ARCHIVED: Lots

Pauline Bonaparte

Her Worshipfulness
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TNP Nation
Floresque
Discord
DivaythFyr
Alessandro de' Avelocci was never destined to lose the lottery.

His uncle, Gastone de' Avelocci, had won it at 26. Gastone's father, Gian, had won it at 33. Gian's great-uncle Piero had won it at 30. In fact, every member of the de' Avelocci clan had won the lottery since 1788, when Giovanni de' Avelocci, Floresque's greatest banker, won it at the age of 56.

The lottery was intended to be a curse - at its inception in the mid-1500s it was intended to preserve the Floregasque Republic from tyrants and fraudsters. Every eight months a lottery would be held wherein all members of the Signoria - Floresque's legislature - were eligible. The winner of the lottery would be chosen by random chance, and would serve an eight-month term as the city-state's Gonfaloniere, its head of state and chief executive. The office held little real power, as the elected Signoria felt a strong aversion to surrendering the power invested in it by the people - at least the male ones, that is.

The first couple hundred years that this system was in place, the Peruzzi family was lucky enough to win the lottery almost every time it was held! By 1700, the office of Gonfaloniere had become an office held for life. It was only in the great upset of 1788, where Giovanni de' Avelocci, through great cunning, managed to win the random lottery for himself.

The system persisted for several hundred more years, with few interruptions. Occasionally some other family would be lucky enough to win the lottery, but within years - or months - or weeks, the Avelocci had presented damning evidence to the Signoria convincing them that the newcomer was a vile traitor to the Republic and should be expelled from the city. Yes, these past few centuries had been very kind to the Avelocci, and the people of Floresque had been very kind to them.

But in the 21st century even the ancient Avelocci can't see the bear about to charge out of the fog.




Piazza della Signoria
Floregasque Republic
July


Alessandro cursed the heat and the robes he was wearing.

Made of heavy wool - the sort that made Floresque wealthy centuries ago - they were cut in a style that hadn't been updated since 1555 and were about as musty. He sat on a simple wooden chair elevated on a short platform, the only thing besides his robe that distinguished his seat from the fifteen others lined up beside him. The entire set faced the center of the Piazza and the quickly growing crowd inside it. Alessandro whispered to Bartolomeo Lanzi, his oldest friend and closest confidant. Lanzi was the only person in Floresque who stood to gain from Alessandro's new appointment as Gonfaloniere besides Alessandro himself.

"How much longer do we have?"

Bartolomeo looked at his watch.

"Seven minutes. We start at 1:00."

"So it's past noon? That means the worst of the heat is over."

"We'll see." Bartolomeo said with a schadenfreude-filled smirk.

"I never thought I would be jealous of someone wearing a three-piece suit in July."

"I try to look my best no matter the season."

Alessandro smirked and Bartolomeo paused, as if to look for words.

"Alessandro..." he began.

"Yes?" came the reply. Alessandro seemed preoccupied, eyeing a tall brunette with wide eyes who had appeared near the front of the crowd.

"We need to talk about your uncle's reforms."

"Quite a time to spring this on me, Bartolomeo!" Alessandro exclaimed, taking his eyes away from the woman. "We must only have six minutes to talk now!"

"His lessening of restrictions on the press... his acceptance of public gatherings. If you want to keep your family in power after you die those must be reversed."

"My uncle was a great man, Bartolomeo," Alessandro said. "Those reforms have brought new life to the Republic."

"The more you let people say the more they'll question your rule. A free press will be the Avelocci's downfall."

"We will discuss this at the banquet tonight, friend."

"I - " Bartolomeo began. He was cut off by a man sitting to Alessandro's left standing up from his chair and ringing a bell.

"Citizens of the Floregasque Republic!" the man began. His voice boomed with such authority one might think he could shout the walls of a building down himself. "Before we begin the inauguration of our newest Gonfaloniere, we will open the floor to citizens' questions and comments, as is tradition.'

Alessandro smirked. These questions were always pre-written and placed in the trustworthy hands of Avelocci allies. The best way to create good PR before a lifelong term of office, they were an excellent way to connect with the people who he was ostensibly beholden to. When the wide-eyed brunette stepped forward and the bell-ringer granted her sixty seconds to ask her question, Alessandro's smirk turned to a grin.

The woman spoke quietly, and after her question the crowd surrounding her started to stir and chatter. Alessandro turned to the bell-ringer.

"I couldn't hear her."

"Madam," the bell-ringer began in his booming voice, "can you speak up? The Gonfaloniere was not able to hear you."

The woman took another step forward and spoke more clearly.

"Gonfaloniere, when will we be allowed to vote?"

"What did she say?" Alessandro asked Bartolomeo.

"I - " Bartolomeo began.

"Please return to your place, madam!" the bell-ringer said indignantly. The woman began to turn but her attention was drawn to a man lunging forward from the crowd.

"He's got a gun!" came a shriek from Alessandro's right. A loud crack pierced the July air and the Gonfaloniere heard a bullet whizz by his ear.

"Get him inside!" a guard yelled, and Alessandro felt himself be lifted from his seat by his armpits and hustled inside the Palazzo Signoria to his rear.
 
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