Stories of the Imperial Roman Republic

[snip]

I'm having fun with this one, sorry for the length.

October 6th, 1913. Brest, the Hotel Vesuvio

In Amelia's private opinion, someone had worked a small miracle this evening. Not even the slightest instability had struck as she descended the grand staircase, escorted by Ploussard. The tiara, strange as it felt, had remained entangled correctly in her hair as she moved throughout the cavernous halls greeting various important attendees. The luxurious gown remained free of stains, despite the almost continuous flow of food and drink. The expected calamity of klutziness that Amelia had dreaded never materialized, the only reasonable explanation to its absence being a divine intervention. That intervention was truly to be put to the test, as the orchestra began the formal prelude to a waltz to conclude the formal diner service. Couples began making there way to the edges of the dancefloor, hesitating at the border, waiting for social permission to begin. Social permission Amelia would need to provide.

Ploussard stood up from his seat at the table, the seat her father should have occupied, and turned to Amelia. He bent almost ninety degrees at the waist in a formal bow while extending his gloved hand. "Crown Princess, may I please have the honor of first dance." The statement-masked-as-a-question only just audible over the swelling vibration of stringed instruments on the air.

Amelia gulped internally before replying. "The honor is mine, Sergeant Major." She stood up and accepted Ploussard's outstretched hand.

Ploussard lead Amelia onto the dance floor. The conductor of the orchestra moved to conclude the prelude and begin the waltz, the soft bite of woodwinds joining the strings as the pair reached the middle of the dance floor. Ploussard began to gently lead Amelia around the floor, the pair moving reasonably in time with the music. The miracle of the evening continued, as Amelia did not waver or trip over her own feet. As the song wore on, others moved onto the dance floor and joined Amelia and her escort until they were but a pair on a sea of dancers. The conductor had chosen a long song, and by its conclusion it was difficult for Ploussard to escort Amelia back to the table. Fortunately, the necessary social permission did not require continued dancing, and the table was a welcome breath from the crowded party. On return, Ploussard excused himself to procure some additional beverages, leaving Amelia and Aurélie alone.

"Would you look at that, you survived without injury." Aurélie commented jestingling as Amelia sat.

Amelia discreetly stuck out her tongue in a juvenile manner in reply. "Survived is the apt term, look at that crowd."

Aurélie almost began to continue the conversation when something behind Amelia captured her attention. Amelia belatedly noticed the change in focus and with all the social grace of a scared animal in the middle of a roadway, rapidly spun in her seat.

Behind the pair stood three very tall men. All shared a similar build and common facial features. Their blond hair, with tasteful colorations of grey on the older two, was close cropped in a more military style than most Roman nobility would sport. Contrary to the haircuts, the men wore fine evening jackets, not military uniforms, tho even to Amelia's untrained eye the cut was foreign. Two of the men sported a pair of piercing blue eyes, with the third only having one. The spot where the sixth eye should have been was covered by a simple black patch. These men were clearly not from the Republic, they were Wilnoan. Amelia stood up and faced the men, feeling quite shorter than normal. The man with the eyepatch stepped forward and bowed deeply.

"Crown Princess Amelia, it is an honor to meet you. I do apologies sincerely for the lack of formal introduction." The man returned to his impressive upright height. "My name is Erwin Zientek, I am here with my brother, Duke Świętopełk Zientek of Silesia."

The oldest of the trio stepped forward and bowed. "It is my pleasure, Crown Princess." He politely took Amelia's hand and gently kissed it. "Please allow me to introduce my son, Wiktor." He gestured to the youngest of the party.

Wiktor stepped forward, restrained confidence dripping liberally from his stance. "Crown Princess, it is truly an honor." He then followed the lead of his father, bowing deeply and kissing Amelia's hand. "I hear it is also your birthday, let me be one of many to wish you a wonderful year to come."

Amelia curtsied in return, wondering how well the makeup applied hours before was disguising her blush. "You are most kind, thank you. What brings you gentlemen all the way from Silesia?"

The Duke replied "We are visiting our cousin, Count Penthievre, who is in attendance tonight. When it was discovered our visit overlapped with this lovely event, he was able to arrange for our attendance."

It was at this moment Ploussard returned, casting an inquisitive stare in the direction of the Zientek trio. "I have returned with refreshments, m'lady."

Amelia knew her expected role and what needed to be done. "Sergeant Major Ploussard, please allow me to introduce Duke Zientek of Silesia, his brother Erwin, and his son Wiktor." She then turned to the Zientek trio. "Duke, gentlemen, please allow me to introduce my escort for this evening, Sergeant Major Ploussard of the Roman Marines, and my handmaiden, Aurélie Orlando daughter of Duke Orlando of Tuscany."

Ploussard nodded in greeting as Aurélie curtsied. "Would you gentlemen care to join us for a refreshment?" He slightly raised his hand in the direction of the nearest waiter.

"We would be honored, if it is not an inconvenience." Duke Świętopełk replied.

"Please, have a seat." Ploussard gestured to the table as the waiter materialized next to him. "Please see that these gentlemen have a beverage."
The waiter bought enough time for Amelia, Ploussard, and Aurélie to sit back down. Ploussard sat to Amelia's left, Aurélie to the right. Duke Świętopełk sat next to Ploussard, Wiktor next to him, with Erwin rounding out the table, leaving one open space between him and Aurélie. As quickly as he departed, the waiter returned with more drinks. Conversation between members of the table began, Amelia trying her best to stay out of anything to involved. Wiktor however was keen to engage with her and didn't seem to take a hint to the contrary. After some attempted deflections, the message had still not gotten across.

"This is quite the party; do you attend events like this all the time?" The Modern Latin getting garbled by the Polish eccentricities of Wiktor's accent. "I've been to my share of fancy parties, some as fine as this."

"No, not often." Amelia replied, taking great effort to keep the tone diplomatic but flat. "Not since my brother passed at least."

"A great shame to hear of the Crown Prince's untimely death." Wiktor continued. "My sincere condolences."

"You are too kind." Amelia responded.

"I myself have three younger brothers, I care a great deal for them." Continuing without acknowledgment of responses seemed to be Wiktor's forte. "And I understand I am soon to be an uncle, as one of my brothers had a, productive, visit with a family friend."

"Wiktor!" Duke Świętopełk interjected. "How dare you insult the Crown Princess with such accounts."

Amelia bit back a lashing response in favor of restraint. "No harm done Duke Świętopełk." She turned to Aurélie. "Would you please accompany me, I could use a pinch of fresh air. Please do excuse me gentlemen, it is perhaps a little to warm in her for my sensibilities. I shall return shortly." Amelia stood, curtsied, and began walking leisurely to the nearest doorway. Aurélie followed and hovered half a step behind as Amelia stopped several times to respond to greetings. Finally, the pair reached the door and stepped into one of the luxurious gardens of the Hotel Vesuvio.

"I cannot believe the nerve of that Świętopełk brat." Aurélie burst not quite out of earshot of the nearest partygoer. "Talking about something as, private, as that in front of anyone and so crudely."

"Indeed." Amelia replied. "I could practically hear Ploussard's eyes attempting to penetrate Wiktor's skull."

"Crown Princess?" A male voice called out from behind the pair.

Amelia turned and saw a familiar face. "Lieutenant Charpentier, how nice to see you." She was unable to keep a sheath of excitement from her voice and her heartbeat steady as the handsome Marine officer approached.

"The pleasure is mine." Eugène Charpentier gently grasped a gloved hand and touched it softly to his lips. "May I say you look resplendent this evening."

The tingle in Amelia's spine and guts was difficult to keep out of her voice as her cheeks burned hot. "May I introduce my handmaiden, Aurélie Orlando daughter of Duke Orlando of Tuscany. Aurélie, this is Lieutenant Eugène Charpentier heir to the Dutchy of Gascogne."

Aurélie curtsied "A pleasure Lieutenant."

"The pleasure is mine, m'lady." Eugène responded, lightly bowing. "I was about to procure some refreshment, may I retrieve anything for ether of you?"

"A beverage would be lovely, if it is not an inconvenience." Amelia replied.

"Of course not, Crown Princess." Eugène looked to Aurélie, who nodded. "I will return momentarily and allow you your fresh air." He then bowed and turned to walk back into the ballroom.

Amelia caught herself exhaling though tight lips as Eugène disappeared inside, softly whispering "Thank you." An elbow jabbing into her ribs partially snapped her back into the moment.

Aurélie's face was plastered with a sly smirk. "I take it you didn't notice the way he was looking at you?"

"What ever do you mean by that?" Amelia replied, slightly flustered. "Of course, he was looking at me, we were conversing."

"So that is a no then." Aurélie's tone was matter of fact in only the way friends could be. "I guess that's because you were too occupied to look at what he was doing, because you were looking at him." The inflection of the latter half implying something just over the boarder of polite conversation.

"I was not!..." Amelia began to protest, then deflated. "How obvious was it?"

"For what is worth," Aurélie chuckled, "he didn't seem to notice as he was occupied looking at you. "I told you I was as good as invisible next to you."

Ameilia unintentionally ignored the last part of the comment. "I wonder if he would ask me to dance?"

"You could always ignore everything we have ever been taught about being proper lady's and ask him." Aurélie offered. "If he declines I'll hit him."

Ameilia smiled "I quite like that idea, I think I may if he does not offer of his own volition."

[The Rock Doctor]

Good stuff.  Glad we Wilno folk make impressions.

[snip]

Another long one, I'll try and make the next part a bit more concise.

October 6th, 1913. Brest, the Hotel Vesuvio

The autumn night air was beginning to cool Amelia's skin beyond a comfortable level when Eugène returned with three drinks. She smiled softly at him as she took one of the small glasses, the second going to Aurélie, while Eugène kept the third. Amelia caught herself examining Eugène's nose in detail as he spoke.

"If I may, a toast." Eugène's genuine tone wrapping the words like honey brushed on a biscuit. "To the Crown Princess; may this year, and her life, be filled with nothing but the best wonders and happiness. Happy Birthday."

Amelia could do nothing to stop a smile splitting her face as she mirrored the raising of the glass and took a large sip. The liquid burned its way down to her stomach, she had to fight to suppress a cough. Aurélie failed at the latter task, two expulsive exhalations momentarily masking the music from inside.

"My apologies miss Orlando." Eugène had apparently no trouble with the drink. "Perhaps I should have procured something less strong."

"Its quite fine." Aurélie replied. "I was not expecting such stiffness is all. Please excuse me for a moment." With that she partially stifled a third cough and stepped away.

"I do hope she is ok." The concerned tone genuine on Eugène's voice.

"I believe she will be." Amelia replied, the drink's erosive effect on her innate shyness making conversation easier. "It was quite stiff." Her eyes met his, and she hoped the pleading question behind them was received. Ask me to dance.

"My sincere apologies." Eugène bowed to accent the point. "I did not mean to cause you any discomfort."

"No apology is required." Amelia replied. "I find it quite invigorating."

"Should we wait her for miss Orlando's return?" Eugène asked deferentially.

"I'm sure she will be able to find me wherever I am." Amelia responded. "She always seems to know. Perhaps we could go back inside, this air is a little to chilled for my liking."

"Of course, Crown Princess." Eugène replied, while offering his arm. "May I escort you?"

Amelia welcomingly took the offered arm. "You may, and please, if it is just us you may call me Amelia."

"I accept the honor, but then you must also call me Eugène in similar circumstances." His reply came with a smile. "I wouldn't dream of not reciprocating the familiarity."

The pair entered the grand ballroom. The last notes of the band's music hanging in the air. A voice addressed the crowd. "We will be taking a short break. Music will resume momentarily."

"If I may borrow some of your time," Eugène inquired "I would love to reintroduce you to my father, he was thrilled to meet you at the palace and would be remiss if he was unable to properly convey his well-wishes."

"I remember the Duke well." Amelia responded. "It would be my pleasure to speak with him again."

"Splendid." Eugène replied and began to lead in the direction of his table.

At this point Amelia caught Aurélie out of the corner of her eye in the crowd. Her handmaiden winked playfully, as if to say good luck, and turned to return to Ploussard. Amelia normally hated being lead places, but something about the way Eugène preformed the formal social interaction was very humanizing. Somehow this felt more like guiding than leading, like Amelia was allowed the choice to follow, rather than dragged by the nose. She stole another glance at Eugène, lingering perhaps too long on the features of his handsome face. Before much time had passed, the pair arrived at the table occupied by Eugène's family.

"Mother, father, it is my pleasure to announce Crown Princess Amelia." Eugène acknowledged his parents as he disengaged his arm from escort mode.

Duke and Duchess Charpentier were quick to stand. The Duke spoke first. "Crown Princess, please allow me to wish you a happy birthday and many more. It is a pleasure to see you again." He bowed deeply.

"The pleasure is mine Duke Charpentier and thank you." Amelia did a very formal curtsey. "Duchess Charpentier, a pleasure to meet you."

Duchess Charpentier finished her own curtsey. "The pleasure is mine Crown Princess. Would you care to join us while the band recesses? I'm sure you have many offers to dance that require responses." The eyebrow raised in her son's direction was, almost, invisible.

"It seems my lack of dancing accolades have proceeded me." Amelia replied. "I have, perhaps fortunately, been limited to the formal requirements of the evening." She sat down in a chair.

"Nonsense." The Duchess replied while taking her own seat. "I'm sure you greatly underestimate how well you preform. Your escort for the evening was quite skilled during the first dance, surly because of your presence."

"The Sergeant Major is an accomplished dancer." Amelia gave a friendly smile. "I was lucky to have an experienced partner."

Conversation with the Duke and Duchess was much easier than with the Świętopełk trio. Amelia was made to feel talked with, not talked to. Eugène had clearly inherited this capability quite will. While there was still formality to the conversation, it felt so much more natural than any other she had had this evening outside of Aurélie and Ploussard. A natural lull in the conversation faded in as the first hints of the band beginning another dance slowly overran the background noise of many conversations.

"Ah, do you hear that." The Duke turned to the Duchess. "I recognize this song, one of your favorites. Would you do me the honor of a dance?" He stood an offered a hand to the Duchess.

"Of course, darling." The Duchess took the hand and stood. "I presume the Crown Princess does not mind?"

"Of course not." Amelia smiled. "Please enjoy, it would make me happy."

The look from the Duchess to Eugène was subtle, as she followed the Duke's lead to the dance floor. After they had moved away from the table, Eugène stood up and took a brief moment to straighten his uniform jacket.

"If it would please the Crown Princess," Eugène's formality returning a slight edge to the soft tones of his voice. "I would be honored to have this dance." He offered his hand.

Amelia felt her heart skip a beat or three. "It would please me greatly." She placed her hand in his and stood up.

The closer Eugène lead her to the dance floor, the more the ball of nerves inside of Amelia's guts felt like it was about to explode out of any hole it could find. At the edge of the floor she briefly thought she might void herself. For how steady its climb had been, the tension vanished in the moment that Eugène shifted from leading her to taking the pose to start the dance. As one hand took one of hers and the other softly grabbed the opposite shoulder, all the worry and fear seemed to vacate though his fingertips and palms. As before, the leading felt like an acceptable suggestion, not a forced act. As skilled as Ploussard had been, though no fault of his this was not comparable. Eugène lead Amelia around the floor, the longer the song ran, the less Amelia felt distinct from Eugène. She felt as if she was becoming an extension of him, and him of her. This new feeling mixed with the other tangles of emotion and provided a smoothing clarity. Amelia almost missed the end of the song, as the other pairs broke apart to polity clap, she held on every last moment she could before doing the same. As the band began their next song, she turned back to Eugène and leaned a little closer than necessary to whisper.

"May I have another, Eugène?" Amelia did not feel any blush burning her cheeks.

"It would be my pleasure, Amelia." Eugène replied, his breath tickling Amelia's exposed neck.

One more dance turned into several, until Amelia's feet had to practically beg her to stop. Before their revolt could become more dire, the song began to fade to its last notes. The pair broke apart, as did the rest of the dancers, to applaud the band.

Amelia leaned closer to Eugène "I could use some time off my feet and some more fresh air. Would you join me in the garden?"

"If it pleases you." Eugène replied, "then I would enjoy it greatly." He offered his arm.

Amelia took the offered arm and allowed Eugène to lead her from the hall. He guided her to a bench a short way outside one of the grand double doors. It was the perfect spot, still visible so as not to invite impolite whispers from others if they were discovered but far enough away to provide for a quite conversation. The pair sat, finally having an opportunity for elevating knowledge of the other. Amelia learned of Eugène's family, his love of dogs, that he could not stand the taste of white wine, and perhaps most importantly to her in this moment that he was not betrothed to anyone. She told him of her impending term at the Naval Academy here in Brest, her love of dogs, and how sometimes she preferred non-Italian wines and how hard she worked to ensure the palace sommelier did not lean this fact. The conversation had steered back in the direction of military service when Eugène unknowingly dropped a live grenade in the conversation.

"I suppose it is important to know the enlisted leaders." Eugène was responding to a question about how best to interact with non-commissioned officers. "Ultimately they will have been in these possessions longer than you will be and have the heartbeat of the enlisted men in a way you cannot. Its something I intend to be highly mindful when I arrive in Tamara Insula."

"So, you are being sent to the New World?" Amelia managed to, almost, keep the crushing weight that impacted her soul out of the question.

"Yes. I ship out in two weeks." Eugène replied. "I hear the weather on the island is lovely even in the winter. I am quite excited for my first real command. My first real chance to show I can lead. The challenge is there, I must seize it."

The show of bravado inspired something in Amelia. "Would you care to walk the garden while we continue the conversation?"

"That sounds lovely." Eugène stood up and offered Amelia his hand.

Amelia took Eugène's hand and let him lead her around the corner by his arm. Eugène then changed the subject. "So, what is the best gift you have received today?" The sounds of the party became more muffled by the garden as the pair moved further into its maze-like pathways.

"Its hard to pin down." Amelia replied, surprising herself with how almost flirtatious the tone was. "As perhaps I have not received all gifts yet. Not that I need more, people have been most generous."

"I do now regret not finding something small to present to you." Eugène replied with a playfully hurt tone. "I do not wish to disappoint the Crown Princess and her need for gifts." He flashed a heart-softening smile.

"But you have already given me a wonderful gift." Amelia returned the smile. "A willing dance partner who said nothing about the quality of the dancing offered."

"Amelia, you are quite wrong about that." The soft, warm familiar tone in Eugène's response wrapping the words. "Just as you are to harsh on yourself about your appearance. Far and away you are the most beautiful woman here tonight."

A slow burn of nervous energy began to worm its way around Amelia's abdomen. "Eugène you are to kind, but there are clearly more attractive women here than me. More wonderful gowns..." The thought trailed off. Amelia noticed they were now standing near a small fountain at the intersection of several paths, the soft glow of the electric lights of the hotel distant, the half-moon augmenting the artificial light. Not another person was in sight.

Eugène stopped walking and took both of Amelia's hands in his. His intensely soft eyes, practically the same green as her necklace stone, penetrated her one brown and one blue eye. What would have been a worrying encounter from almost any other man felt somehow right. Amelia felt herself moving closer to Eugène, the air gap between his uniform and her dress getting smaller and smaller. The nervous energy acting like a magnet pulling her closer, spreading down her arms and legs threatening to undo all the social conditioning Amelia had ever been given regarding her interaction with the opposite sex.

"Amelia," Eugène's reply began softly, sincerity woven into the very space between the words. "I know its wrong to say this, as you have likely far more suitable prospects than anyone else here. But since our first conversation at the palace, I have been unable to drive the though of your beauty from my mind. Both of your personality and your physicality. I know even confessing this is wrong and I fully expect you to leave..."

Amelia did the opposite of leaving. Almost without thought, she was on her tip-toes, pushing her chest into the bottom of the jacket's breast pockets. There was not a moments hesitation as she, perhaps a little aggressively, touched her lips to Eugène's, cutting him off mid sentence. The kiss lasted for what felt infinite, the softness of Eugène's lips amazing against hers. The roaring nervous energy detonated inside her, replaced with a feeling of euphoria and detachment that vibrated every millimeter of her body. She could live happily in this moment forever.

After what could only have been counted in seconds, Amelia gently pulled her lips back, slowly returning her heels to the ground. She maintained eye contact with Eugène all the way down, not quite able to tell his reaction. She noticed that her breathing was coming in shorter, sharper intervals, her heart hammered in her chest, and the nervous ball of excitement had lodged itself in her abdomen. She beat the shocked marine to any reply.

"I'm sorry." A vortex of feelings raged in Amelia's brain as it tried to verbalize an excuse for the actions of the heart. "That was very improper. I don't know what came over me. Please forgive me Eugène." She realized that Eugène had not let go of her hands or moved away from her.

"Of course, I forgive you." Eugène replied. "Please forgive me, I should not have reciprocated."

"There is nothing to forgive." Confusion reigned in Amelia's response as words began to run together. "You only did what as natural. What's natural would be for you to kiss me, not me to kiss you. Im so sorry I never..."

Eugène cut Amelia off, again making eye contact. "Perhaps I am misreading this, but I must ask. May I kiss you?"

"Please." A singularity of relief, longing, and excitement exploded inside Amelia's mind, drawing out the response to an almost begging tone. "Please, please, please kiss me."

Amelia felt Eugène let go of her hands and softly wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. As before, she rose onto the balls of her feet, this time wrapping her arms around his neck. She only had to wait moments for the embrace to reach its conclusion, Eugène's lips meeting hers. The second kiss was longer than the first, but the intensity of the feelings was greater. After their lips parted and Amelia return to flat feet, she held Eugène tightly in an embrace that he continued to reciprocate. After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a minuet, Amelia pulled away. She grabbed Eugène's hands as they slid over her hips.

"Eugène," Amelia made no attempt to hide the shaking in her voice. "that was wonderful."

"Agreed." Eugène still sounded a little shocked.

"We should probably return before anyone comes looking for us." The rational part of Amelia's mind was, slowly, beginning to take back over.

"Agreed." Eugène parroted his last word. "Should I escort you or should we leave separately?"

"I think it is reasonable for us to have taken a walk together in the garden." Amelia replied "Nobody would expect a fine, respectable, officer such as yourself of any impropriety."

"I would hope so." Eugène replied as he offered his arm.
"Let us continue our walk then." Amelia replied while accepting the arm. She leaned her head into Eugène's shoulder. "And to answer your previous question, I received my best gift from you."

The couple returned to the ballroom after meandering the garden to find Aurélie waiting. Eugène excused himself and Amelia returned to her table in the company of her handmaiden. It was difficult for Amelia to stop slightly smiling for the rest of the evening.

[snip]

And last part on this. We will return to your regular news after this post. It should be something about ships or politics right?

Later that night, more accurately extremely early the next morning, Amelia said her final farewell and excused herself to retire for the evening. Aurélie followed, both women walking slightly wavy lines from the many beverages of the evening. They reached Amelia's room and Aurélie opened the door. Once inside, Amelia collapsed into a chair next to a crackling fire while Aurélie went to the dresser and began removing Amelia's nightgown.

"I can handle it Aurélie." Amelia tossed the comment in the general direction of the wardrobe. "Just give me a few minuets for the world to become a little more still."

"You just want to look decent," Aurélie's reply was laced with friendly sass "In case that dashing Lieutenant comes calling."

Amelia could not control the smile that came with recollection of the garden. "Are you suggesting I aim to be improper and unladylike?"

Aurélie moved with the nightgown next to the chair. "I saw the way you looked at him and I doubt your thoughts were pure as the driven snow. I doubt his were ether. Do you want to tell me what happened after that drink I didn't quite handle?"

"No, but yes." Amelia replied "Its late and I really should get some sleep."

"We both know you wont be asleep for a while." Aurélie had begun to undo Amelia's ornate hair, setting the tiara on the vanity counter. "Unless something happened..."

"He did ask me to dance eventually." Amelia's mind drifted back to the feeling of being lead around the dancefloor. "I did enjoy it; he is a good dancer."

"And you shared more than one dance with him." The gest in Aurélie's reply bit softly as she continued removing various jewelry items. "Think of the scandal."

"There is nothing wrong with sharing more than one dance with a talented dancer." Amelia retorted. "Besides, it was only a couple and I did have other partners." She stood up.

"And what about the excursion to the garden?" Aurélie had begun to undo the back of the dress. "And I appear to have found something worth discussing."

Amelia realized how much she had tensed up when Aurélie had mentioned the garden. "We talked about our lives, nothing more." The dress fell to the floor and Amelia stepped out of it, the light silk underlayer still hanging from her shoulders.

"You have this haste to your voice when you lie by omission." Aurélie retorted as she collected the dress and returned it to the wardrobe. "Is there something scandalous you don't want me to know."

Amelia met Aurélie's eyes with a pained expression. "Yes." She sat back down in the chair, slumping defeatedly.

"Out with it." Aurélie plopped herself in the other chair. "You know I can pry it out of you, but I'm also tired."

"I...I might have..." Amelia struggled for form the right words. "I kinda...I kissed him."

"And that explains the dumb smirk on your face for the rest of the night." Aurélie clapped gleefully. "Don't worry, your little secret is safe with me as always. Did he kiss you back?"

Amelia recounted the garden events, Aurélie hanging on every word. The story turned into an outlet for many very confused feelings, one of which burned to the forefront.

"...and he is being deployed to the New World in two weeks' time." Amelia buried her face in her hands "Its like I made the worst possible choice out of worst possible choices."

"If you will allow me," Aurélie's tone was consolatory. "I might be able assist you. But not now, let us both get to sleep. I know I don't need to tell you to have good dreams tonight."

Amelia smiled. "I don't think that will be any trouble at all."



October 18th, 1913. Brest.

Amelia spun herself around in front of the mirror. "I don't see why this sort of dress is not more popular." Rather than a formal gown or something woven of fine fabrics, the dress Amelia now wore was a cozy, but course wool. Cut roughly, it was not something most royalty would be caught dead in, but for today it was the prefect disguise. Over the last week and a half, Aurélie had worked some small act of wonder. She had managed to set up a discreet meeting with Eugène. For his part, Eugène had been the prefect noble gentleman. Amelia had received a lovely note thanking her for her time and attention at her party, but no other formal communication.

"I'm glad I managed to find one that fits you so well." Aurélie replied. "It will leave a lovely impression of what he will be missing." She winked playfully.

Amelia could not help but feel butterflies at the though of physical attraction. "For once I agree with you. Come now, I do not want to be late."

The pair discreetly exited the hotel, carful not to attract attention. They made their way down to the waterfront district on foot, the activity of the harbor and weekend crowds creating a noisy audio background to the smells of the mixing of city and sea. Walking along the waterfront for a way, the duo eventually arrived at a small, nondescript restaurant. The owner of this establishment was a close friend of some acquaintance of Aurélie's. He greeted them politely, but aloofly, and guided them to a small, private back room past the tables lightly sprinkled with lunchtime diners. Once there, Aurélie instructed Amelia to wait while she returned with the proprietor to the dining room. It felt like ages before there was a gentle knock on the door and Aurélie returned.

"Look who I found looking around outside" Aurélie smiled as she opened the door to allow a civilian clothed Eugène inside. "I'll give you two some time." She then closed the door.

Amelia practically threw herself into Eugène's arms, drawing him into a firm embrace.

"Hello to you to, Amelia." Eugène chuckled as he returned the hug tightly.

"I simply had to see you again before you left." Amelia's reply was muffled by Eugène's chest. "I have some things for you."

"I have something for you first." Eugène replied.

Amelia pulled back to look up at Eugène. Before she could ask, Eugène leaned down and kissed her. When he went to pull away after a short time, she followed him up, not allowing for an end. The long kiss began to turn into a chain of kisses, the passion building the longer the chain grew. Finally, before the passion overcame both, Eugène managed to disengage as Amelia's heart felt like it was about to explode out of her chest. Both of their breathing was heavy, a passionate gaze holding between them.

"A wonderful present." Amelia said trying not to pant. "Can you forgive my greed if I ask for more?"

"Of course, I can." Eugène replied "But our time is limited, and we do need to talk as well."

"Agreed." Amelia replied smoothing her skirt. She produced a small package wrapped in paper. "My gift to you, to remember me with."

Eugène accepted the package and produced a small one of his own. "For you."

They each took a moment to unwrap the gifts. Somehow, they had both settled on the idea of a handkerchief. Enclosed with Amelia's was a short note which Eugène read silently.

"The note is to help you when you are in need of a better day." Amelia added sheepishly. "Perhaps it will help some."

"The thought is most kind." Eugène replied "I shall keep it on my person at all times." He gave Amelia a gently peck on the cheek.

"Also, I would like to write you, formally." An adamant undertone rode with the comment as Amelia met Eugène's gaze. "I would most enjoy continue correspondence."

"Will that cause you any difficulties?" Eugène seemed concerned

"None which would not be outweighed by the joy of reading your words." Amelia smiled. "Is there anything you would like to add?"
"Only that I am going to miss you very much and also look forward to reading your words as well." Eugène replied. "Is there anything else you would like to do before we take a lovely seaside stroll?"

"I believe you forgave some greed that has not be satisfied?" Amelia pulled Eugène close and whispered coyly in his ear. "Or have you forgotten the feeling of kissing me already?"

After another chain or three of kisses that came close to passionately boiling over, the couple left the back room and shadowed by Aurélie at a shot distance enjoyed a lovely walk along the shoreline. When it was time to depart, Amelia took a brief detour into an ally to steal one last kiss from Eugène before wishing him well and allowing him to depart. Aurélie and Amelia returned to the hotel without anyone being any the wiser to their absence. It was however, impossible to notice that Amelia was slightly more melancholy for several days afterwards and was feeling unwell on the 20th, a simple cold per Aurélie that mostly cleared up the next day.

[Desertfox]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25QyCxVkXwQ

8)

[maddox]

Oh my, ambassador Manko wispered . "It seems kids are the same all over the world."

I have to admit, I never have tought Miss Amelia would support the princess in such a wonderful thryst. On the other hand, it's a surprise you did learn about it. 
But, what will you do with this information? It can be a big lever if properly used.

Don't worry Sára, this little secret is just that, a secret to be kept, and in a few years, if life permits, to be laughed with as a story shared between friends. I think both young people will have a secret supporter in this. If you won't object?

[snip]

November 22nd, 1913. Fort Verdun, Francia.

Nestore Piccirillo shot upright from a light sleep as the door to the barracks crashed open. Someone else fell loudly to the floor off to his right, a startled yep echoed down from the far left end of the hall.

"On your feet right now vermiculus!" The yells from the group of uniformed men bursting though the now open door were harsh and cutting on the ears. "If I had permission, I'd start kicking manhoods to give you an idea of the pain a real wakeup would be like! On your fucking feet NOW!"

The floor of the barracks was cold and unyielding, Nestore struggled to keep the bite of the temperature change from affecting his steps as he rushed to readiness. On went a pair of pants over the undershorts he was sleeping in, a shirt could wait. Boots encased his feet to quick for socks. He came to as tight an attention as he could at the foot of his bed, others were doing the same but slower. The general sense of panic in the room rapidly approached a full boil as the uniformed men continued screaming. As suddenly as the whole affair had began, a loud whistle blast sliced though all words in the air. The barracks fell silent as a duo of older officers entered.

"What have we here Drill Sergeant?" the more senior of the two officers replied as the other scanned a clipboard.

"Sir." The Drill Sergeant replied. "Here we have a lot of very dead conscripts because getting woken up in the middle of the night is a great inconvenience for them."

"It seems some of them did manage to put themselves approximately together?" The officer's tone was quizzical as he walked down the line of men in various states of dress.

"Indeed, some of them did sir." The Drill Sergeant replied.

The officer stopped in front of Nestore. "Your name?"

"Sir!" Nestore snapped off an almost-prefect salute that sent a vein bulging on the Drill Sergeant's forehead. "This conscripts name is Piccirillo, sir!"

"Conscript Piccirillo, why are you one of the only men in this room anywhere near a state to fight in?" The question dripped from the officer's voice.

"Sir, Conscript Piccirillo is a light sleeper and assisted his father with emergency veterinary services which required being alert at a moment notice sometime late at night." Nestore replied, still holding attention.

"You may stand at ease Conscript." The officer replied. "Drill Sergeant, do you have an opinion of Conscript Piccirillo?"

"Sir, I believe you would find Conscript Piccirillo to be one of the least disappointing conscripts in this group." The Drill Sergeant replied.

"Is that so?" Curiosity ever so slightly peaked around the edges of the reply. "In that case, please ensure that Conscript Piccirillo is informed as to what the expected role of Barracks Leader are for his class and ensure he is understanding of this responsibility. After, of course, the barracks is disciplined for their lack of readiness."

"It would be my pleasure sir." The Drill Sergeant grinned maliciously. "YOU HEARD THE MAJOR, YOU BUNCH OF WORTHLESS GUTTERSCUM HAVE TWO MINUETS TO BE READY FOR A DOUBLE-TIME RUN AROUND THE HILLS AND BACK AGAIN! MOVE! You stepped in some serious shit now Piccirilo!"

Nestore scrambled to finish getting ready along with the rest of the men, wondering what indeed he had stepped in.

[The Rock Doctor]

Poor guy.

[snip]

January 19th, 1914. Imperial Roman Naval Academy, outside Brest, Francia.

The morning air hung still, little moving beyond small birds and rodents. The sun was still mostly below the horizon, but it was light enough out to see unless one was looking for fine detail. The sharp bite of winter Atlantic air seeking any skin not covered by hair or woven fabric. The smell of the sea was strong, and alluring. Brest held both the main base of the Atlantic Fleet and the Naval academy; such had been true since the 17th century. It had seen many firsts, and in the 20th century it had welcomed another.

Amelia's first term at the academy had begun with little fanfare, the only thing separating her from any other student was the ever-present Marine guard. The private room was not even unique, it was a perk afforded to many from prominent families. For the first time surrounded by those her own age, and male at that, it had been quite the shock. Amelia found quickly that she was able to tell those who were at the academy due to status, and those there due to passion or raw talent. She found herself striving to keep up with the latter, feeling that like them, she needed to earn her place rather than take what was given. So far in the classroom, this had proven doable. In the physical activities, there were difficulties.

The cold January air burned Amelia's face and lungs with each breath, coming in cadence with her footfalls. Running had never been a favored activity of Amelia's, but she had always thought herself passable at it. Yet her small frame and short legs had her at a clear disadvantage compared to some of the young men in her class. As she rounded the corner of the favored path, a stich in her side finally cried enough and she was forced to slow to a walk. Tilting her head back as she walked to the short fence along the seawall, uncomfortable pain bound its way around her legs. The ubiquitous Marine guard, this one a Corporal named Sourd, gently came to a stop a couple steps behind. Comparatively, Sourd's breathing sounded like a smooth turbine next to to Amelia's years past its replacement date piston.

A third set of footfalls came into earshot, much more rapid than Amelia's had been. Around to corner materialized one of the other students, a giant specimen named Tristan Airaldi. Tristan was the second son of a butcher from a small town near the Wilnoan boarder close to the Albian Channel. His frame was stretched and lanky, Amelia seemed to have stuck in her head that he measured over two meters tall. Tristan was also quite the runner, having recently broke a long-standing Academy record. Amelia took a quick gulp to try and slow her breathing and Tristan saw her and began to slow down.
"Lovely morning here gentle..." Tristan took a second to recognized that it was not two men in front of him "Apologies mlady, I didn't recognize you."

"No harm intended, so none received." Amelia replied. While normally attending classes in a skirted version of the standard student uniform, Amelia had acquired a pair of the standard male workout attire, a wool sweater and pants, to use for the morning runs. So far, Tristan was not the only person confused by this, tho he had handled it far better than some.

"Lovely morning for a jog, isn't it?" Tristan asked politely while taking the opportunity to stretch a little bit.

Sourd replied before Amelia could open her mouth "It is, should you not continue?"

Amelia quickly followed up. "Please do forgive my escort, it is perfectly alright for you to have stopped." She tossed a quick glare in Sourd's direction. The Marine, having received the message, murmured an apology.  "Now that we have all remember our manners, it is indeed a nice morning for a jog. What you call jogging I call sprinting however."

Tristan let out a single guffaw. "I do think you are too hard on yourself."

"Am I now?" Amelia replied. "I do believe you would not be saying that had you ever seen me try to keep up with you. It would perhaps be possible for a stride, no more."

Tristan thought for a moment before replying. "Perhaps you are right, and I would not dream of asking you to test it."

"Your honesty is appreciated." Amelia replied

"Don't worry" Tristan replied cheerfully "I really should be off to finish before breakfast. Have a good remainder of your morning jog." With that he was off as quickly as he had arrived, long legs propelling him in miniature leaps.

Amelia took a deep breath and began to jog again, Sourd dutifully following a few paces back.

[The Rock Doctor]

Amelia's story is a good one, snip.

[snip]

Thanks Rocky, I'll try and throw some other viewpoint characters in from time to time as well.

February 15th, 1914
Lieutenant Charpentier,
I hope this letter finds you well. Know my thoughts are with you for the safety of you and your command. In my life things have never been more enjoyably hectic. The Academy keeps my quite occupied, but the work and learning are enjoyable. Is this a feeling you experienced as well, or it is another one of my more eccentric traits? The weather here has been cold, typical for this time of year I am told, but not what I am used to. In Rome it would be far warmer. I presume that you have far warmer weather than I, I hope it is not too much. I only have a few more moments to write before I must return to my studies. Have your expectations of field command changed greatly since we last spoke? I wish to know all about your experiences. Waiting with patience for your reply, I will write with more thoughts in the meantime.
Sincerely,
Amelia

P.S. I do hope you find the included package of sweets enjoyable. My understanding is they are quite hard to come by in the New World.

March 30th, 1914
Crown Princess,
Your letter found me quite well. Your thoughts are appreciated and closely considered. I cannot say I took to the academic aspects of my training as you appear to be. More a poor reflection on myself than any sort of negative on you. The weather here has been far to present for late winter, it feels closer to late spring or early summer. I have been told by some of the more seasoned officers that the afternoons of proper summer are quite difficult to tolerate. We shall see when that time comes. Command has been a learning experience, there is only so much that can be taut. Someday I will need to tell you of some of the events that have transpired in person, they are to fantastic to be properly conveyed in writing. I have included some notes and observations of local wildlife, there are wonderful specimens here. Someday I would enjoy showing you them. Some of your other notes have arrived as well, and I will respond to them each individually.
Sincerely,
Eugène

P.S. The sweets were indeed wonderful. I regret that I lack anything worth sending along.

May 7th, 1914
Lieutenant Charpentier,
The descriptions you provided of the local wildlife in Tamara Insula were fascinating to read. You have a good ear for descriptive words, it is the next best thing to seeing these creatures with my own eyes. I hope the news regarding the negotiations around the Southern Bahamas are not troubling. I do hope that all involved see reason before it is to late and diplomacy must be extended with the point of a spear. As always, my thoughts for the safety of you and your men are constant and unyielding. I wished to communicate this as quickly as possible, and you should expect another letter with more continuation of our conversations.
Sincerely,
Amelia

P.S. I have not forgotten about the sweets, please expect more.

[snip]

Sometime in Late May 1914. Foreign Ministry, Rome.

This is an excerpt from a secure meeting of high level members of the Roman Government. Knowledge of exact topics are limited to the members of the meeting.

"How much time do we have until this is beyond stopping?"

"Define stopping, because depending on what you mean it may already be too late."

"Those are comforting words to hear."

"Atlantic Command has already transferred 2nd Battle Division and some additional supporting ships, but that was in the works long before this began to take the spotlight."

"I presume there are good faith negotiations underway?"

"Of course, we are not trying to pull our own San Diego here."

"Good, we need to be able to truthfully say this was an event with decent warning, not surprise. Should it come to pass, of course."

"Are we sure this is the right course of action?"

"Yes, we will have now tipped our hand enough that this will be our best opportunity. Anything later, well I would not want to be the one explaining to the Senate that we made the choice."

"Only a few weeks until the die will be cast, and there will be nothing for us to do than sit back and pray."

[snip]

June 3rd, 1914: IRS Supremus, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

nvsjgomwrfhbbqeyicsyzcmseqsqnwayytznfmvpqvwrpqnmpxmxmnlxkccmidewqsczgteunagncrkxrjdsoyiqwrlmvfdstajfaovxgsddazhrwovqlqj

The message wove its way through Alessandro Valli's mind as he stood on the starboard flying bridge of the IRS Supremus, a lit cigar pinched between the fingers of his right hand. The cooling soft breeze of the sea air past a ship in motion somehow felt different out of sight of the shore. The Supremus steamed at a leisurely eight knots, behind her followed her sister, the Emperor Trajan VII. Ahead, offset to port and starboard respectively were the iIRS Parisus and the IRS Neapoli. Further back was all four of the Larui class cruisers, and the ten fearsome G-Class destroyers. Modern light units with old battleships, not traditional cruising partners. Ten days had already passed, and the squadron had ten more to arrive where they had been sent. Leaving behind the other ships of the Atlantic Fleet, including the four powerful battleships, the reason for the voyage remained obscured from all but a select few, including Alessandro.

One of the other men who knew the true purpose of the group joined Alessandro as he scanned the Neapoli with idle observation. The second man, Rear Admiral Albrici, pulled out a pipe and after a few quick attempts with a match, lit the tobacco within.

"Lovely weather for a smoke, Captain Valli." Albrici attempted to strike up conversation while also turning his gaze to the Neapoli.

"Yes, it is sir." Alessandro replied. "We should take these chances while we can."

"Indeed." Albrici replied around his pipe. "A hazard of our career choice."

Alessandro raised his cigar in a cheers motion before returning it his mouth. After a brief stay, it left followed by stream of exhaled smoke. "Your younger brother is in the Foreign Ministry, correct?"

"He is." Albrici answered. "Always had to have an overstuffed chair waiting for him wherever he might land." He cracked a smile and chuckled at his own comment.

Alessandro smiled, then his expression turned serious. "Did he have anything to say about our current circumstances?"

Albrici took a moment to think before replying. "I don't believe that no news is good news on this subject. So no, nothing good."

"So, the same situation as it has been." Alessandro replied. "We wait for the famed Foreign Ministry to swoop in and save the day at the eleventh hour and fifty ninth minuet?"

"Unlike West Africa, I do not believe that even the Foreign Ministry can stop what is coming." Albrici again paused to inhale smoke. He continued after exhaling though his nostrils. "One only needs to look at a map to see why. We cannot allow the way things stand too much longer. We hold to long, and who knows what happens when the inevitable conflict comes. They are heathens, not idiots; they see and understand the same thing we do, just from the other side."

"So, the powers that be have decided if the risks in a future war are to great, we will take the one we can start now." Alessandro replied. "It would not be the first time in history, and it surely will not be the last."

"Indeed." Albrici's reply wove between trendles of pipe smoke. "I would hate to be related to anyone in the Marines right now."

Alessandro nodded in agreement. "Thank you for the company Admiral." He then flicked the cigar over the side, where it fell with a faint hiss into the Atlantic. It had sunk far beneath the surface by the time the trailing two G-Class destroyers pass the spot where it had been discarded.

[snip]

Sunday, June 14th, Saint Rochelle.

The sharp crash of something heavy hitting the floor of the house startled Nelly Carlyle awake. It was far too dark, the half-moon hanging high in the sky providing faint stains of light peaking around the curtains drawn over the open window. The shot of adrenaline that had woken her prevented her from returning to squeezing the stuffed horse that shared the bed with her and resuming what had been a lovely dream about a fairy and its magical friends. It was then she heard her baby brother crying, over which carried the shouted whispers of two adult voices.

"Why can't this wait until morning Dana?"

"Because the orders didn't say until morning, they said immediately."

"Why so sudden, what is happening?"

"I don't know Peggy, I don't know!"

Nelly's curiosity carried her from her bed to the door of her room, which eased open quietly on well-oiled hinges. She tiptoed down the stairs, a knitted blanket dragged softly behind her. On reaching the foot of the simple staircase, she confirmed the voices where those of her parents. Her baby brother Alfred cried from his position in her mother's arms. Kaliopie watched intently from a pillow on the floor, tail tucked firmly underneath the dog's fur.

"You were supposed to have another two weeks, the General knows this."

"Of course he does, you know he would not recall me if it was not vitally necessary."

"What could be so necessary Dana. Are we in danger?"

Nether of the adults seemed to notice Nelly, whose thumb had without though made it into her mouth to be gently chewed on. Her father was finishing adding some items to a heavy suitcase, likely the source of the sound that had woken her. The arguing continued. Nelly realized that she had to pee quite badly, and it was far to late to do anything but let the inevitable happen. She lifted the blanket away from the expanding puddle on the floor. Then her mother noticed Nelly.

"Nelly, are you ok?"

Nelly's only reply was to shake her head as her eyes fell to the now-wet floor.

"Its ok darling." Her mother thrust her brother in the direction of her father, who took the boy in his arms. "Its ok darling, did you have a bad dream?"

Nelly shook her head again, tears of shame welling in her eyes. "I heard a bang, then yelling. I didn't feel I..." the remainder of the reply was lost to a sniffle.

"Its all right Nelly. Accidents happen." The soft smile of her mother helped cut the shame. "Come let us get you cleaned up. Dana, can you put Alfred back in his bassinet?"

Nelly watch her father return Alfred to his sleeping location and continue packing as her mother assisted her in cleaning up. Once changed to a dry nightgown, Nelly was sufficiently collected to engage in the age-old childhood pastime of asking parents why.

"Mommy, why are you mad at Daddy?" The pleading eyes where a look Nelly had found typically got her answers, and they backlit the question.

Her father came over, having closed the suitcase. He grabbed both Nelly and her mother's hands before answering. "Mommy is unhappy that Daddy can't stay as long as he thought."

"When do you have to go?" Nelly asked.

"As soon as I'm ready." Her father didn't try and hide all of the pain in his eyes. "I don't know when I will be able to be back."

"Why?" Nelly pleaded. "Why do you need to go now?"

"Because" her mother replied, eyes dampening with tears "Daddy has something very important to do. He cannot tell us what it is. You know the important things Daddy does."

Nelly nodded. "He helps keep us all safe."

Her father tossed Nelly's hair with his free hand. "I try my best to do that. Can you help me finish packing?"

Nelly slightly smiled and nodded. Setting her blanket down on a chair, she set about helping her father finish getting ready to leave. Alfred clearly did not like missing out on the family moment and was crying again. Her mother scooped the baby up in her arms and he began to quiet down, the cries changing to a soft cooing.

Finally, it was time for her father to go. He stood at the door, suitcase in one hand, a canvas bag in the other. He set both down to pull Nelly into an enveloping hug.

"I'm going to miss you darling." He said, a slight waver of sadness in his voice.

"I'll miss you more." Nelly replied into his chest. "So that way you have to come home."

"Of course, I will." He replied. Then he stood up and pulled her mother and Alfred into another hug. "I'm going to miss you to Peggy."

"Dana, please come home safe." Her mother replied, tears now carving paths down her cheeks.

Her father blew both one more kiss as he walked down the front path. Then he swung the gate out of the way and climbed into the waiting car which quickly pulled away down the street.



Peggy Carlyle looked down at her daughter, holding her son tightly against her chest.
"Come on Nelly, let's go back to bed. You can come and sleep with me?"

Nelly nodded, the accident all but forgotten and the reality that Dana had left not setting in yet.

Peggy took the outstretched hand and walked with her daughter, wondering when she would see her husband again. Please let this be nothing. Please let this be nothing serious. Please don't let it be war. She thought to herself. Nelly and Alfred still needed their father.

[snip]

June 28th, 1914. Fort Lombard, Novus Francia

Général de Brigade Manuel Sforza watched yet another company of uniformed Roman soldiers march out the main gate of Fort Lombard. Shiny bayonets gleamed in the harsh afternoon sun. Beyond the walls, a steady stream of horse-drawn 75mm field guns moved west alongside the better part of the 142nd Legion. Every man moved with urgency; the air hung thick with it and the clung to every surface. Fort Lombard's slow but steady development had been jolted onto another level about a month before.  More men and their weapons arrived, the temporary earthworks grew to permanence, large howitzers emplaced, smaller artillery sighted, and the newer Naylor Model 1911s seemed to be breeding somewhere within the fort's armory. Two almost factory new Avro-Caprioni Beagles sat next to a cleared strip, a Caudron Quail across from them under a large fabric tent swarmed by men.

The last time Manuel had seen this kind of buildup had been prior to the landings that had brough him to Novus Francia at the head of the 44th Dragoons. Their opponents then had been stout but outclassed in technology and tactics. The same could not be said of the Aztecs. Manuel had read accounts of the Aztec warriors before arriving next door to them, what hat transpired since had done nothing to provide an alternative viewpoint. The accounts of San Diego and reports from various minor, and in everyone's opinion inevitable and inoffensive, boarder encounters painted a picture of primally terrifying combatants. While they were perhaps the finest individual soldiers in the world, they only had a finite amount of them. Rome had much more lenient limits in this regard.

Manuel knew some details of what was to come. All of this over some islands, he had first thought. That though quickly gave way to the reality of the situation, those islands sat like an unseiged fort along his supply lines. Given time and provocation, those islands could spew forth the havoc of raid after raid on the lifeblood of supplies from Europe. It was true, his men would not starve should the umbilical be cut; Novus Francia could grow plenty of food. How they would continue to fight as artillery ammunition became scarce and machine guns ran out of fresh barrels? Against the Aztec warriors, without these technological equalizers, it would be a far shorter fight than Manuel or the other Roman commanders would ever admit to even each other. Manuel was a firm believer in the power of logistics.

The clatter of the Quail's engine, tho distant, gently pulled Manuel's mind back into the moment. Watching the wood and fabric contraptions declare war on the very idea of gravity had still not lost its luster to most. As the airplane lept free of its caretakers and began bouncing down the runway, as he had heard some men calling it, Manuel caught himself willing the contraption into the sky with a stopped breath. As it finally departed the dry dirt and began climbing higher and higher into the air, he recalled a phrase that one of the other generals briefed by D'Espèrey had said aloud.

The Dove may Dive on the 1st of July.

As the Quail made a pass over the fort before swinging northwest, Manuel wondered if that poetic phrase would be remembered as the beginning of a great conflict, or a diplomatic triumph. He was not alone in preparing for the former, while hoping for the latter.