Avis de Tramontane sur la Corse - a Unione Corse gathering

[Lanakov]

Winter has just fallen upon planet Marseille, in the Provence system. Much like its old Earth namesake, there are no harsh winters on Marseille : the air is warm, and the skies remain clear, washed as they are by the constant oceanic winds that sweep across the entire planet. Upon one of its many settlements, stands a luxurious villa, some distance away from the city center it borders. In traditional Corsican fashion, it strikes a balance between classy and inconspicuous, with its walls built in apparent stones. You cannot fault its elegance or the obvious luxury it displays, but it certainly wouldn't come across as pretentious or built to attract attention.

Naturally, the villa comes with a large, walled garden, furnished with what you'd expect from a neo-mediterranean landscape : palm trees, lavander and olive trees. Those were chosen to recreate, as closely as possible, the typical perfume of the Corsican countryside, "l'odeur du maquis", though no present-day Corsican could have ever known it. Everything here was built in tribute to a home no Corsican would ever know, but - as is their fiercely territorial nature - still long for, from the very depths of their souls. The perfect spot for a gathering of all the high ranking members of the Unione... A meeting of the Sénat, at the behest, and hosted by José Nivalgo, membre and tribun of the Unione Corse. The villa is called Tramuntana, Corsican for the Tramontane wind. It translates as : "beyond the mountains".

A large, oval table was laid in the heart of the garden, surrounded by large armchairs. The air was filled with the rich and acrid smell of tobacco ; wine glasses were in order of battle across the table, filled with all ranges of colours. And behind those glasses : men and women, dressed in elegant attires, some under hats, or sunglasses, sometimes both. Though visually rich, the scene was eerily silent. The banter and small talk, typical of such situations where old friends and partners finally reunited in a familiar scenery, had stopped. José Nivalgo had just requested their attention, and now the Sénateurs were curious to hear why this man had summoned them to his lair. Though Nivalgo had proven himself useful enough to be re-admitted in the formal ranks of the Unione, he had never managed to make the new big score he had planned for, the one that would finally set him off for life. Ambition is valued by the Corsicans - failure to translate it into results is frowned upon. Perhaps the time had come ?

Honoured friends, he started, at long last, with his usual manner of greeting. Just uttering those words had turned his face from unusually tense and focused to the usual puzzle his entourage knew well, one of casual warmth with the unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes and on the corners of his mouth.
I am happy to see so many have answered my call. Thank you for joining me in A Tramuntana : I had not seen so many of you together in a long time. This meeting was long overdue, and I will endeavour to show you why.
As he spoke, he produced a white sheet of paper, filled with elegantly manuscripted items.

As you know, the world is changing. The balance of power is shifting out there, in Sirius : ever since Kusari was made to cooperate with our beloved royal friends (this raised a few snorts), Gallia has made good progress on all fronts, cornering the Bretonians and making a significant dent in Libertonian territory. I will not comment upon the geopolitical implications of this : that is not the purpose of this meeting. And although it pains me personally to see the decent people of the Council get hounded away from their homes and the life of our Maquisard and Brigand friends get increasingly difficult... This is, quite clearly, a time of opportunity for us. Demand for our services and unique goods, both in and out of Gallia, can only be expected to rise, and with all attention pointed at the frontlines, our job has never been easier. The first motion I would like to put forward, therefore, is thus :

Let us step away from the shadows. Make our presence known. Recruit new hands, train tomorrow's leaders. Strike new deals, with partners new and old. Expand our range of operations, stake a claim on commercial traffic in Kusari and Bretonia, take our Nox to new markets... And actively hunt down the Sniffers. For too long have we scuttled like insects, content to live our quiet lives, make our quiet profits, accept whatever scrapes we could get from entities that barely respect us. No more ! It is time for Gallia and the Sirians to notice us, talk of us, in awe, with admiration or fear. Our destiny has always been to ascend to a role of paramount importance, to become those people come to whenever they are in need of something. Wealth and power will not come to us through small-time dealings and backdoor smuggling. Would true Corsicans settle for anything less than wealth and power ?

Now, before some of you traditionalists decide to throw their glasses at me, let me reassure you all : I am not offering recklessness or unwise aggression. The Corsican game has always been one of precaution and balance. To prosper, we cannot afford to be seen as enemies by the legitimate authorities. Nor will we, ever : I trust the competence and professionalism of our agents everywhere. But I grow tired of watching us follow, when we should lead. And to lead, we need initiative. This will take courage, intelligence, and caution, lest we take too many risks and end up having to go full legitimate.

This last remark, uttered with a smile, triggered a few laughs and snorts, which relieved the tension somewhat. As Nivalgo trailed off, some of the members present, who had been focused on him, noticed for the first time the view right behind him. He certainly had a thing for setpieces.

Nivalgo picked up the pace again.

Honoured friends, although we should, in my opinion, make use of the Gallic success on the frontlines, we should not take it for granted. Like our own Napoléon found out, no empire built on military victories tend to last. To that end, I offer you to reach out to a powerful and well-connected outfit that lays within the Omicron systems : the Corsairs. Mortal enemies of the disgusting Outcasts, friends to the Hogosha, and our old brothers and sisters of the Mediterranean... With the hands deep within the Artifact trade, which I'm sure many of you heard about during your trips to Liberty. I have already reached out to them through a cunning stratagem, with results exceeding everything I had anticipated. They have been very forthcoming, to the point that I wish to pay them a formal visit aboard my personal Lucullus liner. I of course need your approval for this, my friends... And, by extension, you are all invited to come aboard for this journey, which has the potential to be a historic one if my instincts are right.
Nivalgo being an aging and somewhat successful member of the Unione meant that, like all present, his instincts were often right.

In the course of this stratagem, I obtained a curious communication from one Council of Elders, located in the same region I deployed the beacon to. The transmission was garbled and somewhat unclear, but displayed a clearly friendly intent, and a place : Freeport 11, omicron delta.
He paused for effect. He wasn't sure any of them had ever been this far from home, but Omicron Delta certainly made the news lately and was all the talk in the well-informed spheres of Gallia, arousing no small amounts of curiosity.

I will go straight to the point : I need an agent to travel there, visit this place, and enquire about this Council. We need to know if we have friends on this side of the galaxy, and if we do, we need to show our hand. It will certainly be incredibly dangerous, but I feel the rewards we could get from this are... Significant. I urge all of you, once you return to your clans and families, to see if you wouldn't have a brave and ambitious young pilot eager to prove him or herself : it'd be the best opportunity. Everyone would win, that way, and isn't that the rule of law of the Unione ? He smirks, joined by a few of the attendants.

He paused again, this time a bit longer, enough to take a sip from his rich, sweet glass of a dark red liquid - possibly Porto or Martini Rosso. A flash of anxiety passed over his eyes for the briefest moment, before the puzzle returned.

My friends, there is one last motion I would like to present to you before we take a break. As most of you already know by now, our old, notorious colleague Lucas Ricard has seemingly retired from his duties. I'm not sure what happened to him - if some of you could shed light on that matter... The last I heard, he was off on some crazy new business creating a whole new apéritif drink from an old Earth recipe, on his savings. Which I understand are numerous. Now I don't know whether it's true, but I've seen ads... Knowing Lucas and how he tends to go about things, we might just need to brace ourselves for an incoming massive Ricard offensive on the wine and spirits market. Maybe that'll be the only thing to drink during our next session, a fitting tribute !
Nivalgo let the laughs die down, before assuming an unusually serious air.
I will be blunt, my friends. With Ricard off to his new adventures, there is a vacant Parrain seat. I want it. I need it. You have seen why.
I am driven, ambitious : I see much that could happen to us. Many adventures, new sources of wealth, vectors of incredible power. The time is right, and the fruit is ripe. Let me be a driving force for the Unione to prosper : give me this seat, and I will give you the fruits of this dream that I am chasing. Offer me power, and I'll pay you back, tenfold. Much like our ancestors from Earth and now Gallia, we must always strive towards autonomy and initiative. I've laid bare the pillars of my strategy to achieve this. Enable me to do so.

Unbeknowst to himself, Nivalgo had stood up during this last bit.

As I come out of the shadows, I must confess my secret. José Nivalgo was a nom de scène. A cover, to wait for my next big hit, and to protect my clan, and my then-wife. This life is over, and I feel my next big hit is coming. I wish to renounce this nom de scène, and recover my true patronym, and birthright : I am André Nivaggioni, head of the Nivaggioni clan. Accept me into the fold, and our resources will be entirely dedicated to the Unione.

Feeling as though he had let go of a considerable weight off his shoulders, he sat down, waiting for the reactions of his peers. The puzzle did not come back, but the intensity in his eyes lingered.

This last part raised more than a few eyebrows. Thought not typically Corsican, "José Nivalgo" sounded Mediterranean enough not to arouse suspicion when linked to a man looking and sounding like he did. The perfect cover, to put it bluntly. Nivaggioni, on the other hand... The name was popular and worn by many Gallic citizens, especially those who chose to live in Provence to honour their Earth ancestors. It was, like many other patronyms in the area, closely associated to Corsican ancestry, which did not directly translate to membership of the Unione. Such was the case of the Nivaggioni family : a clan that numbered many, including people employed in public offices, with a degree of influence and wealth. Just enough to be noticed and mentioned here and there, but not nearly enough to catch attention and establish itself as a regional power. Their potential as a force backing the Unione was sometimes discussed, then dismissed because of their supposed lack of ambition, a crippling defect in Corsican society as we've established earlier. That this family would find itself an ambitious head, willing to serve the Unione... A valuable and interesting opportunity to some. But to give a precious seat of Parrain to the freshly unveiled head of an otherwise unproven, untested family traditionally content to stay and watch from the sidelines... More than a few Sénateurs were gaping at "Nivalgo", and there was no way for Nivaggioni to anticipate where this might go next.

---

Feedback, insults, marriage proposals and declarations of fealty

If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.

[GrnRaptor]

The atmosphere upon Marseille had proven a welcome reprieve to Antoine La'Biere. It was warm, full of fresh air, and sunny; though not as sunny as his wife, he mused. Still, in comparison to the recycled atmosphere of a starfighter, or even the open bridge of a transport, it was heaven. Every moment was a gift, and he treasured it as such.

His clothing was simple, but refined, with only a modest amount of eye catching jewelry to display the wealth and status of the La'Biere family that he represented as Tribun. That the gold was bought with the payouts from his bounty work in the Taus was something those who knew him well were aware of, and those who didn't would be made aware of if they asked. In this setting there were none who needed to ask, however; the exploits of Antoine were well known amongst this crowd.

He greeted the representatives of the other families in turn, some of whom he had not seen since his own establishment as Tribun. These representatives often remarked upon his growth spurt since they had last seen him, an issue that he took with good grace, though it bothered him still on the inside that they seemed to still see him as the young, short, upstart of a man the La'Biere family had chosen to represent themselves with instead of an older member of the family. As befit his status, and his growing maturity, he kept his cool and respectfully thanked each member for their well wishes.

A silence fell over the crowd as the man whom had convened the affair requested the attention of the party goers. Antoine took a final sip of his champagne before settling in to listen to the man he knew as Jose Nivalgo present his case for the future of l'Unione Corse.

As Antoine listened, he mused upon the times he had flown with Nivalgo in the Taus. He had certainly been a fair enough pilot, even given his advancing years. Antoine found he had no animus towards Jose; he had even come to respect him. Anyone who flew against the Outcasts and was your wingman against such hostiles deserved that much. As Jose spoke, however, he found himself wondering where this new impetus to seize opportunities and make the Corsicans known was coming from. Nivalgo had never been one for such risks before that he recalled.

As Jose, that is to say André, finished his address, Antoine found himself moving to the front of the assembly with questions on his lips ready to be spoken. Such a bold move by the self-proclaimed head of the Nivaggioni family was to be applauded, but only if its veracity were certain. Antoine, nay, l'Unione Corse as a whole needed to know this before it would allow things to proceed.

"Monsieur Nivaggioni," he began. "I am certainly impressed with your designs for we Corsicans. Anyone who has fought ship to ship with our foes, as you have alongside myself and others in the Taus, knows the calculus of life and death risk and reward at a personal level." A few murmurs arise from the crowd at this mention of combat work, something a fair portion of them had never directly involved themselves with. It was a new variable to consider. "When to fight, when to flee, when to make the deal with the foe. I do not doubt you have considered all of this already when you planned this presentation. You must, of course, also have prepared to deal with the uncertainties that such a plan presents. I will ask it on behalf of us all then; why now? Why is it that you reveal yourself to us such at this time, and what proof would you present that you not only are who you assert yourself to be, but that you have such resources to offer and direct for the benefit of l'Unione Corse as a whole?"

With that said, the young Tribun of the La'Biere family took up a new flute of champagne and awaited the response that would set Nivaggioni on a rising path to glory or an infamous descent of shame.

---

[Lanakov]

Silence again visited the gathering. Drinks were held mid-way, all but forgotten as the young but ever sharp-eyed Antoine La Bière made his way to the forefront of the assembly and voiced his, and presumably many other's, concerns. Valid concerns, of course - Nivaggioni had feared having to deal with petty jealousies and rivalries from an assembly as venerable and powerful as the one he was now facing. These questions, on the other hand, came as a relief. They showed that the Unione's cadres were not ready to swallow any power grab without proper backing, and that there was no time for pettiness. Not now, at least. Valid questions, to be sure, but difficult ones. He decided to buy himself some time and nodded to his attending staff. Large boards, laden with costly imported products from all around Gallia were brought to the tables. And of course, most of it was following classical or modernised Corsican cuisine : cheese soft and strong complemented with donkey and pork charcuterie, and some peppers for added colour. It was a rustic, hearty offering, steeped in Gallic and Corsican culture, a reminder of where they came from. Perhaps lacking in sophistication somewhat, but with a message that Nivaggioni held onto firmly.

The effect was the one he had sought for : Oohs and Aahs of contentment erupted from a fair amount of the dignitaries, as the smells of home made their way through the assembly. A proper diversion while Nivaggioni formulated his thoughts... Under the steely gaze of Antoine La Bière, flute in hand, never one to be distracted from the matters at hand.. There was not point in delaying further.

Many such platters found their way to the various tables. They exhaled various scents : the meat was woody and salty, the cheese smelled of fresh milk and butter, while the peppers had a sweeter perfume than one might have anticipated : they had probably been coated in honey.

"Thank you, monsieur La Bière" he said, warmly addressing his once-wingman. The man had acquired no small amount of fame during his daring raids against the Maltese Menace in the Taus. His voice was sure to carry a significant weight, as would any of his questions. It'd be a foolish thing to underestimate him on the grounds of his youthful appearance, and Nivaggioni had often suspected the man was much older than he let on. A sizeable opponent in a debate, then – but he detected no animosity in Antoine's gaze. He liked to think there existed mutual respect between them and he endeavoured to honour this much.

"Indeed, you raise concerns that would be of utmost importance to the honoured and wise businessmen and women gathered here today. I realise the Unione could not have reached its current position without a strong emphasis on choosing its fights and knowing when to keep a low profile. Tell me, then : what has the Unione accomplished in recent years ? What fortune have we amassed ? What fame have we secured for ourselves, for our children ? What guarantees of a better future have we conquered ?"

His tone had gone up. Not quite lashing out, for Nivaggioni seldom did so, but not the gentle, honeyed delivery he was known for, either. As he spoke, his gaze was not confined to La Bière, but embraced the gathering as a whole... Sometimes stopping on those older members he knew for a fact were more than content to sit on their laurels, living off the wealth they had amassed thanks to one big score or other decades ago. The kind of score Nivaggioni had been after, in vain, for a while... Not that he'd ever admit to this.

"I cannot allow the Unione to live this comfortable, easy and ultimately short-lived existence that we seem to have fallen into in recent years, content to watch the Royals bicker with the Republicans, and now with the Sirians, as we keep the Nox flowing and every side as happy as possible. This is not sustainable. What will we do the instant the King turns his regal gaze upon our status quo, and decides that he's had it with our schemes ? Or, should the Sirians defeat him and make it as far as our very home... Do you think they'll let us keep this life we carved for ourselves so long ago ? No ! No, absolutely not. We must prepare for any eventuality, because I tell you ! One day, this conflict will end, and its victors will soon turn their attentions homeward. Our existence is balanced on the sole factor that no side knows how connected we are to the other : a secret, some might say a lie. And those tend to unravel at some point. We might not be there to see it, but our descendants might."

He paused. The atmosphere had grown heavier, the winds had died down. Even the birds seemed affected. For a moment, all was silent. The air was filled with the scents of the maquis : myrtle, thyme and lavander.

The Nivaggioni gardeners' recreation of the Corsican maquis. Decades of work passed from generation to generation to ensure it took hold on this alien soil. It is a matter of great pride to the clan.

"Now, perhaps you can see why I wish to push forward, monsieur La Bière". Nivaggioni's tone had lowered, but the words weren't back to the usual softness just yet. "As I explained in my preamble, this is a unique moment in history. We are at a crossroads. Gallia will soon rule, or she will be defeated. We can keep our destiny tied to hers, and suffer whatever consequences befall us when the reckoning comes. Or we can strike out and carve our own path in the stars, establish ourselves as the central player we were always meant to become. You speak of risk and reward ; I speak of making investments on our futures. The bigger risk, as I see it, is to just let the situation unravel itself. I will not be the spectator of the Unione's eventual isolation and collapse. Not with our history, not with the incredible resources of our people."

He paused long enough to take a sip on his drink, before resuming. "As for your proof... This is the Nivaggioni family villa. As you no doubt have noticed, it was modelled as closely as possible to the old Corsican homes of Earth, complete with our own little maquis". He gestured towards the scented greenery that surrounded them. This is where I was born. You'll find records of it, and the rest of my youth, here."
He nodded to an impeccably dressed young woman not far from him, who brought him an attaché-case. From that, he produced a file, which he personally handed to La Bière, having walked up to him.
"This is the story of the Nivaggioni family. I've sent it in digital form to all of you. You'll find everything there : our humble beginnings as botanists, cooks, cheesemakers... The small political achievements secured by members of the family... And then, my son Baptiste, my first born, who decided he would use the Nivaggioni name for something else than fine gastronomy or mere politics. Using our network of contacts, he attempted to get in the Brigands' bed and tap into their... Dirtier activities."
The Brigands, although good friends to the Unione, tended to push their smuggling activities in much darker places than any Corsican would dare to. There were persistent rumours of people being sold on Brigand bases only to come out as fresh, very expensive organs. Nivaggioni let the Sénateurs, whom he expected were plenty aware of those rumours, figure the rest by themselves before continuing.

A picture from the file of a younger André, likely before he even assumed the name of Nivalgo.

"Naturally, foolish and unexperienced as he was, he was caught by the brave boys in blue. Luckily, they had done such a fine job that he was arrested before he had a chance to go too far, and the courts weren't too harsh on him. He was sent to prison, his mother and I were questioned, and things were left at that. But the damage was done, and the Nivaggioni name was tarnished for a long time. Though I will always feel guilty about these events, his recklessness opened my eyes to my, and my family's possibilities. Why settle for an ordinary life, with nothing else to look forward to than the next month's meager pay, where there were so many opportunities around me, at a hair's length ? At the cost of my... Of quite a few marriages, I set out to build the foundations of what I imagined would be the key to fortune and fame for the Nivaggioni clan. I had to do so in secret... Know when to retreat, I think it is you said, monsieur La Bière ? As José Nivalgo, I was admitted into the Unione Corse. From there, I worked my way up, however I could. And now, here we are, all of us. The foundations are complete, I trust in them, I've even achieved a degree of wealth and you've recognised me as one of your own, for which I will forever be grateful. But I want more. The clan deserves more. And to secure that, I must ensure that the Unione itself gets more, too. Otherwise, as I've explained earlier, I see no future for our organisation. And that means no future for my clan, either. Picture me as in a co-dependent relationship, if you will".

A picture from the file of Baptiste Nivaggioni during his trial, which received significant media attention. Times were simpler back then and public attention wasn't as sollicited as it is now.

With that, he grinned as he took hold of his drink again, only to notice it was already empty. Fatigue had set in, the momentary flash of anxiety had drained him somewhat. It was time to replenish.

"Now, honoured friends..." The puzzle was back, as was the measured, smooth tones.
"Let us enjoy the delicacies I had prepared for us by honest Corsican grandmothers ! I'll happily answer more of your questions on a full stomach. Let us drink to our continued fortunes, may they ever grant us the greatest pleasure in this life : a proper meal".

Aware of the unspoken rules in such situations, he went ahead and picked the first toast. Donkey dry sausage on rye bread. Delicious.

---

Feedback, insults, marriage proposals and declarations of fealty

If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.

[Exdeathevn]

Dressed in his standard formal attire styled in Royalist fashion for appearances, he had arrived amidst the last group of Senateurs entering the villa, deciding not to stand out significantly amongst the early birds eager to share the typical banter, gossip and cuisine presented, offering a greeting here and there to friends and acquaintances alike. A few hints of conversation suggested the reason for this event had yet to be announced, and he carefully skirted discussing business matters too early, intent on enjoying the occasion with an air of calm.
Eventually taking post near a window seat to admire the view, discussion around him began to cease as the host, at one end of the room, called for everyone's' attention.

José Nivalgo's speech raised some interesting points, several of which he shared the same views on. More surprising than anything however was how Nivalgo maintained his flow, going so far as to suggest a course of action. While the idea of staking a commercial claim on Bretonia caused a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, as Nivalgo continued he found himself reassessing his opinion of the man. Nivalgo had even taken steps to pave the groundwork for communication with potential allies in advance of the meeting, with promising results.

For a brief moment, he frowned at the mention of Ricard's presumed retirement; While that matter had been shrouded from most, he had carefully neglected to offer any insight or opinion on that issue. A brief scan over the crowd showed no other present had any inkling of Ricard's disappearance - save one glance in his direction? Perhaps he had imagined it, though the individual in question had generally kept a cold shoulder between them.

Returning his attention to Nivalgo as the speech began to wind down, the revelation of both Nivalgo - rather, André Nivaggioni's true identity, and his aspiration for the Parrain's seat caught him completely by surprise. The sudden silence was replaced by the beginnings of whispered shock before Tribun La'Biere stepped forth to put a voice to the concerns of many present. André responded well, both in buying a moment's thought and in responding. He could see that André had considered well not only the Unione's future, but also the potential future of the Kingdom at large, and what effects it may have.
As for the information offered regarding the Nivaggioni family, some if it was already known to him. The Baptiste arrest he had heard about second-hand from his friend the Commandant, who had been in the vicinity long before attaining said rank.

André's expression assumed it's usual form, and as the toast was made, Tribun Treiz d'Keur leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his wine and began to ponder the implications. Parrain Nivaggioni would be a mouthful to say aloud, but aside from that and how sudden this turn of events had transpired, he was troubled to find no immediate downsides to the idea. Ricard and his predecessor, Marquise, would slip farther from the thoughts of those present, the Unione as a whole would solidify it's direction once more, and a visible leader would take the reigns. It was certainly an appealing concept, one many of the senateurs were beginning to approve of at a glance. Tribun La'Biere's questioning appeared to have worked in André's favor, and thus far no-one else had raised any concern.

After another sip of wine and a tasting from one of the meat platters, Treiz steepled his hands in thought. Perhaps while others discussed the potential of a new Parrain, he could gauge the thoughts of another Tribun, despite the presumed glance earlier.
"Madame Durand, might I ask your humble opinion on events thus far? I fear I have yet to reach a conclusive decision, despite the convincing arguments presented." He glanced once more in André Nivaggioni's direction, as others around him continued to dine and discuss amongst each other. "And, to be quite honest, the revelation of Nival... ahem, of André's patronym, has surprised even me."

---

Casual Flier: Returning Player. Forum-PM me if you require my attention

[Teerin]

Chloe had been having a good day; a productive meeting with an informative contact on Vendome, followed by a pleasant flight to Marseille, appeared to be the beginnings of would remain a good day and conclude as such. Alas, as discussions amongst various Senateurs broke out following Parrain-hopeful not-Nivalgo's rebuttal to Tribun La'Biere, and her other peer sitting adjacent to her steepled his hands and subtly cleared his throat to speak, she came to the grim realization that in fact it could not possibly remain a good day. The perturbed lady ran through her thoughts on the events leading up to now, as a means to confirm that this was indeed happening.

She was pleasantly surprised to hear, a couple days ago, of the announcement of still-Tribun not-Nivalgo's call for an emergency meeting of the Corsican family senate, a few weeks ahead of the replacement vote for the recently retired Tribun Poitoux. While urgent and unplanned meetings could wreak havoc with a reckless lack of forethought, the break in routine was almost as refreshing as the suspense of figuring out what the topic would be. Normally, the full senate met one month, then the Tribuns met with the Parrain in a closed session the next. A satisfactory rotation, but once lacking novelty.

She was distressfully appalled to see, upon her arrival, that he thought the whole institutional body could fit comfortably inside his villa's sprawling garden. An obnoxiously large oval table had been set up in its middle, with lavish armchairs surrounding it and many more cheap folding chairs hastily set up surrounding them. Even though she had arrived early enough to take one of the cushier seats, she instead chose one of the others. In a situation like this, in her mind, excess comfort led to excess confidence. On the bright side, at least the acoustics were mildly adequate.

She was inwardly outraged to learn, during the opening statement, that he had been operating under a pseudonym much like the general who she much despised. Maybe it was because he picked a less obviously false name as the leader of their paramilitary force did, that she did not think to question it earlier ... Chloe made a mental note to conduct organization-wide background checks, starting tomorrow. This is getting out of hand; now there are two of them! Living lives of lies, building careers under false pretenses and ulterior motives, and thinking they could get away with it because there are bigger issues at hand.

She was nearly enraged at herself, despite simultaneously justifying that there was nothing she could do, for letting this fiasco happen again. Though however disgruntled she felt on the inside, Chloe chose not to show it: she hid her scowl with her hand resting atop her chin in a contemplative manner. If she played along, kept her enemies closer ...

Her thoughts were interrupted by d'Keur's obvious internal contemplation on what to say coming to an end. He spoke, ending with a statement she felt was a little pandering, " ... and, to be quite honest, the revelation of Nival... ahem, of André's patronym, has surprised even me."

She mused for a second on what he said. Carefully avoiding giving an opinion so as to gauge how I feel? Awful diplomatic of him. He might be as reticent of the situation as I, or simply waiting to 'agree' with me to stay neutral. There's no doubt he'll just report this all to Arek, and he might even wait to form a stance until then, just to align with what his friend thinks. To be fair, Treiz has a mind of his own, but survival in the good graces of the Armed Command can be a counterbalance to that.

Mademoiselle Durand countered, "It is up to the Senat as a whole to vote on this. While, as Tribuns, we each have a certain amount of stopping power, we could let this play out. I am personally quite curious to know if he is eager and bold enough to demand we vote now, or if he will wait until the next regular full session for us to decide. After all, we shall have to vote not just for one Tribun to replace Poitoux, but a second for his spot as well."

Pausing to pick up a piece of strange cheese from a large dish that was being passed around, she continued in a lower voice, "Her retirement, I fear, may be more untimely than Lucas Ricard's ... we are surrounded by many unknowns; people, motives, and movements alike. How do you fit in?"

As he began to respond, she leaned forward to grab some fancily-cut crackers to go with the aforementioned dairy item. Odd cheese, odd crackers? Perfect fit for the day ... interesting, but leaving much to be desired.

---

---

"You see what your knowledge tells you you're seeing. ... how, what you think the universe is, and how you react to that in everything you do, depends on what you know. And when that knowledge changes, for you, the universe changes. And that is as true for the whole of society as that is for the individual. We all are what we know, today. What we knew yesterday, was different; and so were we."
- James Burke, The Day the Universe Changed (1985)

[Exdeathevn]

Looking back towards Chloe as she responded, Treiz gradually lowered his hands before taking up his glass again.
"It is up to the Senat as a whole to vote on this. While, as Tribuns, we each have a certain amount of stopping power, we could let this play out. I am personally quite curious to know if he is eager and bold enough to demand we vote now, or if he will wait until the next regular full session for us to decide. After all, we shall have to vote not just for one Tribun to replace Poitoux, but a second for his spot as well. Her retirement, I fear, may be more untimely than Lucas Ricard's ..."

Treiz considered her response, as he glanced back towards André. Embarrassingly, Poitoux had slipped his mind, but Chloe was right; A replacement Tribun would need to be nominated and voted for in addition to André if his bid for the Parrain seat were to succeed. Two more Tribuns rising from the Senateur seats would open up two more Senateur seats in turn, but those were somewhat easier to fill from participating families.


"... we are surrounded by many unknowns; people, motives, and movements alike. How do you fit in?"
Chloe's tone and question left him puzzled, as he pondered a response for a second and misreading the intention behind her words.

"I would seek Advancement and Stability for the Unione, as the two go hand-in-hand, but I have no reason to seek a position as Parrain myself. At a guess, he simply hoped to make his intentions known prior to the next official meeting, particularly if he plans to succeed. It would be foolish to expect an immediate vote in his own home; Some may see such a move as dictatorial, and the seat would forever be out of his reach in that case." He paused to enjoy another sip from his wine glass, taking a moment to gaze in André's direction.
"I suppose the seat needs to be filled, at least. If he cannot convince me by the end of today's events I will have to ponder this further in my own time. After all," he continued, raising his glass to his lips again with a sigh. "I imagine ours may be the more favorable votes he would seek to win over."

Draining the remainder of his glass, he motioned one of the attendants for a refill, gazing out of the window as conversation around him continued. He would have to pace himself on the wine after this next glass though before his next flight aboard the Livreur. The only thing to ponder next, would be who André decided to approach individually if he planned to do any more convincing or gauge opinions on his own.

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Casual Flier: Returning Player. Forum-PM me if you require my attention