Palazzo Venezia.
Mussolini sat behind his desk, with two reports spread out before him.
The first was from the OVRA Rome branch, titled “Observation of Crown Prince Umberto’s Activities in the Naples Legion (1931)”.
The report detailed every public event Crown Prince Umberto attended in Naples, every private contact he had with officers, and every trip he took away from the base.
The appendix contained a list of “officers considered to be favorably disposed toward the Crown Prince” within the Naples Legion—fourteen in total, including Chief of Staff Colonel Cardona.
The report’s conclusion was: The Crown Prince is systematically building a royalist faction within the Naples Legion.
It recommended continuing close observation and taking countermeasures if necessary.
Mussolini turned to the second report, which was much shorter than the first, titled “Observation of Princess Cerydra’s Activities (January—October 1931)”.
The report recorded the relief station the Princess opened in the Testaccio District, the retired veteran Martini she had taken in, her social interactions with the Colonna Family and the Sforza Family, and the three aristocratic salons and two charity events she had attended.
Her Aviation Chess and Jungle Chess remained popular in social circles.
The appendix contained a list of people the Princess had been in contact with—mostly unemployed workers, retired veterans, orphans and widows, and a few down-and-out aristocrats.
The report’s conclusion was: Princess Cerydra’s behavioral pattern fits the image of a socially responsible royal family member.
Her social activities were mainly concentrated in the shallow circles of the aristocracy, with no signs of direct political activity.
It is worth noting that the Princess has a close relationship with Crown Prince Umberto and may exist as a social auxiliary role for the Crown Prince; it is recommended to continue observation.
Mussolini placed the two reports side by side on the desk.
On the left was Umberto—Naples, Naples Legion, officers, military foundation.
On the right was Cerydra—relief station, social circle, Aviation Chess, perfect princess.
He leaned back in his chair, gazing at the mural of Caesar’s coronation on the ceiling; the Caesar in the painting had a blurred face but a majestic posture.
A thought suddenly crossed his mind, like a tiny, almost invisible crack appearing on a perfect wall.
If—just if—that sixteen-year-old princess was smarter than she appeared, then what she was doing now was exactly what a smart person would let their opponent see: harmless, soft, and far from the true core of power.
And the real threat had been placed in another, more conspicuous position.
A position that kept the opponent fully focused, thereby causing them to ignore everything else.
He looked down at the report on Umberto on his left.
A thick stack, detailed and meticulously observed.
Then he looked at the report on Cerydra on his right.
A few thin pages, superficial, with a lower priority than the Crown Prince.
His fingers tapped lightly on the desk.
Then he stacked the two reports together and put them into the drawer on his right; the sound of the drawer closing echoed softly in the empty office.
He did not issue any new orders.
Not because he was not suspicious, but because he had not yet found anything worth suspecting.
A sixteen-year-old princess who had never lost a game on the chessboard, but on the political chessboard, she was still too young.
At least, she looked too young.
December 31st, East Wing of the Quirinal Palace, Cerydra’s study.
Fine snow was drifting outside the window, the last snowfall of 1931, which had come a little later than in previous years.
The rooftops on both banks of the Tiber River were already covered in a thin layer of white, shimmering in the night.
In the distance, the New Year lights of Rome were lighting up one by one.
Virginia pushed the door open gently, carrying a glass of mulled wine.
She placed the glass on the corner of the table and then stepped back.
Cerydra picked up the glass and took a small sip.
The mulled wine contained cinnamon and orange peel, a recipe Virginia had concocted herself, which was lighter than what the palace kitchen made, as she knew the Princess did not like things too sweet.
“Virginia.” “Yes.” “You have worked hard this year.” Virginia’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she curtsied, her movements very light, “I only did what I was supposed to do, Your Highness.” “There is no such thing as what is’supposed’ to be done, only what one chooses to do.” Virginia was silent for a moment; the sound of distant New Year fireworks came from outside the window, faint and indistinct, as if they were coming from another world.
1932 was approaching step by step.
“Your Highness,” Virginia said, “You chose me, and I chose to follow you.
This is not something I was’supposed’ to do; this is the best choice I have ever made.” Cerydra looked at her.
The lady-in-waiting with gray-green eyes stood there, her dark brown hair in a meticulous bun, her hands folded in front of her.
Her posture was always just right—not too far, not too near, neither servile nor overbearing.
But her eyes, at this moment, held something a little different.
Not tears, not being moved, but something quieter.
Like someone who had been walking in the dark for a long time and finally saw a speck of light in the distance.
“Next year will be harder,” Cerydra said.
“I know.” “There may be people who leave, there may be people who betray, there may be people who—” “No,” Virginia interrupted her; this was the first time she had interrupted the Princess.
Cerydra paused.
“I will not leave.
Black Scorpion will not, Admiral Campioni will not, Brigadier General Labienus will not.” Virginia’s voice was very soft, but every word was as clear as a chess piece landing on a board.
“Because Your Highness is not playing chess.
Your Highness is building a chessboard for a group of people who originally had none.” The study was quiet for a long time.
The snow outside the window was falling harder, and the New Year fireworks were blooming in the distance—red, green, gold—blooming briefly in the night sky, then extinguishing.
Cerydra stood up, took her cane, and walked to the window.
The blue cane tapped on the floor, making a subtle and firm sound.
The crystal King piece flickered in the light of the fireworks.
“Virginia.” “Yes.” “Happy New Year.” Virginia stood two steps behind her, and in her gray-green eyes, there was finally a very faint light.
Not tears.
It was the kind of stability that comes from no longer needing to search after having waited for someone worth waiting for.
“Happy New Year, Your Highness.” Cerydra gazed out the window; 1932 was descending upon this Eternal City.
The light at Palazzo Venezia was still on, like an eye that never closed in the snowy night.
But this light in the East Wing of the Quirinal Palace was also on.
Across the Tiber River, the two lights gazed at each other from afar.
During this year, she had placed her first open move—letting Mussolini’s intelligence department focus entirely on Naples and Umberto.
She had placed her first secret move—gathering those abandoned, ignored, and trampled pieces in the dark, wiping them clean one by one, and placing them in their rightful positions on the board.
The pieces on the board were falling into place.
One, two, three, five, more.
In the corners invisible to the OVRA, in the unknown depths of Rome, the pieces were falling into place.
Outside the window, the first firework of 1932 bloomed in the night sky, illuminating the snowy night of Rome for an instant.
Cerydra held her cane, standing before the window, watching that firework go from blooming to extinguishing.
The crystal King piece at the top of the cane glimmered slightly in the last bit of firelight, then sank back into the darkness.
It might not seem tempting right now but who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”