A man dressed in jet black armor is observed by the janitors, entering in the early morning, before any other Prince or Ambassador arrives. The man takes a seat on the back of a bench, and reads a copy in Italian of Boccaccio's "Decameron". The janitors, thinking his early arrival to be rather odd, bow and smile at him, and he nods slightly to them. Carrying on their work, the janitors.. and later, the Imperial Princes, pay no attention to him.
The man watches for hours as the delegates argue back and forth. Finally, during a short lull, the man suddenly stands, and in a booming voice, addresses the room.
"Joachim, Emperor Elect, King of Romans, Sweden, Duke of Pommern, Lord of Much Else, and Princes of the Holy Roman Empire! I am Andrea Julian, Duke of Taranto, Royal Governor of Napoli, Margrave of Ostein, and Prince of the Holy Roman Empire! If my credentials to the last be in doubt, for I have not beforehand arrived in this hall, then let this document prove my heritage!"
Prinz Andrea pulls several vellum documents from a small bag, and hands them to an Imperial officer, who hands them to the Emperor.
"My birthright to the Margravate of Ostein, King Joachim, from my mother, Louisa von Ostein."
Andrea smiles grimly, then pounds a clenched fist into an open palm.
"My arrival to-day was to swear fealty for the Margravate of Ostein to your Majesty. But, as we know, there are matters that now concern the Kingdom of Naples.."
A finger, accusing, points towards the representative of Genoa.
"You, Georgio di Grimaldi! You, who prattle on and on about 'Italy', which in your twisted madman delusions also include the Kingdom of Naples.. which has ABSOLUTELY nothing to do with Italy!, now lower yourself to the level of common swine by actually going along with the insanity in Genoa! Elections.. from commoners!"
Prince Andrea spits on the floor, and laughs softly.
"Know this, Georgio. I, and King René, do not look kindly on the stupid actions of the Genovese. Unless this 'election' is repudiated at once, we shall have no choice but to declare war upon Genoa. We Neapolitans know how to govern, and if the Genovese are incapable of doing so, then I suppose the duty falls upon us.."
Prince Andrea then slowly turns his gaze towards the obviously mad Archbishop of Cologne.
"My lord, the Papacy is not infallible. I, and many others, see the obvious hypocrasy in punishing Ugo in one hand and patting the Dog of Venice on the other. Venice.. the city built on trade with the east.. not a word was said about this, but yet, when Ugo moves with some CHRISTIANS against the heretical Dog of Venice, he is excommunicated and damned to hell!"
Prince Andrea flips a copy of Dante's Inferno to the Archbishop.
"May I suggest you read this? As you'll see, not even the Pope is safe from the fires of Hell.."
Finally, Prince Andrea's smile turns from smug coldness to something approaching warmth. He bows towards the King of Romans.
"Your Majesty, whenever the opportunate moment presents itself, perhaps I could properly swear fealty as Margrave of Ostein to yourself?"