Chapter 65: If We Don't Fight Now, We'll Have No Money Left
Late at night.
In a grocery shop tucked away in an alley in Turin, three middle-aged men had gathered together, speaking in low voices.
The older man asked, "Amor, how are things going?"
"The plan is proceeding very smoothly. The people's patriotic fervor is running high. Even without our guidance, I'm afraid they would have gone to protest on their own!" Amor replied with a smile.
"We cannot let our guard down. The more critical the moment, the more careful we must be."
"You haven't attracted anyone else's attention, have you?" the older man asked with concern.
"Don't worry, Carmelo! My current identity is that of a patriotic small-time merchant from Venice. Everything I'm doing now perfectly matches that identity. On the surface, so long as the Kingdom of Sardinia occupies Venice, I stand to gain handsome returns. Under such circumstances, it is only natural for me to be hostile toward Austria. It won't draw attention," Amor explained.
There was no shortage of capitalists clamoring for an attack on Venice in pursuit of profit. At most, Amor was merely a little more enthusiastic than the rest. That was nothing.
"Good, as long as there isn't. In our line of work, caution is paramount. Just complete the task in your hands—never bite off more than you can chew. Cecilio, how far along is your assignment?" the middle-aged man codenamed Carmelo continued.
"Not very smoothly. I'm just an unknown nobody. The major newspapers are not short of submissions, so for now my articles can only appear in street tabloids," Cecilio answered helplessly.
He was merely a young literary enthusiast. His writing could only be called decent; it had not reached the earth-shaking, ghost-weeping level. In Italy, where the cultural industry