"You will hear no objections from me if you choose to hold a Great Synod in Rome," said King Giuseppe Lombardi. "I do not see it as my place to meddle in the internal affairs of any of the Christian churches, as long as those of the cloth do not interfere in affairs of state."
* * * * *
Constantinople
March 4, 1938
Artemisia Favero impatiently tapped her foot as she held the phone to her ear, waiting for the servant who had answered to retrieve her cousin Paolo, the man she desperately needed to talk to. She had had another vision, one focused on Giuseppe yet again. She had seen war brewing on the horizon, and she needed to do whatever she could to stop it. Not being physically present in Italy made manipulating events difficult, as she had to use Paolo as a proxy. She had seen ways to use him to achieve her goals, but relying on an intermediary was not a reliable way of getting the predicted results when it came to seeking a desired future. Still, it was the best she could do under current circumstances.
“Hello, this is Paolo speaking.”
Artemisia let out a sigh of relief when her cousin finally answered. “Paolo, thank god it’s you. I have something urgent to discuss with you.”
“April!” Paolo said happily. “It is good to hear from you. I wanted to thank you for your advice from earlier. I did my best to get Giuseppe and the Pope to work together, and I think I’ve at least got them to tolerate each other. I might not have pulled it off without your help.”
Artemisia smiled at those words, for she had already seen the success of her advice. One of the local papers detailing the events in Italy had featured a photo of the coronation, showing both Giuseppe and Pope Rhaban in all their splendour. It had resembled part of her vision quite vividly, which reassured her that she was on the right path. While encouraging, there was still work to do. She shook her head to ward off these distracting thoughts.
“That’s good to hear, Paolo, but there’s a more pressing issue to deal with. I fear that Italy may be dragged into a conflict with Germany.”
“What, like a war?” Paolo said, consternation in his voice. “I mean, Giuseppe has been wary of Germany ever since the fascists took power, but his whole platform has been to avoid war, not seek it. He hasn’t mentioned any war plans to me.”
Artemisia rubbed at her forehead, trying to think of just how much she should reveal here. Paolo didn’t know of her abilities, and he might grow suspicious if she seemed to have information she shouldn’t. Still, the stakes were high, and she needed to take a chance. “It’s not a war he is seeking. He has designs on Raetia, as do the Germans. Those competing interests may spark a conflict.”
“Raetia? Giuseppe hasn’t mentioned anything about Raetia.” Paolo muttered something that Artemisia couldn’t make out. “I suppose it makes sense though, as Raetia is a valuable buffer state.”
“Yes, and it is imperative that whatever designs he has on Raetia do not draw him into war with Germany. He cannot make a move against them, or he’ll risk war.”
“I can try to speak to him, I guess, but I’m not sure what to say.”
“Just tell him Germany has designs on Raetia and they’re willing to fight for it. Conflict must be avoided at all costs.”
Artemisia could hear Paolo sigh on the other side of the line. When he next spoke, his voice was practically pleading with her. “Why don’t you come back to Italy? You’d be able to do this better than I ever could. And we all miss you dearly. I bet even Giuseppe does, even if he won’t admit it.”
Artemisia bit her lip. Part of her wanted to go back, to finish what she started, but she also had work to do in Constantinople, even if she felt she was being underutilized. Perhaps with a little more training, she would be of more use to Giuseppe than before. For now, though, Paolo would have to do.
“I can’t,” Artemisia said, and she could practically hear Paolo whining in response. “You can do this. Just speak to Giuseppe and convince him not to go after Raetia.”
Paolo let out a loud sigh. “I can try.”
Artemisia then remembered one more thing. “It might also be good to encourage more ties with Burgundy. A more formal alliance might go a long way to warding off any future conflicts. It never hurts to have an ally.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” Paolo said, his tone changing from sad to passionate in an instant. “Again and again, I’ve said to Giuseppe that he needs to get over his hatred of the Pope and work together for the good of both nations. Italy needs Burgundy. Yet does he listen? No, he just continues to stew in his hatred for His Holiness like a spurned lover. I’m honestly getting quite fed up with it.”
Artemisia could only imagine how relations were between the two men if even Paolo was growing tired of their conflict. Perhaps more work was required here. “I know it is frustrating, but you need to try. As you mentioned, an alliance benefits them both. He’ll listen to you, I’m sure.”
“Well, I can’t promise anything, as he’s ignored my previous attempts, but I will keep banging my head against the wall regardless.”
“I believe in you, Paolo. You’re a good friend, and if there is anyone that can convince Giuseppe, it’s you.”
Artemisia swore she heard a sniff from the other side of the line. Was Paolo crying?
His voice sounding strained, Paolo said, “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Everyone thinks I’m this vapid spoiled rich boy who’s just riding Giuseppe’s tailcoats, but I genuinely try my best to help him. I just want what’s best for him and our country.” Artemisia hear a loud honk as Paolo aggressively blew his nose.
“Well, I appreciate you,” Artemisia said, unsure what else she could add. “I think it’s best I go now. I have some business to attend to. Good luck with Giuseppe.”
“Thank you, April,” Paolo said, stifling another sniffle. “I’d do my best.”
* * * * *
Rome
March 7, 1938
It had taken Paolo Favero a few days to finally get Giuseppe Lombardi alone. It had been a flurry of activity after his coronation, as if his job as monarch had now officially begun. The king had thrown himself into work as usual, but Paolo had patiently waited for a gap he could use. Now he and his friend were alone in his study at the Quirinal Palace.
“So, nice weather we’re having?” Paolo said, trying to break the ice. His statement was soon met with a rattling as a gust of wind buffeted the windows, following by rain clattering against the glass. He chuckled awkwardly as Giuseppe looked up from his papers with an incredulous look.
“What do you want, Paolo?” Giuseppe said. He motioned at the stack of papers on his desk. “Can’t you see I’m busy.”
“I know,” Paolo said, stepping closer and holding his hands behind his back. “I just needed to talk to you about a delicate matter.”
“If this is about that rash on your behind, I already directed you to a doctor who can help with that.”
Paolo’s cheeks flushed bright crimson. “No, not about that. I wanted to talk to you about Raetia.”
Giuseppe, who had been writing something down, abruptly stopped the movement of his pen. With careful precision he placed his pen down so it was perpendicular to the edge of the desk. He then folded his arms in front of him. “Go on.”
Paolo clenched his hands tighter behind his back, trying to keep them from shaking. He didn’t know why he was so nervous this time, but something told him this topic was more dangerous to broach than the others before. Eventually he just blurted it out. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to target Raetia.”
Giuseppe immediately stood up and stared daggers at Paolo. “Where did you hear about that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Paolo said, trying to wave off Giuseppe’s glare and focus on the matter at hand. “You’re putting Italy in danger if you go ahead with your plans.”
“Doesn’t matter?” Giuseppe said, glossing over Paolo’s last statement. “My plans regarding Raetia were top secret, only shared and discussed amongst the highest officials in the government and military. As you were not involved in those discussions, that means someone leaked it.” He leaned over his desk, staring Paolo down. “Who told you about Raetia?”
“Look, you can’t go after Raetia,” Paolo said, trying his best to avoid the question. “Germany has designs on them.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Giuseppe said. “None of the intelligence I’ve received supports that.” He narrowed his eyes and watched Paolo, trying to read his body language, and it took all of Paolo’s effort not to fidget. Then, after several seconds, Giuseppe slowly started to laugh. It started out as a mild chuckle and grew into a deep roar. He slunk back into his chair before stopping his laughter abruptly.
“So, the puppet master has found a new puppet,” Giuseppe said, leaning back in his chair, much more relaxed than he had been a moment ago. An amused grin on his face, he added, “April has been feeding you information, hasn’t she?”
“And what if she has?” Paolo said, crossing his arms defensively. “I don’t know what went on between you two, but if there is one thing I learned about April, it’s that when she gives advice it’s usually right. If she thinks your plans for Raetia are dangerous, then that’s exactly what they’ll be.”
Giuseppe scrutinized Paolo for what seemed an agonizingly long time. Sweat was starting to drip down Paolo’s neck, and he finally gave in to the urge to fidget. Giuseppe merely smirked at his friend’s clear uncomfortableness. “Ah, Paolo, you poor fool. Sometimes I wonder if you’ve ever had a thought of your own, always doing and thinking what others tell you to, whether that’s me, the Pope, or now April. Always destined to play the loyal and witless sidekick, but never the lead. Sometimes I can’t help but pity you.”
It felt like a knife had been stabbed right into Paolo’s heart and then twisted back and forth for good measure. Did his best friend truly think so little of him, after everything he had done for him? He tried not to dwell on it but couldn’t stop or tear or two from forming in the corners of his eyes.
Giuseppe, who did not fail to notice the growing emotions of his companion, just rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, man. Grow a spine.”
Paolo was feeling a swirl of emotions at this moment, but the sadness that had appeared at first was slowly being overtaken by anger. He was tired of being belittled by everyone, even his friend. He did not deserve this treatment; no one did. He clenched his fist, an action that Giuseppe did not notice for once because he had started to chuckle. The sound of laughter grated in Paolo’s mind, and before he could think through his actions, he grabbed a vase sitting on a nearby pedestal and hurled it right at Giuseppe’s head.
The vase flew through the air, but Giuseppe did not so much as flinch. He had nothing to fear, because while Paolo had thrown the vase with all his might, the man had no experience with throwing objects. He hadn’t even thrown around a ball with his father as a child. The vase thus went wide by several feet, shattering against the wall to Giuseppe’s right. The king watched the vase shatter and its contents spill across the floor. His expression remained bemused as he turned back to Paolo, but there was rage growing behind his eyes. However, it was nothing in comparison to the fury behind Paolo’s.
“I have had it with your insults!” Paolo shouted at Giuseppe, holding his ground for once. “Oh, ‘Paolo is so pathetic’, ‘Paolo is an idiot’. I get it. I’m not some political genius like you.” He clapped his hand aggressively against his chest. “But I am a human being, and I deserve respect. I will not tolerate being treated like this anymore.”
Paolo stomped over to Giuseppe’s desk and slammed his hands down on it, glaring Giuseppe in the eyes. “And furthermore, I am not some useless sidekick with no thoughts of my own. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here.”
Paolo waved a hand around at the room they were in. “Who was it that funded your campaign when you first ran for election.” He slapped his hand against his chest again. “Me.”
“Who was it that met and spoke with countless important people and parties, and convinced them that backing you was best for Italy?” A snarl grew on Paolo’s lips. “Me.”
Paolo leaned in closer, his face only a few inches from Giuseppe’s. “And after all your other friends and allies either left or tried to kill you, who was it that continued to stand by you throughout it all.” He raised a finger and tapped it against his nose. “Me.”
Paolo stepped back from the desk, finally leaving some room between the two men. He crossed his arms and grimaced at Giuseppe. “Now I may be a sidekick, always helping the causes of others, but if you think for a second that I am useless and have achieved nothing, then you are dead wrong. You think I am nothing? Without me, you would be nothing. You’d be a forgotten bastard, crying out at a world that wronged you without the means to do anything about it.”
Paolo took a moment to collect himself, trying to calm down the growing rage inside him. It felt wrong to be this angry. It felt like something Giuseppe would do, not him. He was better than this. It had also distracted him from the matter at hand. After letting out a deep breath, he made eye contact with Giuseppe, who had watched him with a blank expression throughout the entire tirade.
“Now you are going to listen to me for once,” Paolo said, more calmly than his previous statements. “Whatever plans you have for Raetia cannot proceed as planned. You may not trust April’s judgement, but I do.”
Having given his piece, Paolo stepped back and took the time to further cool down as Giuseppe took in everything he had said. The king watched him with cool eyes, not saying a word for a full minute. He rested his chin on his hand, rubbing at his jaw as he watched Paolo. Whatever was going on in his mind, he wasn’t showing it. Eventually he let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to be released by his entire body.
“I must apologize, Paolo; I have been too harsh on you,” Giuseppe said. “I do appreciate all you do, but it’s just April, everything’s she’s done….” Giuseppe scrunched up his mouth and clenched his fist in irritation, before forcing himself to release the tension. He waved his hands as if dispelling the emotions he was trying to suppress. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is you are trying to help me, and I’ve treated you like dirt. Again, I apologize.”
Giuseppe scratched at the side of his head as if unsure what to say next. He ended up giving a small smile and said, “Look, I’ll take your advice into consideration. Perhaps there is a diplomatic solution to dealing with Raetia, one that will prevent whatever designs Germany has on that country.”
Paolo couldn’t help from holding back a wide grin. All he ever wanted was some appreciation and receiving that acknowledgement for once made him feel all warm inside. “Thank you for listening.”
“Now is there anything else you wanted to discuss?” Giuseppe said, looking up at his friend expectedly.
A spark lit up in Paolo’s mind as he recalled one other matter to discuss, one even more delicate than Raetia. Suddenly growing timid, even after his display of courage, he awkwardly said, “Well perhaps the threat of Germany could be abated with an alliance with Burgundy. It couldn’t hurt to have an ally.”
Giuseppe’s eyes narrowed, but he did not immediately start yelling at Paolo so that was a good sign. After several seconds, he answered with a single word. “April?”
Paolo tensed his shoulders and only gave a nod in response.
Giuseppe shook his head and rubbed at his temples. “Damn that girl. Even when she’s not here she’s still trying to run my life.” After letting out a resigned sigh, he gave Paolo a tired look. “I’ll consider it.”
Not wanting to risk the goodwill he had earned this day, Paolo only gave another nod and backed his way towards the door. He failed though to keep an eye on where he was going and backed into a pedestal near the door, one holding the matching vase to the one he had thrown earlier. It wobbled for a second and Paolo desperately tried to grab it but to no avail. It fell to the floor and shattered.
“I’m so sorry,” Paolo said, absolutely mortified by his actions, even though he’d purposely destroyed the other vase.
Giuseppe just let out another sigh and said, “It would have looked out of place on its own. I’ll just find another.” He waved Paolo away. “Now get out before you break any more of my furniture.”
Knowing when to take a hint, Paolo immediately bolted from Giuseppe’s office, accepting that he had achieved a tremendous victory this day.
* * * * *
Köln
April 21, 1938
If anyone had asked Giuseppe Lombardi if he would have willingly gone to Köln even two years, he would have called them insane. Yet despite that, here he was, in the capital city of Burgundy. It was only with great reluctance and after much deep contemplation regarding Italy’s future that he had decided to make the trip. Events in Europe were heating up again, and Italy could not just sit by and wait until it got dragged in. It was time to make a move to better secure Italy’s position, and that unfortunately meant dealing with the man he hated most.
Giuseppe now waited in the sitting room of the papal residence in Köln. While he had expected to be waiting for potentially hours, he was pleasantly surprised when the door opened twenty minutes after he arrived. He was even more surprised when he saw the man who entered. Pope Rhaban VII had forgone his usual papal vestments, donning a fine military uniform instead, dyed burgundy to match the nation he served. His mustache was finely trimmed, and his hair was slicked back. Medals adorned his jacket, and he marched in with the precision of a trained soldier. Here was Albrecht Held, the Burgundian war hero.
Giuseppe let out a sigh of relief. Seeing Albrecht in this guise put him more at ease. As the Pope, he was always about pomp and displays of grandeur, but whenever the king encountered Albrecht in uniform, he was a no-nonsense military man. It was something he could relate to and work with.
As Albrecht stepped over to him, Giuseppe rose from the seat he had been waiting in. The Burgundian ruler offered his hand, and Giuseppe took it in a handshake. “I must say that while I was not surprised to receive your request for an audience after recent events, I am surprised you came all the way to Köln.”
“Well, all our meetings so far have been in Rome, so I thought it fair to come to you this time,” Giuseppe said. It was only partially true, for the real reason was he wanted to show that he was willing to be conciliatory here. He needed to show a willingness to work with His Holiness, something he had been reluctant to show before.
“I appreciate the gesture,” Albrecht said, motioning to the chair Giuseppe had been sitting in before claiming another across from him. He sat down and smoothed out his trousers. “Forgive me if this is brusque, but perhaps we should skip the formalities and jump straight into business.”
Giuseppe held back a smile, for he would like nothing more. He merely nodded instead.
“I assume you are here because of the war with the Międzymorze Commonwealth.”
“Partly, yes,” Giuseppe said. The Burgundian watched his Italian counterpart with great interest. Giuseppe was so used to a smug expression or one filled in pride, so it was almost off-putting when the man was more serious. He had to brush aside his thoughts to focus on the conversation at hand. “This conflict is a serious concern for peace in Europe.”
“The war will be a short one, and the Commonwealth will likely surrender quickly once the Russian hordes sweep down upon them,” Albrecht said. He watched Giuseppe again as if trying to read him, his gaze calculating but not hostile. “But it’s not this war you’re concerned about, is it?”
Albrecht was unusually perceptive this day, but Giuseppe did not let it bother him. It just made things easier for him to get to the point and get what he was after. “Indeed. This conflict has brought to light the dangers these fascists present. First the Commonwealth was willing to start a war that could have dragged all of Europe into it. Then I hear murmurs of a growing fascist movement in Russia that threatens to take over the government.” Giuseppe paused a moment, trying to read the other man in the room but finding him unusually composed this day. “But most concerning of all are the actions of the Germans. They stand by as their ally is about to be beset from all sides, and I fear that the reasons for this can not be anything good.”
“Most likely they see the writing on the wall and are unwilling to commit to a doomed cause,” Albrecht said. With a glint in his eye, he added, “Or perhaps they have other interests than what the Commonwealth was trying to get out of Hungary.”
Giuseppe wet his lips and leaned forward in his chair. He had debated before coming to Köln whether to share this information, for he still was upset with its source, and it could reveal his own plans. He couldn’t let those hold him back though. He had committed to this now and needed to push forward.
“I have received information that suggests Germany may have designs on Raetia.”
The sudden rise of an eyebrow was the only reaction Albrecht gave. “Go on.”
“We both know that if Germany’s eyes are turned towards Raetia that they will not stop there.”
Albrecht smirked at that statement. “I have known that for some time. I was the one to tell you how dangerous Germany was during one of our meetings a few years ago. I meant it then and I still believe it to this day.”
Giuseppe learned forward, clasping his hands together and making eye contact with the man across from him. “It is thus in both our best interests to work together to defend ourselves against the threat Germany presents.”
Albrecht somehow managed to raise his eyebrow even higher. “Are you suggesting an alliance?”
There, the word was said: alliance. Giuseppe resisted grinding his teeth together at the thought of forming an alliance with His Holiness, but he needed to do this for the good of his country. As Paolo and even April had tried drilling into his head so many times, he needed to put his people first. Germany was the real threat, and he needed Burgundy to keep Italy safe.
“Yes, that is exactly what I am suggesting.”
Albrecht gave an amused grin, leaning back almost casually in his chair. “Your timing is fortuitous. I had considered asking you the exact same thing but had thought it prudent to wait until my country was no longer at war with the Commonwealth. I am glad we are on the same page and accept your offer. I’ll even agree that Burgundy shall not use this proposed alliance to call Italy into the ongoing war with the Commonwealth.”
Giuseppe tried to hide his surprise. He had expected to hear some hesitance, or even an attempt to weasel out some conditions from him. Outright agreement, let alone offering up his own conditions that benefited Italy, was not what he had expected at all.
Albrecht must have noticed his surprise, for he then said, “What, you think it preposterous that I would agree so easily?” The Pope chuckled and crossed his legs. “I know we have not always gotten along, but I am no fool. I have long known that an alliance between our two countries could only benefit us both. I have just been waiting for you to realize that too.”
“Well, that is good to hear,” Giuseppe said, resting his hands on his legs, unsure of what else to say next. He had prepared countless arguments, expecting at least some resistance. Now he was left blindsided by the Pope’s agreement so early on. It had been all too easy, suspiciously so.
“Now any good alliance needs a name,” Albrecht said, rising from his seat. “How about the Holy Roman Empire? It recognizes our Catholic and imperial heritage, all while sticking a finger in the eye of the Germans, a win-win all around.”
“I suppose that’s acceptable,” Giuseppe said as he stood up, his mind still swirling too much to really care about the name.
“And with us being allies now, I will need to set up a more permanent residence in Rome,” Albrecht said. “It would be imprudent to neglect the faithful in Italy, and the faith must be protected as a cornerstone of our alliance.”
And there it was, the hidden motive. Albrecht intended to use this alliance to weasel his way back into Italy and secure Catholicism’s hold over its people. He no doubt knew its influence was waning, first with his forced removal from the country and then the Italian church’s attempts to distance itself from its Burgundian counterpart. Perhaps he even had some ambitions of securing political power as well, although Giuseppe certainly was never going to let that happen. Regardless, he would have to contend with this nuisance to secure this alliance, and he believed that at least Albrecht was honest with his opinion on Germany. The man considered them a legitimate threat, and his commitment to this alliance was likely genuine as a result.
“Shall we go to my office and work out the finer details of our soon-to-be fruitful alliance?” Albrecht said, motioning towards the door.
Giuseppe nodded and followed the Pope out of the room, knowing that the quicker he got through this, the sooner he could return to Italy and get away from this man. Albrecht was at least tolerable when he was not playing up his papal role, but that surely was not always going to be the cause. Even so, he would take working with the Pope over taking on Germany alone. As they say, better the devil you know.
