It was only a few days ago now. Shuffling through these levels of twisting and turning corridors and learning of the dire news unfolding at Valspon. It is here where my nightmarish cast of the dice began: of being thrown once more into an impossible duel with destiny. And as our company silently marches up the flight of stairs, it is only fitting that it is also here where the curtains descend on the Toscana stage.
We have won at Valspon. And we have won here at the bloody fields of Velksland. The Mafia has triumphed in its darkest hour and savors every moment of its hard-fought victory from the jaws of total defeat. But even so, though the Mafia’s fight is over, I would go as far as to say that mine has yet to see a fitting end.
As Simon told me, my mistakes at Brunsbüttel will not go unnoticed. If my father truly did forward a contingency plan ahead of my departure, then I have no reason to believe that Kamon must’ve picked up on it also. I have persevered for so long until now because of obedience to the Don. Much like Richter and Emmanuel have done in their prime, I have kept my head low and never once used any influence I held against my father. Simon has often shielded me from the Don’s wrath—but there’s no telling if I can escape any potential fury now. But who knows if Simon can exert his influence and protect me once more?
With rising anxiety, my heart beats faster. A sense of dread forms in my throat. My arms feel increasingly numb as my chest and damaged facial tissue ache with mild pain. With long, elaborate breaths I slip the fiery bandanna from underneath my poncho and caress its fine texture. The closer we get to the command center—where we were told that the Don waits—the more stressed I become.
I want to tell myself that this is merely nothing. That there will be no consequential action—that I am overthinking and reading too much between the lines. Perhaps theDon will overlook my attempted coup at Lübeck in light of my accomplishments here and at Baltit. But perhaps he might just be paranoid enough about what my coup attempt might mean in the future— if she’s willing to go this far today, what would stop her from doing it again? That is what I imagine him thinking.
And as for Kamon? For better or for worse, and given my brief interactions with her—I simply do not know. I don’t even want to know how or what she may make of this ordeal. Perhaps she may be even more cautious from here on out. Perhaps she may whisper sweet nothings into Zhui’s ear, or she will simply keep me on a tighter lease.
But I do not want to be like the Don and sink further into paranoia. For now, I have to firmly believe that this is nothing more than giving the Don a debriefing. As evil as the man may be, he is still the Don —the chief leader of the Mafia. He has the right to know what remains of his fleet, and what actions we may take to ensure that a calamity like this never happens again. But that’s just wishful thinking. Only a fool would believe that the Federation will truly leave us alone.
“Madame?” I nearly bump into a particularly large individual as the question snaps me back to reality. Brutus helps to keep me steady before giving me personal space. “You look awfully pale,” the oaf asks with morbid curiosity “if you need to rest in the infirmary, I can take you there—”
“No,” I retort “it’s fine, thank you, Brutus,” I say in a lighter tone. Looking behind him, the others have stopped to glance back. “I’m just… slightly nervous about the meeting with the Don. Now that it has come to this, I mean.”
“Nervous?” Brutus can’t help but crack a brief smirk “I admit, your father… er, theDon is rather terrifying,” glancing behind the man’s enormous frame, Beatrice emits a quiet scoff and rolls her eyes. “By the way, I figured this is a white elephant in the room right now—” Brutus pauses and looks partway at the others “but why are we being summoned to the Montepuez, anyway?” Brutus asks innocently “it would simply be easier to communicate from our ships, would it not? It’s less hassle, wastes less fuel…” as Brutus continues, Beatrice and I exchange glances. “And speaking of which, Beatrice, I don’t understand why you have so many subordinates with you,” Brutus finishes. Beatrice breaks her gaze with me and crosses her arms under her breasts, “it’s going to be a pretty crowded room with all the men you have with you.”
“Worry not, Brutus… was it?” Beatrice replies slyly “there’s no real reason. They merely adore my presence,” her squinting eyes slither towards me “I will send some to the bridge and have a few others wait outside until the meeting adjourns. I’ve also been sort of… cautious about the Don’s questionable ethnic of having all his captains in person. Some of my men were also equally,” Beatrice pauses for a sigh, “anxious and desired to escort me to the Montepuez, but so far it has been eerily quiet, hasn’t it?” Beatrice asks offhandedly “it’s less lively than on the Shiva… a rather lukewarm welcoming, no?”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Neither Brutus nor Beatrice’s comments have crossed my mind. There’s no particular reason for us to be in person, and Beatrice having guards with her is something I’ve never given much thought about. But now that it’s brought up, I can’t help but feel there is more meaning to what Beatrice suggests.
Men concerned for her wellbeing? Lukewarm welcoming from the Montepuez, and its crew behaving eerily calm? The longer I glare at Beatrice, the more I begin to wonder if this intriguing woman knows of my abortive plans at Lübeck. She and the Shiva have always acted as part of the Don’s fleet guard. If anything ever got past the Don— such as a transmission—she could very well know regardless of encryption. I never took her for suddenly having doubts of the Don —she is one of the few core lieutenants who has had unflinching loyalty to the dreadful man. Whatever happened during my absence—and particularly during the ensuing battle—must’ve caused her to think less highly of the Don. If that is the case, does she share my sentiment about a possible confrontation with my father?
“Don’t look at me so haughtily, Madame Li,” Beatrice says brushing some of her unkempt bangs out of her eyes. I can’t help but cut loose a scoff, one that makes Brutus and the others lightly chuckle. But suspicions aside, looking over at Darcy, she also has some subordinates with her. But when she looks at me intriguingly; Darcy merely shrugs.
“I didn’t think much of it,” the red-haired subordinate remarks wryly “they offered to come. It didn’t cross my mind until Beatrice brought it up,” she pauses, “but who am I to doubt the Don? Maybe he just wants reassurance with all of us present,” Darcy muses. With nothing more to say, Beatrice gives me one last smirk and proceeds with leading the group to the tactical command center. Darcy and the others follow suit, leaving Brutus and I alone in the hallway. Still caressing the bandanna, Brutus takes a few steps closer to me and places his burly man hands over mine. I crane my neck upward to see the oaf smirking. “Well well, what a tense atmosphere that was,Madame. But thinking about it some more, I think Darcy is right,” Brutus says confidently “I don’t think the Don has any ill intentions in mind. He’s scary, for sure, but I imagine he’s concerned over what his options are for the future,” Brutus states squeezing my tiny hands before quickly letting go and giving me some personal space, “you’re just overthinking things, Li,” Brutus says gesturing for me to catch up with the others “that’s a job for me to do—you said I was a worrywart, didn’t you?”
Brutus grins, before moving on. I stand there, going back and mulling over the idea of telling him the unfortunate consequences that may befall us as a result of my deliberations at Lübeck. But when I think of the possible irrationalness that Brutus may do, I can’t help but be reminded of Olga. My heart sinks, and I squeeze Julius’s colorful bandanna tighter before slipping it back into my poncho. I shake my head clear of the thoughts before catching up to accompany Brutus and the others.
Perhaps Brutus and Darcy are right—I’ve been overthinking things too hard. There would be no particular reasoning for the Don to punish me and the others after the bloody brawl we valiantly fought through. I have shed so much blood and tears to preserve his regime—am I wrong to jump to conclusions? As much as I believe the man to be a paranoid lunatic, it would cause tremendous discord throughout the fleet. Even the Don would still have some sense of rationality left to consider that. It would unravel virtually everything that I’ve done here.
I want to firmly believe that the Don is willing to overlook the Lübeck gambit. Maybe convincing him of my desire to start an orphanage will lessen his and Kamon’s fears of any further ploys I may produce. I can only hope that either will allow me to raise orphans—it means staying out of the affairs of the Mafia while I live out a life in harmony. With that thought in mind, I heave a sigh. I can only hope that either will permit me to live in seclusion, without bother. Good or bad, I have done all that I am capable of for the Mafia. But what will the Mafia—or rather, Dong Zhui—do for me in return?