The newly minted Italian Ambassador to Corsica, who before recent months had served in the same post as the Consul General for the Consulate in Bastia, stepped into his office as renovations were being made, namely the replacing of his windows with blast-proof glass and his office in general being made more secure, measures being taken to keep it secure of bugs and his electronics and telephone being replaced with secure versions using high-tech end-to-end encryption.
The weight of his new post bore down on his shoulders. While his day to day duties weren't expected to change much, at least not while the status quo in Corsica was maintained, the promotion to this rank carried with it certain duties and responsibilities which went beyond just being a diplomatic agent. As an official representative of the Italian Government to what it recognized as a foreign country, he was required to maintain top secret clearance, more than that, due to the obvious and extreme temerity of Italy creating his post, he joined the elite few who were vetted for access to Italy's most secure facilities, systems, and intelligence. To receive such high station, Casimiro knew he must've been counted as among the King's most loyal and trusted officers.
However, he also knew there was another, far more immediate reason for his posting. As a native of northern Sardinia, the Ambassador was fluent in three languages, his second language being the most relevant language of Corsican, learned alongside Italian as a child from his parents and grandparents. Being fluent in Corsican, as well as being of both Sardinian and Tuscan, he was perhaps the closest officer of the government both linguistically and by blood to the Corsicans, and perhaps the best both to represent them to Italy, and Italy to them.
As a Consulate, the french had guaranteed this building diplomatic immunity, and hadn't yet rescinded that. He waited for a reply, any reply, but he hoped that they would at least accept the continued status of this building as a diplomatic outpost, even if the italians recognized it as not being to them.
Hope. That's all he needed.
The weight of his new post bore down on his shoulders. While his day to day duties weren't expected to change much, at least not while the status quo in Corsica was maintained, the promotion to this rank carried with it certain duties and responsibilities which went beyond just being a diplomatic agent. As an official representative of the Italian Government to what it recognized as a foreign country, he was required to maintain top secret clearance, more than that, due to the obvious and extreme temerity of Italy creating his post, he joined the elite few who were vetted for access to Italy's most secure facilities, systems, and intelligence. To receive such high station, Casimiro knew he must've been counted as among the King's most loyal and trusted officers.
However, he also knew there was another, far more immediate reason for his posting. As a native of northern Sardinia, the Ambassador was fluent in three languages, his second language being the most relevant language of Corsican, learned alongside Italian as a child from his parents and grandparents. Being fluent in Corsican, as well as being of both Sardinian and Tuscan, he was perhaps the closest officer of the government both linguistically and by blood to the Corsicans, and perhaps the best both to represent them to Italy, and Italy to them.
As a Consulate, the french had guaranteed this building diplomatic immunity, and hadn't yet rescinded that. He waited for a reply, any reply, but he hoped that they would at least accept the continued status of this building as a diplomatic outpost, even if the italians recognized it as not being to them.
Hope. That's all he needed.
