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Nimbus Stadt
Nimbus Stadt
Nimbus Stadt
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Nimbus Stadt

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In the future of an alternate world, Nimbus Stadt was a vast municipality on the continent of Vespasia. Only 115 miles away from the famous city of Polyxenburgh, Nimbus Stadt was a city where many immigrants to Vespasia first started their lives. One such immigrant was Taddeo Orzelli, a man who struggled at first to make ends meet. Taddeo struggled against the nativist policies of the native born Vespasians and their anti-immigration legislation in Vespasia.
A different man, Jarvis Vassalle, the grandson of immigrants, struggled to find meaning in a world of dark secrets and wonderful hidden mysteries. Both of these men and their comrades will have to seek the truth while combating the machinations of a secret elite who will stop at nothing to achieve their malevolent goals. In the end, both Taddeo and Jarvis will meet their destinies in Nimbus Stadt. This is the sequel to Polyxenburgh.
LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateNov 30, 2022
ISBN9781663247971
Nimbus Stadt
Author

Eugene Patrick Ruisi

Eugene Patrick Ruisi was born and raised in Queens, NY. He is the author of the Interstellar Monitor novels and Polyxenburgh. He is currently working on various writing projects.

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    Nimbus Stadt - Eugene Patrick Ruisi

    Copyright © 2022 Eugene Patrick Ruisi.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

    graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

    any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

    except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

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    ISBN: 978-1-6632-4794-0 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-6632-4797-1 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2022921408

    iUniverse rev. date:  11/28/2022

    Contents

    Prologue

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Chapter 19

    Chapter 20

    Chapter 21

    Chapter 22

    Interlude One

    Chapter 23

    Chapter 24

    Chapter 25

    Chapter 26

    Chapter 27

    Chapter 28

    Chapter 29

    Chapter 30

    Chapter 31

    Chapter 32

    Chapter 33

    Chapter 34

    Chapter 35

    Chapter 36

    Chapter 37

    Chapter 38

    Chapter 39

    Chapter 40

    Interlude Two

    Chapter 41

    Chapter 42

    Chapter 43

    Chapter 44

    Chapter 45

    Chapter 46

    Chapter 47

    Chapter 48

    Chapter 49

    Chapter 50

    Chapter 51

    Epilogue

    Prologue

    In a world spherical in shape was a continent known as Vespasia. On this continent, near Lake Hibernia, was a city known as Nimbus Stadt. A city of great prestige and power in the Confederated Republic of Vespasia. It was a city with five boroughs: Cygnus, Chantal, Metaxas, Klevbrook and Dextra. The Borough of Metaxas was where the city government presided from, and also where downtown Nimbus Stadt was located. The city had two rivers: Pherris and Cygnus. The city had existed for nearly 2,300 years, and now in the year 2214 ARC, or the year 5207 AD according to the Antiquated Gregorian Calendar, Nimbus Stadt was a vast municipality of power and technology.

    Nimbus Stadt was a diverse city with many religions practiced and languages spoken. The major religious groups in Nimbus Stadt were as follows: Triune Catholics, Arian-Cathars, Nestorians, Druids, and Norse Pagans. The major ethnic groups were Bavarians, Prussians, Anglo-Saxons, Poles, Northern Italians, Greeks, Irish, Spaniards, Portuguese, Russians, Armenians, Dutch, Scottish, Welsh, Sicilians, Neapolitans, Austrians, Hungarians, Swedes, Danes, Norwegians and Carpatho-Rusyns. There were other ethnicities that were a mix of the above mentioned and other groups that were smaller in numbers.

    Over a hundred languages were spoken in Nimbus Stadt, but only three were recognized for government and commerce. Those three languages for government and commerce were Vespasian, Triune Latin and Esperanto. The city in the year 2214 ARC was going through difficult times. The nativist policies of the Vespasian government were discriminating against immigrants to Vespasia and Nimbus Stadt. The Native Born Labor Law was in full effect, and made it hard for immigrants to find work. Also many native born Vespasian men and immigrant men alike were veterans of the Herculean-Lemuric War. Many men both native and immigrant lost their lives in that war, or limbs, health, wealth or family. That war also cast a shadow on Vespasian society in general and Nimbus Stadt in particular. It was a time in the city when people were desperate and angry, and looked to new possibilities and old ones.

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    All was quiet, until suddenly there was a rush of sound. Taddeo Orzelli awoke instantly from his sleep as a roaring train passed outside his window. He got his bearings and remembered he was at home in his small apartment on the Lowery, just outside of downtown Nimbus Stadt. The train passing outside was the Thirteenth Avenue El. He noticed he was fully dressed, and he realized he must have slept all night after Dr. Luigi Queico had given him some very powerful cough medicine. He felt better from it. He looked around his apartment. It was a narrow apartment with walls that had not been painted in decades. The width of the apartment was about seven feet, and the length of the apartment was ten feet. He was lying on his bed right by the window. On the other side of the room, but near him was a small cabinet for clothes. There was also a small night table with some papers on it, and even scrapings of some food he had from the night before. Above his bed was a picture of San Giuseppe or St. Joseph in the common tongue.

    Taddeo sat up in his bed, and wiped his face. He noticed his shoes on the ground and put them on right away. He then looked farther into his apartment, and recognized his tool box on a large storage case that had his personal effects in it. The storage case was four feet in height and one foot in width. On his small desk he saw the clock, and whispered: Shit.

    The clock read half past four. He was running late. He quickly put his suspenders over his shoulders. He stood up and put a small gray hat on. He took a wad of cash from an old candy box. In the wad of cash he had a total of two aurei, the equivalent of fifty denarii. He also took five denarius coins with him and put them all in his pocket. He stood up and went to his front door, which was at the end of the apartment. He unlocked it and went into the hallway. He didn’t see anyone outside. He quickly took out his keys and locked the three locks on the door. He walked down the hallway and passed an old Eastern European woman muttering in a Slavic language. He made it to the first floor, and passed an old fellow with black sunglasses on and a cane. He was sitting by a radiator and just sat there calmly. Taddeo walked out onto the front stoop and passed a couple of young men talking. He went down the stairs and was on the street in the Lowery. The shade of the Thirteenth Avenue El above him cooled his senses. He began walking north towards Delaney Street. He passed people from various walks of life: Old people, young people, well-to-doers and bums on their last legs of desperation. He even passed a paper boy who was shouting about the various news items of the day. Taddeo might have paid for a paper, but he was in no mood to waste what little money he had.

    For immigrants like himself, the Vespasian economy was a vast economic system he was unable to access. This was because the Vespasian government had passed a bill that all Vespasian born citizens must receive a job before any immigrants to Vespasia could receive work. This draconian law had hit immigrants like Taddeo hard. He was born in Sicily and had some work when he first came to Vespasia, and had worked at some factories in the city of Traustburgh. However, once the bill was passed in 2204, work became scarce for immigrants like himself. Because of this hardship in getting a job, he couldn’t afford anything anymore, and had to preserve what cash he had.

    That was why where he was going now was so important. He would receive the benevolence of a good friend in Klevbrook. He reached Delaney Street and went downstairs into the Lowery Subway Station for the train to Klevbrook. He paid the denarius fare and waited for the train. The lights were dim in this station but just enough for him to see. A few bums were on the platform, and even a few poor workers as well, in addition to families who had come to Metaxas for the day. It was Sunday after all, so it was a laid back time. Finally a train bound for Klevbrook rumbled into the station. It was black in color with many vertical windows and a rectangular roof on the top of it. The lights on the front were on, and it had a clacking sound as it entered the station. The train finally stopped and the doors opened. Taddeo entered the train car, and found a seat on the train as did everyone else.

    The train started moving again and left the Lowery Station. Taddeo sat there and just noted the other people. He saw a little Irish girl with her parents prancing around near their seat. He saw an old Druid moving back and forth, and reading a book that Taddeo assumed was religious. He also saw an old Polish lady in the corner of the train praying silently with rosary beads. The train stopped at Issex Street and a lot more people got on board. The train became crowded and some people were forced to stand, but Taddeo wasn’t going to give his seat up for anyone. He sat there quietly and tried to not notice anyone. He looked out beyond the windows and could make out the trolley terminal for the trolleys that went over the Burgess Bridge. The trolley terminal was adjacent to the Issex Street Station and the trolleys were underground, but the trolleys went above ground once they left the trolley terminal.

    Finally the doors on the train closed, and the train started to make its clacking sound as it made its way out of the station. It soon started to ascend out of the underground area and onto a ramp for the Burgess Bridge. Sunlight entered the train and he could make out various automobiles also on the bridge. The train accelerated and soon the scenery was eclipsed by metal girders and the walkways on the bridge. The train was going over the span of the Burgess Bridge. He could see tug boats on the Cygnus River blowing their white and in some cases black smoke. He could even see the Klevbrook Navy Yard in the distance as well as the Liamsbrook, Metaxas and Klevbrook Bridges. The train was in the middle of the Burgess Bridge, and soon it started to head into Klevbrook. It passed the Klevbrook Tower of the bridge, and Taddeo made out various factories in the Burgess section of Klevbrook. They even passed a large domed structure, which Taddeo remembered was a bank. The train was above ground on an elevated track and was passing through Burgess Bridge Plaza. The train slowed and made a steep turn into the Darcy Avenue Station. Many people got off the train to catch trolleys. These particular people would take the trolleys elsewhere in Klevbrook, and in a few cases parts of the Borough of Chantal that bordered Klevbrook. Once these people got off the train, the train emptied out. The little Irish girl was looking out the window with wonderment at the people walking along the platform to the exit.

    The train doors closed and the train made a clanking sound as it left Darcy Avenue. The train went to various stops. Some people got off, others got on. Finally the train made it to the Sycamore Avenue Station, which was a major train junction. This was because the Sycamore Avenue Station also shared the station with the Sycamore Avenue El, which had a platform just above this particular train line. The Sycamore Avenue El was an elevated train, which went to downtown Klevbrook and then over the Klevbrook Bridge into the Borough of Metaxas one way, and all the way to Municipal Avenue in the Borough of Chantal, the other way. Taddeo had only one stop to go now. The train started moving again after the doors closed and it made its clanking sound. Finally the Kemnitz Station sign appeared outside and Taddeo stood up. Once the train stopped and the doors opened, Taddeo quickly exited the train and walked to the station exit. A few people also got off with him. Most of them were either Italian or German. The train closed its doors and started to leave the station as Taddeo went down the stairs to street level. He arrived downstairs on Berlynn Avenue and made his way north towards his destination.

    Taddeo started walking down Victor Street. He passed many five and six story tenements. Outside were people on their front stoops, talking to each other. Most of them were Italian and German immigrants. A few kids were playing stickball in the street and even a couple of stray dogs were running around. There were about three cars parked on the entire block. He made it to the end of the block, and stopped at Wick Avenue. There were a few stores on Wick Avenue and some minor traffic. He crossed Wick Avenue and continued walking down Victor Street. He crossed over in the middle of the street and walked on the other side. In the distance, he could make out the Sycamore elevated line, and saw two trains passing each other on that elevated train line. He reached Sycamore Avenue and it was bustling with traffic. A lot of automobiles were driving around, and the sound of the trains above were annoying and refreshing. He waited for the antiquated stoplight to change. It was a simple stoplight with a red light and a green light. The red light was currently aimed in his direction indicating he could not cross, but the traffic on Sycamore Avenue could continue to go with their green light. Finally, the light turned red for the traffic on Sycamore Avenue and green for Taddeo. He crossed Sycamore Avenue and continued down Victor Street. He walked three more blocks until he was about to reach Geist Street when he walked up to a small four-story tenement. An old man was outside, and he was putting garbage in a garbage can.

    Taddeo held up his hand in a friendly gesture, and said: Hey.

    The old man nodded and Taddeo then entered the lobby of the building, which was narrow. The front door to the building was open, and Taddeo went up a flight of stairs to the second floor. He arrived in front of a door and knocked on it two times quickly. The door was opened by a young woman. Taddeo instantly recognized her as Sidonia Eriberto.

    Sidonia Eriberto was the wife of Taddeo’s longtime friend, Giorgio Eriberto, and had been married to him for the last two years. Sidonia was born in Western Sicily about twenty miles from Trapani. She was five feet and seven inches tall in height. She was very skinny and attractive. She had dark olive skin with beautiful thick black hair and very small brown eyes that almost looked like a doll’s eyes. She was wearing a white blouse that showed off her arms, and a short black skirt that showed off her long fair olive legs. Normally she would not wear such a short skirt when guests would come over, but Taddeo was a trusted friend of her husband so he allowed her to wear shorter skirts around him. Otherwise she wore long skirts with blouses with sleeves, or just more traditional dresses of a dark color.

    Sidonia was married to her husband in a semi-arranged marriage. Her husband was originally born and raised in a town just two miles from her own town. A debt had been incurred to Giorgio’s family by Sidonia’s family, and her family could not pay it off. So her father arranged for her to marry Giorgio so the debt would be paid in full, and also he would not have to pay a dowry for her. This was a good deal for Giorgio who was forty years old when Sidonia was twenty years old, because he was old enough that he would not have gotten a wife as young or attractive as Sidonia. He treated her well, and he owned the building they lived in. He worked as a porter in the city, and he always brought her home good food and good wine. Sidonia was a faithful wife, loyal to her husband, and respected him. She prayed often for him at the local Triune Catholic church, which was St. Alphonsus Triune Catholic Church for those Triune Catholics of Italian origin. Sidonia was also a member of the St. Hestia Society at St. Alphonsus Church, and had received all the ranks of the Nicodemian Priesthood, and was an elder in the Melchior Priesthood.

    Sidonia often went to a Triune Catholic matriarchal oracle shrine in the Borough of Chantal to hear prophecies from the matriarchal oracle. These ceremonies with the oracle were secret, and only for those Triune Catholics who had reached the rank of elder in the Melchior Priesthood. The church promoted the matriarchal oracle shrines, and many people had converted to the faith from other faiths upon hearing or occasionally meeting those who had been at the secret ceremonies. Sidonia often went to the matriarchal oracle shrine when she felt her Triune Catholic prayers were not enough. Before going to the shrine, Sidonia always made sure she would get Giorgio’s permission before attending such secret and deeply spiritual Triune Catholic ceremonies.

    Sidonia was also a member of the St. Mirabelle Feronia Society, but she only attended that society’s functions on St. Mirabelle’s Day and on Pascha. Otherwise she exclusively hanged out with the St. Hestia Society. Sidonia was happy with her life in Vespasia, and with Giorgio’s job and wealth, she did not have to work, which she greatly appreciated.

    Hello Sidonia, Taddeo stated.

    You’re speaking Vespasian with me, Sidonia said.

    Well, I figured you’ve been here two years, might as well help you learn by speaking the native language with you, Taddeo replied.

    Sidonia opened the door fully and gestured. Come in.

    Taddeo entered the apartment and closed the door behind himself. Sidonia led the way to a small kitchen. The kitchen was mostly white in color, including the cabinets, the sink, the walls and even the ceiling. The stove was black in color, and the icebox was blue in color. There was a small light on the ceiling that was currently off. There was only one window in the kitchen, and sitting at the table was Taddeo’s old friend, Giorgio Eriberto.

    Giorgio Eriberto was a man who was heavyset with tanned fair skin and thick brown hair with light blue eyes that were indented on his head. He had a large round face and sometimes it turned red when he laughed. He was five feet and eight inches tall in height, and he weighed about 220 pounds. He was wearing a white shirt with black suspenders and black pants with black shoes. He was at the table and had an open bottle of wine, and he was eating some cheese from a plate that had pieces of cheese on it. He was also cracking some walnuts on the side of the table.

    Giorgio Eriberto was born and raised in a town in Western Sicily, a little over twenty miles from Trapani. He came to Vespasia as an immigrant when he was sixteen years old. He worked in the city of Traustburgh just off of Lake Dunmore from 2191 until 2205. He made a lot of money, and he had a small truck where he would do repairs and work on the side. It was during that time that he met Taddeo, the autumn of 2202. They both worked at an automotive plant in Traustburgh, and in their spare time they hung out and had a few drinks with a few Italian immigrants they knew. This did not last though. In the spring of 2205, Vespasia entered the Herculean-Lemuric War, and the Vespasian authorities were trying to draft every abled body man, native born or immigrant. Taddeo was caught by the draft recruiters and was drafted into the army within forty-eight hours of Vespasia entering the war. Upon seeing this, Giorgio packed up his things and left his apartment in Traustburgh. He drove around the country, mostly in the countryside of the province of Polysylvania. He would rent an apartment for two weeks, and then move on so the draft recruiters would never find him. When somebody asked why he would do this, he said: I came to Vespasia to work, not fight a goddamned war.

    The war ended two years later in 2207, and Giorgio decided to get a job in Polyxenburgh. He stayed there a year, but the steel mill he was working at laid him off. This was because of a law the Vespasian Assembly and Senate had passed saying immigrants could not have jobs before native born Vespasians. Also, veterans returning from the war, whether they be native born or an immigrant, were given special status over somebody like Giorgio who had dodged the draft. He left Polyxenburgh and made his way to Nimbus Stadt. He met some fellow Sicilians in the neighborhood of Grovewick in the Borough of Klevbrook, and found a job as a porter in the city. He eventually met his old friend Taddeo who had also moved to Nimbus Stadt for work, and they had been in contact ever since.

    Giorgio bought the building he lived in now in 2211. He sent money and letters home to Sicily, and he received word from his family of a dispute between them and a family from another town. To solve the dispute, they asked Giorgio if he would be willing to marry the daughter of a man who owed them money. At first Giorgio was not sure, but he also realized he might not marry ever, because no native born Vespasian women would marry him, and women in the Italian-Vespasian community were not interested in him. So he agreed after having been sent a picture of Sidonia. When she arrived in Vespasia, he realized the picture did not do her justice. She was the prettiest Sicilian girl he had ever seen, whether in Sicily itself or Vespasia. He always treated her well, but he told her to dress modestly when outside for fear she might attract the wrong kind of male attention. Because if that were to happen, that particular man would get Giorgio’s fist in his throat!

    A little late, Taddeo, Giorgio remarked.

    Over slept, Taddeo remarked, and then sat down opposite Giorgio.

    Giorgio then gestured at the Italian language paper, and said: You see this shit?

    Taddeo looked at the paper, and said: They finally did it?

    Giorgio nodded. Yeah.

    But why? Taddeo responded.

    Giorgio cleared his throat. Because those imbeciles back home don’t know what the fuck they are doing, that’s why. Sicily got its independence twenty years ago. We broke with the government in Ostia, and said we will do things our way. And now these imbeciles have the gall to declare a collectivist government.

    Sidonia came over, and remarked: The Congressional Collectivist Secularist Republic of Sicily.

    Taddeo shook his head. My God, I’d never thought they do it.

    They did it, Taddeo. I got word from my cousin in Trapani. They have red banners everywhere. They are closing churches and even confiscating people’s property, Giorgio replied.

    So who’s the new dictator? Taddeo asked.

    Some fat fuck by the name of Lorenzo Proculeius. A businessman from Siracusa, and rumored to be a stregone, Giorgio remarked. He took power from the Senatorial Plebiscite Government of Premier Paolo Hormisdas. No election, just did a march on Palermo with his red shirts, and poof, this stregone is in power.

    I don’t know what to say, Taddeo remarked.

    Nothing to say, Taddeo, Giorgio responded. It’s just fucked up.

    Taddeo shook his head. Everyone is going to be on edge around here.

    Giorgio was frank. They always are. But you wait and see. Now that the Collectivists have taken power, people will be coming out of the woodwork for favors.

    Taddeo was frank. They will get none. Most Sicilians who are working, have their own lives and families to watch out for. I can only hope that the Collectivists might help out the people.

    One can hope, Giorgio remarked. I remember, I knew a Collectivist in my hometown.

    Really? Taddeo inquired.

    Giorgio took some cheese in his mouth and swallowed it with some wine from a glass.

    Giorgio explained. Yeah, it was when I was fourteen years old. Sicily was not independent yet. The Collectivist was actually the mayor of the town. He won because no one else had run for election. My Uncle Vincenzo did not like Collectivists. One day he saw the mayor heading for the church, because it was a Sunday and Celestial Liturgy was about to begin. My Uncle Vincenzo yelled to him: ‘Hey Collectivist, where’re you going? You don’t believe in God, you’re an Atheistic-Collectivist.’ The mayor stopped in his tracks and turned to my uncle. He said to my uncle in a calm voice: ‘What harm am I doing?’ My uncle was dumbfounded and the mayor entered the church without any more harassment from my uncle.

    Taddeo gave a brief nod. Churches are always open to everyone I suppose, even Collectivists.

    Sidonia brought over some pastries and put them on the table. She then poured two cups of black coffee for Giorgio and Taddeo. Giorgio started eating the pastries right away. He went for the largest ones. Taddeo just took one pastry and sipped his coffee. After having four pastries Giorgio did the same. Sidonia sat in a chair some distance away and watched her husband and Taddeo Orzelli talk. She was happy that Taddeo had come, because her husband, Giorgio, allowed few guests in their apartment.

    There was a knocking at the door, and Sidonia was startled by the noise. Giorgio then gestured with his hand for Sidonia to find out who it was. Sidonia went over to the door and opened it, and found a man wearing a black clerical robe with a black clerical hat on his head. He had a Latin Breviary in his hands and some rosary beads as well. Sidonia realized it was the local Triune Catholic priest, Father Giorgio Agnisio. Father Giorgio Agnisio was five feet and ten inches tall in height. He had light brown hair with stern dark blue eyes and tanned fair skin. He was a Triune Catholic priest who was the rector of St. Rosa’s on the other side of the neighborhood of Grovewick. It was a Triune Catholic church of Italians, mainly Neapolitans and Sicilians. Father Giorgio had the same first name as Giorgio Eriberto. This unique distinction amused Sidonia, because her husband and the priest had the same first name. Father Giorgio was known to be an aggressive priest. He was known to go to Italian businesses and request two hundred aurei, and he would receive it, all in the name of the faith. Sidonia was aware of this. Though she respected her Triune Catholic roots, she would let no priest, bishop, not even the first patriarch himself take what was hers or her family’s property.

    Sidonia cleared her throat and turned in the direction of the kitchen, and yelled: Giorgio, it’s Father Agnisio.

    Right away, there was a rush from the kitchen table, and Giorgio rushed over and came around the corner and approached the front door. He had an annoyed look on his face, and wiped some of the powder from the pastries he had just consumed off his lips and face. He approached Father Agnisio with suspicion and a determined expression.

    What do you want? Giorgio asked.

    To see how a member of the flock is doing? Father Giorgio replied.

    Doing just fine, Giorgio responded.

    Father Giorgio grew determined. You are aware of what has happened? The church needs your support. You own thirty acres of land in Sicily and five acres in Polyxenburgh.

    Giorgio smirked. I guess the Holy Essence has made you good at arithmetic.

    Father Giorgio would have none of it and took a piece of legal paper, and spoke with authority. Show you are a true son of the church and sign those lands over to the church, so that we can fight Collectivism and restore the faith. Additionally, I will require fifty aurei from you.

    Giorgio shook his head. No.

    Father Giorgio was not going to take no for an answer. This isn’t up for debate. You are a son of the church. You are either with us or against us.

    You’re right, Giorgio replied. This isn’t up for debate. You are not my parish priest. We are parishioners at St. Alphonsus. You are out of your jurisdiction.

    Father Giorgio spoke with an arrogant voice. You are registered with St. Alphonsus, but if you check the Diocese of Klevbrook, you are within the confines of my parish, St. Rosa’s. Granted, you are only fifty feet within the boundaries of my parish, and under normal circumstances I might overlook this. Nevertheless, I am executing my authority as rector of St. Rosa’s, and am commanding you to yield and forfeit your land to the church.

    Sidonia then jumped into the conversation. We have special dispensation from Bishop Matteo himself to be parishioners at St. Alphonsus.

    Father Giorgio grew enraged. Bishop Matteo does not have authority here. He is the bishop of the Diocese of Chantal. Granted, part of it skirts into the Borough of Klevbrook, but where you are in this house is not only in the boundaries of the parish of St. Rosa, you are in the boundaries of the Diocese of Klevbrook, which is Bishop Andreas. Any decrees from Bishop Matteo in your case are completely null and utterly void.

    Giorgio and Sidonia fell silent, they did not know what to do. Father Giorgio stood there confidently, and then he saw a smaller man approach.

    Taddeo spoke with confidence. That may be so, nevertheless many non-canonical decisions have been made over the years by different bishops. In theory there should be one ruling bishop and one diocese in Nimbus Stadt according to Triune Catholic Law. Yet there are five dioceses in Nimbus Stadt for the five boroughs. The diocese lines as you indicated do not always follow the borough lines, sometimes one diocese skirts into another diocese actual borough territory.

    Father Giorgio was getting annoyed. Who the fuck are you?

    Taddeo Orzelli, Taddeo stated. I am an ordained high priest in the Melchior Priesthood, and I was even studying to be a prophetes augur until the Herculean-Lemuric War broke out. I know Triune Catholic Church law like the back of my hand. Giorgio and Sidonia can appeal any decision you make to the first patriarch in Aeternuspolis. Most jurisdictional cases on average take seven to ten years to settle. Even then, Giorgio and Sidonia could appeal to the church court that deals with financial sovereignty, and that would take another seven to ten years. So maybe in fourteen to twenty years you might get what you want, or you might get shit.

    Father Giorgio grinned and stared at Taddeo. This isn’t Aeternuspolis, or Sicily for that matter. This is Nimbus Stadt. Here the local immigrants don’t care about church law, they care about perceptions. Who are the people going to listen to, an apostolic priest like me or money grubbing immigrants who won’t help their countrymen back home in a time of need?

    Giorgio who had been inspired by Taddeo’s defiance, decided to stand firm. We’ll take that risk. What is ours is ours, and what is the church’s is the church’s. You don’t want to be seen as a predator by the immigrant population you claim to represent.

    Father Giorgio eyed Giorgio with an intense gaze. You will be blacklisted in the community, Giorgio. No Italian, Sicilian, or otherwise will speak to you. Turn on a priest and refuse to give the Triune God’s one true church land and you are an outcast.

    Giorgio was about to speak, but Sidonia brushed past him and pointed her index finger at Father Giorgio. Shame on you. You call yourself a man of God. People like us have a small amount of success and you wish to take what is ours, in the name of the Triune God. You are a coward who uses his office to prey on God’s people. It is you who should be careful. I know all the Italian women in the neighborhood, Sicilian, and otherwise. We represent the bulk of the church’s activities, without us the church wouldn’t function. I could just breathe a few words to some of my fellow daughters of the church, mention your attempts to blackmail us. You are nothing more than a thief, a sorcerer of extortion who tries to prey on our people for money and land. If that gets around, you will be the one who will find himself in trouble with the community and the church.

    Father Giorgio’s face turned blood red. His eyes were filled with rage. He held up his left arm and had his index and pinky finger pointed toward Giorgio Eriberto while his other fingers were pointed in. This gesture was sometimes known as giving someone the sign of the horns and also associated with attempting to curse or give someone bad luck.

    Father Giorgio continued to point at Giorgio Eriberto with this gesture and spoke with a voice filled with venom. I curse you, and everyone named Giorgio.

    Father Giorgio turned around and stormed down the steps at a quick and angry pace. At first Giorgio took it seriously, and then looked at Sidonia, and then they bursted out laughing. They then closed the front door and went back to the kitchen, and Taddeo followed them and was confused by what they were so amused about.

    Why is that so funny? Taddeo asked.

    Because, Sidonia explained. The priest’s first name is Giorgio, so when he cursed Giorgio, and everyone named Giorgio, he cursed himself as well.

    Taddeo nodded and laughed a little. I get it, but a crazy thing to say.

    Giorgio was frank. He’s a crazy priest. He’s a fucking charlatan.

    Sidonia then put a blueberry pie on the table, and said: I won’t be attending the festivals at St. Rosa’s anymore. For now on I will stick with our home parish of St. Alphonsus and our good little priest Father Marco. And I will spread the word Father Giorgio Agnisio is a scam artist.

    Giorgio Eriberto then poured three glasses of wine and handed one to Taddeo and one to Sidonia, and then took one for himself.

    They held up the glasses, and Giorgio said: To my wife and my good friend, Taddeo.

    There was a few moments of silence, and then Giorgio said: Salute!

    Sidonia and Taddeo banged their glasses with Giorgio’s, and said: Cent’anni!

    They drank their glasses of wine and stayed at the kitchen table talking about various things, about old times and old friends and current events. The three of them had some more wine and enjoyed the remains of the afternoon all the way into the evening.

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    It was about 9:00 P.M. and Giorgio Eriberto and Taddeo Orzelli had left Giorgio’s apartment and were walking down Geist Avenue. They were on their way to the Calatafimi Club. It was a private Sicilian Club for Italian immigrants like themselves. They reached the corner of Geist Avenue and Kvar Street, and right across the street was the Calatafimi Club. It was a club that was about 3,000 square feet in size on the first floor of an apartment building. Outside were white signs that had red writing on it that read: Calatafimi Club. The front door was made of steel and was painted white with a small glass window. On the door was a sign that read: Calatafimi Club. Members and their Guests only!

    Giorgio and Taddeo approached the front door. The door was opened by an older man in his fifties. He was wearing black shoes and brown pants with a white shirt and red suspenders supporting his pants. He had olive skin with a balding head and brown eyes. He seemed slightly tired, but had a determined look on his face. He was the unofficial bouncer for the club, and he made sure anyone that shouldn’t be there was not allowed in.

    His name was Nino Gratiano. He was from Palermo in Sicily. He came to Vespasia when he was seventeen years old. He wasn’t the most literate guy on the block, because he stopped going to school when he was eight years old. But what he lacked in book smarts, he made up for in street smarts. He was one of the toughest Sicilians in the neighborhood. During his forty years in Vespasia, he had been a longshoreman and strike breaker. When a strike was called, the large companies called Nino, and that strike was over in seventy-two hours. He was a tough man, but he was also a family man. He had been married for thirty-five years and had six children, four sons and two daughters. Two of his sons were in the Vespasian Army, the other two went to college in Polyxenburgh. His two daughters were successful as well. One married a made guy in the Bavarian Mob, and the other married an alderman in Akronpolis. He was happy for his family and he was proud of them. He was also the best bouncer the Calatafimi Club ever had. No one messed with the club when they saw Nino.

    Nino gazed at Giorgio and Taddeo. Haven’t seen you in a while, Giorgio. Santos is looking for you.

    Giorgio nodded and shrugged. Business keeps me busy.

    Nino looked at Taddeo, and Nino said: Your dues are overdue. You haven’t paid in nine months, Taddeo.

    Taddeo cleared his throat. This economy and all. The Espasians persecute poor immigrants like us.

    Espasians was a derogatory word used by some immigrants to denote native born Vespasians. It was usually used to denote the immigrants’ frustration at many upper class Vespasians nativist mentality.

    Nino grinded his teeth. Since you are a friend of Giorgio, you can enter as a guest, but no doubt Santos will want to talk to you.

    Taddeo nodded. Of course, I will do what I have to, to make it right.

    Nino smirked. In that case, come in, Gentlemen.

    Giorgio and Taddeo entered the Calatafimi Club, and Nino closed and locked the door behind them. They approached the main hall, and saw many men gathered around different tables playing cards and drinking wine. Cigar smoke filled the air and a brief cough was heard from the hall. They went to the bar, and saw a short man who had dark olive skin with short brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a white shirt with gray lines going down it and black pants with black shoes. He had black suspenders around his shirt to hold up his pants. On his face he had a pair of very thin glasses with very small lenses that made him look intelligent and serious. The man was drying a glass with a white towel.

    Giorgio and Taddeo instantly recognized him as Santos Vassalle. He was the owner and operator of the Calatafimi Club. He was thirty-seven years old and was from Western Sicily. He arrived in Vespasia when he was thirteen years old. He had been a professional tailor, but eventually gathered enough money to become a landlord of various apartment buildings in Nimbus Stadt. In the year 2209, he opened the Calatafimi Club for only private members and their guests. This way he could keep the riff raff out and ninety-nine percent of the time the riff-raff meant anyone that was not Sicilian. Santos was not normally behind the bar, but Giorgio and Taddeo guessed he had to be tonight for whatever reason.

    Giorgio and Taddeo approached, and Santos asked: What will it be?

    Full glass of beer for me, Giorgio replied, and Santos put a glass in the tap and pulled a lever and the beer poured into the glass. Giorgio handed Santos a denarius coin and Santos put the beer on the bar. Giorgio started to drink, and Santos walked over to the register and pressed a few buttons, and the cash register rang. He placed the denarius coin in the register and he slammed it shut with his small stomach.

    Taddeo was perplexed, and asked. I would like to order something.

    Santos nodded and then looked at him straight in the eye. Taddeo, you haven’t paid your dues in nine months. The beer I sell here is a discount for members only and their guests. Normally the beer Giorgio just bought would be five times the amount, but he is a member so he gets it at reduced price.

    But I am his guest, Taddeo remarked.

    Santos nodded. Yes, but your also a member who is inactive and owes the club quite a bit. I know you are having problems financially. So here is what I want you to do. Go to the board in the back by the restrooms. Some people put jobs up there today. Go look at them, and try to get a job. You need to get working again. You can’t depend on Giorgio’s benevolence forever, or mine for that matter.

    Taddeo nodded. Right away.

    Taddeo walked away and went around the corner to the job board. Santos then went over to Giorgio who had just finished his beer, and Giorgio said: I’d like another.

    Santos breathed in deeply. I will give you one in a second, but we have a pressing matter.

    What? Giorgio asked.

    Santos sighed. It’s about Father Giorgio.

    That fucking prick, Giorgio replied.

    Santos grimaced. "Because of the Collectivist revolution in Sicily, to put it

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