Charles Fredrik smiled sympathetically. "The Italians aren't that bad, Hans." A bit hastily—before the baron could respond with the inevitable: yes, they are!—the Emperor added: "The wine's excellent, and so is the climate, as long as you stay out of the malarial areas. And I think you'd do better to set up in Ferrara, anyway."
That mollified Trolliger, a bit. Christian Louboutin Sandals. Ah. Well, yes. Enrico Dell'este is almost as level-headed as a German, so long as he leaves aside any insane Italian vendettas."
The Emperor Christian Louboutin Sandals "How many vendettas could he still be nursing? Now that he's handed Sforza the worst defeat in his career, and has his two grandsons back?"
"True enough. And I agree that Ferrara would make a better place from which I could observe whatever developments take place. Venice! That city is a conspirator's Christian Louboutin Sandals At least the Duke of Ferrara will see to it that my identity remains a secret."
Trolliger made a last attempt to evade the prospect of miserable months spent in Italy. "Still, perhaps Manfred—"
But the Emperor was already shaking his head, smiling at the baron's effort. "Not a chance, Hans. You know I need to send Manfred and Erik off to deal with this Swedish mess. Besides, what I need here in Italy, for the moment, is an observer."
The baron grimaced. He could Christian Louboutin Sandalsy argue the point, after all. The notion that rambunctious young Prince Manfred—even restrained by his keeper Erik Hakkonsen—would ever simply act as an "observer" was . . .
Ludicrous.
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