15-05-2025, 01:39 PM
For the future...
Borromesi Castle (one of the Imperial residence of the Istalian Crown), municipality of Rocca Bassa, Province of Saxera (Island of Alaria).
Sunday afternoon of April 28, 3:45 p.m.
![[Image: pqvTSERm.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/pqvTSERm.jpg)
On the television screen the images of the match Romula–Milona, classic of the classics of the Istalian football major league championship, first half just finished.
When the referee's whistle blew, the applause from the crowd for their favorites who were returning to the locker rooms was loud and festive while the yellow-red coat of arms of Romula stood out on the screen that marked 2-0 for the home team.
The Emperor, getting up with a satisfied shake, exclaimed smiling:
«Ah! Did you see the second goal? A brush stroke! That's football Tommi! That's the spirit of Romula... like in the days of Montanari!»
His son Tommaso stood up giggling and running his hands through his hair replied:
«Mamma mia, what a move... three passes and the ball was already in the net. Milona didn't even understand what passed by him. If we continue like this today we'll score four.»
The Emperor moved to the bar cabinet to open the door of the small refrigerator:
«We need a nice cold beer to celebrate the first half properly. "Daje Romula!"» esclaimed in the end using the typical slang of Romula.
Then he took out two bottles from the lowest compartment of the bar cabinet and then filled two glasses:
«This, Tommi, arrived this week: it's the blonde one produced by those friars in Valdovena, the one you like so much.»
Having taken the glass, Tommaso sat back on the sofa while his father remained at the window watching Melissa, his son's wife, stroll with the Empress in the terrace garden overlooking the sharp bend of the river Adise, one hand on her hip, the other caressing her belly that was starting to show.
The Emperor, after a long thirst-quenching sip, said to his son while continuing to look out the window:
«Your mother has already had a gift prepared for Melissa: a diamond set. But not just any thing, eh: there's an emerald, Tommaso, as big as an egg, as the main piece. I tell you… something shamefully embarrassing considering how much it cost.»
Tommaso just smiled, answering absentmindedly, like all the excitement for the match were vanished:
«Melissa will be happy…»
The Emperor looked at him and moved to sit next to him with an inquiring look:
«You've had that face since you arrived, thank goodness we are winning the match, otherwise you wouldn't have been good company today… what is it?»
The son seemed hesitant, but his expression had become serious again:
«yes thank goodness for the match, because today…»
«The GFCAB, isn't it?" his father asked with a sharp look.
Tommaso took another sip, remaining thoughtful:
«The crisis on Yishelem, the initial panic, the losses on the stock exchange... but what really worries me... yes, it is the GFCAB, but it is certainly not the stability of the company that worries me: it is the name of our family, the symbolic weight. All that round of offshore companies, the speculation in the markets of northwest Majatra... if everything comes out clearly, we will end up at the center of the storm. And don't tell me it can't happen!»
The Emperor nodded understandingly, starting to speak calmly to reassure him:
«I see it, I see it... you're not in the mood... but relax! First of all, we are still in full control. The network we have built with the GFCAB is too deep, too branched out to be compromised by two weeks of chaos and uncontrolled rumors.»
«Yes, but there is a risk of exposure! And if someone in Beiteynu or Pontesi were to start investigating and… talking…»
The Emperor promptly raised a hand as if to block him and in a calm but firm tone replied:
«I've already thought about that too: the intelligence started working right away. They're… "reviewing" the position of certain possible "chatterboxes" in Beiteynu and Pontesi. Someone had started asking too many questions in fact. Well… now they don't talk so willingly anymore.»
Tommaso didn't seem too reassured, however, and shaking his head he sighed:
«let's hope that the intervention of the Intelligence doesn't emerge then!»
The father, empathetically, but without abandoning pragmatism, resumed speaking:
«Tommi, let's remember what they did to us! Beiteynu has gobbled up our economy, steered our diplomatic choices, infiltrated our intelligence, all this smiling as a good old friend. Maybe at the beginning it was the case, but… it has never been officially proven… but do you really think that all that stuff is just fantasy? Istalia has been marginalized, sunk in a political and economic crisis that lasted too long and resulted eventually in the Socialist Republic!»
Tommaso, looking at the bottom of his beer, almost muttered to himself:
«Many think so, but many others talk about conspiracy theories, nationalist paranoia… I didn't imagine that you too…»
«You are not aware of ALL the things that happened, and you can't know what happened during the Peninsula War, I did! I fought during that war. But… then… what? These are such widespread opinions now that they have taken root. For the people Beiteynu is the culprit, 3FP too. And Pontesi… is little more than a pawn. No one will cry if some of those economies end up in ruins while our companies grow.»
«And the Crown?»
The Emperor settled more comfortably and calmly on the sofa and continued relaxed:
«The Crown is safe, more than ever! Furthermore the country is much more interested in what happens in the Carvelli trial. Since he was extradited from Vanuku there has been a media obsession. All eyes are there, not on the GFCAB.»
Tommaso, raised an eyebrow:
«I didn't think it could make so much noise after all these years.»
The father, with a half smile, continued:
«For years we have looked ahead... in fact it could have seemed like a closed and forgotten chapter from a distant past, given how much the country has changed, but when there has been so much blood, the noise never ends! But, being pragmatic, this is also needed: a perfect diversion at this time. In the meantime, we continue to consolidate ourselves. The crisis will pass, like all the others, the markets will adapt and our presence in the north-west quadrant will be even stronger.»
He paused briefly, then before draining the remaining beer in the glass, he added as if looking far away, beyond the windows and the garden:
«God forgive us, but we could say that it is a poetic divine justice!»
At that moment Melissa was glimpsed again from the window and the Emperor, pointing at her with his chin, said in a paternal tone:
«Look at your wife... that is the future, a future worth taking every risk for!»
The son observed his wife in silence for a moment, then took a long sip, finishing the beer in his glass:
«Yes... but I worry about the future we want to leave, hoping that it will be cleaner than the one we are leaving behind.»
The Emperor, without looking at him, always pragmatic, in a calm tone replied:
«What is certain is that we will leave a future that will be more ours! That is what matters!»
Borromesi Castle (one of the Imperial residence of the Istalian Crown), municipality of Rocca Bassa, Province of Saxera (Island of Alaria).
Sunday afternoon of April 28, 3:45 p.m.
On the television screen the images of the match Romula–Milona, classic of the classics of the Istalian football major league championship, first half just finished.
When the referee's whistle blew, the applause from the crowd for their favorites who were returning to the locker rooms was loud and festive while the yellow-red coat of arms of Romula stood out on the screen that marked 2-0 for the home team.
The Emperor, getting up with a satisfied shake, exclaimed smiling:
«Ah! Did you see the second goal? A brush stroke! That's football Tommi! That's the spirit of Romula... like in the days of Montanari!»
His son Tommaso stood up giggling and running his hands through his hair replied:
«Mamma mia, what a move... three passes and the ball was already in the net. Milona didn't even understand what passed by him. If we continue like this today we'll score four.»
The Emperor moved to the bar cabinet to open the door of the small refrigerator:
«We need a nice cold beer to celebrate the first half properly. "Daje Romula!"» esclaimed in the end using the typical slang of Romula.
Then he took out two bottles from the lowest compartment of the bar cabinet and then filled two glasses:
«This, Tommi, arrived this week: it's the blonde one produced by those friars in Valdovena, the one you like so much.»
Having taken the glass, Tommaso sat back on the sofa while his father remained at the window watching Melissa, his son's wife, stroll with the Empress in the terrace garden overlooking the sharp bend of the river Adise, one hand on her hip, the other caressing her belly that was starting to show.
The Emperor, after a long thirst-quenching sip, said to his son while continuing to look out the window:
«Your mother has already had a gift prepared for Melissa: a diamond set. But not just any thing, eh: there's an emerald, Tommaso, as big as an egg, as the main piece. I tell you… something shamefully embarrassing considering how much it cost.»
Tommaso just smiled, answering absentmindedly, like all the excitement for the match were vanished:
«Melissa will be happy…»
The Emperor looked at him and moved to sit next to him with an inquiring look:
«You've had that face since you arrived, thank goodness we are winning the match, otherwise you wouldn't have been good company today… what is it?»
The son seemed hesitant, but his expression had become serious again:
«yes thank goodness for the match, because today…»
«The GFCAB, isn't it?" his father asked with a sharp look.
Tommaso took another sip, remaining thoughtful:
«The crisis on Yishelem, the initial panic, the losses on the stock exchange... but what really worries me... yes, it is the GFCAB, but it is certainly not the stability of the company that worries me: it is the name of our family, the symbolic weight. All that round of offshore companies, the speculation in the markets of northwest Majatra... if everything comes out clearly, we will end up at the center of the storm. And don't tell me it can't happen!»
The Emperor nodded understandingly, starting to speak calmly to reassure him:
«I see it, I see it... you're not in the mood... but relax! First of all, we are still in full control. The network we have built with the GFCAB is too deep, too branched out to be compromised by two weeks of chaos and uncontrolled rumors.»
«Yes, but there is a risk of exposure! And if someone in Beiteynu or Pontesi were to start investigating and… talking…»
The Emperor promptly raised a hand as if to block him and in a calm but firm tone replied:
«I've already thought about that too: the intelligence started working right away. They're… "reviewing" the position of certain possible "chatterboxes" in Beiteynu and Pontesi. Someone had started asking too many questions in fact. Well… now they don't talk so willingly anymore.»
Tommaso didn't seem too reassured, however, and shaking his head he sighed:
«let's hope that the intervention of the Intelligence doesn't emerge then!»
The father, empathetically, but without abandoning pragmatism, resumed speaking:
«Tommi, let's remember what they did to us! Beiteynu has gobbled up our economy, steered our diplomatic choices, infiltrated our intelligence, all this smiling as a good old friend. Maybe at the beginning it was the case, but… it has never been officially proven… but do you really think that all that stuff is just fantasy? Istalia has been marginalized, sunk in a political and economic crisis that lasted too long and resulted eventually in the Socialist Republic!»
Tommaso, looking at the bottom of his beer, almost muttered to himself:
«Many think so, but many others talk about conspiracy theories, nationalist paranoia… I didn't imagine that you too…»
«You are not aware of ALL the things that happened, and you can't know what happened during the Peninsula War, I did! I fought during that war. But… then… what? These are such widespread opinions now that they have taken root. For the people Beiteynu is the culprit, 3FP too. And Pontesi… is little more than a pawn. No one will cry if some of those economies end up in ruins while our companies grow.»
«And the Crown?»
The Emperor settled more comfortably and calmly on the sofa and continued relaxed:
«The Crown is safe, more than ever! Furthermore the country is much more interested in what happens in the Carvelli trial. Since he was extradited from Vanuku there has been a media obsession. All eyes are there, not on the GFCAB.»
Tommaso, raised an eyebrow:
«I didn't think it could make so much noise after all these years.»
The father, with a half smile, continued:
«For years we have looked ahead... in fact it could have seemed like a closed and forgotten chapter from a distant past, given how much the country has changed, but when there has been so much blood, the noise never ends! But, being pragmatic, this is also needed: a perfect diversion at this time. In the meantime, we continue to consolidate ourselves. The crisis will pass, like all the others, the markets will adapt and our presence in the north-west quadrant will be even stronger.»
He paused briefly, then before draining the remaining beer in the glass, he added as if looking far away, beyond the windows and the garden:
«God forgive us, but we could say that it is a poetic divine justice!»
At that moment Melissa was glimpsed again from the window and the Emperor, pointing at her with his chin, said in a paternal tone:
«Look at your wife... that is the future, a future worth taking every risk for!»
The son observed his wife in silence for a moment, then took a long sip, finishing the beer in his glass:
«Yes... but I worry about the future we want to leave, hoping that it will be cleaner than the one we are leaving behind.»
The Emperor, without looking at him, always pragmatic, in a calm tone replied:
«What is certain is that we will leave a future that will be more ours! That is what matters!»