September, Quirinal Palace, the garden.
The autumn roses were in their final bloom; the edges of the petals were slightly curled, and their color was deeper than in the height of summer, as if they knew they were about to wither and were using all their remaining strength to blossom.
Cerydra sat on a stone bench by the fountain, her cane resting across her lap; she was waiting for someone.
Footsteps approached along the garden path.
It was not Virginia—Virginia’s footsteps were lighter.
These footsteps were steady and rhythmic, carrying the cadence of a soldier.
Cerydra did not turn around.
“General,” she said.
Admiral Campioni stopped at the other end of the stone bench.
He was fifty-five, tall, with graying hair and a resolute face.
His uniform was crisp, and a gold military medal hung on his chest—the one he had earned during the counter-offensive at the Piave River.
That battle had saved Italy after the disastrous defeat at Caporetto, and he had been the youngest brigade commander in that campaign.
“Your Highness,” he said, bowing slightly.
“Please, sit.” Admiral Campioni sat on the stone bench, maintaining a precise distance from Cerydra—neither too close to appear presumptuous, nor too far to seem distant.
He was a man who understood boundaries; Cerydra had noted this the first time she met him.
The garden was quiet for a while; the sound of the fountain trickled softly, and the scent of roses diffused slowly in the September afternoon.
“General,” Cerydra’s voice was very soft, “have you come to see me for the sake of the Piave River, or for Palazzo Venezia?” Admiral Campioni’s fingers tightened slightly; the question was too direct, so direct that it didn’t sound like something a fifteen-year-old princess would ask, but he did not evade it.
“Both, Your Highness.” “Let’s start with the Piave River.” Admiral Campioni was silent for a breath.
“The Piave River was the most important battle of my life.
I lost two thousand three hundred soldiers there.
I remember the name of every one of them.
Every year, I go to that memorial cemetery, stand in the very center, and salute in every direction.
Because I do not know which way they were facing when they fell.” Cerydra did not speak; sunlight fell upon her white hair, and the blue at the tips of her hair seemed almost transparent in the light.
“I have shed blood for Italy,” Admiral Campioni’s voice was low and steady, “and I am willing to shed it again for Italy.
But I do not know if the Italy of today is still worth my blood.” “Do you feel it is not worth it?” “I do not know.” Admiral Campioni’s gaze fell on the surface of the fountain.
“I only know that I owe my allegiance to the King, to the House of Savoy, and to the oaths written in blood by those who unified Italy.
I do not recognize the man who lives in Palazzo Venezia now.
He has not fought a single day for this country.
He makes young people wear black shirts and march in the streets, calling it a revolution.
I have seen a real revolution—in the trenches, in the mud, when the waters of the Piave River were stained red with blood.
That was not a parade, not a slogan, not a headline in a newspaper.” He paused.
“That was silence, a long silence, and the order that followed the silence.” Cerydra turned her head to look at him, and for the first time, Admiral Campioni looked directly into the princess’s eyes.
In those excessively blue eyes, there was no surprise, no emotion, no satisfaction of a superior hearing a subordinate express loyalty.
There was only a calm, almost scrutinizing gaze, as if she were reading a book she had already flipped through many times.
“General,” Cerydra said, “you said just now that you owe your allegiance to the King.” “Yes.” “I am not the King.” “Your Highness is the bloodline of the King.” “Bloodline does not equal power, General, you know that better than I do.” Admiral Campioni did not answer.
Cerydra’s cane tapped the ground lightly, and the crystal Chess piece flashed in the sunlight.
“I am fifteen this year, General.
I have beaten many people at Chess, and I have invented several games in salons.
I have a cane, a pretty face, and a name that newspapers like to write about.
That is all I possess.” She paused.
“But I also have a pair of eyes.
I see you sitting here, saying these things to me, not because you think I can do anything.
It is because you have no one else to talk to.
The King is weighing his options, the Crown Prince is enduring, the nobles are watching from the sidelines, and the military is fracturing.
The things you are loyal to are disappearing before your eyes bit by bit.
So you come to me—a fifteen-year-old princess who plays Chess.
Not because I am powerful, but because you have reached the edge of the chessboard, and there is only one piece left in front of you that has not yet been taken.” Admiral Campioni’s hand clenched into a fist on his knee, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
“Your Highness.” His voice was much lower than before.
“Everything you said is correct; I am indeed at a dead end.
But I did not come to you because you are the last piece.
It is because I have watched you play Chess.
One hundred and seventeen games, and never a loss.
I do not understand Chess, but I understand the battlefield.
There has never been anyone on the battlefield who ‘never loses.’ Napoleon lost, Caesar lost, Hannibal lost.
Anyone, as long as they fight long enough, will inevitably encounter defeat.
Your Highness has never lost, not because your opponents were not strong enough, but because Your Highness never fights on the battlefield chosen by the opponent.
Your Highness always drags the game into your own rhythm, and then lets your opponent lose their way on the battlefield you are most familiar with.” He raised his head and looked at Cerydra.
“I do not know what kind of game Your Highness is playing, but I know that Your Highness is definitely playing a game.” The garden was quiet for a long time; the sound of the fountain trickled softly, and the rose petals trembled gently in the breeze.
Cerydra held her cane, and the light reflected from the crystal Chess piece fell onto her knees like a silent mark.
“General,” she finally spoke.
“At your service.” “If one day, I need you to stand behind me.” She paused.
“Will you come?” Admiral Campioni stood up; he stood straight, the medal on his uniform shining in the sunlight, and then he knelt on one knee, lowering his head.
It was not a ceremonial bow to a princess, but a soldier’s oath of allegiance to the military flag.
“I, Admiral Campioni, commander of the Third Brigade of the Piave River, Lieutenant General of the Royal Army of Italy.” His voice was low and clear, every word seeming to be squeezed out from the depths of his chest, “Hereby swear to Her Highness Princess Cerydra.
No matter where Your Highness’s battlefield is, no matter who Your Highness’s opponent is, no matter when, where, or in what manner Your Highness needs me to stand behind you—I will come.
I swear it with my life, I swear it in the name of the two thousand three hundred fallen soldiers of the Piave River, and I swear it in the name of the true glory of the Kingdom of Italy.” Cerydra looked down at him, sunlight falling on her short white hair, on the blue cane, and on the small rainbow refracted by the crystal Chess piece.
She did not say “Rise,” nor did she say “Thank you.” She simply sat quietly, watching this general who was forty years her senior kneel and salute in the September sunshine.
Then she reached out and pressed her hand lightly on Admiral Campioni’s epaulette.
“I will remember,” she said.
She said only those few words.
Admiral Campioni looked up, and he saw a very faint, very faint light in the princess’s blue eyes.
It was not tears, not emotion, but something heavier.
Like a Chess piece that had finally found the position it was supposed to occupy on the board.
October, Quirinal Palace, Cerydra’s study.
It was late at night, and Virginia walked into the room on tiptoe, preparing to extinguish the candles on the candelabra.
Cerydra was still sitting at the desk, her cane leaning against the chair, and the crystal Chess piece shimmering slightly in the candlelight.
“Your Highness, it is late.” “Hmm.” Virginia did not urge her; she walked to the window, drew the curtains, stirred the charcoal fire in the fireplace, and then stood two steps behind Cerydra, waiting quietly.
This was her habit—never urging, never leaving, like a pawn guarding the flank of the King piece.
“Virginia.” “At your service.” “From tomorrow on, you will read all letters sent to my desk first.
You will filter all requests for appointments first.
You will meet everyone who comes to see me first.” Virginia was silent for a breath.
“By what standard should I filter them, Your Highness?” “You do not need a standard; you only need to look, and then use your eyes to tell me what you see.” Virginia curtsied.
“Yes.” Cerydra stood up, picked up her cane, and walked to the window.
Virginia opened a corner of the curtains she had just drawn, and moonlight shone in, falling on the princess’s short white hair; the blue at the tips of her hair turned almost into a cold metallic hue in the silvery glow.
Outside the window, Rome in 1930 was immersed in the night.
The Tiber River flowed through the city like a black ribbon, the dome of St.
Peters Basilica gleamed with a faint silver-white in the moonlight, and a few windows in the tower of Palazzo Venezia were lit—that was the light from Mussolini’s office, which usually stayed on until the early morning.
Further away, the King’s study in the east wing of the Quirinal Palace was also lit.
Two lights, in two directions, illuminating different corners of the same city.
Cerydra held her cane, the crystal Chess piece pressing against her palm; she was fifteen.
In this year, she had reached the pinnacle of the European Chess scene, never losing a game.
She had invented two types of Chess, allowing both nobles and workers to find enjoyment within the same set of rules.
She had given a nun from Sicily a name from another world.
She had accepted the allegiance of an old general, using only a few words—”I will remember.” She had led Mussolini’s intelligence department to conclude that her actions were motivated by a desire to preserve the royal family.
She had made them believe it.
Using a small goal to cover a larger goal.
Like a Chess player deliberately exposing a flaw on the board, letting the opponent focus on attacking that flaw, while ignoring the real killing blow quietly forming on the other side.
Her grip tightened slightly on the cane.
She had not yet made her move.
It was not yet time.
But she had already seen every piece on the board—the black ones, the white ones, and those whose colors had not yet been revealed.
Every piece was in her mind, every piece was between her fifteen-year-old fingers, waiting to be placed where they were meant to be.
Outside the window, the night of Rome spread silently.
History in 1930 was proceeding step by step toward the chapters she had read in another world— The Great Depression was spreading from the United States to Europe, the German parliament had just elected one hundred and seven Nazi Party members, the Japanese Kwantung Army was plotting some kind of action by defying orders, the Fascist Regime in Italy was increasingly consolidated, and Mussolini’s power was still expanding.
Everything was sliding toward that future she knew.
But this year, there was one more piece on the board.
A piece that everyone thought was a white King, but was actually redefining the board with its own rules.
Cerydra turned around and left the window, her cane tapping on the floor with a faint, determined sound.
“Good night, Virginia.” “Good night, Your Highness.” The candelabra was blown out.
In the room, only the faint glow of the charcoal in the fireplace remained, along with the small, dim patch of deep blue refracted by the crystal Chess piece in the darkness.
Outside the window, the moon climbed over the dome of the Quirinal Palace, illuminating Rome, illuminating the Tiber River, and illuminating everyone in this Eternal City, whether awake or asleep.
No one knew that a game of Chess was being played quietly in a place they could not see.