Pacitalia
07-03-2005, 04:06
Burying the Gold Hatchet
Near the Vestibulo dei Marsa: Timiocato, Pacitalia
The late afternoon air was muggy and tepid, and the exhaust clung to the air in the Gypsytown of Timiocato, a rather politically incorrect name for the 2.5 million Roma in Pacitalia. Down the narrow, well-kept cobblestone streets of this east side neighbourhood proceeded a convoy of three shiny black, armoured sedans, bumping along with the ruts and rises in the uneven rock pattern of this lane.
Romae stood bewildered as they attempted to sweep - they were used to older, smelly cars driving past noisily and slowly; to see such nice automobiles roaring past was unbelievable. As they passed, each lady returned to her sidewalk sweeping. The time reached five and proprietors brought their patio tables back inside, a hard day's currency earned from offering traditional, well-cared-for, hearty gypsy/Roma fare like mutton stews and meat-and-egg-filled pastries to passers-by.
Plants and palm trees blew in the back-breeze generated by the smoothly-manufactured, aerodynamic sedans as they moved flawlessly down the narrow street to the Vestibulo dei Marsa, a veritable shrine of the Roma in Pacitalia, like a church but, not exactly that. Officially known as the Palatul Patriarhiei to the locals (as it was inscribed over the doorway), it was the home of the leader of Romanian Orthodox followers in Pacitalia, hence the building's name "Palace of the Father".
The Palatul Patriarhiei was a squared-off building on the south side of a small cobblestone square, accented by a pale-blue roof and accompanying dome, with a large blue-copper eagle fixated on the top. The two story building had a vast main hall with Romanian architecture and 19th-century furnishings, and three wings spreading east, west and south from the main hall. The three wood double-doors at the front entrance were the only thing not concrete, mortar or metal about the building, although the edifice still gave off a friendly, warm atmosphere and was a great anchor for the square it was addressed to.
The three identical sedans sharply pulled into the curb and stopped, with six bodyguards getting out simultaneously. The back right door to the middle sedan opened and out stepped Prime Minister Karagounis, buttoning up his suit jacket again and straightening his cumbersome, irritating blue-striped tie. Out of the back left door stepped the Agustinate of International Relations, Vasiliou Bandanaris.
The eight men walked quickly into the Palatul (or Vestibulo dei Marsa), shutting the doors and locking them. Their footsteps echoed off the ticked marble floor as they spread around a wooden table with a statue of Cupid centered perfectly on top. A glass chandelier with at least 400 crystal pieces hung from the high, vaulted ceiling.
A door was heard closing from the upper floor, and two seconds later, the Patriarie slowly descended the granite and plasterix staircase with a wide grin on his face.
"Gentlemen, Prime Minister," said. "What an honour to have you here. What can I help you with?"
"We need a place to meet, my honourable friend," Karagounis replied. "This is a top-secret advisory conference and we need a safe and secure room to do so and your study is perfect for such an occasion."
"Of course, Mr. Prime Minister," he replied, smiling slightly. "Let me accompany you to the south wing."
He led the way and Karagounis, Bandanaris, and the six bodyguards followed closely, their footsteps continuing to echo.
"Here we are," the Patriarie announced. "Please let me know if you need further assistance."
"Of course, we will," Vasiliou said, speaking for the first time. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he replied, and quickly exited back to his room.
Karagounis and Bandanaris entered the study and closed the door, leaving four men outside the study by the door and two at the front entrance to ward off any suspicious attacks on them. They shuttered the windows as well.
"Vasiliou, I need to speak to you about Kahta," Karagounis said.
Vasiliou's eyes widened slightly. He knew it was something big if it involved Kahta, who rarely had any relations with Pacitalia. "What for?"
"We need to do something," Nikos replied.
--To be continued--
Near the Vestibulo dei Marsa: Timiocato, Pacitalia
The late afternoon air was muggy and tepid, and the exhaust clung to the air in the Gypsytown of Timiocato, a rather politically incorrect name for the 2.5 million Roma in Pacitalia. Down the narrow, well-kept cobblestone streets of this east side neighbourhood proceeded a convoy of three shiny black, armoured sedans, bumping along with the ruts and rises in the uneven rock pattern of this lane.
Romae stood bewildered as they attempted to sweep - they were used to older, smelly cars driving past noisily and slowly; to see such nice automobiles roaring past was unbelievable. As they passed, each lady returned to her sidewalk sweeping. The time reached five and proprietors brought their patio tables back inside, a hard day's currency earned from offering traditional, well-cared-for, hearty gypsy/Roma fare like mutton stews and meat-and-egg-filled pastries to passers-by.
Plants and palm trees blew in the back-breeze generated by the smoothly-manufactured, aerodynamic sedans as they moved flawlessly down the narrow street to the Vestibulo dei Marsa, a veritable shrine of the Roma in Pacitalia, like a church but, not exactly that. Officially known as the Palatul Patriarhiei to the locals (as it was inscribed over the doorway), it was the home of the leader of Romanian Orthodox followers in Pacitalia, hence the building's name "Palace of the Father".
The Palatul Patriarhiei was a squared-off building on the south side of a small cobblestone square, accented by a pale-blue roof and accompanying dome, with a large blue-copper eagle fixated on the top. The two story building had a vast main hall with Romanian architecture and 19th-century furnishings, and three wings spreading east, west and south from the main hall. The three wood double-doors at the front entrance were the only thing not concrete, mortar or metal about the building, although the edifice still gave off a friendly, warm atmosphere and was a great anchor for the square it was addressed to.
The three identical sedans sharply pulled into the curb and stopped, with six bodyguards getting out simultaneously. The back right door to the middle sedan opened and out stepped Prime Minister Karagounis, buttoning up his suit jacket again and straightening his cumbersome, irritating blue-striped tie. Out of the back left door stepped the Agustinate of International Relations, Vasiliou Bandanaris.
The eight men walked quickly into the Palatul (or Vestibulo dei Marsa), shutting the doors and locking them. Their footsteps echoed off the ticked marble floor as they spread around a wooden table with a statue of Cupid centered perfectly on top. A glass chandelier with at least 400 crystal pieces hung from the high, vaulted ceiling.
A door was heard closing from the upper floor, and two seconds later, the Patriarie slowly descended the granite and plasterix staircase with a wide grin on his face.
"Gentlemen, Prime Minister," said. "What an honour to have you here. What can I help you with?"
"We need a place to meet, my honourable friend," Karagounis replied. "This is a top-secret advisory conference and we need a safe and secure room to do so and your study is perfect for such an occasion."
"Of course, Mr. Prime Minister," he replied, smiling slightly. "Let me accompany you to the south wing."
He led the way and Karagounis, Bandanaris, and the six bodyguards followed closely, their footsteps continuing to echo.
"Here we are," the Patriarie announced. "Please let me know if you need further assistance."
"Of course, we will," Vasiliou said, speaking for the first time. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he replied, and quickly exited back to his room.
Karagounis and Bandanaris entered the study and closed the door, leaving four men outside the study by the door and two at the front entrance to ward off any suspicious attacks on them. They shuttered the windows as well.
"Vasiliou, I need to speak to you about Kahta," Karagounis said.
Vasiliou's eyes widened slightly. He knew it was something big if it involved Kahta, who rarely had any relations with Pacitalia. "What for?"
"We need to do something," Nikos replied.
--To be continued--