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The Art of Living
Topic Started: May 7 2010, 10:47 PM (1,417 Views)
Porcu
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

“Have a wonderful day Aellae!”

“Yes, we’ll see you this evening. Good luck!”

Esquilinus smiles and waves back to her parents as she sets off to school. With a minimal amount of pain, Esquilinus starts off on her way, the recent clearance from her doctor providing the opportunity to walk to school once again. Just like before, she runs across a few familiar faces, classmates or general schoolmates with whom she shares the journey, and though there is a definite chill in the morning air Esquilinus does not mind. In fact, she welcomes it, for it acts as definitive proof of the changing seasons.

By now, the trees that sprinkle the sidewalks and compose the public parks that Esquilinus passes are a beautiful bouquet of reds, yellows, oranges, and pale greens. Vehicles that roll on by send those leaves which have fallen back up into the air, providing a vain hope for the leaves to return back to their perches above the heads of those who march below. Esquilinus manages to catch one of these leaves with her free hand and works to commit the leaf’s texture and color to memory.

Esquilinus continues on and eventually the short wall and metal fence that close off the high school grounds opens up, revealing the entrance to the school and a large mass of students, typical until the weather cools to the point of becoming uncomfortable. Esquilinus spots Cato, Schweizer, Wermuth, and Bucco near the entrance of the school and it seems they are chatting with a few other students, a collection of various acquaintances and schoolmates. She approaches and greets them all with her usual cheerful greeting, smile, and wave. Bucco’s face instantly brightens and everyone greets Esquilinus with a warm response. Noticing a few shivers from Bucco, Esquilinus asks if he is alright. With seasonal temperature averages in October around 20 degrees Fahrenheit less between Porcu and Venice, it is understandable how Bucco could be feeling the effects of the cooling weather more so relative to his friends. The Venetian is a sight to see since his layers contrast so well to the simple, black wool jacket that his Porcuian comrades wear over their regular clothes as part of the standard school uniform. As the group decides to enter the school, Bucco shoots back that he is doing ‘perfectly well’.



Esquilinus tries to drag the memory of that leaf back to the forefront of her consciousness, but the droning of her teacher vetoes all attempts. Unfortunately, she cannot remain focused on much of anything for an extended period of time, either with matters that gauge her interest or with those that do not. Simply staring at the blackboard where a mass of text is scribbled in Latin, Esquilinus shuts her eyes once more in an effort to better recall that leaf she held in her hand that morning. Just as a sharp, definitive shape begins to etch itself in her mind, the bell rings to signal the end of yet another lesson.

Lunch.

Cato sits with his homemade lunch box laying on his desk in front of him. Esquilinus’ recently gained ability to walk freely demands she make her way over to Class 3A for a change, allowing Cato and Schweizer to rest in their seats peacefully and wait for everyone else. As Esquilinus walks in and over to her friends, Schweizer apologizes for having started without her or anyone else from the group.

“Not a problem Schweizer.” Esquilinus says as she grabs a seat and positions it on the side of Cato’s desk opposite where he sits, next to where Bucco is sitting.

“So, why didn’t you walk with us this morning again?” Cato asks in between sips of his soup’s broth.

“She said before…” Schweizer replies, looking at Cato with a disappointed look. “Weren’t you paying attention when Esquilinus joined us?”

“Can’t say I was.”

“It’s alright.” Esquilinus answers. “I think he was too busy eyeing Anatto.”

Cato grins, setting down his thermos, as does Bucco. “I’ll have you know that Schweizer is the only girl for me…” Cato responds while grabbing a small apple slice in his lunchbox and turning towards Schweizer, seductively bringing the slice to her mouth.

Schweizer becomes embarrassed, drawing a laugh from Bucco and Esquilinus, who by now had also dug into their lunches, but becomes even more so when Wermuth and Pisdoé walk in. Able to guess with incredible precision as to what had just occurred, Wermuth cracks a couple of jokes and settles himself in around the others, handing one of Schweizer’s prepared lunchboxes to Pisdoé as she too grabs a seat and makes herself comfortable.

The lunch break feels brief, as it always does with good food and good company, and before long the bell rings to signal the five minute intermission before the commencement of afternoon lessons. Though tonight is the night of the debate between the candidates for student council president, none of the group members brings up the conversation with Esquilinus, choosing to remain silent and not risk breaking her train of thought regarding the event. Schweizer is again showered with appreciation as the others help her clean up before darting off to their respective classrooms.



The low rumble that echoes throughout Class 3C marks the dying seconds of the afternoon’s final lesson, as students begin to pack away their notebooks, writing utensils, and books. A curt gaze from the teacher halts the actions of a few students; however, even he knows the few precious seconds that remain are not nearly enough for him to sufficiently complete another point.

“Very well…” The teacher says while dropping the stick of chalk onto the railing attached to the blackboard. “Make sure you have these chapters read and, more importantly, that you understand them. We’re moving on, so there’ll be no time for review.

The teacher provides a few more reminders before the final bell rings, raising the entire class, indeed the entire school, to its feet and out the door. The debate between the candidates for student council president is slated to begin promptly at 19:30 and most students take the opportunity to go home and drop off their school bags, some even taking the opportunity to change out of their school uniforms, before returning to school to watch the debate. Esquilinus, like the other candidates, chooses to remain and make any last minute preparations.

By the time the classroom is emptied and only a handful of students remain, Cato, Schweizer, and Bucco enter Esquilinus’ classroom to find her seated at her desk reading over her opening statement and notes. Wermuth and Pisdoé are close behind and join the others in trying to psych her up for the debate. Esquilinus smiles and informs her friends that she’s only a bit nervous, her mood and general outlook are fine.

“Can we do anything for you?” Schweizer asks.

“No, I’m alright. Thank you though.” Esquilinus responds.

“You’ll do fine.” Cato says.

“That’s right. Soon, I’ll have to address you as Dogaressa…” Bucco adds.

Esquilinus smiles again, assuring her friends that they need not concern themselves. She is focused and ready.



“Next…” the student moderator of the debate began as the applause following the previous candidate’s opening speech dies. “Next to speak is Esquilinus, Aellae Menenius. She is a third-year student and current serves as the captain of the girls’ football team.”

The five candidates are gathered on a stage in the school’s large auditorium where basketball games are played and musical concerts and theatrical performances are held. The candidates are each provided a stool to sit on and a high table with just enough room for a few papers and a bottle of water. As Esquilinus is the only female running for student council president, she has to pay particular attention to the way in which she sits, the large audience directly in front of the stage and spread out across the auditorium filled with parents, school officials and faculty, and students alike.

The debate is moderated by a student from the journalism club, its sitting club president in fact, who is seated in a chair off near one of the extreme ends of the stage, a large desk in front of him. Several papers are lined across this desk, as are a couple stacks of notecards and a water bottle. Having introduced the other candidates one at a time before their opening speeches, the moderator calls Esquilinus forward and signals that it is now her turn, respectfully. She gazes out into the audience and spots her friends easily enough, Wermuth motioning wildly with his arms as Cato holds his hand over his face in embarrassment, Schweizer and Pisdoé flushing a little with Bucco chuckling lightly.

“I would like to begin by first stating how much of an honor it is to be standing here on this stage addressing an audience I hope I will have the honor of representing as student council president.” Esquilinus begins. “I cannot say that I have always had this goal, but in the time that I have spent talking to students and working with them to advance my campaign I cannot think of a better way to show my gratitude than by doing my best in competing for the presidency.”

Esquilinus continues, speaking at length about the key differences between her plans for the students and the school at large versus the plans of her opponents. Vex can be seen scribbling a few notes as she wraps up her opening statement. A loud applause fills the auditorium as Esquilinus steps away from the podium, bows, and returns to her stool. Backstage before the debate, she had solicited the help of Pisdoé in making sure to take as much advantage of the public forum with her appearance. As Cato and the others provided moral support to Esquilinus, Pisdoé had brought along a pack of beauty products and acted as Esquilinus’ personal make-up assistant just before the start of the debate. Looking at her now, her soft legs glimmering under the large stage lights, her smooth hair flowing around her neck and back, Esquilinus simply glows.

The moderator moves the debate forward and a flurry of predetermined questions bounce from one candidate to another, some specifically addressed to one candidate while other questions are purposefully designed to allow for general comment by all candidates. Vex, having dominated the debate the previous year, is supremely confident and his voice and posture exhibit such. No direct challenges are issues by one candidate to another until Martininus calls Vex out on a comment he made. Vex expertly turns away the attack, focusing on the fact that the comment was made many months ago, and is able to redirect Martininus’ efforts back at him, making it seem that he, rather than Vex, is guilty of the infraction. At one point later on, Vex takes the opportunity to dismantle Martininus’ chances of electoral victory, leaving the student to drown amid a roar of laughter and applause that follow.

Esquilinus stays on her feet, much to Vex’s disappointment, and dodges some attacks by the other candidates while taking others head on. Esquilinus scores a large amount of applause from the audience when she makes a point about the state of the school’s library, a particularly unique focus of her campaign. The library’s general state of disrepair coupled with Esquilinus’ true desire to see it improved provide a wonderful opportunity for the students to sense her passion and drive for change.

Eventually, the debate comes to an end following a period of free questioning, or questions taken directly from the audience. Esquilinus feels confident during this portion, handling her questions very well and making sure to choose her words carefully, so as not to make it appear that she had memorized a set list of phrases and slogans. Characteristically, Vex does not hold back from his verbal onslaught and seems to score a critical hit against Pulvillus when a student in the audience asks him to elaborate on the quality of the other candidates. Pulvillus had stumbled at various points throughout the debate, no doubt due to a simple case of anxiety, and Vex slammed him for it. Interestingly enough, however, Vex did not provide any commentary on Esquilinus.

As with every previous debate pitting the candidates for the student council presidency against each other, a vote is taken as students initially began to fill the auditorium, since only students are allowed to vote in the election, and another is taken at the debate’s end. Esquilinus had initially polled third, just slightly behind Vex and Veturius, and now finds herself in second, trailing Vex by a mere 58 votes. With the reading of the final poll before the next day - Election Day - the moderator closes the debate, thanking all of the candidates and especially all of the audience for their attendance. A few photos of the candidates are taken as they all share a friendly embrace and handshake, some smiles genuine while others are not, though no one can tell the difference.

Later, Esquilinus is overrun by her friends, given a tight hug by Schweizer and Pisdoé and giving a classic smile to the gentlemen of the group. Her parents, who had managed to go unseen in the audience, join up with the group a couple of minutes later and congratulate their daughter. Esquilinus is approached by all the other candidates at different points, except Vex, and given another cordial handshake and good luck for tomorrow’s election before they leave the backstage area with their own friends and family. She certainly feels good of her chances, having performed solidly throughout the night, but presently the concerns of her stomach, which had lay dormant, outclass her thoughts about the following day.

“Oh…” Esquilinus says with a laugh, her stomach grumbling and making a case to be heard.

Schweizer kindly offers her residence and her efforts to satisfy Esquilinus’ hunger, but Esquilinus’ parents politely decline the offer. Not to take away from Esquilinus’ desire to be with her friends, her father expresses his thoughts of having her at home for the evening with the family all together. In the parking lot located in the rear of the school, Esquilinus says good-night to her friends and gives a hearty thank you to Pisdoé for having provided the touches that could have easily swayed a few undecided voters. She waves one final time as Cato and the others round the side of the school building in order to direct them towards their respective routes home. Esquilinus climbs into her father’s car and tries to keep her mind off the next day’s election, to no avail.



“Attention. Attention students. The results of the first round of voting for the office of President of the Student Council are in.” a voice calls out over the intercom system of the school the next day.

Across the school, the candidates tense up and sit nervously in their chairs. The electoral procedure is much the same as that for the election of the President of the Republic, meaning that voters narrow the choice down to two candidates out of an initial list, i.e. those two candidates who gathered the largest amount of votes during the first stage of voting. A second round of voting is then held, where the candidate to gather the majority of votes is declared the winner. Slowly, almost mechanically, the results of the first round of voting held at the beginning of the first lesson are read out.

“Martininus: 4,7%, Pulvillus: 9,9%, Veturius: 13,3%, Esquilinus: 30,4%, Vex: 41,7%”

Across the school, moans of disappointment mix freely with enthusiastic cheers and Esquilinus breathes a sigh of relief. It is now time for the deciding votes to be cast. Esquilinus does not hear the announcement, but the voice that had just signaled her advancement to the second round indicates that second round voting is to be held after the lunch break. The voice over the intercom reminds candidates and their volunteers that active campaigning is over and that vote buying or manipulation will not be tolerated. Meanwhile, Esquilinus is given a good deal of approval from those students seated next to her, even students who had voted for another candidate congratulating her.

Despite her teacher’s best efforts, Esquilinus cannot focus very well on the lesson at hand, capable only of thinking about her real chances against Vex. She knew to begin with that he was the toughest of her opponents, so the results thus far did not surprise her, but what she really wants to know now is what he is thinking, if even the possibility of defeat had slipped into his dense, arrogant brain.

The morning lessons conclude and Esquilinus is greeted at lunch by Cato and the others, a firmly positive outlook characterizing their attitudes, and soon enough another enjoyable lunch period passes by in the blink of an eye. As the afternoon lessons commence, the teacher makes sure to pass out a voting form to each student who requests one, signaled by a raised hand, running through the rows of desks after a minute or two in order to collect them all. The teacher stacks them neatly together before binding them with a rubber band, setting them off to the side of the counter that sits at the front of the classroom. Another teacher eventually knocks and enters the classroom, bidding his colleague a good day, grabbing the short stack of forms, and leaving while shutting the door behind him. A full two lesson periods pass and the results still have not been announced. Esquilinus begins to believe the vote count demanded a recount and she becomes increasily nervous as the minutes continue to pass. Suddenly, the same robotic voice that had delivered the day’s first round election results comes over the intercom.

“After a careful review of the votes submitted, the results of the second round of voting for the office of President of the Student Council are in.”

Esquilinus holds her breath, as do all her supporters and friends around the school.

“Esquilinus: 49,8%, Vex: 50,2%”

A roar of cheers can be heard from the second floor where Vex’s classroom is undoubtly located and the noise slowly creeps into Esquilinus’ ears. She sits shocked at the incredibly small margin of defeat and momentarily cannot comprehend the sounds of victory with the reality of defeat, though statements from her classmates after a few moments clear up the confusion and make Esquilinus realize that those cries of victory are not for her.

The schoolday continues and rapidly winds to a close. Just as the final bell rings, a different voice can be heard over the intercom, one which the entire school had grown familiar with during the course of the election campaign.

“Good afternoon everyone. I understand how you all are eager to return home, so I promise I will be brief.” Vex says. “I wish to congratulate all the candidates who decided to run this year and I especially wish to send my heartfelt commiserations to Esquilinus and her campaign team who put up quite a fight and made this contest worth every moment. Thank you volunteers, each and every one of you, for your dedication and wonderful effort. I am honored to once again serve as your Student Council President.”

Esquilinus remains seated as her classroom quickly empties and dissolves, eventually greeted, as always, by her companions. Cato raises his shoulders as if to say ‘Ah, well’, Schweizer draws close and places her hand on Esquilinus’ shoulder, Pisdoé stands off to the side leaning against a nearby desk, Wermuth curses those bastards who dared vote against Esquilinus, and Bucco remains just inside the classroom near the door. Esquilinus, however, does not respond and keeps her head down on her desk. A couple of minutes pass before Cato and the others slowly take their leave, deciding that giving Esquilinus some space is the best course of action, and in doing so resign Bucco a moment alone with her.

"Ciò..." Bucco says softly, still leaning against the wall near the door.

Esquilinus now looks up slowly in Bucco’s direction. There is no evidence of tears in her eyes, just dissatisfaction and frustration. She appears beaten, her usually bright complexion is faded, and she appears tired. Bucco takes a step forward.

"Vón…Let’s go grab a coffee or just stretch our legs.”

Esquilinus drops her gaze, undecided as whether or not to follow. “I was so close…”

Bucco takes another step forward and another. “You did what you could. You did your best.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course.” Bucco replies, now finding himself right beside Esquilinus, she sitting at her desk, he standing right next to her. "Let's get a drink. Café Montador should still be open."

Esquilinus smiles weakly and, though it quickly fades, she stands and grabs her schoolbag, turning towards Bucco and mouthing a low thank you.
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Telosan
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The Foremost Intellectual Badass
The weather is depressing, as is normal for this time of year, but it seems all the more so with the current state of affairs. The cold is pressing, but not quite biting, yet the wind has not grown to the ferocity that truly marks Porcuian winters. Even through his thick wool coat, borrowed from Wermuth until he had the opportunity to purchase his own, Bucco shivers. He is unused to this weather, as the coldest Venice could be paled in comparison to the biblical storms of the north. Walking beside him, Esquilinus doesn’t appear shaken by the appalling weather in the least. Looking down at the ground a few feet in front of her as they walk, Bucco wonders if she even notices the cold. After a while, she looks up and sees Bucco looking at her and smiles. He smiles back and looks ahead again, but is not convinced. He knows the smile was forced, but can’t seem to find the right words for the moment. Thankfully, both to Bucco’s own lack of words and the chilly weather, Café Montador appears as they round a corner, the large square windows that cover the majority of the storefront tauntingly revealing the warm and welcoming atmosphere of the café.

The single door blends into the windows around it, so that one could miss it on a passing glance. Pulling open the door, Bucco is relieved by the sudden rush of warm air as they enter the semi-modern atmosphere of the café. The back corner of the room, the wall gives way to stairs that lead to the bookstore owned and operated by the same owners of the café. Near the stairs is a portion of the café that seems more an extension of the bookstore, with comfortable lounge chairs and short coffee tables. The rest of the café is furnished with round laminated wood tables, most with two or three matching chairs. Surprisingly, the café isn’t crowded, despite its popularity, and Bucco and Esquilinus take a table by the corner window.

Though Esquilinus sits, Bucco only places his schoolbag under his chair and starts to go place their orders. As he turns, Esquilinus starts to stand again to follow, but Bucco gently directs her back to her seat, assuring her that he can get both their drinks. There is no line, so Bucco orders with ease. He starts to pay the ₤4.50 bill with ducati, but remembers that it’s unlikely to be accepted and returns his cherished golden winged lion coins to his pocket in favor of what he sees as the duller, mixed silver and gold coins depicting the country of Porcu and its significant landmarks that mark Porcuian denarii. He stands off to the side and waits for the drinks to be made and looks back at Esquilinus. She’s sitting with her hands in her lap, one on top of the other, and staring outside. There doesn’t seem to be anything particularly interesting outside, with only the occasional businessman walking by. From his perspective at the counter, it’s difficult to determine what Esquilinus is looking at, but manages to trace her line of sight. Across the street are two students from another Milanese high school, by the colors and general look of their uniforms. They are obviously a couple, as the girl clings to the boy’s arm while he carries both their schoolbags. The barista interrupts his thoughts by handing him the drinks and Bucco returns to the table.

Ciò, one cappuccino with powdered chocolate. This is your favorite, véro?” He says, placing the drink in front of her and drawing her attention from the window.

Esquilinus cracks a genuine smile, the first in awhile. "Yes, thank you." she says, pulling her hands out from under the table in order to reach out and grab the cup, slowly pulling it to her lips. "How did you know?"

“We were here before the trip to Patavium and after that hockey game not long ago. You had ordered that on both occasions.” he reminds her.

"Yeah, you're right." Esquilinus responds, smiling again. "Those were really fun, weren't they?" she adds, lowering her gaze once more, the smile slowly fading away as her mind returns to the weeks of effort put into her campaign only to close with a disappointing result.

Seeing her smile fade, Bucco knows where her thoughts are headed. “Hey, Esquilinus, don’t think like that. You did your best. There was nothing more that could be done and Vex’s victory came at no fault of your own.”

“I'm just not sure. There were additional students I could have talked to. There were more posters I could have printed off and hung up..." Esquilinus fires back before stalling a moment and looking down at the coffee in her hands. "I just feel like I let everyone down."

“We used every legitimate means we could. Had we printed more posters, the school would look like it was wallpapered with sketches of you. Vex was overconfident, but you managed to scare him into at least doubting the flawless victory he dreamed of. He might well have been shaking in his shoes when the vote came down to you two. Look up.” Bucco waits for her to tear her gaze away from the table and up at him. “Who did you let down? I’m not disappointed; it was fun running the campaign. I’m sure if you asked Cato, Schweizer, Pisdoé, and even Wermuth not one of them would say otherwise.”

“I suppose, but you and everyone else worked so hard for me. I feel like I let Vex slip through..." Esquilinus motions with one of her hands, curling it into a fist before relaxing. Then she chuckles, adding, "Not like you. You got a whole fist full of him, didn't you?”

Putting his hands up in an innocent gesture, Bucco replies, “Fortunately, I didn’t do anything to him. I caught you leaving and dropped him to go after you. You disappeared; I searched the school.”

“You mean 'unfortunately'..." Esquilinus answers, sending a smile Bucco's way. "I apologize I ran off like that. It's...It's just that he irritates me so much. That smug arrogance of his..." she finishes, bringing her cappuccino close and taking a long sip. "So, yeah, I apologize for bolting out and leaving you and Schweizer behind."

“If he irritates you, you could have slapped him yourself.” Bucco smiles at the thought. “I’m sure that would shock him.” Shaking his head a bit, he adds, “In Venice, the candidates for the scoƚàro dùca are chosen based on their qualifications as determined by the administration. Campaigns for the position are almost unheard of; it’s a simpler method than here in Porcu, I think.”

“The process may be simpler, but I think the method we have here is more open and fair, providing an opportunity to whomever wishes to take it. Who knows, I may not even have qualified if I were in a Venetian school."

“The Venetian system eliminates the possibility of a scoƚàro dùca being elected simply because he or she is popular. Our student leaders are arguably of a higher quality and because of this as you must actually work to be considered. Democratic elections like those in Porcu can easily devolve into popularity contests. Vex may have won by being popular; which cannot be an accurate criterion for leadership quality.” Bucco chuckled before adding, “I was nominated for scoƚàro dùca before, but turned it down before the election started. My father was furious.”

Though Esquilinus does not agree with Bucco, she certainly understands where he is coming from. His last comment piques her interest so she presses him on it. "Really? Wow, why did you do that?”

“It’s not that I have a problem with leadership, but my father insisted that it would help me take over his company some day if I had experience leading an organization. I have reason to believe he rigged the selection process; which is an insult in itself that he considered that I wouldn’t meet the qualifications on my own. Had I won the election, I would find myself having beaten out more worthy candidates since I would have achieved the position by dishonorable means. Besides, winning the election was something my father wanted, and therefore he assumed I wanted it as well.”

"I see..." Esquilinus replies slowly, careful to not say anything that might bring up particularly strong emotions in Bucco regarding his father. Hoping an infusion of humor might lighten the discussion, she adds with a chuckle, "It must be nice to have Continental Europe between you two...Now that you've been here for a few months, has your idea of Porcu changed? Do you think of this little country any differently?”

Bucco notices Esquilinus had finished her cappuccino, so he quickly drinks the last of his and stands to leave, Esquilinus rising with him. “Well, Porcu is no Venice, but there are certainly unique experiences to be had here that I could never have come across in Venice.” Bucco says, glancing at her as he holds the door for her and they walk into the wall of outside. “An example could be the trip to Patavium. Venice has so few modern cities that even the most technology-breathing one would have competition here. Then there’s hockey, a generally fascinating sport that few Venetians have any knowledge of. Even the people, who eagerly share their constantly-evolving liberal ideas. While I favor some of the more traditional ways of Venice, the fast-paced arena of proposals and counterproposals is interesting to observe.”

The two walk along through a park on the way back to Esquilinus’ house, the conversation going back and forth across a wide variety of topics from homework to families. Long before they run out of subjects, they arrive at the large apartment complex where Esquilinus lives and it’s time to part. As they say their goodbyes, Bucco says, “Hey, Esquilinus, you can still be a Dogaressa to me.”

He notices a slight blush on her cheeks as she turns to walk inside the complex and, just before entering, she turns back and throws Bucco a slightly nervous wave and a smile, with a hint of reciprocating the feeling of Bucco’s previous comment. Smiling despite himself, Bucco starts back to Wermuth’s house and makes it to the corner before coming to a sudden stop.

“Wait, còsa?!” Whirling around, “What?!” he asks the wind around him. “Why did I say that? Was that…Was that a date?!”
Edited by Telosan, Jan 3 2011, 06:35 PM.
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Porcu
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

The day of the election had come and gone. Since Vex had managed to retain his position as president, many go right on as though nothing had happened and, by all appearances, nothing had. Before the week is through, however, the group is sitting together during lunch in classroom 3A, as they had before much of Esquilinus’ time was absorbed by the campaign. Esquilinus, for her part, seems to have accepted her loss and moved on. Nothing in her actions even hint that she had campaigned for student president just a week prior.

"...I know, you can't wait either?" Pisdoé says, bringing Bucco’s attention back to the conversation at hand.

"It should be fun..." Wermuth adds, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "Hopefully, the teachers don't make us take notes or expect us to remember every detail."

"I think this is more to just let us unwind while not making it explicit." Cato comments. "Anyways, I'm looking forward to the Pantheon. It's ironic that such a famous architectural monument is right here in the city and I haven't visited it in ages."

“A famous monument?” Bucco interjects. “In what way is it significant?”

"Well, I think it's a classical piece of architecture and something that highlights our past. It's an important symbol for the Republic and for the city of Milan." Cato responds before taking another bite of his sandwich.

Ma, what is it symbolic of?”

“Our history class hasn’t really touched on Porcu’s earliest years yet, since most of that’s covered in previous history classes, but its connection to Porcu’s Roman roots is clear. Additionally, the ruins here in Porcu have come to represent our unique republican tradition, starting with our Roman ancestors, and continuing all the way to the present day.” Wermuth adds.

“Porcu used to be called the ‘Rome of the North’ for its similarity to the classical Romans of the Italian peninsula. Being Romans themselves, our ancestors brought everything from a republican concept of governance to Roman architecture, from art to work ethic and drive.” Schweizer says.

With the next school break on the horizon and the exams of the first semester rounding out the year in December, the third-year teachers had previously decided to take two school trips, one to be right here in the city of Milan tomorrow and the other to be in Stockholm in mid-December. As student council president, Vex had been given the duty of planning for both events and, by means of rumors, Esquilinus is given another reason to be content she did not win the presidency, Vex reportedly spending hours and hours after school talking with city and business officials to properly coordinate the activities of the large number of third-year students.

The schedule for Cato and the others, in addition to the other students, is to take a number of school buses into Milan’s historical district. The district is host to one of Porcu’s most famous art museums and regularly attracts millions of visitors every year. Furthermore, the district is home to the Pantheon, a structure exactly similar to that found in Rome. The original founders of Porcu were Roman by heritage and by blood. Wishing to preserve their cultural foundations, these settlers of Scandinavia did their best to copy the architectural masterpieces of their continental brothers and sisters by importing huge quantities of marble. As Bucco himself has found, Porcu manages to combine the architectural beauty of the ancient and contemporary into a unique hybrid.

“So do we know which teachers are going to chaperone us?” Pisdoé asks, finishing off her lunch and neatly wrapping up the lunchbox Schweizer prepared for the day.

“I’m not sure.” Esquilinus replies.

“How will we be divided? By class?” Bucco asks curiously.

“No,” Cato says, “we’ll arrive all together as one large group, but from there we are free to move around the museum or the monuments like the Pantheon. The teachers always say they’ll quiz us over information we’re supposed to have gathered, but the quizzes are never difficult.”

“Oh, does that mean we can walk around on our own!?” Pisdoé asks, her eyes glimmering.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely make sure to visit and see all the important stuff, but we should have time to relax and walk around separately. Why?”

“I’ve heard of a cute little store that sells antique jewelry in the historical district, but I haven’t had the opportunity to visit yet.”

Pisdoé’s comment draws curious and approving responses from Schweizer and Esquilinus, while Cato, Wermuth, and Bucco look to each other. Cato facetiously rolls his eyes just as the bell rings to signal the end of the lunch break and before long the group dissolves as each heads back to their respective classroom for the beginning of afternoon lessons.



Wermuth raises his arms high in the air and stretches, twisting his body right then left before gazing over at Pisdoé. Amid the noise that accompanies the mass of students as they pack up their things, Wermuth jots down one final note before packing up his things, neatly sliding his notebook into his schoolbag and closing it. Standing to join Pisdoé, the two make their way out of their own classroom and head towards that of Cato, Schweizer, and Bucco. Arriving just as Esquilinus does, Wermuth and Pisdoé exchange greetings with the others and catch up on their respective plans for the evening.

“Are you guys walking with us for a bit?” Cato asks Wermuth and Bucco.

“No, not today. Because of our school trip tomorrow, we have football practice today.” Bucco says, with Wermuth nodding in agreement. “Hopefully, it isn’t too bad.”

Cato chuckles and turns to Schweizer and Pisdoé. “It looks like it’ll be us three for today.”

“Ah, Cato, Pisdoé’s coming over to work on Physics and Chemistry. I hope you don’t mind if I invited her, since she asked if we wanted to study together today.”

“Why would I mind?”

With that Cato, Schweizer, and Pisdoé salute their friends and depart, buttoning up their wool winter jackets and conversing among themselves as they blend in with the stream of students passing through the hallways and towards the main entrance. Left behind are the footballers of the group, all of whom do not look forward to braving the cold weather. There recently had been a lull in the football schedule, the teams only having played one game in the past two weeks. Despite having the day off tomorrow, the teams are scheduled to play a Milanese rival in three day’s time.

While Bucco and Esquilinus suck up their anxiety in their walk to their respective locker rooms, Wermuth grudgingly follows in tow. As Esquilinus disappears into the girl’s locker room, Bucco and Wermuth spot their coach arriving to enter the boy’s locker room just as they are.

“Gentlemen, prepare for hell.” the Calculus teacher says with a smirk, entering the locker room as Bucco and Wermuth freeze for a moment out of shock.

“Bucco, would you remind me why I decided to play football again?” Wermuth says as he pulls open the door to the locker room.

“To impress all the women in the audience whenever we play?” Bucco replies, following his friend inside.

Chuckling, Wermuth says ironically, “How could I have forgotten?”



“Come on, come on…” Bucco whispers to no one in particular as he waits outside with the other third-year students for the buses to arrive.

That morning had brought a deep chill in the air and Bucco had already walked to school with Wermuth, braving the dry, crisp, and biting air. Now he stands just outside the school beside the others anticipating the arrival of their transportation. He is thankful he recently took the time to buy one of the wool jackets the other male students wear over their uniforms during the colder months and now feels only slightly colder than his companions, who take the cold as if it were nothing.

Soon enough, the buses can be seen turning the street corner and making their way to the front of the school building, coming to a stop a minute later. After a brief summary of the day’s scheduled events and a thank-you to Vex for having planned much of the trip, the teacher in charge orders the third-year students to board one of the buses. Naturally, everyone wishes to stay in their small groups of friends; however, some are separated due to the limited space of each bus. Luckily, this was not the case for Cato and the others, who manage to grab two rows of seats, three seats one in front of the other, by resorting to a slight show of force. Having pushed their way onto the same bus, the group of friends easily secures their seats together and now only has to wait for everyone else to board. Cato, Pisdoé, and Schweizer occupy one row, while Wermuth, Bucco, and Esquilinus take the row directly anterior. Wermuth’s pleas to switch seats with Cato, who is sandwiched between Pisdoé and Schweizer, fall on deaf ears and, with all the students properly accounted for, the various buses lurch forward and begin their trip to Milan’s historical district.

Bucco is seated by the window, Esquilinus to his right, and takes a number of brief moments to look outside at the metropolis that surrounds him while on the short trip. Distracted occasionally by Esquilinus’ giggles, brought on by Cato’s attempts to poke and tickle her, Bucco nonetheless is able to take in even more of the city that he has come to admire. An ever expanding city, construction cranes can be seen dotting the landscape when the bus travels along a road that rises above the low heights of the city.

Lost amid the commotion of the other students aboard the bus, it takes Bucco a moment to realize that the bus has finally come to a stop. Looking outside, he spots the stone-cobbled streets of the area and various sites, including the impressive Pantheon, before turning towards Esquilinus and the others. He stays seated, as does Cato, while most everyone else stands, despite not being able to descend from the bus quite yet. Unknown to the group, Vex had boarded the same bus as them and now stands to address everyone. Bucco quickly disengages his attention from what the student council president has to say after assuming his address is a simple repeat of the orders the teacher in charge had given before. A couple of minutes later, that same teacher arrives and steps onto the bus, giving permission to Vex to lead the students off the bus and towards a nearby square where the students from the other buses had already gathered. When it comes time for them, Wermuth leads the group of friends off the bus. Clustering together again, the group makes their way towards the nearby square. As a gust of wind blows across the square, Wermuth buttons the last of his jacket buttons and Schweizer and Pisdoé use Cato’s body to block most of the wind, while Bucco buries his head into his scarf and Esquilinus turns her face away from the wind.

“…Now you’ll have until 15:00 to visit all the sites we expect you to see. The other teachers and I will be around and keeping an eye on things, so I hope I do not have to remind you to be on your best behavior…”

The teacher in charge concludes her speech a minute or so later, much to the delight of all, and subsequently begins the start of the trip. With a huge museum to tour, a historic theater to visit, and Roman ruins to learn about, most of the students lose little time in choosing one to see first. Overhearing many students’ desire to visit the art museum, called the Academy Galleries, Cato suggests that the group tour the Royal Theatre at La Scala, the title of Milan’s world renowned theater and opera house. With a decidingly approving response, Cato directs the group through the historical district and onward towards La Scala.

As the group moves through crowded street after crowded street, Cato has to stop and backtrack occasionally when the girls begin to window-shop, forcing Wermuth and Bucco to halt as well. Only with ample reassurances that they would return and have plenty of time later on can the girls be pried away from the seductively lit glass of the numerous shops and boutiques. The group passes other students of their class and grade as they advance, eventually arriving in the square where the theater rests. A beautiful and classical structure, La Scala would easily blend into Venice’s city center and has Bucco once again consider the similarity between his own beloved Venice and Porcu. Eager to get out of the cold, Bucco quickens the pace a little and is the first to arrive and enter. The group proceeds to the front counter, bypassing the long line used by foreign visitors and tourists, and is directed to an open area of the marble counter off to the side. The theater employee uses a computer to input each person’s name and compare that to a list provided ahead of time by Vex and the school. In this way, the students have no need to carry anything and are quickly given access to the theater’s interior. It’s warmth and welcoming nature is immediately noticed and the care with which the city and her people take care of the building is apparent to the students.

“So, what now?” Esquilinus asks.

“Well…” Cato says, looking around and finally grabbing a brochure and a map. “Let’s just take a walk and see what we find. It’s nice and warm in here and I’m in no hurry to return outside.”

Bucco nods in agreement, taking one of the tourist pamphlets for himself. The group then starts off together, but with Pisdoé wishing to see the stage first and Cato wanting to tour the interior rooms and private boxes the group soon splits into two groups, with the girls sticking together and Wermuth and Bucco joining Cato. Pisdoé leads the way for the girls and darts through the highly decorated halls, reaching the staircase which would lead them to the ground floor of the auditorium. Slighly disappointed to find a large number of people gathered in the stairwell, the girls press on. Descending the stairs slowly, the girls strike up a conversation and talk about generic things such as schoolwork, recent TV show episodes, cooking, and Pisdoé’s modeling.

“It’s still kind of shocking to see your face on different magazine covers while I’m waiting in line at the supermarket.” Esquilinus says.

“Do you ever get tired of it Pisdoé?” Schweizer asks while consciously keeping her grip on the finely detailed wooden railing tight.

“Well…” Pisdoé begins before stopping suddenly.

A young man who had been descending the stairs in front of Pisdoé whirls around and faces her directly. Clearly a tourist on first glance, the young man reveals himself to be an American, as noted by his accent when he speaks to Pisdoé in Latin.

“Wow, are you Giselle Pisdoé? Really?” the young man asks enthusiastically.

Caught off guard by the sudden attention, Pisdoé manages just a smile before the young man turns to grab the attention of his friend, hitting him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. Schweizer and Esquilinus try hard not to laugh as the young men work furiously to find a pen or pencil with which to get Pisdoé’s autograph. Pisdoé herself is only slightly confused as to how these foreigners know of her, but that question is answered when one of the young Americans reveals their years of studying Latin at university in the Confederate States of America. Both express their great interest in anything Porcuian, including the gorgeous Pisdoé. With the knowledge that additional visitors are packed behind the girls on the stairs, the two young Americans give up on their search for a writing utensil, deciding to ask Pisdoé for an awkward handshake and subsequent photograph. Pisdoé is uncomfortably surrounded by both men and manages a brief, if forced, smile for the digital camera of one of the men. With a real sense of accomplishment, the two Americans turn and fly down the stairs and, much to Pisdoé relief, exit onto a nearby floor. Descending the stairs once again, Schweizer and Esquilinus cannot contain their laughter and giggle incessantly. Catching a moment when they pause to take a breath, Pisdoé’s concludes her thought from before.

“I was going to say that really don’t get tired of it all, but then again…There are moments like that which I cannot say I would miss.”

A few minutes later the girls arrive on the ground floor and step out and into the huge auditorium of the theater. The interior rises up like a tidal wave, its shear magnificence drawing a sense of awe from the girls and the other tourists who pack the lower levels of the theater. Pisdoé recites a few facts from the informational pamphlet she picked up at the entrance, detailing various features related to the theater’s origins, famous composers who had their work played here, and modern efforts to preserve the original beauty of the theater. Suddenly, the girls hear their names being shouted from behind them. Turning to gaze back and up in order to find the source, Esquilinus, Schweizer, and Pisdoé see the guys waving from one of the private boxes high above them. The girls wave back and make a funny face or two, but quickly return their focus to their immediate surroundings when a theater employee silently scolds them for their silliness. Getting as close to the stage as possible, the girls make sure to commit some of the facts that Pisdoé mentioned before to memory and work to take in the stunning features of the theater’s interior.

Needing to backtrack in order to get to the entrance to meet up with the guys, Pisdoé reviews her options and chooses to take a side exit, mostly to avoid the possibility of running into her American fans. Just as they approach the lobby of the main entrance, Cato, Bucco, and Wermuth show up and greet the girls. Discussing what they had seen and read about the theater, the group exchanges important information and eventually Schweizer recalls Pisdoé’s episode in the stairwell. As she is explaining the story, the two Americans arrive on the scene and head to the exit, but not before waving in Pisdoé’s direction, much to her embarrassment. All three boys have a good laugh and Wermuth wastes no time in further embarrassing Pisdoé, drawing a playful, yet comparatively strong Esquilinus-like punch from her.

Giving their thanks to those working at the front counter, the group of friends exits the historical building and begins in the opposite direction from whence they came in order to quickly get to their next destination: the Pantheon. The girls take the opportunity to visit several boutiques on their way and, as Cato had promised, the boys wait patiently for them to finish, knowing full well that attempting to drag them away before they were ready could put them in a foul mood and therefore spoil the rest of the boys’ day. Arriving in front of the Pantheon sometime later, the group is thrilled to find a somewhat sparse line. In no time at all, the group finds itself before an employee and security guard and simply repeat the procedure they used to gain admittance to La Scala.

The Pantheon is beautiful in its own way, different from La Scala but no less so. Unlike the theater, where the group had plenty of room to explore, the size of the Pantheon constrains them to a single, large open space, but the number of other students has even a bigger effect on this. Having sped through the art museum, many students had moved onto the Pantheon and now find themselves packed in. The classical and refined architecture brings up textbook images of ancient Romans and Porcuians alike, with Cato referencing various early Porcuians from history that Bucco had never heard of before. Foreigners and tourists move into and out of this architectural masterpiece as well, some being escorted out with force by officers of the national gendarmerie, much to the dismay of fellow tourists and much to the humor of the Milanese and other Porcuians. The preservation of cultural landmarks, be they ancient ruins or churches or paintings or monuments, is undertaken with the utmost seriousness and those who do not abide by the rules clearly spelled out in a dozen different languages outside every site are swiftly removed and stripped of their visiting privileges.

Having visited the Pantheon as a young boy, Cato recalls a few facts his father had told, though Cato’s demeanor immediately becomes sullen when he mentions this out loud to the others. After a lull and in an effort to move on, Wermuth draws the group’s attention to one of the marble statues that adorns the interior, reciting general information about the historical figure that is shown by the statue. Cato recovers quickly enough and is back to his usual self again, just as one of the school teachers arrives. The teacher questions the group, skeptical and curious to know how they managed to pass through the museum with such speed and retain any important information at all. Cato politely but firmly answers that he and the others had instead chosen to visit the theater first and anticipates the teacher’s follow-up questions by reciting a few of the details that he remembers reading from one of the pamphlets.

“Alright Cato, that’s enough.” the teacher responds dryly.

The teacher moves on and leaves Cato and the others as they were a few moments before. Losing all interest in remaining within the beautifully symmetric marble walls of the Pantheon, Cato voices his desire to visit the museum, the last major stop for the day.

“I actually want to stay a bit more.” Schweizer counters, drawing an approving nod from Esquilinus.

“You too?” Cato asks Esquilinus.

An affirmative answer quickly follows and Cato does not think of asking Wermuth, Pisdoé, or Bucco of what they want to do, merely slipping his hands into his coat pockets and turning to leave. Wermuth calls out and asks where he is going.

“Just for a walk. We can meet in front of the museum whenever you guys are ready. I have my cell phone.” Cato replies.

Satisfied and hardly surprised, Wermuth turns his attention back to the various aspects of the monument’s interior, though Pisdoé is not and decides to tag along. She informs the others and then jogs out of the Pantheon to catch up to Cato.

The wind had picked up a bit from its previously calm state, its generally indecisive nature beginning to test the patience of all those having to brave the Scandinavian weather. Pisdoé catches up to Cato, his head down and eyes closed, and gives him a friendly little push with her shoulder to get his attention. Surprised, Cato warms up slightly by giving her a smile, asking why she had decided to follow. Pisdoé gives him the standard response of it ‘being dangerous to wander off alone’, though in her mind she now relishes the thought of having a moment alone with him.

The two students walk together in silence for a few minutes, interrupted only by the occasional greeting given by other Mazzotto third-year students to Pisdoé, who politely waves back and returns the salutation. While walking through a particularly narrow street with only a few shops of various kinds, Pisdoé ironically comes across the particular jewelry store she had been hunting for and wished to visit. Specializing in antique pieces as well as pieces made from materials no longer legally available on the market, the store had slowly gotten the reputation of being a hidden treasure. Grabbing Cato’s jacket at his arm, she drags him into the store. Both are instantly greeted by a rush of warm air, their noses and cheeks responding joyfully, and while the wide-eyed Pisdoé’s gaze shifts around the store quickly Cato sits just beyond the entrance, content to warm up a little but not quite ready to dive into the store. An elderly woman descends a set of stairs at the far end of the store and scoots forward to greet Pisdoé. Pisdoé bows slightly and informs the woman of her delight in finally fnding the store.

“Why, thank you. Such a beautiful young lady, I’m happy to hear that.” the elderly woman responds.

“I heard of this store only through side conversations…It seems like this place is a bit hidden, off the radar.”

“Yes, we’re certainly not like those large jewelry chains. All of the items we have here are rare.”

Cato chuckles, having looked around his immediate vicinity and seen the prices attached to different pieces. His almost scoffing behavior draws the attention of the elderly storekeeper. She gives him a quick look over, but does not say anything, instead turning back to Pisdoé and asking if she had seen anything she liked. While Pisdoé and the elderly woman talk amongst themselves, Cato steps further into the store and begins to peak at all the display cases. Moving past a number of rings, bracelets, necklaces, and earings, Cato is halted in his path by a stunning pendant. The gemstone that sits at its center radiates a brilliant and deep blood red and Cato’s first impression is that the stone is a ruby of exceptional quality. The pendant is not large and even though the central stone is outlined by other precious stones, it is that very same gem that seizes Cato’s attention.

“They say diamonds are forever…Unfortunately, youth is not.”

“Huh?” Cato responds confused.

“It is a red diamond that sits in the middle of the pendant.” an old man says, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His smile is inviting and his stature non-threatening.

“Really?”

“It’s actually one of our most precious items.” the elderly man replies.

“Our?”

“Yes; my wife and I run this little shop together and have been fortunate enough to watch over it for nearly forty years.”

Cato returns his focus to the brilliant pendant held securely inside a display case. He had read once that there were various colors that a diamond could have and that those colors were the result of impurities; however, he could not see how such a beautiful stone could be considered imperfect or tainted. Out of curiosity he gazes at the price of the pendant, written by hand on a small tag attached to it, and nearly seizes with horror. He chuckles slightly while standing straight again and turns back to the elderly shopkeeper.

“Except for the prices, this is a fantastic shop you and your wife have.”

“Thank you. Did you come with your girlfriend?”

“Oh, no…” Cato says, turning back to see Pisdoé looking at a mirror in order to see how well a pair of earrings look on her. “She’s a friend of mine. Our class is visiting the historical district today and we had some time to walk around freely.”

“I see. She certainly is beautiful.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.”

Cato whips around and looks at the elderly man, surprised to hear a familiar voice he knows could not have come from him. Sitting on his shoulder is the psychedelically colored owl. The elderly man is surprised by Cato’s facial expression and asks if something is the matter. Doing his best to contain his shock, Cato apologizes and says he made a mistake, having seen something that does not exist.

“How rude!” the owl barks back, rustling its feathers.

A moment later, Cato hears another familiar sound, a cooing of sorts. He turns back towards the front of the shop where Pisdoé and the elderly woman still are and sees the owl peering up Pisdoé’s skirt from directly underneath her. Cato gives the elderly man a bow and proceeds to exit the shop, stopping only a moment to tell Pisdoé that he’ll be waiting outside for her.

“Where are you going? What’s the rush?” the owl asks after following Cato outside.

“Why did you have to do that?”

“You’re just as curious, you know.”

Cato blushes slightly before pushing his hands into his coat pockets. He closes his eyes and waits another five minutes for Pisdoé to exit. When she does the owl is gone.

The two continue walking for a bit and Pisdoé shows Cato a pair of earrings she bought along with a bracelet that matches well. Feigning interest, Cato asks a few questions about the jewelry, mostly about the different stones and metals used. Eventually, the two arrive at a small café and enter, with Cato purchasing a cappuccino for Pisdoé and himself. He also buys three cold sandwiches so that he may share one with Pisdoé and bring the others back to the rest of the group. The two students talk lightly and share a laugh before deciding it is time to head back - there is still the museum to visit after all.



“Wow, what a trip!” Wermuth exclaims once everyone has boarded the bus that will take them back to school.

“Did you enjoy it Bucco?” Esquilinus asks.

Siorsi. The Pantheon was impressive, as was the opera house.”

“I really enjoyed the older paintings.” Schweizer says, turning in her seat to get a good look at everyone across two rows of seats. “Some of the modern stuff in the Contemporary exhibit was weird though.”

“I thought those sculptures made from recycled aluminium cans were kinda cool.” Pisdoé replies.

The school trip to Milan’s historical district had gone well and even if the students would not retain much of the information they packed into their brains it gave everyone the opportunity to revel in their country’s magnificent cultural history and presence.

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Telosan
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The Foremost Intellectual Badass
With a trip just past, another in a couple of days, and the long awaited winter break just a few more days after, the students have, mercifully, been given a comparably light workload. It is Esquilinus who suggests using the extra time for more French lessons, a proposal Bucco enthusiastically agrees to. It had been some time since the previous French lesson and Bucco would have all but forgotten about the arrangement, though how he couldn’t fathom, had Esquilinus not reminded him. At the moment, the two walk side by side along the pristine pedestrian walkway. Esquilinus relays her interpretation of a conversation Bucco had not been present for, nor would’ve have cared to be, judging from its details.

“Sequestius was telling me about that new movie and the only thing she could say was..."

He listens just enough to maintain the conversation, but his thoughts are drawn elsewhere when they pass a certain corner, the one at which Bucco had come to an embarrassing realization the week prior. He had known for some time that he liked Esquilinus; it was difficult not to. While he had his hopes for the future, he had only intended to cheer her up with the treat at the café and his comments in front of her house. Only hindsight reveals the implications and he worries how the comments might have affected Esquilinus. He looks over at her as they walk, not having to hide to action due to the conversation. The wind plays with her hair and uniform, her white skirt fluttering over the tops of her socks. Her cheeks, brushed by her hair, are red from the cold, though not quite as red as they were after he had escorted her home from Café Montador.

On arriving at the Esquilinus residence, Bucco sets himself up in the living room while Esquilinus hurries to her room to change out of her uniform and to fetch the books. While he waits, Bucco notices a flyer on a table advertising a winter play at one of the primary schools in the area, likely the one the younger Esquilinus sisters attended, but was unable to discern more, as Esquilinus descends the stairs with her French textbook.

. . .

“Meilleurs voeux à vous et à vôtre”, Bucco repeats after Esquilinus, in what he hoped sounded, at the very least, similar to French.

“That’s ‘Best wishes to you and yours’. It's basically the standard greeting you'll hear this time of year from just about everyone. You'll usually hear it in Latin, but it's not considered improper to greet others in any of Porcu’s other languages.” Esquilinus continued.

“Why such a generic greeting? Venetians generally wish one another a happy feast day with ‘Bón Nadàƚe’. Is Christmas so unimportant here?”

“It's not that it's not important..." Esquilinus says, pausing a moment to phrase her words correctly. "It's seen as a time to spend with family and friends, the religious aspect of the holiday and the festivities have long been discarded. I think it has to do with Porcu's early history with the Church...Essentially, Porcuians wish to spend time with those they love and care about. The focus isn't on the day itself, but on the people with whom you spend it with."

“That holds true for most holidays the world over, just the traditions are different. Aciò, what traditions do Porcuians have for Christmas?”

"Well, we decorate and put lights on trees and exchange gifts on Christmas day, just like many other people do. Many people also attend plays with friends and family. The plays are usually about Greek and Roman gods, like Persephone or Dionysus. Ah, then there’s always the Christmas dinner!”

Esquilinus goes on to tell Bucco about several particularly interesting Christmas events and traditions she experienced and, after prompting, Bucco shares a few of his own stories as well. Before long, they are interrupted by the front door opening to Esquilinus’ mother and sisters.

"Hey...we're home!" comes a familiar voice from the entranceway. A few seconds later, both of Esquilinus' sisters come running into the living room and happily greet their elder sister with a hug. They quickly are herded to their room by their mother, giggling along the way, who greets Bucco with a warm smile and short wave. Esquilinus and Bucco continue with their lessons, pausing occasionally and chatting lightly once again, until one of Esquilinus' sisters arrives with a folder in one hand and a pencil in the other.

"Oi... Aellae..." she says softly.

"What do you need?" Esquilinus asks, dropping her own pencil and turning her attention to her little sister.

"I can't figure this out... Can you help me?"

Esquilinus smiles and welcomes her sister to sit beside her, placing her folder on the small table in front of them. Bucco continues with his own work, writing and translating sentences, until he spots the youngest Esquilinus sister from corner of his eye. She only reveals her head, poking out from the next room, and shifts her gaze from Esquilinus and Bucco. She looks at Bucco once more before mustering the courage to leave her area of safety, slowly moving towards Bucco with a piece of paper in her small hands.

In such an innocent way, she asks Bucco for his help; not by asking him directly, but rather coyly by dropping to her knees in front of the table before Bucco and complaining that her teacher makes her work too hard. Esquilinus lets out a laugh, having watched her sister for the past few seconds, and turns her attention back to her other sister. Awkwardly at first, Bucco does what he can to help Esquilinus' little sister, but gradually warms to the role. After some time, both sisters have completed their homework and seem to have retained some information, if only temporarily, thanking their sister and Bucco before returning to their shared room.

The daylight hours quickly dwindle and before long dusk has gripped Milan for its short, daily allotement. Mr. Esquilinus arrives home just as dinner is ready and Bucco prepares to take his leave. Esquilinus’ mother asks Bucco stays for dinner, but when Bucco tries to decline, Esquilinus supports her mother and insists he join them. Without a further reason to refuse, Bucco relents.

As he graciously partakes in a wondrous stew, the mealtime conversation turns to the younger Esquilinus sisters’ school play, presumeably the one Bucco saw advertised on the flyer earlier. Bucco learns that the play is about Brumalia, Bacchus’ winter wine festival, and is scheduled for tomorrow. The youngest of the Esquilinus sisters looks at Bucco a moment before turning to her mother and asking if he was coming along to see the play with the rest of the family. She turns to Esquilinus as well and smiles, insisting that the Venetian be allowed to join them even before her mother or Esquilinus could reply.

"It depends, honey. Why don't you ask Bucco if he would be interested in joining us?" Esquilinus' mother says.

Excitedly, she turns around in her seat, her spoon angled awkwardly in her hand dripping broth onto the table cloth, and asks Bucco in a childlike burst of speech if he would like to join the family and watch the play.

Bucco glances at Esquilinus, who flashes a smile, and responds, “I don’t have any plans for tomorrow, so if you insist, and it’s fine with your parents, I suppose I could attend.” With his response, the youngest Esquilinus happily resumes eating and the conversation moves on to other subjects.

Following dinner, Bucco attempts to help clean up, but is shooed away by both Esquilinus and her mother. Mr Esquilinus, however, is allowed to assist and goes to the kitchen to dry plates. As he leaves the dining room, his hand is arrested by one of the younger Esquilinus sisters, who drags him to the living room where the other sister has already brought out a puzzle box and requests he help them solve it. Sitting cross legged, he joins them in their activity until dinner has been cleared away. Minutes later, Esquilinus returns from the kitchen and points out the late hour, saying that Bucco should get home before it is too dark. With many thanks, Bucco begins his walk home to Wermuth’s house.

. . .

The following evening, Bucco makes his way to Ludus Primus Fornamanius, thanks to directions from Wermuth, to attend the two younger Esquilinus’ winter play. The Esquilinus family had taken their seats already, having been granted early admittance as family of cast members, which comprised most of the audience. In comparison to Scuola Superiore Mazzotto, Fornamanius is much smaller, but it features an elaborate Italian architecture similar to Mazzotto’s façade. Inside, however, the school takes on a more modern appearance, with colored hard tile lining the floors and the harsh lights almost blindingly illuminating the entrance as Bucco walks through the doors. Faculty and parent volunteers direct him to the school’s gymnasium, where folding chairs had been set up as well as a stage on the one wall. He had heard from Wermuth that a theater is currently in consruction for all the schools’ uses, but until then the schools had to host their own productions. Bucco looks over the crowd in search of Esquilinus, but she had seen him first, as his attention was drawn by her waving at him. As he sits with the family, the lights dim and the play begins shortly thereafter.

. . .

The young child who portrays Bacchus runs across the length of the stage and collapses onto a soft surface, which Bucco guesses to be a mattress surrounded by leaves and bushes constructed out of paper. Followed closely behind by a number of other characters, the increase in volume of the music and singing by those children that make up the choir indicates to Bucco that the play is almost at a close. A final word from the narrator leaves the audience with a complete picture and understanding, the curtain dropping just as Bucco sees Esquilinus' younger sisters dancing merrily around the young boy who plays Bacchus, their cute costumes bouncing about.

The play appears to have been a success, judging by the thunderous roar, but Bucco cannot tell if the applause is genuine or merely parents sarcastically massaging their children’s egos. Bucco would guess the former, as the child actors receive enthusiastic praise as they pour out from backstage to find their parents. The sisters make their way to where they’re sitting, having known where their family sat prior to the play’s commencement. They’re still dressed in their costumes; a simple toga and classical strapped sandals and one has a silver crown adorned with plastic grapes. The older of the two is grateful that Bucco managed to attend, while the younger is more visibly overjoyed. Despite having thanked him herself on several occasions that evening, Mrs. Esquilinus reminds the sisters to thank Bucco for attending, which they did with a polite bow.

Slowly sifting through the crowd, they make their way out of the school building. As Mr. and Mrs. Esquilinus fuss over the sisters, Esquilinus talks to Bucco, walking just behind her parents and sisters.

“Thanks for coming tonight Bucco. You may still have school work to get done before tomorrow, but I know my sisters really appreciate you coming and watching their play. You were great with them yesterday night, too..."

“Your sisters are very easy to get along with,” Bucco responds with a short chuckle. “The youngest is particularly energetic, though.” After a slight pause, he continued, “Wermuth tells me there’s a football game just before the trip to Stockholm. Are you going to be able to play?” Esquilinus’ ankle had been healed for a short while now, but no games had been scheduled lately. Now that a match is nearing, Bucco worries whether she’d be able to participate without difficulty.

"I should be fine. I've actually got an appointment with the doctor, just as a checkup of sorts to make sure everything healed well. It's probably going to be a little rough for me, but I can't wait to get back out onto the field." Esquilinus says with a wide smile.

Before their conversation could go much further, Esquilinus’ parents, now in their car with the sisters secured in the backseat, called for her. With the usual farewells, Bucco begins to walk back home just as a snowflake is carried past him. In moments, a beautiful, drifting cloud of white moves in, slowly dusting the landscape.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

“Wow! It’s cold, isn’t it?!”

Cato looks to his left and sees the small, brightly colored owl shiver, as it sits between Cato and Pisdoé, shaking off a thin layer of snow that had gathered on its ever-changing colored feathers. Thankfully, there is not much wind, but the amount of snow that cascades down from the heavens more than makes up for it. The sports complex hosts outdoor fields as well as indoor ones, decisions made on which teams would play on which fields having been decided well in advance of the actual matchday. The Mazzotto squads had played many of their previous games on the indoor fields and, out of fairness, it was now their turn to brave the elements. Today’s heavy snowfall would test that bravery rather effectively.

“Let’s go Mazzotto! Forza!”

Despite the incredible spectacle before him, Cato can not help but feel somewhat cheated by this owl’s persistence. Its appearances had grown more frequent and its antics more bold – though many were innocent enough. Audaciously, it even followed Cato to school, commenting on almost everything and everyone. Most curious, however, were its opinions on various classmates and teachers – the exact same as Cato’s, though Cato would never dare share some of them. He sits gazing at it, its mesmerizing eyes shifting across the football field as it keeps up with the play, and the question of what is wrong with him enters his mind again.

The mens’ side had already played, defeating another of their Milanese rivals and solidifying their position in the standings. Both Wermuth and Bucco had performed well, providing ample support on the offensive and defensive side of the ball. Pulling away in the closing minutes, the mens’ side left the field with a 2 – 1 victory and a crucial three points. Currently, both male and female Mazzotto squads are sitting second in their city standings and, though the top three teams from each city advance to the national tournament, only the top team in the Milanese standings has the priveledge of claiming the Tropaeum Mediolanum.

Gazing out onto the snow covered field, Cato spots Esquilinus and hopes her ankle is not giving her any problems. Schweizer sits to his left and Pisdoé to his right, with Bucco to his far-left and Wermuth to his far-right. Despite the cold and the falling snow, the morale of the student crowd for both teams is high and does not seem to diminish as the match progresses. Banners in a variety of languages are held high and occasionally rival cheering sections taunt each other.

The conditions on the field are much different. Each stoppage of play brings with it a small army of workers and volunteers onto the field to sweep away the snow that covers the boundaries of the field and the goalbox. Esquilinus takes each stoppage as a blessing, giving her time to consciously assess her condition and that of her team. Her return had brought with it an instant boost in morale, embarrassingly enough for her, but she felt ready to return and her performance thus far was outstanding. The Mazzotto side finds itself trailing 2 – 3 and, though there is still plenty of time left on the clock, the weather’s stubbornness begins to count itself as a disadvantageous force.

“I wonder if she will be able to exit the field victorious.” the owl says, turning his attention to Cato.

“Yes…I do too.”

“Huh, did you say something?” Schweizer asks of Cato, after hearing him mumble.

“Ah, no.” Cato replies with a chuckle.

“You should be careful, you know. Otherwise people will think you’ve gone mad.”

Cato grits his teeth. Thinking to himself, he says, “Will this bird ever leave me in peace?”

“You don’t give me enough credit.”

Cato turns slightly to see the owl, its attention focused entirely on the field and the match. “What?” he thinks.

“Oh, come now…You really didn’t think I could hear you?”

“But you’re just a figment of my imagination…You’re not real.”

“I’m more than real enough to you.”

“Great! So you can read my mind now and hear what I’m thinking.”

“Why are you so surprised? I’ve always been able to do that.”

“Then why have you only shown up as of late?”

The owl turns to Cato and seems to smile. “That’s the first intelligent question you’ve asked in awhile.”

A roar from the crowd and the sudden explosion of energy from those sitting around him indicates a positive turn of events for Esquilinus and her team. Cato stands in time to high-five Bucco and Wermuth, and receive a hug from Schweizer and Pisdoé. He looks out onto the field and sees Esquilinus and some of her teammates congratulating one of their own – the score now even at three. Mazzotto’s cheering section continues to stand, making its presence heard loud and clear, and after taking a moment to try and find the owl Cato assumes it disappeared.

Despite a couple of opportunities to take the lead, the Mazzotto club is satisfied to walk away with a draw and a single point. Their second place position is maintained, but tenuously so. The chanting and cheering continue from both sections of fans on opposite ends of the field well after the final whistle. During the final few minutes, Cato had taken to hopping up and down while cheering with those around him to keep himself warm.

“I don’t think this snow is going to stop…” Wermuth says to everyone else with a laugh, large puffs of white crashing into his face.

“I’m pretty sure my coat is soaked!” Pisdoé adds. “How about we move inside and wait for Esquilinus there?”



After having attended to the post-game duties and obligations, Esquilinus is free to grab her sports bag and join her friends out in the main lobby of the sports complex, all who anxiously wait to congratulate her. She smiles widely and blushes a little bit when greeted by her friends, the result of the match was from a team effort after all. Deciding to rest a moment at a café in order to warm up a little and grab a hot drink, the group slowly makes its way out of the complex and down several snow-covered streets to a nearby café. Filing two by two to allow other pedestrians to walk by, Esquilinus converses with Bucco while Cato matches up with Schweizer and Wermuth, lucky him, talks to Pisdoé.

Bucco had never quite seen weather like this and certainly had never been exposed to it before. Enormously thankful for the stylish, yet tough and surprisingly comfortable wool jacket he had bought in order to match his male companions at school, Bucco still cannot quite grasp how his friends manage the weather so well – so casually. By the time the group reaches the café, each person’s coat has accumulated a good amount of snow around the shoulders and on top of their head. Brushing off as much as they can before entering, the group is fortunate to find the last of the tables still available. Soon, they give their orders to a young waitress, who immediately attracts Wermuth’s close attention, and talk about their upcoming school trip while waiting for their drinks.

“Bucco, you learned a bit about Stockholm before coming here, right?” Wermuth asks.

"Siorsi, an outline of Porcu's history was covered Venice's schools. I've only visited once, when I arrived here, but I was only passing through and missed the opportunity to see anything worth noting."

“Ah, well, Stockholm is a beautiful city.” Wermuth replies.

“We are fortunate, aren’t we?” Cato says with a smile. “I think one is tempted to say all Porcuian cities are beautiful.”

“So, will we be doing something similar to what we did in the historical district?” Bucco asks.

“I would imagine so.” Schweizer replies. “I heard we’re going to view a session of Parliament. We may get lucky and view ‘Questions to the President’.”

Schweizer’s last comment reminds Bucco of an earlier time when he was watching TV and happened across the public, governmental channel. Thankfully, he was able to understand what was being said, since the language of the broadcast at the time was Latin, and he took note of the almost circus-like atmosphere. He clearly remembers seeing the President being throw rather difficult questions, many of them with the intention of tripping him up or throwing him off balance, and the laughter and shouts that echoed from both sides after a response. Whether it is effective government is a valid question, but Bucco did find it entertaining.

Pisdoé lets out a slight moan, “Is it going to keep snowing like this?”

“It’s not supposed to, but the weather guy did say that it would stay below freezing.”

The group continues to chat lightly, all enjoying the simple moment they have to share together. Their hot drinks are brought out and as the snow continues to blanket the city Cato and the others sit peacefully in the warm café – for a couple of hours there are no worries, simply a bliss, if unfortunately sparse.



After the snow storm that had blown through Milan deposited a near record amount of snow, Cato, Bucco, and the others had hoped that they were done with the wintery precipitation for a while. Now, however, while walking through the city that acted as the capital of this modern, cosmopolitan nationstate, Mother Nature had decided that they had not had enough quite yet.

Stockholm had been hit hard, just like Milan, but thankfully is only subject to light, sporadic snowfall as the third-year students of Scula Superiore Mazzotto visit the capital city. Much like their daytrip to Milan’s historical district, the students are free to tour the city in small groups, granted they actually visit the sites and buildings they are supposed to. The only event they have to meet up once again as a large group for is to view a session of Parliament. For now, however, Cato and the others find themselves crossing through one of the many small islands that serve to collectively make up Metropolitan Stockholm.

“These stores and shops look interesting…” Bucco says with interest. “But they all seem to be closed.”

Wermuth and Cato chuckle. “Well, they are.”

Though Bucco has an idea of the sort of answer he’ll get, he asks in any case. “Why is that?”

“Do you remember when we went to Patavium?” Cato starts. “Those ‘pleasure’ shops aren’t just found in Patavium, though there definitely is a higher number of them there. You can find them anywhere.”

“There’s even a major district of Milan where there’s a high concentration of them.” Wermuth adds.

“So…” Bucco says, trailing off.

“The sinners of this city haven’t been let loose yet.” Pisdoé says, moving close to Bucco and seductively drawing her arm around his, pressing her body against his and drawing a faint but definitely jealous reaction from Esquilinus.

“Ah, so, where are we going now?” Bucco asks quickly as a way of changing the subject.

“We’re heading to the government and military district.” Wermuth replies, gazing at his cell phone in order to check the time. “We should arrive just on time.”

Previously, the group had visited a handful of different history and art museums, in addition to reading up on various culturally important public monuments and sites. Surprisingly enough, even Schweizer had learned something new. Though one can not tell by the mass of grey that hovers above, as the sun reaches its zenith and the thought of lunch filters into the minds of the students, it slowly grows time for the afternoon session of Parliament to convene. Not wishing to sacrifice any of their wallets, Schweizer had decided the night before to prepare and pack lunches for everyone, which she carried around in a large handbag.

Despite Wermuth’s cries, the group only indulges themselves once they had arrived to the square just in front of the Parliament building. Forced to wait outside with the other third-year students that were responsible enough to arrive on time, the group decides to pass the time by eating.

As always, the lunch Schweizer prepares is wonderfully nutricious and fantastically delicious. Wermuth, classically Wermuth-like, orgastically praises Schweizer and insists that she let him properly thank her. Cato knows Wermuth well enough to understand his intentions and impulses and does not take too kindly to his advances. Bucco, Esquilinus, and Pisdoé share a laugh, all also very appreciative of Schweizer’s efforts.

“Please finish up,” a voice calls to the group. “We will be entering within five minutes.”

Esquilinus turns slightly and thanks Vex, who is moving from one group of students to another and informing them of the plan. The group wraps up their lunch, warming up enough to combat the chilling effects of the cold air and the light snow that continues to fall and sprinkle the urban landscape, and moves towards the entrance along with the other students. After a brief speech by their student president, the Mazzotto students are lead, single-file, into the main lobby of the Parliament building.

Heavy security can be found scattered around, their steely dispositions unsettling some students, but providing a large sense of protection nonetheless. A standard security checkpoint awaits every student and Schweizer is held up for a couple of minutes when her large handbag is searched a little more thoroughly. The slight delay aside, Schweizer returns beside her friends’ side and they continue on with the rest of the Mazzotto group. An attractive female worker takes the lead in moving the students through the building, all the while pointing out a few interesting things to note and explaining a bit of the history behind Parliament itself.

Eventually, all the students are lead to the entrance of the Parliament chamber. The large, heavy, and beautiful doors are wide open and dozens of MPs (Members of Parliament) loiter just outside. The students are able to interact and speak with various MPs until each takes note of the time. With only a handful of minutes before the Parliament session is set to begin, the MPs hurriedly move inside and can be seen taking their seats by the students who peer inside.

Stuck in the middle of the large group of students, Cato and the others only get a minor glimpse inside before Wermuth feels a strong hand on his shoulder. Turning to see who it is, he quickly moves off to the side when he sees a rather intimidating bodyguard standing before him. A few other bodyguards move to clear a path to the entrance of the Parliament chamber for non other than the President of the Republic himself.

A light murmur resounds from both sections of students on either side of the large hall. As luck would have it, Cato and the others get a front row view of President Richard Nixon moving smoothly down the hall, a good group of heavily armed security guards and secret service surrounding him. He smiles and raises his right hand as an acknowledgement to the students, suddenly stopping for a moment and asking for the student president.

“Is your student council president present?” the President asks.

Nervously, Vex pushes through the crowd of students along one side of the hall, stepping through and drawing Nixon’s attention. The President moves to greet Vex and sticks out his hand for a handshake. Vex hesitates a moment before taking a deep bow and holding it for a few seconds, rising slowl y before accepting the handshake. Nixon chuckles and asks Vex a few simple questions.

“And where is the runner-up?” he asks Vex, turning slightly to survey the crowd of students. “To only lose by 0,4 percent…That’s quite amazing.”

Esquilinus’ hand shoots up, probably a little too quickly, and she takes a step forward towards Nixon, his bodyguard moving out of the way only when given a slight touch on the arm by the President. Esquilinus takes a bow similar to Vex and, unlike with him, the President requites the gesture with a bow to Esquilinus. Cato and the others, but Bucco especially, would have given almost anything to see the expression that doned Vex’s face at that moment. Considering the rarity with which the President of the Republic gives a bow to another, even to people like the King and Queen or foreign heads of state, the honor Esquilinus experienced then was truly of an exceptional kind.

“Did you give it your best?” Nixon asks, the expression of shock still vibrantly displayed on Esquilinus’ face.

She hesitates a moment, but quickly smiles. “Yes, I’m sure that I gave it my best. There were times I wasn’t entirely sure of myself, but my friends helped me get through that.”

“And, are these your friends?” Nixon says, shifting his gaze to those students behind Esquilinus, namely Cato, Pisdoé, Bucco, Wermuth, and Schweizer. Esquilinus replies in the affirmative.

The President then takes a couple of steps forward and greets each one of the students individually before shaking their hands, all after receiving a generous bow from each of course. Nixon moves down the line of friends before reaching Bucco at the end. His expression changes slightly and a wide smile dons his face.

“You’re not Porcuian, are you?”

Bucco shakes his head, informing the President of his Venetian roots.

“Ah, the Venetian dialect is one that I have yet to become acquainted with. I’m happy to see that even with our strange and heavy accents, our Latin is not too difficult for you to understand.” Nixon replies.

One of the President’s bodyguards steps forward and whispers something to him. Nixon takes a gaze at his wrist watch and seems to regret the time. Addressing Bucco, he says how he wished there was more time for them to talk, he was interested in hearing the perspective of a Venetian on Porcu. Shifting the large manila folder packed with papers from his left hand to his right, Nixon turns and begins to enter the Parliament chamber, giving one last salute to the Mazzotto students.



“Wasn’t that something?!” Esquilinus shouts enthusiastically to the rest of the group as they leave the Parliament building, the ‘Questions to the President’ ending only a few minutes prior.

“It sure was…” Wermuth says, still not entirely convinced he had actually been in the presence of Europe’s premier democratic leader.

“My goodness, Esquilinus! I can’t believe he gave a bow to you!” Schweizer says with a high-pitched chuckle.

“Yeah, I heard he didn’t even bow to the King during a dinner reception.” Cato adds. “Did you see Vex’s face though?”

The group of friends share a good laugh at that thought and proceed down the steps of the Parliament building with the other students. The snow’s light descent from the sky had continued while the students were inside observing the weekly spectacle that was the ‘Questions to the President’ and now the capital city seems to have taken a light coat of vanilla frosting from a heavenly chef.

Wermuth takes a handful of the powdery material and calls out to Bucco, tossing a large snowball at him. As Wermuth jokingly mocks Bucco for getting a bit of individual attention from Nixon, he in turn stops on the steps and grabs a handful himself. The two exchange snowballs until Bucco decides to end the battle. Scooping up some snow, but not packing it tightly into a ball, he charges forward with the intent of smearing the cold precipitation all over Wermuth’s face and head. Unfortunately, just as Bucco gets to within a step of Wermuth, he slips on a patch of ice hidden under the newly fallen snow. Falling forward, arms extended reflexively, he crashes into Schweizer, sending her face-first down the remaining number of steps of the Parliament building.

With nothing but the cold, hard stone to stop her fall, Schweizer lands on the ground with her right hand extended, breaking her wrist instantly, and her knees run along the edges of the stone steps. She screams with a deafening pitch and Bucco, who had managed to keep himself upright by pushing Schweizer, freezes in horror.

Wermuth lets out a series of expletives that would make a sailor proud, taking two steps at a time to reach Schweizer. Cato, Esquilinus, and Pisdoé follow closely behind, leaving Bucco standing alone. Schweizer’s continuous cries of pain quickly draw the attention of the other students and the few teachers who made the trip.

Time seems to hold still for Bucco as he looks down the stairs of the Parliament building at the mass of students, snow continuing to fall ever so softly – ever so quietly. He sees Cato stand and give him a gaze of sheer anger, Cato’s lips parting and revealing a set of clenched teeth. Cato rushes up the steps and grabs Bucco by the coat, shaking him violently for a few seconds, not yelling anything in particular, but just shouting. Only Wermuth braves the possible consequences and moves to restrain Cato, who is on the verge of striking Bucco and begins to raise his right fist accordingly. Cato spits at Bucco’s feet as he is dragged away by Wermuth and out of all the details of that scene it is the look in Cato’s eyes that Bucco will remember most.
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