Chapter 119 Chapter 119 Vow of eternal friendship.
Once the decision was made, Elio immediately plunged into the preparations before departure.
He spent much more time than ever before at the Triskelion Inn, discussing and rehearsing details with the Assassins; both the Assassins who would be traveling with him and those who stayed in Sicily were obliged to participate in the intensive preparations.
How would they get to London and Paris? What background research should they conduct? What documents should they bring? What goals did they want to achieve? How would they achieve their goals? What price would they be willing to pay to achieve their goals?
Almost the entire Brotherhood was consumed by this task. Assassins on the move often rushed in, delivering messages without even a sip of water before scurrying out the window again. Assassins inside, compiling documents, recorded, revised, and discussed them almost non-stop, their debates before the fireplace lasting from dusk to dawn, and back again.
If Elio had more time, he would have marveled at the Brotherhood's efficiency. If the assassination-savvy field agents usually shone, then now was the time for the silent, unassuming yet steady inner circle, the organization's backbone, to shine.
He had known for a while that the Brotherhood had people who maintained the haystacks (yes, that was why the Templars couldn't "assassinate" the Assassins by hiding weapons in the haystacks), but Elio had never really seen how hard they worked.
Elio, however, was too busy to worry about such a small matter. He couldn't say he was busier than anyone else in this situation, but he was certainly busy nonetheless.
Besides the necessary discussions to clarify the mission and actions, Elio not only had to find time to learn French ("You don't expect the translator of the mission to always follow you, do you?" Virgil greeted the French assassin he pointed to affectionately), but also had to find time to participate in discussions on the situation in Britain, France and other European countries (Elio had to reveal that he did have some historical knowledge of the current situation, but he couldn't hide it at this time!), and also had to find time to meet with the members of the Sicilian Provisional Committee (after all, they would have to cooperate in Paris, not to mention the bumpy journey together), and so on.
In the rush of preparation, Elio even slept at the Triskelion Inn. Initially, he slept in his hotel room, but after a few days, after staying up all night discussing the possible tendencies of the French Brotherhood with Virgil and Maria, Elio could no longer hold on and collapsed into bed with the others. A few hours later, after scrambling out of bed with the rest of the Assassins, Elio never bothered to go upstairs to sleep again.
But this is just the work of the Brotherhood.
Elio even forced himself to return to the Vongola several times, not only to pack his departure luggage but also to arrange the handover before his departure. Luckily, Gatling and Elio had trained together in the Self-Defense Corps, so transferring the entire Vongola army to him wouldn't be too much of a burden. Lambo was forced to take over, but after all, he had performed so bravely in the battles those days! Even if he regretted it now, it was too late.
Because of this, the Vongola people soon learned that Elio was about to go on a long journey.
Giotto was the first to know, since he had personally suggested that Elio choose Paris, where he could play a greater role. He had personally given Elio a parting gift: a pocket watch engraved with the Vongola crest.
"I had intended it as a surprise," said Giotto, fastening one end of the watch chain to the buttonhole of his waistcoat, "but the craftsman evidently ran out of time to finish all of them. This is the first sample, which I am smuggling to you. Don't tell anyone else."
The other end of the watch chain was connected to a pocket watch. Elio opened its cover, but his eyes were not immediately drawn to the exquisite dial design of the era, but to the line of words embossed on the cover.
Givro eterna amicizia.
"...a pledge of everlasting friendship," Elio read out. He looked at Giotto, and for a moment, he felt the accumulated fatigue of the past few days suddenly and gently dissipate at the sight of these words. Giotto simply smiled, placed his hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it affectionately. "May it always remain as true as it is today!"
The second person to find out was Rambo. He leaned directly on Elio, practically hugging his thighs and howling, "No, Elio! After you leave, who can save me from Gatling's iron fist..."
Elio picked him up, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "Don't we still have Giotto?"
"You haven't seen the way he's been looking at me lately," Lan Bao wiped away tears. "That gleam in his eyes is like he's trying to figure out what else he can dig out of me!"
Elio laughed. Rambo's participation in the battle that day was surprising enough, but even more surprising was that this pampered young master, who avoided work whenever possible, was still trembling with fear, but his fighting spirit was no less heroic than theirs in their youth.
Elio, of course, was helpless. After all, the Vongola, rapidly growing in the rebirth of Sicily, and even Italy, was in dire need of personnel. Rambo, who had never experienced the harshness of work, was also full of energy. He not only frequently assisted the temporary committee but also intervened in the street riots. It was likely that Giotto would soon have him take over some of the real work at the Vongola.
Speaking of the Vongola's real "work," Ugetsu and Gatlin were both helping out. The tasks outside of combat were always tedious, yet they couldn't be ignored. Not only did the Vongola have to help maintain order, allocate supplies, and continue their usual work, but there was also the question of where the money would come from. Even if Elio hadn't asked, he knew they sometimes went out to lobby for funding and management of the Orchard Winery, but the money wasn't enough; when he passed by, he'd occasionally overhear discussions about "mines," "sulfur," and "ports."
Elio didn't care. He'd only heard that Gatlin and Ugetsu had gotten along much better after their fight. Ugetsu still used his overly polite honorifics, and Gatlin only occasionally tutted, no longer finding it strange. They'd expressed their regret at Elio's impending departure in an adult way (of course, they wouldn't hug him and cry), but they'd also offered their well wishes as friends and gifts that Elio might find useful.
Even the few who weren't often at the estate had heard about it. Two weeks later, Nacker even brought a message from Arnold, which touched Elio deeply. With the Austrian army driven out of Milan and Venice, Arnold was probably already preoccupied with his own affairs, yet he had actually found the time to gather intelligence on Britain and France and send it to him.
Spedo, who was on the front line in Naples, also appeared at the Vongola Manor after a long absence. "I thought you had already left." He said so.
Elio was startled by his sudden appearance, but quickly smiled. "How would I have been able to see you if that were the case?"
Spedo obviously didn't expect him to say that. He was stuck for a moment before he managed a grunt.
"I thought you were in Naples," Elio asked. "Is everything okay?"
"Not good." Spedo, now serious, spoke of business. "I am almost certain that the king has only temporarily yielded to the Naples march. He is deeply ashamed and angry about this, and sooner or later he will retaliate. Sicily must grow before he resorts to violence, so your mission is crucial, Elio. You must succeed."
Elio stopped smiling. He looked at Spedo intently for a moment, then nodded. "I'll do my best."
Spedo also looked at him for a moment.
The heavy silence weighed on their shoulders, and it had clearly weighed on Spedo for a long time. He was still dressed in his Bourbon uniform, even with a few stars on his shoulders. Elio really didn't know how he managed it, considering the army had fled Sicily in such a mess! Spedo's face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, but it was as if a flame burned on his cheekbones, revealing the flush of a patient with a high fever; the spirit under the heavy pressure shone in his eyes, and he stared at Elio with such a deep gaze.
"We must succeed," Spedo said decisively. Then he disappeared in a puff of mist.
The mission arrived on April 27, 1848. Cannons fired salutes and flags flew.
They set out from the port of Palermo, crossed the Tyrrhenian Sea, and docked in Livorno, Tuscany. By train, they switched to horse-drawn carriages and journeyed through the territories of the Papal States, Parma, the Kingdom of Sardinia, and other states, ultimately arriving in Turin. From there, they arduously crossed the Alps and crossed the Fréjus Pass. By the time they reached Lyon, nearly three weeks had passed. Two men collapsed from exhaustion.
One was a young student leader, eager to meet with Parisian communities and garner public support. The other was their groom, who had led them on a bumpy two-week journey. Forced to stay in a Lyon hotel, they sought medical care while they debated how long they needed to recover, or whether... they should leave a sum of money and entrust them to the judgment of Heaven.
After all, they only had less than two days left before they actually arrived in Paris.
"...That young man was so eager to make a name for himself in Paris," the delegation whispered in the private room. "We were about to board a safe train, yet we left him in Lyon..."
"Horseman? Yes, he's a strong fellow, but no matter how strong he is, he can't withstand the typhoid fever caused by the snow and wind! God, he swore solemnly that he had walked this road countless times, why did it have to be this time..."
There was a sudden knock on the door. Before the envoy could open it, a young man with curly black hair opened it and walked in. Everyone looked at him with a mixture of surprise (they had clearly locked the door) and anticipation, hoping that he could once again demonstrate his magical powers, just as he had driven off bandits and busted spies along the way, and brilliantly resolve their current predicament.
"Sir," he said, nodding to the minister, "you must send that doctor away immediately."
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The author has something to say: When I was looking up information today, I found that I had made some mistakes in some details that are difficult to correct. I died lightly... I have to make a note here that this article may not have studied some parts of history thoroughly enough, and there are many errors and omissions. Students who are interested can look up the information themselves, but don't take what I wrote seriously... [burst into tears][burst into tears][burst into tears]
And this chapter finally made Oreo into a Vongola, hehe (evil smile)
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