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((Bonus polandball))

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((And you thought he was one of those EoE Kings you could push around...))
 
((Well, in unrelated news, we have surpassed SoA? as the longest current AAR in the Vic. 2 forums.))
 
Name: Tiberio d’Auria (formerly Gonzaga)
Born: Febuary 13th, 1840
Class: Militarist
Background: The son of Agostino Epifano Gonzaga, Tiberio joined the military as an officer when he came of age, serving as an adjunct to his Uncle Napoleon d’Auria. While left leaning, like his father became, when the revolution started, Tiberio decided to remain loyal to the King and his Uncle, denouncing the Gonzaga name and taking his mother’s maiden name instead. As such, with the death of his father, the Gonzaga name and titles have passed onto Tiberio’s younger brother, Sebastino.
 
((Well, in unrelated news, we have surpassed SoA? as the longest current AAR in the Vic. 2 forums.))
((FoE and her 1,000+ pages would beg to differ.))
 
I am hereby making it official that I am joining Partido Democratico.

~ Conte Karlomarx de Maxispierre d'Annecy, 3rd Conte de Annecy
 
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H.E. Don Marcantonio Borghese
Date of Birth: February 23rd,1814 (50)
Place of Birth: Paris, France
Class: Aristocrat
Position: Prince Borghese, 8th Prince of Sulmona and of Rossano
Ancestral Land: Aquila

Biography:

Current head of the primary branch of the Borghese dynasty, an old noble house that boasts prominence in the higher echelons of the city of Rome, itself having even produced Pontiff Paul V, Don Marcantonio is of a strong aristocratic stock, his ancestors and current kin having various positions of importance throughout parts of the Italian Peninsula, in no small thanks to Pope Paul's nepotism. Having been of little note thus far, Don Marcantonio has, following the rise of Vittorio Emmanuel as King of Italy, recently been stirred with a sense of ambition and duty to cement his own name alongside that of his influential forebears.

While the aristocracy may have been heavily culled in the chaos of Sardinia-Piedmont, Prince Borghese hopes that this vacuum may again be filled and the Privy Council entertained by the King earlier may be reinstated. With this, Borghese hopes to guide Italy towards cooperation with His Holiness mainly due to the ties between the Vatican and House Borghese.
 
((Militarist --> Aristocrat))
 
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I Tradizionalisti were dead. Amat was dead. Alighieri was dead. Bablo was dead.
They were all dead.
Only he had survived and now was back where he once had started.
Fifty-eight years and not a single mistake, only a constant rise through the social ranks. ...And then this.
One single miscalculation costed him almost everything. Almost.
His political empire in Italy had collapsed, but his family in Europe and beyond had not suffered from it.
Regroup and push forward, his dynasty still needed him.

Every thought, every deed...
For You, my shining Stars.



MINISTER OF INTERNAL AFFAIRS – 1836-1841 Pes, 1856-1861 Amat I, 1861-63 Amat II
SENATOR FOR LIFE - 1839 (Under Pes) – 1865
MINISTER OF WAR – 1846-1851 Bonaretti I
DUKE OF PROVENCE – 1846 (Under Bonaretti I) – 1865
PRAETOR OF SAVOY – 1848 (Under Bonaretti I) – 1865
MINISTER OF THE ROYAL COURT – 1853 – 1855 Bonaretti II
DEPUTY PRIME MINISTER – 1856 – 1860 Amat I, 1861 – 64 Amat II
LORD PRESIDENT OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL – 1856 (Under Amat I) – 1865
(SELF-TITLED and ACTING) PRIME MINISTER – 1864 November – 1865 February


Second Class in the Order of Saint Francis de Sales – awarded in 1850
The main organizer of the "Masquerade Ball of Savoy" in 1853
 
((Private))

Stefano writes to another member of the Bonaretti clan

Dear Luca,

What a strange few months.

Sardinia-Piedmont in ruins. Thousands lay dead, and countless amounts of property has been destroyed. Torino and a Genoa have been the worst hit. Luckily Nizza has been spared thanks to the dedication of her people to the righteous cause. It seems Papa's warnings about the French Revolution have come true. Luckily he was not alive to see this debacle.

I have become seriously disillusioned with politics over the past few months. Open expression and voting have led to nothing but chaos and revolution. Yet the wheels of parliament continue to turn and even greater then before. The Pedrottists were wrong to trust in revolution, for it leads to nothing but anarchy, and wrong to blindly reject the suffrage bill. But I cannot fault them for trying to end this parliamentary madness if this is what it leads to. It is a pity they were all executed. In fact, I may have been executed myself if I hadn't aided His Majesty in battle. Meanwhile, much if the Balboist leadership continue to walk free. What an injustice! I shall see to it that all these scum should pay for their crimes. The "bloody baron" seems to have the right idea of things.

However, there is light among the darkness. The Hydra was defeated, though at a tremendous cost. Italy has been united under the House of Savoy and we now march to liberate Milano and Venetia. A united Italy should be considered a world power and its economy should thrive.

My personal life has not been so cheerful these last few months. I am grateful that Sophia and the children were able to return safely to an intact home. However, Sophia has not been the same since she received the news of the death of her father. She hardly eats or converses. Hopefully she will come around soon. I was demoted to colonel for my backing of the absolutist plot and expelled from the Privy Council. The Privy Council, when it returns, will be a shell of itself so this is not great loss. It wounds my pride to receive a demotion when so many Balboists return to their former prominence. Nevertheless, I will march to war against the Austrian tyrants. I am confident I will return to military prominence since there is a severe shortage of capable generals.

I hope everything is well in Sardinia. I hear the estate is intact, thank God. Send my best wishes to Donna.

Your faithful cousin,

Stefano
 
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The recovery of Sardinia had been quick, efficient; the remnants of the Balboist rebellion had broken within minutes and the mopping of the remnants of the remnants had taken less than a week – though d'Auria doubted that all of the traitors had been rounded up; those that had were largely imprisoned or pardoned and the ringleaders executed. It was a tiring ordeal, and not one d'Auria took pleasure in, though he had learned that few things in life were pleasant.

The would be Jerusalemite King hadn't even attempted to flee his home; perhaps he still imagined that pardons were being issued. D'Auria had his orders though, and after a quick trial saw the man hanged. With that, most of the the notable leaders of the Balboist movement were dead or imprisoned, and thus the General began to defer his duties to his lieutenants, such as Tiberio Gonzaga, his nephew (who had also chosen to adopt his mother's maiden name), still a lad... and unlike his father a man of loyalty, dependability. Napoleone was proud of him. Another of his lieutenants to whom he had begun delegating duties to, the son of the (late) Prime Minister, Colonello Alonzo Amat di Soleminis, had shown a particular eagerness in his new tasks, and performed them most ably. He had also cajoled his younger sister Annabella into begin writing the now famed general – perhaps he hoped to advance his career that way; all the same, she seemed a sweet girl, and perhaps he would call upon her.

Now however, d'Auria would turn his focus on the most important matter at hand – the upcoming war unification war against the Austrian Empire, and he had no doubt that the Rome too would soon be occupied by the Italian armies – still, expectations and dreams meant little, and plans had to made, logistics determined and provisions moved, and men recruited; the rebellion had been costly amongst both the upper and lower ranks, and d'Auria was painfully aware of this. Still, he had not risen to this position to falter, nor had he invaded Egypt or Sardinia to disappoint his King.
 
((Private -I MPC))

The Revolution did disrupt the process and organisation of our corporation but as businessmen and to stay ahead of the competition we have to get right back onto the horse and keep pushing forward. Now it is also my understanding that some of our members lost their lives during the Revolution, truly sad, they were good men, good businessmen and this corporation owes them our respect for their services, may they rest in peace, the corporation would like to let the relatives of those lost know that the corporation is willing to help rest these men in the ground and send them on their way to our lord.
Now, a majorety of our members seem to be missing, if a member is yet to have contacted the corporation, I would be greatfull if they themselves or a relative contacted the corporation with their life status, whereabouts and interest in our corporation.

Members:
Frédéric Concordé((King Cruel)) Present and accounted for
Carlo Ponzo((mrlifeless)) Present and accounted for
Roberto Comaudi((Dish of fish)) Need Contact
Lucien Denis((RyanX)) Need Contact
Raymond S. Thiers((GK)) Missing
Guiseppe Camillerie((Davout)) Missing
Nicola Leone((Nodscouterr)) Executed, Need contact from successor
Ernesto Granelli((Somberg)) Executed, Successor made it clear that they are not interested in our corporation

Thank You
-Signor Frédéric Concordé
Temporary President of Il Piedmonte Manifattura Corporazione
 
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As the only remaining corporation head, and considering a good number of industrialist leaders are dead, I shall take command of the League of Industrial Captains until new elections can be held.
 
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Name: Federico Claudio Leone
Date of Birth: April 3rd, 1828
Place of Birth: Savona, Liguria
Position: Current Head of the Leone family.
Class: Politician ((Class Change: Industrialist -> Politician))


Biography: A Jacobin Uncle, a Bonapartist Grandfather, an archconservative Father and an Anarcho-Liberal brother. Such is the ancestry of Federico Claudio Leone, son of Giacomo Bartolomeo Leone. As a young man, he found no interest in petty politics of his father or even the economical pursuits of his uncle and brother. He grew into a man in a family splintered by betrayals, dissent, hatred. Federico witnessed his father's last, desperate attempts to free the condemned Enrico, he witnessed Nicola's ostracization from the family for his beliefs and the friends he held dear, he witnessed his father growing isolation from not only his own son and brother, but from the rest of the Leone family. Federico would with his every breath attempt to mend these divides, but he met with little success. In 1862, he would leave his home in Savona and move to Genoa, desperate in his final attempts to mend the Leone family's divide by appealing to distant family members and old friends of the family. Once again, little success would be had. The revolutions of 1863 would erupt as Federico was still in Genoa, and with the war raging, he would find no way to contact his family in Savona. What little news he would find leaked to him worried him greatly, his own brother Nicola erupting in open revolution. As he stayed beneath notice in Genoa, artillery fire bombarding the city, he would pray the reports were not true. Alas, as 1863 turned to 1864 and the revolutions came to an end, he would find only news of death. His brother the revolutionary, executed for treason. His father the loyalist, trampled to death in the streets by absolutist militias. His sister the innocent, murdered by a lone Roman madman. The private Leone graveyard outside their Savonan estate would be filled with another three gravestones. The lone, idealistic dream of young Federico had been destroyed, shattered, buried. He would return to the estate, raise his nephews, Nicola's sons, and in time, perhaps he would be able to rebuild. Perhaps his wish, for an end to the chaos, would be granted at last.
 
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MARZIO PEDROTTI
9/8/1800 - 4/17/1864

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~Last Will and Testament of MARZIO PEDROTTI~
I hereby grant all belongings, my estate, and 85% of my wealth to

Violetta Constantina
and,
Augusto Federico Pedrotti

I grant 10% of my wealth to

Tarentaise College

I grant the remaining 5% of wealth and any materials on my person to

Juan Pedro Ernesto de Chavarria, the executor of my will and gardener of my estate.

Finally, I hereby release the contents of my Last Confession to the public. Perhaps they may understand my sorrow.

Lord have mercy.

Signed,

Marzio Pedrotti


~Last Confession of Marzio Pedrotti~
I write here all my sins, trials, and final words never spoken, and only at this hour brought to pen and paper. From the acts of my childhood during the Wars of the Corsican to the disturbing imagery of the schools of post-Congress Sardinia-Piedmonte. No, I had never known an hour of silence, sympathy, or life in the world I so loved. I cursed the world that I was born so late that I could not see for a moment the way things were before! But all that has passed, replaced only by fear and silence.

I had often been accused of destroying the Right, and for a moment that may have been true. I feared compromise and the cruelty of liberalism- the hypocrisy of this "liberty" that I saw as more akin to mob rule. Those were the hours where I stayed awake late into the night, and passed many letters to di Barnardi in the hopes of even vainly trying to maintain what I viewed as proper. As the hours drew longer I realized my plight lay in the tradition I so admired. The nobility, infiltrated by self-indulgent individuals and liberal cronies were no longer the haven of the old guard. I created Il Granrealisti in the hopes of preventing the untimely liberalization of our glorious nation.

It was only later that I had the unfortunate experience of being the primary individual vocalizing himself agianst what was, at the time, the ultimate party of liberalism, advocating such reforms as universal voting and the abolition of the Privy Council. I taunted the young man. 'Twas my insecurities which grabbed hold of my sensibilities. I disagreed with him to the point, and I see no sin in my firm defense of my ideology. My only sin was that I had taken his life away so quickly. I suffered not a mark from my opponent- I left behind a grieving widow and their child. My only regret in life was not to extend any support to his family, but I was too focused in on my own power-hungry nature. I vowed to never take another man's life, and I knew that I deserved retribution for what I had done.

The years passed, I grew bitter and tyrannical- my sole goal in life the expansion of my ideology and its dominance over the culture of my nation. I assisted my party in realigning with the very party we separated ourselves from. I held more power than any man of my social stature had the right to, yet I grew tired, angst-filled, and lonely. I had poured the hours of my youth into hard work expanding my power and forgot the basic pleasures of life. I had never a moment's leisure to enjoy life. I rested in the loving comfort of Violetta, my beloved caretaker who had for so long worked to preserve what property I owned and taken care of all my documentation. The hours passed, and I was not to hold this happiness for long. We had soon passed into 1848, following an unsuccessful stand against my own government in the hopes of preventing undue taxation on the poor. I feared for my life. But the year passed by in silence, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

The years continued to pass, I served with the government, was appointed by His Majesty, and fought for tradition. I worked closely with my friend and ally, the Marchese di Soleminis, but it was all for naught. I was overtaken by greed. I punished the free, and taunted the lame. In many cases I was right, but in even more I was wrong. It was then that I made my greatest mistake- a small note was passed to my colleagues, and in that moment I betrayed all I stood for, I betrayed my King, my people, my country, and my six-year old son. Then came the Romans, declaring a peasant to be Emperor of all Italy. I felt betrayed by my former allies, and I made the second-to-last sin in my life. I destroyed the monarchy in the name of "protecting" from the Romanists. In doing so, I had signed away my soul. Alas, it was too late. From the left and the right we were betrayed by our former allies, and I had surrendered on the road to Chambery in the fear that the Romans would succeed.

This is my last sin.

I was imprisoned, dragged, I heard only fragments of the news, and I cried with joy and pain.

His Majesty had won, and I was sentenced to death.

That is why I now am sitting in my cell.

My belt is tied to a single post drawn across the ceiling.


Goodbye, and may His Majesty and the remnants of the nobility protect the peasantry forever.


Name:
Juan Pedro Ernesto de Chavarria
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Born:
July 27, 1829
Class:
Demagogue
Background:
Born to a mother from the Sardinian Pedrotti family and the Hidalgo de Chavarria, Juan was raised in liberal arms, and had learned from a young age of the fiendish exploits of his uncle, the late Marzio Pedrotti, who was the black sheep of the family, being a Reactionary, rather than a Liberal. Juan had never met his uncle, being that Juan had never once set foot on the Sardinian Mainland. Ever since he was young, as teenagers so often do, he had wanted to meet his estranged uncle. When he was fifteen, prior to his education at the University of Paris, Juan's mother died and was buried at her request in Sardinia. At the funeral, he noticed a suspicious looking character standing somewhat aloof. He had arrived late, and attempted to leave early. He would have been successful, if it had not been for Juan, who immediately made it his goal to stop him. The man was his uncle, who eyed the youth with a degree of suspicion.

"You are Adalina's son? Well, the similarity is there," these were the first words of Marzio Pedrotti to Chavarria, "now that you mother had passed, if you ever need a home, visit me in Tarentaise. Your mother and I never saw eye-to-eye, but we will always be family."

Chavarria attended the University of Paris, and it was while studying there that he met Louis Auguste Blanqui, his future mentor, and the man who introduced him to Socialism. Blanqui's ideals of slow reform to create an equal state resonated deeply with the young Chavarria, who had been appalled at the manner in which peasantry were treated in his homeland of Spain. It was while studying at the University of Paris that Chavarria developed his own theories in regards to the approach to a Socialist utopia. Firstly, he followed in Blanqui's footsteps by arguing that change was necessary to approach utopia, but went farther by stating that the ultimate goal was in fact, a revolution, but that it required an ideal state created through slow change. Secondly, he argued for Communism by utilizing the Holy Bible, claiming that Christ had been the earliest advocate of a Communist utopia, as observed in early Christian communities.

Chavarria, however, was not immediately greeted with the prospects of employment, and his cynical attitude towards most careers led him to find poverty immediately out of the University. Suddenly, he decided to take up the offer of his uncle, and immediately departed for Savoie. It was there that Pedrotti was greeted by a dirty man at his front door. Pedrotti feared for Chavarria's politics, but he was a man of his word, and offered him employment as his gardener, to do as he saw fit in regards to the flowers, shrubs, and trees of the Pedrotti estate.

When 1863 rolled around, Chavarria had been appalled by what the Romanists had been advocating in their declaration. He saw it as a step backward to advocate for the expansion of rights while taking away from the rights of workers and education for children. Soon he found himself in a bizarre situation, and only through luck did he avoid being killed by any of the three sides. He simply stayed in Savoie and protected Pedrotti's family. The war took its toll, however, and by early the next year, Chavarria learned that Pedrotti had hung himself while awaiting execution. He received the will of Pedrotti and immediately made it his goal to stand firmly with His Majesty while guiding the nation into an ideal form for his revolution. It was new day, and as the rain departed, soon it would be the era of the red sun.
 
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Name: Alonzo Sebastiano Amat, Marchese di Soleminis e St Phillipe. Barone di Sorso
Date of Birth: February 23rd,1830 (33)
Place of Birth: Savoy
Class: Aristocrat
Position: 7th Marquess of Soleminis and St Phillipe, Baron of Sorso
Ancestral Land: Savoy

Biography:

The eldest son of Prime Minister Cesare Luigi Amat, Alonzo Sebastino has received a fine education, having graduated from St Vincents Catholic College in Varazze and the Royal Military Academy in Turin. As a boy of fourteen years, he has already known firmly that he would pursue a career of a soldier, when he would grow up. A much more down-to-earth man that his poetic and philosophical father, he quickly acknowledged that, while laws and duty is what binds the society together, without a sabre they cannot be guarded and enforced. And then he decided to become a man with the sabre.

Receiving his commission as a cornet at the age of sixteen, he started his service in the Royal Guard, then in the cuirassiers - and soon received the first scent of the field duties, serving during the turmolous years of 1850-1854. Under the orders of Bonaretti, he, commanding fourty hussars, by sword and pistol put down disorders in French-populated regions and policed in Turin, dully arresting agitators. For two years he served in Tunisia, within the new unit of Field Gendarmerie - and under command of Governor General Balbo participated in skirmishes with various native gangs. Then was recalled to mainland and returned to his old martial-law duties. During the time he became to be known as the Icicle - for his cold and strict manner, bordering cruelty, when he was dealing with the enemies of the Crown. It was then, when he begone to truly hate everybody who break the Law, trying to shake the harmonious boat of the Savoyard monarchy - and start to believe that they do not deserve mercy.

During the second term of Bonaretti the young captain briefly left the military, going for politics and naturally joining I Tradizionalisti. He was elected as the MP for Chambery, but mostly spoken on military matters and working within the parliamentary committee for state defence. He also worked as Junior Undersecretary in the Ministry of War, where has drafted many regulations for the armed forces. However, it was noticed that he felt bored without his army life.

When his father became Prime Minister, Alonzo, a devoted Catholic, eagery rejoined the military, now within the infantry and participared in the Last Crusade, and then the war with Ottomans. He was mainly known for valiantly defending Sinai under General D'Auria, going on many scouting missions and becoming especially close to the man. He was wounded in the foot during the time.

In 1859, already a Colonel and regimental commander, he was appointed as the Senior Aide-de-Campe to His Majesty the King, knowing to have acquiring cordial relationships with his Sovereign over the years of service in this capacity. In early 1864, however, he became the Military Liason of the Chief of Army wthin the Minister of War, having to leave the staff of His Majesty. Yet he did not serve too long in the position - for when the Roman Revolution started, his father send him as his agent to the King with a letter, in which he was begging the Monarch to use the help of the Whites to recover his throne - and then reissue the Statute, when he saw that fit. The desperate old Prime Minister did not know the King now had the forces of all Italy to command.

Initially sceptical of that plan, Alonzo was relieved, when the King told him he can now easily squash the radicals - and, reappointed as aide-de-camp, stayed with Vittorio Emmauelle. He was terribly shocked, when he had heard of success of the revolution and death of his father and other royalists at the hands of the Romans. Full of anger and commanding a regiment of the royal guard, he participated in the expedition against the revolutionaries and actively participated in the cleansing of Turin, shooting and hanging many enemies of the regime on the lampposts. Full of grief, he was, however, happy to know that his good friend and husband to his sister, General Bonaretti di Vittoria, was pardoned, if slightly demoted.

He had some more problems to deal with - for a career army officer suddenly became the Marquess of Soleminis, owner of many lands and a head of dynasty with a clear political reputation. Now he has to choose between the army and politics, between the love of his life and the heritage of his father - and it often worries the man.

Not married, Alonzo has been known to have many affairs within the high society. He is an avid hunter and enjoys a game of cards, but is mainly a man of duty and honor, as he understands it, in his no-nonsense old school man. He is ProUnification pragmatic conservative, a supporter of colonization - and a man who absolutely hates revolutions in any form.
 
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Genoa, 1864

The barricade would not hold; that much was clear. Royal troops were bearing down on their positions, and the Romans did not have enough bullets or bodies to drive them back. The tricolor, emblazoned with the Roman eagle and the letters "SPQR" that so many had rallied to, fluttered bravely from above the stack of wooden planks and furniture that served as the street's defense. It was here that Luigi Andrea del Fungi stood, clutching a rifle, shoulder to shoulder with the men from the Savoyard glassier's union that he rallied from Nice. They would fight here to the last man. Rome, to them, was the future by way of a glorious past; with Emperor Lucius's vision, the unions said, the workers would be set free.

"Claudio!" called Luigi. "You made the arrangements with Alessandro for the Federazione?"

"Of course," his friend replied. "It will be in good hands."

"All right," Luigi said. He closed his eyes and made the Sign of the Cross, thinking back to his father's last words to him on his deathbed.

--
Genoa, 1856

"My son..." wheezed Don Mario. The old man had been under constant watch by a doctor for days, and even he knew that he did not have long to live.

"Father, don't stress yourself. You need to relax."

"There's no more relaxing for me, boy. I doubt...I doubt I will live to see the sun rise tomorrow."

"Don't talk like that, Father! You can't think like that!"

"Listen to me, Luigi. There's something I want you to have." With a great degree of difficulty, Mario righted himself in his bed and reached over to his nightstand. He fumbled around momentarily before finding the knob for the dresser drawer and pulled it open. Inside was a massive book, the edges of its pages in gold leaf. Mario offered the book to his son, who gently took it from him.

"Father, I...What is this?" Luigi looked at the title of the book: The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

"Luigi, I want you to keep that safe for me. That book, and what it represents, is the most valuable thing I own."

"But Father, I don't understand..." protested Luigi.

"I had everything I wanted, Luigi. Power. Wealth. Fame. Women. Men lived and died at my command. I ran an empire right under the nose of Amat and his machine. I was untouchable. I had everything, Luigi...Everything but a dream."

Luigi, starting to tear up despite himself, did not speak. Mario continued.

"In 1848, I was visited by the governor of Tunisia. Lucius Balbo. You've heard of him, I suppose?"

"Of course," said Luigi.

"In those days, before the Trads really hit their stride, there was talk of a revolution. Balbo came to me, as a fellow man of considerable influence, to talk. We talked and talked, and I mostly smiled and nodded and sent him on his way, saying we'd be in touch. But there was something in the way talked - how certain he was - that captured my attention. In our profession, Luigi, we learn that there's no such thing as an honest man, just a man with a high price."

"You always did say that," said Luigi.

"But he was different. He felt different. So, out of curiosity more than anything, when he gave me this book, I read it. I figured I'd see what he was on about. That was when I found what I realized I was missing."

"An idea?"

"Exactly, my boy. I understood it. Sardinian, Genoese, Sicilian - who cares? We're all Italians, aren't we? When I came here as a boy, not much older than you, Luigi, I left my brother - your uncle and your namesake - for a foreign country. A foreign country where people talk like us, look like us, live like us. Why did it have to be like? Why not just on country? And I realized that the way to make it happen was Rome. Everyone in Italy was Roman - everyone in the Roman Empire was Roman. All one family. So I read, and I read, and I read. I learned Latin - never was much for it in Sunday school. I read the classics, all in secret, even from you. Amat and his friends looked down on that sort of thing, and I couldn't have my contacts think I was nuts, or worse, a liberal."

"Father..." started Luigi, but Mario began to speak again.

"That's why I'm giving this to you, my boy. As my last wish. I'm happy that I've left you a legacy that means you and your family won't ever go hungry or unsafe. Whatever else I've done, I can go before God and say I did everything I could for you. My wish is that you use that book to give your own children what I couldn't give you: something to believe in. Something to fight for."

"I don't know what to say..." said Luigi.

"It's OK, son. You don't need to say anything. "You have what it takes. I believe in you."

--

Luigi opened his eyes. The Royal troops were getting closer. Several of his comrades had fallen.

"This is it!" he shouted to the other riflemen. "Today we fight and die for something larger than ourselves! For Rome and for the people!"

The soldiers cheered, daring the Royal troops to come for them.

"This day we fight! Ave Roma!" yelled Luigi.

"AVE ROMA!"

--

L. A. del Fungi
Born: May 5th, 1832, Genoa
Died: July 1th, 1864, Genoa

"Ave Roma."