Hello everyone!

I'm Olotie, french writer who lives in the deep countryside of North Eastern France!

It is the first fanfiction I translate in English, and I don't speak fluently this language, so please be indulgent with me!

This fanfiction talks about the city of Nice, the oldest big city after Marseille, wich was built in 2300 B.C., and wich were a border city before Italy, a ideal territory to all the powerful European nations around her, from the Greeks of Phocea to France in 1860. But Nice is also called "la Fidelissima", "the Very Faithful".

So, I wrote and I let you decide if I can continue or not.

Don't hesitate to ask me if you don't understand somthing, or to correct my mistakes.

Bonne lecture!

My name is Fortuna Lanteri, and I represent the city of Nice, in the Southern France. I am called, and I was called, by others names throughout my history: Nikaïa, Nicaea, Nissa, Nizza... They quite look like each other. I haven't changed so much. Or maybe yes, I've changed.

The advantage of being born as representative is that we can not "die", as long as humans believe in us, as long as they define themselves as belonging to our territory, to our culture. Some of us see this like a drawback, for some reasons.

A representative can't focus on a mortal, or he needs to understand that he will go out one day. Also, he can't, or couldn't, as much as possible, focus on one of its fellows. With the alliances we form now, in Europe or in the other countries, we don't have to follow this rule to the letter, from a certain point of view. In the old days, the alliances were broken as easily as one can break a marriage today and, as we are subjects to the will of our people, we could fight against a former friend, lover, sibling. From an other point of view, we must understand that we are still short-lived. We are this time again subjects to our "children". On order, we can disappear all of a sudden, or gradually succumb to oblivion. Our insurance, if we can call that an insurance, is to appear on a recent map.

And, when there is a shock, when a representative become too old, if he lived a very long time, he can loose his memories.

It is precisely what is happening to me.

And I don't speak about some of old languages I don't remember anymore because all of the humans forget them and it doesn't exist a written vestige. No.

I speak about my mother and my father's faces, about all of those I have known and that history erased from my memory. I speak about some moments of my life, and especially about my chilhood, which are escaping through large parts from the broad tapestry of my memories.

Of course, others have larger tapestries than mine. Basque Country, for exemple. I'm not sure if he can write it, his history. Or Corsica, my cousin. Some of us are luckiers too.

I have decided to write all that is still in my head. All taht I remember to have heard, seen, felt, lived. All that I've suffered, all the mistakes I did, all the past events, you know them or not.

Here is my story.