An audience at the Office of Elder Buonocore

[Madvillain]

Sephardi Villa - Planet Crete

Nestled in the heart of the Sephardi compound, high in the rugged mountains north of Nova Magerit, stands the heavily fortified Sephardi Villa. Though "villa" may be too modest a term, for it is more akin to a palace. Should one be fortunate enough to traverse its grand, opulent halls, overflowing with treasures looted from all corners of Sirius, they might eventually arrive at the inner sanctum. There, on opposing wings of the building, lie the offices of the Consul and Proconsul Elders, each locked in an eternal stare across the penthouse court of the villa.

To the right is the drawing room, which leads to the Consul’s office and private quarters, currently occupied by Elder Cesar Gutierrez. Yet, despite his name on the door, he is seldom present, preferring to spend much of his time aboard Memoria, the Brotherhood’s flagship. To the left, a mirror image awaits, though this wing is the domain of Elder Juanez Buonocore. The hallway leading to his office is far more extravagant, with marble statues, stuffed felines that once roamed the gardens, golden chandeliers, and bowls of fresh fruit lining the path. At the far end, behind a marble statue that seems to depict Buonocore himself "inspecting" a lady, a grand, imposing door stands ready to welcome any who dare knock. Buonocore's stance on audiences is simple: if one can make it this far, they are welcome to attend his office hours. Three days a week, he holds court here, often inviting individuals for private meetings.

Knock on the door twice and wait for the doors to open for an audience.

[Elven]

Pedro de Alvarado, barely awakened, entered the Sephardi villa gates and looked around. It was not the first time he was here, but the sight of the villa's arts and exquisite decor always made him smile - inspired him, even. This way of life, it was all too familiar for his family. And soon, he shall have this life back, one way or another...

De Alvarado yawned, attracting attention of another man in the lobby who was well occupied with neural net surfing.

"Ah, seems you are here for the audience too, hermano?" - the man smirked at the newcomer. The smell of some kind of drugs was in the air. He reached out his hand, "Have never met you in person other than in space. Estebano Bandera".

"Hola, fellow soldato. De Alvarado." - Pedro shook hands with Bandera. - "Is el Presidente here already?"

"Haven't seen him just yet, the office hours are just about to begin. I think we should grab a coffee and something to eat, I have a gut feeling that this will be a long talk" - Estebano turned away from a screen on his smartphone, yawned and pointed to the Consul's office. "You go ahead, I got a few things to deal with here. Grab me an americano. Much gracias".

"Mierda... You are doing quite a lot of ordering down here, cabron. You mind your business, "centurion".

Bandera seemed completely immersed in his smartphone. "What a moron... Another time, another place" was de Alvarado's thinking.

Are those even real tacos?

After ordering a plate full of a different variety of tacos, he went into the empty Consul's office and grabbed a cappuccino for himself and a espresso for el Presidente. He smelled the horribly overroasted coffee and after a moment of consideration, he opened a flask of whiskey from his jacket and poured some into both containers.

"Get up, you damn slughead. It is time".

[Madvillain]

The soft chime of three small bells rang out, carrying the familiar melody of "La Cucaracha" through the waiting room. As the automatic doors slid open, the tune lingered in the air, blending with the faint scent of tobacco, rum and aged leather. Beyond the threshold, at the far end of a gilded chamber, Elder Juanez Buonocore lounged in a grandiose, oversized chair. Behind him loomed an enormous portrait of himself, gazing down with an air of silent approval.

Unlike his usual rigid uniform, today he wore flowing, informal robes. His posture was uncharacteristically relaxed, one leg draped over the armrest as he idly twirled a small spoon in anticipation of his espresso. His expression was one of amusement, eyes lazily sweeping over the two men before him. Between them sat a polished coffee table, its surface adorned with an ornate silver tray. As Buonocore gestured with a casual flick of his wrist, his meaning remained ambiguous: was he inviting them to sit or instructing them to place their offerings upon the table? It hardly mattered. The two men took their seats and placed the food and espresso on the table.

Buonocore, bending forward with a slight grin on his face took a slow sip of his espresso before finally breaking the silence.

"Estebano, Pedro," he greeted, "I have summoned you here because you are making quite the name for yourselves. Sí, good things reach my ears, and now, it is time for us to speak of your futures within the Brotherhood."

He leaned forward slightly, placing his cup back onto its saucer with a soft clink. His gaze flicked to Estebano first.

"You, muchacho, seem rather confident in the cockpit. A natural talent, no? But I believe there is more to you than just skill behind the controls. You are a big hombre, sí, but you do not strike me as all muscle and no brains. Correcto?"

He let the words hang for a moment before shifting his attention to Pedro.

"And you, I hear you have a talent for trade, for numbers and negotiation. A sharp mind, indeed. Such skills are invaluable within our Brotherhood." A smirk played on his lips as he leaned back once more, his fingers idly drumming against the armrest. "Tell me, caballeros, where do you see yourselves in the coming years? What ambitions drive you?" He paused before adding with a sly grin, "And... would either of you care for a taco?"

The air between them grew thick with anticipation, the weight of opportunity resting upon the shoulders of the two men seated before the Elder. The day was young, but its course had already begun to shift.

---

Baila Morena | Toilet Trouble | Elder Presidente[TBH] | The Titan Combat Manual | Confession
♰ Join the Corsair Brotherhood ♰

[Elven]

Bandera took a bite of likely "his" "taco", while de Alvarado stroked his chin, somewhat confused by the question. He took a sip of coffee and stretched out in his chair, gazing into the window.

"Why, this is just the question the Brotherhood recruiter asked me, el Presidente. My family abandoned me, I needed a new one - and I found it in the Brotherhood, with its camaraderie, expertise and a wide array of political contacts. But then again, how do they say? The action is the juice. I revel in a well executed operation. Speaking of which, I actually have a few simple ideas of my own, which would be of a certain use to Imperio. I do not have much experience in planning the operations yet, but if you would have me join the planning sessions, I would be most delighted".

"And you?" - El Presidente nodded at Bandera and took a bite of his own roll.

Bandera put down "his" taco, rubbed his hands and realized he does not have his own cup of coffee.

"To reach the rich is what I want, senor. I want to save up enough to plant a Wollemia nobilis cretanus, build a palazzo and adopt a Kusarian girl. Isn't that what every man must do, anyway? As for the crafts, I need a guiding light, I am open to the most of opportunities. Just don't keep me in one place for too long, I am impatient and I get bored quickly".

[Madvillain]

Buonocore slapped his palm flat on the coffee table, rattling the silver tray with a sharp clink. “Ambición, resourcefulness,… y huevos!” he declared, eyes alight with amusement. “Two hombres with fire in their bellies, yet the flames burn in different hues. Bravo!”

His gaze locked onto Estebano first.

“Muchacho, you have a history of building things.... ships, ideas, even dreams of green fields where none should grow. There is value in that. The Brotherhood needs men who can create just as well as they destroy, visionaries!” He leaned forward, expression keen. “I hereby promote you to Decurion del Escudo. You will report to Centurion Julio Perez, he will keep you busy. You will oversee nuestro trade, imports, exports, shipyard work… maybe even a little agriculture, sí? Of course, all of it managerial work. You will lead a team of muchachos who make sure our Imperio does not collapse under its own weight.”

His eyes flicked to Pedro, and a knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“You, hombre, have the tongue of a gambler and the instincts of a shark. That deal at Halifax was impressive. And you did more than just trade; you turned credits into information. This, muchacho, is more valuable than mere riches. You, señor, are dastardly and shameless in the best way.” He spread his hands wide. “I hereby promote you to Decurion del Bastión. Report to Centurion Fidel Ruiz, he will make good use of you. You will infiltrate, influence, bend ears in the halls of power, and....” he chuckled, “if that fails, remind them why Corsair knives are the sharpest in Sirius. You too will have a small team under your command. Ruiz will explain the details soon enough.”

He leaned back, lifting his espresso cup in a casual salute. “And caballeros, when you tire of your new responsibilities? Bueno, the arena, patrols, and combat missions will always be there to keep you entertained. Remember, you are Brotherhood operatives first and foremost, warriors above all else.” His grin widened. “And of course, with rank comes privilegios. But I’m sure you already know that, no?”