At first glance, Capodel Lamafia seemed to be a polite and good-natured man who knows how to endear himself. His manners, refined language and warm smiles gave the impression of an honest and balanced leader. It was part of his strategy to gain trust, even admiration, before hitting the pain points.
One of the highlights of his approach was the conversation in the warehouse. Bruno, who was present at the meeting, was supposed to be a witness not of force, but of the "justice" that Capodel allegedly professed.
"A sea stone, you say?" — he repeated slowly, running his fingers over the box made of rare wood. There was a slight smile on his face and interest in his eyes.
The master gathered his courage and nodded.
—Yes, signore." The last batch turned out to be of poor quality. Probably due to transportation.
Capodel shook his head thoughtfully, his face clouded for a moment.
— It's amazing how often minor miscalculations turn into serious consequences. Do you agree?
"Yes, of course, signore.
In response, the head of the family smiled broadly and turned to the assistant master, who was standing a little to the side.
— Young man, what is your name?
—Marco, signore," the man replied, trying not to meet his gaze.
— Marko... How long have you been working for us?
—Two months, signore.
Capodel nodded, continuing to ask questions, like an ordinary leader who is interested in his people. The questions were simple: "What brought you to the forge?", "How do you like the job?""Who do you work with most closely?" The master tensed, sensing that the conversation was veering off topic, but said nothing.
"Good,— Capodel finally concluded. —I want you to observe our young master. Work hard, and maybe in the future we'll offer you something more.
With that, he turned to the master.:
— I'll give you the material. But if we encounter another problem, who will be responsible for it?
The master froze for a moment, but then lowered his head.
—I am, signore."
— That's fine. Responsibility is what distinguishes a master from a disciple. Keep up the good work.
That was the end of the conversation. Bruno only saw Capodel, smiling, give an order to his men before leaving the warehouse. It was only later that it became known that Marco had disappeared. His belongings remained untouched, and the forge continued to work as if nothing had happened.
Another case came to light during a meeting with one of the family's regular suppliers. He was a middle-aged man with a good-natured face and nervous hand movements. He came to ask for a tax cut.
—Antonio,— Capodel began, holding out his hand. — I'm glad to see you. I hope your business is booming?
"Not really, signore,— Antonio swallowed the lump in his throat. — I've been struggling to make ends meet lately.
—Oh, that's bad. But you are a skilled person. You'll find a way to survive.
The merchant hesitated. He was clearly hoping for sympathy, but instead he received only a cursory understanding.
— I'm sorry, signore, but it seems to me that the tax imposed by your family is too high. I would like to discuss the possibility of reducing it.
Capodel raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his directness.
"Reduce it?" But don't we provide you with the best location on the market, security guarantees, and delivery assistance?
— Yes, of course, but...
Kapodel raised his hand and stopped him.
— No, no, I'm not judging you. I just want to understand. Do you think that the family doesn't deserve the share it gets?
— No, signore, I'm just...
— Then tell me: how much are you willing to pay?
Antonio froze, considering the answer, but Capodel was already leaning closer to him.
— Think carefully. We're friends, right?
The merchant nodded, confused.
— Of course, friends.
— Then let's do this. Take a week to think about it. Discuss it with your family, weigh the pros and cons, and then come back with a suggestion. We will find a solution.
Antonio, although he didn't get what he wanted, left with the confidence that at least he was listened to. However, two days later, rumors about him filled the entire market. It's unclear who started it, but suddenly everyone knew that his goods were suspicious, that he was working with smugglers, and even that he owed other families. His shop was vandalized by unknown people, and a week later Antonio simply disappeared.
Realizing that I had not made a mistake with the goal, I took action. But there was no hurry, it was necessary to stretch the digestion of the potion, which means that I have to start the fall of the Lamafia family from afar. Now the purpose of my performance was not only to destroy their reputation in front of the World government, but also to undermine trust within the family, turning its participants into suspicious, conflicting people.
I gradually began to act
At one of the shipyards in the port, sailors opened crates with a cargo of sea stone supplied by Lamafia. Humid sea air rushed into the hold, and the workers quickly untied the rough ropes. Everything looked normal until one of the stones cracked when the hammer struck. There was loose gray sand inside.
"What kind of shit is this?" — the senior worker growled, picking up the fragment. His voice echoed through the empty warehouse.
Soon, government agents checking the cargo thoroughly searched the entire shipment. The stones looked right on the outside, but they were empty on the inside. None of the agents said a word, just brief glances and silent gestures.
Voices in the corridors of the headquarters were quietly discussing: "The Lamafia family has sent defective goods." There was no evidence of deliberate deception, but his reputation was shaken.
One of the family's smugglers, a self—confident man with a heavy gait and a loud voice, was collecting another shipment.
— They have nothing to do here! — he threw at the officers of the Watch, who were expecting their share for silence.
I insinuated this conflict by faking my voice and appearance on a trusted person.
"The watch?" Don't worry, the family will cover for you if anything happens. They won't risk hitting on us.
Two days later, the lookouts were rummaging through the holds of his ships. The click of locks, the thud of boots on planks — and the smuggler was already standing in handcuffs in front of the captain of the patrol. The captain's face was impassive, but there was obvious pleasure in his voice.:
— Here it is, Lamafia's work. I hope the staff will appreciate it.
The key moment of the plan played out in the port area during a solemn ceremony organized in honor of the arrival of a representative of the World Government. A luxury yacht was slowly rocking on the waves at the pier, and golden ribbons of flags hung from the sky. The sun was reflected in the carefully polished metal of the guest's spacesuit, which protected him from the "low" air.
The representative of the Mafia, my second puppet, after all, I had been engaged in "redressing" for almost more than a month and a half, was supposed to give a symbolic gift on behalf of the mafia clan. It was a rare jewelry box, presented with words that I had carefully chosen beforehand.
"Please accept this modest gift as a sign of recognition of authority and... equality before the law,— I bent slightly, but not as low as required by protocol, emphasizing carelessness.
The word "equality" echoed through the crowd. A thin shadow of irreverence stirred the air. The guest paused for a moment before taking the box, and his escorts exchanged a quick glance.
Later, at the reception, one of the government officers loudly stated:
— Did their messenger say "equality"? Did these people allow themselves to do this?
Right after that, my puppet was shot on the spot. Such an insult could not be forgiven.
The gossip spread quickly. Lamafia's reputation turned out to be tarnished: insufficient deference could be perceived as disrespect, but it looked ambiguous enough not to cause instant retribution.
Inside the family, everything was ready for the last step. Capodel paced nervously around the office, flipping through reports that included words like "flaws," "failures," and "violations."
— Who did this? Who! His voice was cracking. He glanced at the senior supplier.
He nodded silently, without raising his head.
The whispers multiplied in the corridors:
— Maybe someone set us up on purpose? Or is it just Capodela's stupidity?
My new second puppet was quietly inserting the right phrases.
"I don't know if he can handle it... Have you noticed how confused he's been lately?
The family was bursting at the seams. At dinner parties, it was already openly said that Lamafia's situation was threatening. It remains for me to wait for the last convocation of the Capodela to understand how successful my actions are.