12-22-2017, 01:37 AM
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.
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.