which numbered around eight hundred thousand and comprised the vast majority of the so-called 'Asian-Lombardian' demographic. The position was an elected one, a genuine rarity within Nuova Lombardia, although the electors were all Serican-Lombardians who possessed a requisite level of wealth. The Capitano Serica was legally on the same level of nobility as a Conte although in practise they enjoyed more attention from the monarchy due to their 'constituency'. Dressed in a white shirt with lace collar and cuffs, a black jacket covered in gold-coloured embroidered patterns, black trousers, and a pair of black leather heeled boots, Narciso threw his arms wide open as he reached Fiorenzo and hugged him tightly, causing the young monarch to laugh before the pair exchanged a Lombardian cheek kiss.

"Glad you could make it! It's been, wait....three weeks? Something like that. I take it that your parents are here as well then?"

"They're unpacking as we speak. Enough about them though, let's hear the gossip. You're called for the court relocation to impress someone, haven't you? Who is she?"

Fiorenzo rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I just fancied a change of scenery, it's not to impress anyone."

Narciso tutted disapprovingly. "You're the king. All the young noblewomen are yours for the choosing, their parents would offer them up on a platter for the chance to become parents of a queen." He narrowed his eyes as Fiorenzo smirked in response to that last comment. "Don't say it."

"I would never say it, Narciso. I just find it funny that you sound exactly like Uncle Enrico and Aunt Vittoria. If you three had it your way, I'd be cavorting with two different women every night."

"There's no harm in trying to find the right one with more entertaining methods of exploration. Tell you what, we'll survey the field tonight and see if there's anyone who catches your eye."

"Fine, since you insist. Perhaps we can find someone entertaining for you as well while we're at it."

Narciso winked mischievously. "Anything's possible at a royal party."
Last edited by Nuova Lombardia on Tue Jul 30, 2019 2:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Nuova Lombardia
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Posts: 13
Founded: Feb 14, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Nuova Lombardia » Wed Aug 07, 2019 2:59 am

Mancarrón Palace
Lago Nicaracqua, Kingdom of Nuova Lombardia
20:30hrs Local Time, March 2, 2019

The main ballroom of Mancarrón Palace glistened in the light of its five substantial crystal glass chandeliers, illuminating the gilt and cream decor of the expansive room. Two of the ballroom's walls were part of the outer walls of the palace and therefore featured floor-to-ceiling windows, complete with two sets of large glass doors which allowed access to the palace complex's sprawling and immaculate gardens. Comfortable Renaissance-style chairs were positioned along the other two walls of the ballroom for anyone who needed to take a seat during the royal soiree, and uniformed servants expertly navigated their way between the attending guests, bearing silver trays which carried glasses of various beverages. The attendees were almost entirely members of the Lombardian nobility, but not just any members of Lombardian nobility as these were the regular members of the royal court as well as those fortunate enough to receive an invitation to join King Fiorenzo during his time on Lago Nicaracqua. Female attendees wore fashionable dresses and gowns which provided an extra flourish of colour to the proceedings, while male attendees wore black tuxedos with the exception of Narciso Jiang, who had elected to wear a white tuxedo with a black shirt instead. If it had been anyone else then eyebrows would have been raised by the older and more traditional attendees, but when it came to Narciso their eyebrows were already in a permanent state of being raised, so nothing he did could cause any further murmurings about him. It had not taken long after the beginning of the live chamber music for Fiorenzo and Narciso to locate one another and they now stood together surveying the rest of the attendees, both with silver cigarette holders in hand while Matteo had merged into the background once again after providing a light for the pair. Fiorenzo gestured in the direction of a young blonde woman in a pastel pink gown and then glanced at Narciso.

"What about her?"

Narciso took a moment to smooth his styled black hair out of his eyes before frowning disapprovingly. "Aurora Bianchi? Trust me Fio, that's a no."

"Why?"

"That's the first time the word 'no' has ever been associated with her, that's why. Twenty-two isn't just her age, it's roughly how many young noblemen have had the pleasure of her company in the past year."

Fiorenzo snorted with amusement. "How do you know all of these things?"

Narciso responded with surprise. "How do you not? Your uncle is head of the secret police yet I know more about your courtiers just from simple gossip."

"I'm sure he's got dossiers on all of them but I don't have time to read about every noble and 'practically noble' in the kingdom, do I? Okay then, over there, in the black."

Narciso craned his neck slightly to look and smirked. "Well I'm not one to judge-"

Fiorenzo let out a mocking cough. "You love to judge."

"Let's just put her in the 'maybe' pile, hmm?"

Their window shopping was interrupted by the approach of Zakari Mananjara, who appeared less than completely comfortable in his tuxedo. He bowed his head respectfully before addressing Fiorenzo.

"My king."

Fiorenzo grinned broadly. "Zakari, good to see you. Oh, of course, you two haven't met. Zakari Mananjara, Narciso Jiang."

Zakari turned and bowed his head respectfully towards Narciso. "Master Jiang."

Narciso was slightly taken aback by the formality and waved his hand dismissively. "No, no. Just Narciso. I'm not really a noble as such." A flash of realisation crossed his face. "So you're the leader of the Madagascan refugees! I've heard a lot of talk about you, mainly from female friends who'd like to get to know you better."

"Huh."

Fiorenzo chuckled at the single syllable response from Zakari before his attention was captured by a young black-haired woman in a dress which was a variety of blue shades. "Narciso." He gestured in her direction, eliciting a noise of approval from his close friend.

"Now you're showing good taste, Fio. Annamaria Xicará. Amerindian, absolutely lovely, never has a bad word to say about anyone and that's not easy given some of your courtiers." He grinned and gave Fiorenzo a gentle shove in her direction. "Go and say hi."

Fiorenzo tucked his wavy brunette mane behind his ears and began heading towards Annamaria and her parents, while Zakari remained with Narciso. "Do you often pick out women for him?"

"The royal soiree to mark the moving of the court often results in the unattached members of court having some fun. Fio's too busy with ruling to know who the right women are so I point him in the appropriate direction. Do you want me to pick out someone for you too? There are a couple of young ladies here who would be very interested to meet you, one in particular."

Narciso gently grasped Zakari's upper arms and turned him around to face a particular direction. "That blonde over there in the pink is Aurora Bianchi, I guarantee that she'll love meeting you."

Zakari took a gulp from the drink that he was holding and then casually made his way over to Aurora Bianchi and the three other young women that she was chatting with, leaving Narciso by himself. He began to look around in search of someone else to talk with, but his search was interrupted when Fiorenzo quickly and unexpectedly hurried back over to him.

"Before I forget."

The monarch looked around briefly before gesturing for someone to approach, and Narciso's expression of bafflement caused him to smirk slightly.

"You didn't think I'd leave my friend to fend for himself, did you? I might not be too knowledgeable about the women of the court but I do know about the servants of the Royal Household, mainly because I have to read their dossiers for security reasons."

The pair were quickly joined by a handsome male servant of Serican-Lombardian descent, at which point Fiorenzo made the introductions.

"Narciso, this is Dante. Dante, I'd like you to meet Narciso Jiang. As of right now, you are relieved of your regular duties. Matteo will inform the other relevant members of the household. Your sole duty, until I say otherwise, is to take personal care of my friend here, in any and all capacities."

Dante nodded. "Understood, Your Majesty."

"Good." Fiorenzo gave Narciso a conspiratorial wink before heading back towards Annamaria Xicará, leaving Narciso both impressed and highly amused with his royal friend's initiative.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

Narciso turned to see Dante smiling confidently at him. "Narciso's fine, no need for 'sir'. Oh, you know, I'm suddenly not feeling too well. I may need to lie down."

Dante furrowed his brow in mock concern and gently put his hand against Narciso's forehead, going along with the pretense. "You do feel a little cold." He then took Narciso's hand, deliberately locking eyes with him as he did so. "Yes, definitely cold. Probably best if I escort you back to your room and make sure you get warmed up."

"If you think that's best, I'm not going to argue."

The pair exchanged sly smiles before making their way out of the ballroom, becoming the first of many to pair off and slink away over the course of the evening. Whether or not any of those pairings survived contact with the following morning, well......


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