Carabinieri march, drums roll and trumpets sing. Margherita sits in a carriage pulled by horses, waving to her people. It was the seventeenth of March, the day of Italian Reunification "A lovely day indeed, though I think the artillery guns firing in the streets are a bit much." Margherita said, fanning herself with a folding fan, still waving with a since of grace "Of course I know they are blanks, it's their ears I'm worried about." Margherita gestured out to the crowd of Protogens with her fan before returning to fanning herself gently "Children have delicate ears, you know."