Circuit
Writing Letters
Fiorella Conti had little love for official dinners. But being a Praetorian Guard meant that she had no real choice in the matter. Beside her, Nico Romano, in consular uniform but without the hat and cape, ate and laughed in merriment with the other guests: generals, NFP-PRR politicians, businessmen, and other varieties of big-wigs. He seemed to enjoy the meetings; he certainly called enough of them, one about every month. He was, without a doubt, a flirt and lover of attention. Fiorella Conti could say that with more certainty than anyone, considering that she had spent more time with Nico Romano than any other human being these days, having been his body guard since he began pushing for Consul, and also being one of the first Praetorian Guards ever sworn in.
"To peace!" an admiral said.
Glasses filled with deep red Roman wine were raised high, and "To pease!" chorused around the table. All took a sip, save for Conti and the other Praetorian Guard on Romano's left, who just replaced Dante Gallo when he was placed in charge of the field division (not for any wrongdoing; quite the contrary, Romano felt his ruthless cunning and talents were best used elsewhere). Someone had to stay sober to protect the Consul, and Conti didn't care much for wine anyway.
"And what a fine peace it is!" Nico Romano said. "The Inca are no longer a concern; whatsmore, they shot themselves in the foot, and all we had to do was take their money and go."
"And lose a French colony," noted Leonardo Esposito, a Roman general.
Romano shrugged. "It was more trouble than what it was worth. The Inca paid more to the French than they will get from the territory...ever, now, considering that they decided to make the colony an independent nation for Lord knows why. Get your navy destroyed, lose many lives, and pay half your treasury for...nothing. I'd call that the most successful defeat ever."
Chuckles resounded around the table. A woman, Andjelija Obradovic, a NFP-PRR member, said, "Of course, we can't count on our 'defeats' being so lucky, such as throwing South Africa to the USACS lion, now can we?"
Romano chewed on a piece of chicken before replying. "Of course we can't count on our 'defeats' turning out so well. Which is why I support the Gallo-Buchtat Pact; after all, better to gain peace for a time than to get into a war with a wimpy new ally against a juggernaut and find ourselves saluting the Hammer and Sickle."
Obradovic replied tersely. "But you must know that now South Africa will be absorbed by the USACS. That treaty doesn't last forever, you know. We could find ourselves fighting an even stronger enemy, and then once the war is over, begin singing hymns to the Kelen Toumami, conqueror of Australia and all the laughable garbage those newspapers put out."
The dining became tense. Some were very engaged in the conversation; too engaged, by Conti's standards. Others looked down at their plates and scraped off fragments of food, or took a sip of wine every ten seconds. Nico Romano looked Obradovic in the eyes. "If we fought a war with the LIARS now, nothing good would come of it. It's better to focus on our own economic development, make our people prosper."
Leonardo Esposito chimed in. "And then have that prosperity snatched from us?"
Nico Romano chuckled. "Let them try."
"But I must say," a businessman said, seeming to want to divert the conversation, "your investment into the economy and private enterprise has made Rome the shining star of Europe. Why, never has Italy, or anyone in the Roman Republic, been so optomistic about the future, not even since Benito Mussolini."
"That's because I have better sense than Mussolini," Romano replied, with a grin. Agreement arose from certain areas of the table, and not from others, the latter group being the group of most interest to Conti.
Not surprisingly, Obradovic was the one with the retort. "But you certainly do seem to take Mussolini as a model. You're never seen in public without your Praetorian Guard by your side. In fact, there isn't a submachine gun farther than two meters away from you at all times. Some would recall back to the days of Mussolini, if they were old enough."
Romano didn't say anything, but his brows did furl. Conti had seen that look many times. The fool Obradovic shouldn't be so gaudy.
"Not to mention that they've expanded into the populace, and are under your own personal command, not at all accountable to the Senate or even the rest of the military. They even dress in a uniform reminiscent of the Consular uniform, save for those armbands." Obradovic pointed right at Conti's Praetorian Guard armband, red with the Roman eagle and bordered with the Roman wreath, and the distinguishing mark of the Praetorian Guard save for the cape.
"Have you had an assassination attempt on your life? I didn't think so," Nico Romano retorted. He gave a brief look to Conti, a look that spoke a thousand words to her.
Obradovic feigned an appology. "Forgive me, Consul. I didn't mean to be so brash."
"I'm sure you didn't," Romano replied.
The rest of the evening continued with small talk, albeit quite nervous. When the clock struck eleven, Nico Romano signalled the end of the dinner, and personally escorted his guests to the Consular Palace door and shook the hand of each dinner guest, including Obradovic and Leonardo Esposito. When all had left, and the palace servants closed the great doors and were dismissed, Nico Romano was alone with Conti and the other Praetorian Guard.
He nodded to Conti. "You know what to do."
Indeed she did. "Shall I notify Duce Gallo tonight?"
"Yes, tonight. Both Obradovic and Esposito are to be neutralized. Not at the same time, and not tonight. Whatsmore, it must look like accidents; I trust that Duce Gallo will not reveal the Praetorian hand in this."
"I have known Dante Gallo for some time, Consul," Conti replied, with confidence. "He will make no mistake."
"Good," Romano replied. "Consider this a Praetorian training mission. We wouldn't want to make a mistake when it really counts, on a higher target."
"To peace!" an admiral said.
Glasses filled with deep red Roman wine were raised high, and "To pease!" chorused around the table. All took a sip, save for Conti and the other Praetorian Guard on Romano's left, who just replaced Dante Gallo when he was placed in charge of the field division (not for any wrongdoing; quite the contrary, Romano felt his ruthless cunning and talents were best used elsewhere). Someone had to stay sober to protect the Consul, and Conti didn't care much for wine anyway.
"And what a fine peace it is!" Nico Romano said. "The Inca are no longer a concern; whatsmore, they shot themselves in the foot, and all we had to do was take their money and go."
"And lose a French colony," noted Leonardo Esposito, a Roman general.
Romano shrugged. "It was more trouble than what it was worth. The Inca paid more to the French than they will get from the territory...ever, now, considering that they decided to make the colony an independent nation for Lord knows why. Get your navy destroyed, lose many lives, and pay half your treasury for...nothing. I'd call that the most successful defeat ever."
Chuckles resounded around the table. A woman, Andjelija Obradovic, a NFP-PRR member, said, "Of course, we can't count on our 'defeats' being so lucky, such as throwing South Africa to the USACS lion, now can we?"
Romano chewed on a piece of chicken before replying. "Of course we can't count on our 'defeats' turning out so well. Which is why I support the Gallo-Buchtat Pact; after all, better to gain peace for a time than to get into a war with a wimpy new ally against a juggernaut and find ourselves saluting the Hammer and Sickle."
Obradovic replied tersely. "But you must know that now South Africa will be absorbed by the USACS. That treaty doesn't last forever, you know. We could find ourselves fighting an even stronger enemy, and then once the war is over, begin singing hymns to the Kelen Toumami, conqueror of Australia and all the laughable garbage those newspapers put out."
The dining became tense. Some were very engaged in the conversation; too engaged, by Conti's standards. Others looked down at their plates and scraped off fragments of food, or took a sip of wine every ten seconds. Nico Romano looked Obradovic in the eyes. "If we fought a war with the LIARS now, nothing good would come of it. It's better to focus on our own economic development, make our people prosper."
Leonardo Esposito chimed in. "And then have that prosperity snatched from us?"
Nico Romano chuckled. "Let them try."
"But I must say," a businessman said, seeming to want to divert the conversation, "your investment into the economy and private enterprise has made Rome the shining star of Europe. Why, never has Italy, or anyone in the Roman Republic, been so optomistic about the future, not even since Benito Mussolini."
"That's because I have better sense than Mussolini," Romano replied, with a grin. Agreement arose from certain areas of the table, and not from others, the latter group being the group of most interest to Conti.
Not surprisingly, Obradovic was the one with the retort. "But you certainly do seem to take Mussolini as a model. You're never seen in public without your Praetorian Guard by your side. In fact, there isn't a submachine gun farther than two meters away from you at all times. Some would recall back to the days of Mussolini, if they were old enough."
Romano didn't say anything, but his brows did furl. Conti had seen that look many times. The fool Obradovic shouldn't be so gaudy.
"Not to mention that they've expanded into the populace, and are under your own personal command, not at all accountable to the Senate or even the rest of the military. They even dress in a uniform reminiscent of the Consular uniform, save for those armbands." Obradovic pointed right at Conti's Praetorian Guard armband, red with the Roman eagle and bordered with the Roman wreath, and the distinguishing mark of the Praetorian Guard save for the cape.
"Have you had an assassination attempt on your life? I didn't think so," Nico Romano retorted. He gave a brief look to Conti, a look that spoke a thousand words to her.
Obradovic feigned an appology. "Forgive me, Consul. I didn't mean to be so brash."
"I'm sure you didn't," Romano replied.
The rest of the evening continued with small talk, albeit quite nervous. When the clock struck eleven, Nico Romano signalled the end of the dinner, and personally escorted his guests to the Consular Palace door and shook the hand of each dinner guest, including Obradovic and Leonardo Esposito. When all had left, and the palace servants closed the great doors and were dismissed, Nico Romano was alone with Conti and the other Praetorian Guard.
He nodded to Conti. "You know what to do."
Indeed she did. "Shall I notify Duce Gallo tonight?"
"Yes, tonight. Both Obradovic and Esposito are to be neutralized. Not at the same time, and not tonight. Whatsmore, it must look like accidents; I trust that Duce Gallo will not reveal the Praetorian hand in this."
"I have known Dante Gallo for some time, Consul," Conti replied, with confidence. "He will make no mistake."
"Good," Romano replied. "Consider this a Praetorian training mission. We wouldn't want to make a mistake when it really counts, on a higher target."
