In Jun of '33, one of the Pope's boys wisely suggested that having the Don running tings down here in Sicily was darn near a miracle, and so's everyone got a big burst a pride from dat.
The priest wasn't happy enough to tell us about the Neapolitans though, since he had to travel right through there to get to us. In July, Naples declared war on Sicily. I dunno why, someting about the Boss, taxes, rightful claims or sumptin.
Me, I thinks it was a simple turf grab, plain and simple. But you knows how princes are, there's always gotta be some reason.
Lucky for us, the Boss had been hirin more boys to be "armies", which was really just a fancy name for "real big hit squad", but hey, toe-mate-o, toe-mot-o, right?
So's the Consiglari is actin all smart, talkin about how he told us all that Naples was gonna stab us in the back and wasn't it just great that we was allied with Austria and all dat. Da Boss sent some boys to tell all the allies about Naples, and sure enough Austria sent us back a note saying that was just tough doody.
Da Boss wasn't real happy about that, but us being a small island and Austria being a pretty good size german Duchy kept him from doin anything dumb.
Lucky for us, our other buddies decided to come and mess it up with Naples and their buddies, so that kept it a pretty fair fight.
Da Boys was all about attacking the Neapolitans and roughin em up some, and they ferried themselves into Apulia just as fast as you could tink.
Dat's when we figured we had a problem. Da boys beat up on some Neapolitan recruits who just finished trainin and got a real jolt outta that, but then outta nowhere comes this big ol' mob of guys, and DEY HAD CAVALRY!
Dat made da score Good Guys: 1, Guys on horses: 1.
So's now da Boss was pretty mad, bein as how da boys screwed dat one up someting bad. He tells em to get goin and mess up some of dem guys, and well, who's we to argue wit da boss, right?
Now, here we was, all sitting around Apulia tryin to explain to dem why it was in their best interests to just let us be in charge 'ere when the road workers back in Messina decided dat dis would be a good time to strike for some extra cash. Man was they unhappy. Callin' themselves "Artisans" when all they was was some ditch-diggin laborin' mugs. Bad timin on their part, says I, since the Boss was already plenty mad about the war and all. Next thing you know, the guys runnin the strike found themselfs whacked, and the strike was over, even though it set the road work back a few months.
Good tings was startin to happen in da war though. Here it was, only April of '35, and we captured the doge (or whatever dey was callin teir boss) and roughed him up pretty good. When we was done, he had dis long scar down his cheek. We all took to callin that ugly Neapolitan "Scarface". Ha!
Da Boss sent da Consiglari in to "negotiate" with ol' Scarface, and next ting ya know Apulia is squarely our turf, an Scarface agrees to send some protection money to da Boss every month.