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[plutokrates]

Report Concerning Dulcinean Operations in Tau Cephei

[Strictly viewed OOC]

As instructed, I am returning to Dulcinea, following the successful completion of all tasks assigned to me in the Tau Cephei galaxy. 

A response has been received for each loan offer to the nations affected by Imperator Llewellyn ap Serenmor’s disastrous foreign policy. In total, 15,720,000,000,000 standard has been dispersed, and we expect 16,034,400,000,000 standard in returns if all nations are timely with their repayments. The largest offered loan, to Ho-Kla’vess, has been denied. Though this is upsetting, as the slow recovery of the Kla’Vess people is an obvious problem, I suggest no further action. The current regrowth of the Kla’Vess economy is projected to continue for the next several months until the market stabilizes at a temporary post-crisis equilibrium. Other affected nations which refused Dulcinean aid are projected to experience a quick recovery.

The new Imperator Gwenllian ap Serenmor is not likely to pose a threat to Dulcinean operations. She is suspicious of Dulcinean activity, but for the time being has far more immediate concerns than our business. In the event of a conflict of interests, an economic boon is unlikely to influence her decisions. An overt threat is, as well, liable to cause an unwanted escalation. The Annwfn are prideful, and I have been unable to judge whether she will allow her pride to carry a large personnel cost. Therefore, I have decided against the deployment of a seed. Security on satellite colonies (i.e. those outside of Dantyllew IV) has been determined to be insufficient to prevent future deployment of biological weaponry in the event that such drastic measures are necessitated.

Internal dissent is a key threat posed to Imperator Gwenllian ap Serenmor’s reign, and as such, I have followed the suggestion of our Lady E.M. Valle. The replacement of select Annwfn officials and employees with Dulcinean operatives has concluded seamlessly, and it is extremely unlikely that it was discovered, given the tumultuous state of Annwfn affairs. Previous internal operations have, as well, been completely closed. All contact with bribed Annwfn officials has ceased. Several, who were deemed threats (albeit minor ones), have been disposed of by the Lady Valle. As described in her report, it will likely be suspected that they fled to avoid trial. The witch-hunts for corrupt officials are unlikely to uncover further information.

All operations in Annwfn space are now on standby. I recommend no further action, unless the Imperator decides to make the first move. Our economic interests in Tau Cephei have been secured, and her empire is no longer of any concern to us—provided that the terms you discussed with the Imperator are upheld.

Ari Verrus Agent of Foreign Affairs

[plutokrates]

Do not let his arrogance fool you into thinking him incompetent. Of the Agents, only two scored better than him in the most rigorous of intellectual examinations: Eisler, our Agent of Warfare, and Verrus, our Agent of Foreign Affairs. Marcellus is, by all accounts, a genius. He is, however, also very brash. Genius cannot be taught, merely drawn out. Manners, however, are a different story.

[plutokrates]

Marcellus is young. Arrogant and inexperienced. He has the aptitude for a phenomenal diplomat, but lacks the class required. This shall be a painful lesson, but not a fruitless one.

[plutokrates]

"I'd like to see you try. Really."

And there it was. The answer he wanted. Certainly not an answer Dick would like, and likely one that she's going to regret down the line. But his job here was done. He wondered for a moment just who Dick would assign to her, next. Guess it depends on just what she meant by 'purging corruption.'

"Funny you should say that. Gods. Well. You'll be answering to one, soon enough. Ta-ta, honey."

Marcellus didn't envy her. Gods, huh? He wondered just how real her gods were. He wasn't sure even gods could help her if she was unlucky enough to draw in Eisler. Whatever the case, it looked like she was still cleaning things up after Llewellyn's assassination. Putting Dulcinean ire on her plate didn't really sound like a great decision, but that didn't concern him.

"And...good luck."

New Management

[plutokrates]

theokrates:

Her expression was entirely deadpan. She knew OF Dick from files Llewellyn had laying about, but hadn’t really done any extensive reading on him. Home turf came first, as far as she was concerned, and once her rule was firmly concreted it would be worth looking into outside forces. “That would be telling. He’s, what, some sort of business mogul? You took the time to dress up to the nines and impose an audience with me just to let me know the actual important person in your outfit is invested here? You could have just told me that over the chat, you impossible cabbage.”

Her new-found incredulous and mildly insulted look said all it really needed to. “This - one moment.” She pulled open a drawer and began leafing through a rather thick folder, pulling out an image of Dick that seemed to be snapped from a rather close passerby as he chatted with some no doubt important figure. She blinked a few times, unimpressed, before turning the picture towards Marcellus. “This guy? The only thing I could see him greasing under Llewellyn are door hinges. No one but Llewellyn made it in this empire without Llewellyn’s approval. I don’t think you understand the gravity of the office of Imperator, Marcellus.”

“You know, you could have just asked him for a picture.”

Marcellus exhaled. This was clearly going nowhere, and it wasn’t nearly as fun as he thought it’d be. He wanted to just up and leave, perhaps leaving behind some sort of cryptic, ominous message—but Dick wouldn’t be very pleased if he did that, and as much as he didn’t want to hear any more of this, he would much prefer chatting with this boring woman to Dick’s anger. Cabbage? Really? He had such high expectations for her, and the best she could do was cabbage?

“No. No, no, I think you’re misunderstanding something, here. I’m not here because of what I want to tell you. I’m here because I want you to tell me how you’re going to deal with this mess you made.”

He leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on her desk. He didn’t really care what her response was; so long as he got one, he’d be fine. This girl would be someone else’s problem.

“The market’s still reeling. Do you have any idea how much money Dick’s lost because of your little murder party? You just had to make a big fuss over killing him, didn’t you? Couldn’t have settled this in a more delicate way? I mean, look at what’s happened. We’ve lost money. You’ve lost money. This doesn’t really strike me as being a good outcome for anyone, definitely not him...speaking of which, really? You’re gonna brag to me about how untouchable a man who got assassinated was?

“And you know what? Dick doesn’t even care about the money you’ve cost him. He could have sent me here to demand something out of you. Instead, he just wants to know about how you’re gonna move forward. How you’re looking to stabilize the economy you’ve just ruined. If you’re gonna...I don’t know, stop bombing his business partners? There’s a lot of questions you’ve gotta answer, honey. But most importantly...

“He wants to know whether or not you’re gonna be a problem when it comes to him expanding his reach out here.”

New Management

[plutokrates]

theokrates:

She offered a light-hearted laugh to his reply, taking a seat opposite him across a rather handsome, in her humble opinion, dark wooden desk.

“Please, you haven’t begun to see formal. This is just where I work. Quiet and sufficiently out of the way. As for the beverage, since you mentioned alcohol doesn’t affect you, I thought it’d be best to not waste good wine if we can’t even enjoy it together.” He’s welcome to feign displeasure all he likes - House Llachar owns the winery that produces Rheiddiol Sweet, and they host the unquestionably best vinters in the empire. Nothing could knock her confidence on that. Instead, she simply pretended she didn’t notice and steepled her fingers together, elbows at rest on the arms of her chair. “Go on. I’m not familiar with Richard.”

“You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

The smirk returned, but his demeanor was hardly lighthearted anymore. Did she really not know anything about Dulcinea? A burgeoning power growing right under her fingertips, one that until the assassination of Llewellyn was making its moves on the very market he dominated, and she wasn’t even aware of its existence? She had to be playing dumb...right? Dick’s ego wasn’t exactly fragile; he would, in fact, prefer for the nations of his galactic cluster (and its neighbors) to underestimate his clout. Marcellus, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so prepared for Dick’s name to not hold any weight with this woman.

Well. She’d come to learn, soon. He was going to be the one getting under her skin, not the other way around.

“Guess I can’t expect everyone to do their homework. He’s someone with a...vested interest in this part of the cluster, ever since your last braindead leader went on a bombing spree. Don’t get me wrong; we don’t miss Llewy. But when he was still in charge of this place, Dick decided to grease some of your neighbors’ palms. See if he could get enough influence over him to reel him in, since having someone that trigger happy in control of an empire like yours ain’t ever a good thing.

“Now, that ain’t necessary any more—hopefully—but we’ve got too much invested in your side of the woods to pull out, now. So, if you’re not familiar with us, you better get to know us soon. ‘Cause we’re your new neighbors.”

New Management

[plutokrates]

theokrates:

She quietly thanked the gods that her hands were full - the appeal of potentially shaking his hand was somewhere below being in exile on her list of enjoyable pastimes. Needless to say, quite low. She offered him a glass accompanied by a respectfully deep nod in lieu of hand contact. “Marcellus! If I’d known you were going to be modest enough to dress down for my sake, I’d have worn something more appropriate. Thank you, nonetheless. You wanted to talk business, correct? I hope you’ll forgive the scant display, but this is hardly a public ceremony. I prefer to skip to brass tacks, if you don’t mind.” The Annwfn in her showed through her face. Despite the kind enough smile, she seemed just as vaguely unimpressed with his garish ensemble as those in the street were. The ever proud, ever critical space elves.

Ooh. Already biting? He could tell this girl was going to be fun.

“I guess it’s a good thing I came here, then. If this is what flies for formal in Dantyllew, maybe it’s best you aren’t seen in Dulcinea. What’s wrong with spicing up private meetings, anyways? What, are you guys a Kool-Aid in a wine glass kind of people? Ooh, speaking of Kool-Aid...”

He took the drink, then took a seat. Whatever it was she brought out didn’t taste half-bad, but like hell was he gonna let her know that. Upon taking a sip, he feigned a disdainful face at the glass, and set it down. 

“Well, I did say I wasn’t picky. Not here for the drinks, anyways. You’re right. I came here to talk business.”

His face, kept in a smug little smirk up until this point, suddenly became far more serious. He was going to have his fun here, certainly. But he had a job to do, and Agents don’t come back empty-handed.

“Now, I’m not sure how much you know about the economy ‘sides what your advisors tell you, but I’m gonna guess Dantyllew isn’t stupid enough to let someone be their leader who doesn’t have a goddamn clue what’s going on. So I don’t think I need to tell you what’s happening in the galactic market thanks to your little stunt, and why old man Dick ain’t too happy about it.”

New Management

[plutokrates]

The Council bickers, yet again. This time, I shall not be their voice of reason. They are to lead this city without my guidance, one day. It is time to see whether they are capable of behaving like adults...

...or if their ranks need to be pruned.

[plutokrates]

My diplomat should be reporting to me soon with news surrounding the state of the new ruling body of Dantyllew IV.

I expect that he, too, shall not disappoint me.

[plutokrates]

It goes to show. Even if you lack expectations, you’re still bound to be disappointed.

[plutokrates]

Why would I expect this place to be anything but dull?

[plutokrates]

theokrates:

Gwenllian is informed by orbital customs that her Dulcinean guest had arrived, and later from reception that he was escorted to the Convent by the Imperial Guard without incident. Good. He should have been shown to the express elevator and thus arrive at her office at any moment. With a last minute smoothing-down of her ankle-length, iridescent black cheongsam-esque dress and a pour of Rheiddiol Sweet, a pleasantly fruity and comparatively lightly alcoholic wine, she is prepared. Standing in front of her desk, a drink in each hand, she awaits the arrival of Marcellus. Admittedly, not something she relished, but nobody said leadership was fraught with pleasant people.

Her office, along with the rest of the Convent, is coolly decorated in blues and silvers, reflecting House Serenmor’s current ruling status. It’s not a room for hosting events, naturally, but for a few people conducting business? Just the right size. Two will fit nicely. Assuming he isn’t weirdly large.

Well. This was certainly a welcome party. The elves didn’t fuck around with security, it seemed. Flanked with what were, for all intents and purposes, two-legged tanks, Marcellus happily made his way to the Convent. He had to wonder if this was a new feature of the Serenmor’s reign, or if Gwen had somehow staged an assassination even with these guards surrounding her brother. What kind of manpower — or stupid overconfidence on his part — would that have taken? 

The guards were, of course, unnecessary. As an Agent of Dulcinea, Marcellus could, unfortunately, take care of himself. In fact, he was somewhat disappointed that none of the glaring bystanders could have tried to make a scene if they tried. Not as disappointed as he was, however, when he saw the pitiful arrangements that greeted him when he arrived at Gwenllian’s office. Well. At least the girl was pretty.

Already, he could practically taste her displeasure. Oh, she was composed enough, sure. But that didn’t matter to Marcellus. No matter how well you try to hide it, he knows just how much he’s getting under your skin. As sleazy as he was, he had a job for a reason — he’s perfect at making leaders make fools out of themselves, or baiting them into making mistakes. He knew she didn’t want to shake his hand. So, naturally, he made the offer.

“Gwenllian! You sure look lovely, tonight.”

New Management

[plutokrates]

New Management

Dulcinea, as a whole, exudes arrogance. At its very core, the Dulcinean identity is set in the belief that to be Dulcinean is to be better than your peers. It’s no surprise, then, that among its highest-ranking officials are those that’d make Tony Stark look modest by comparison.

All of them, still, hate Marcellus. Not even Dick’s most droning, self-indulgent ideological monologue could compare to how downright infuriating Marcellus is. The very definition of a haughty prick, he comes across as a textbook example of an idiot who rode to success on the backs of his wealthy parents. Unfortunately, the universe wasn’t kind enough to make him stupid. And so, instead of fading into irrelevance, or running in the Republican primaries, he landed a position as one of the most important figures in Quintessence’s sphere of influence: the Diplomatic Agent of Dulcinea.

He didn’t know what to expect from the Imperator. She seemed fine enough when they spoke briefly, but that was in a public forum. Everyone puts on a face for the public. He wondered, briefly, how she’d talk to him once they were in private. But mostly, he thought about the spread they’d put out for him. Would they put out a spread? What sort of drinks would they have? What’s the decor like? How many shit-eating stares would he get, sauntering over to the palace? 

He shrugged as he looked out over the landscape of Dantyllew IV. Only one way to find out. The place looked nice enough. Not the brand of Dulcinean beauty he’d become accustomed to, but it was charming. For now, he didn’t think about the mission. About the subjects Dick instructed him to breach with the new Imperator. That’d come later, after he was done thoroughly judging her for the last-minute preparations she would have to make for his arrival.

[plutokrates]

He...bombed... I'm truly sorry, but there's no way I can take this man seriously. I must pay him a visit. I have to see what sort of nation this megalomaniacal abbot is running.

plutokrates replied to your post: Of course. This is the guy that straight up bombed…

…I’m sorry, what?

He bombed a city for the url. That’s why Shik’vess doesn’t have it anymore.

[plutokrates]

Oh, please. I would not consider that even remotely close to an apology.

[plutokrates]

Now, I'm not endorsing the suggestion, but killing a political figure hardly requires war. Eisler's job would be far more difficult if it did.

[plutokrates]

Are you certain that isn't just a phenomenon around these parts? I've never heard the term applied before by anyone but a human, and I've been around for a while.

@plutokrates in my experience yes. way more than you would expect. its wormed its way into many different languages and is just generally accepted im honestly assuming humans just held up some counsel with fancy guns and demanded it i would not put it past them