There is some shuffling as the men are looking for their names on the chairs, but shortly everyone is seated.
"In front of you, you will find evidence of the crimes committed by the traitors. This is my gift to you all. As the new capo, I can promise that there will be no rotten apples. In fact, the lucky six are only the first in a long list of people who have been exploiting the resources of the famiglia for their own gain."
"So where are the rest then? You don't know who they are, do you?" A fat man laughs at the end of the table. I give him a sharp look, followed by a smile.
"Oh, I do... I really do." And as I say this, I let my gaze roam around the room, sparing a glance to every individual. "But I'm just waiting."
"For what?" My uncle barks.
"For them to trip."
People are already uneasy. It helps that the room is filled with hidden cameras. Body language will be telling.
"But enough of the morbid talk." I continue. "Let us enjoy a peaceful dinner before talking business."
At my signal, select staff enter the ballroom with the first course and start serving the tables.
Small talk ensues. From my spot at the top of the table, I observe.
Some men keep glancing at the decapitated heads. Others try very hard not to. But then there are those that are completely unbothered by the bloody mess on the wall, and I know it's those I need to look out for.
Starting with my uncle Nicolo. Because of his position as Consigliere—position that unfortunately he still holds—he is seated next to me.
"I must confess it was unexpected that you took the leadership." Nicolo starts. I tilt my head and looking wholly unbothered, I answer.
"I would assume so, given that you expected the role to go to you." I smile. He does the same. Both our mouths are straining to portray the opposite of what we're feeling.
"It was a natural assumption... with you leaving the famiglia. Do you really think they will accept you? You've shown yourself unreliable before. Maybe you didn't precisely betray the famiglia, but you left it."
"And now I'm back."
He laughs.
"You think this little stunt of yours will get you anything? Sure, the cowards are going to recoil in fear, but is that what you want?"
"No... I want to do a clean-up. It's simple. In order for the famiglia to thrive, we need some rules."
"And you're the one to make them?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"Not for long."
Nicolo challenges me with his gaze, and I don't back down.
"Hmm... I wonder. Maybe we should keep this conversation for after dinner. I'm sure others will be interested in what I have to say..." I trail off, and I watch my uncle grimace.
He's right in one aspect, I don't really care for cowards. But usually, a coward is also a traitor by extension. The severed heads were just the appetizer; a small reminder that I too am a made man. After dinner, I must remind them that that is not all I am.
Nicolo switches his focus to the other people at his side, and our conversation is dropped. At least one thing's clear now. He is after power, and he thinks he is entitled to it.
The courses come and go, and the men become more relaxed. Maybe it's also because alcohol flows freely.
It's soon time to discuss business, and where better than in the basement. The men are reticent when they hear the destination, but already ruddy from alcohol, they bring their cigars and we move the party to the basement.
They probably expect yet another bloody crime scene, but I already cleaned that up when I had some people dispose of the headless bodies.
The basement is split into a few chambers, the biggest one almost the size of the ballroom. I'd arranged for it to be decorated for a loyalty ceremony. We need to make this thing official.
There are two guards standing at the end of the room, where I promptly take my place. Francesco is already there, and he gives me a nod of approval.
"Gentlemen, shall we begin?" I ask as I take a seat in front of them. I give Francesco a look and he takes the floor.
"Before we discuss anything of importance, every one of you will be required to swear loyalty to Marcello Lastra as your new capo. I'm sure you were already expecting this." He looks around at the myriad of faces. Some men scoff, others seem rather interested, while others emanate pure malice.
Nicolo is the one who steps forward and, as expected, states his challenge.
"How can we trust a kid," he sneers. "Especially one that left the famiglia behind. He may be the direct heir, but how can we trust that he won't bail again?"
There's a lot of hushed tones discussing; some in agreement, some raising questions.
"Are you saying you are better fit, uncle?" I look him straight in his eyes and he tips his head back in arrogance.
"Why not?"
I smile. It's not as if I was not expecting this.
"Then it seems we are at an impasse. Tell me, uncle, are you officially challenging me?"
His eyes widen as he understands where I am going with this. He cannot back down, however, since he's already made a claim.
"I believe you are."
"I am." He immediately adds. I smirk.
"Francesco, tell me the rules again?"
"The challenged can choose the type of challenge." Francesco adds so that everyone in the room can hear. There are hums of approval, some of them may be too eager. If they want a spectacle... well, they will have one.
I raise to my feet, casually walking towards Nicolo.
"So what? Fists, swords, pistols?" Nicolo looks at me and smirks.
"Chess." I enjoy the look on his face when he hears that. His smile slowly falls and he frowns. The other men around are baffled as well.
"Chess? You're joking."
"It's my right as the challenged to choose the challenge. Does it have to be a type of combat, or violent?" I turn to Francesco and I ask.
"No. It can be anything." He replies.
Everyone is quiet.
I motion to Francesco and he brings over a chessboard, placing it on a table in the corner of the room.
With my hand, I motion Nicolo to follow. He looks like he wants to argue with my suggestion, but he must realize by now that he's fallen into my trap. And there's no return.
"But what would chess say about the new capo?" He sputters in a last attempt to divert attention.
"Then tell me," I begin, crossing my arms in front of me, "why would a capo need any fighting skills when he has his soldiers? Better yet, wouldn't you say," I turn and address the rest of the men. "that a good capo should be smart enough to strategically weigh his moves... almost like on a chessboard."
Nicolo's face falls, and I can tell I've won the argument in the eyes of the other men as well.
We sit down in front of the chessboard, and after arranging the pieces, the game begins.
It doesn't take long for me to win. After I capture his Queen, it's only a matter of a couple movements until his King is cornered. It's something I counted on when I thought about this encounter. Nicolo might be smart and cunning, but he is the type of person who belittles any type of intellectual pursuits—including chess. I'd narrowed down on his weakness, and I'd just made sure he was the one to challenge me. I knew he'd expect some type of corporeal challenge, like sparring or shooting, both of which he excels at. He's not much older than Valentino had been, his body fit and in shape. But he'd been overconfident. I'd just played on his hubris... and won.