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[IC] A Board Meeting

#1

Chiavere, Sartoria

It was not for nothing that Chiavere had long been called the Città Lucente. If the north was known for its fondness of traditional towns and the south was known for its love of nature, the east was known for its development of industry and technologies, and Chiavere was no less than the shining beacon at the centre of all that. It was the city to which every young graduate looked when thinking of making their own future, the city of which everyone thought when talking about the height of opulence in Sartoria, not only for those fortunate enough to be born there, but also for the countless who had made their way there from the various realms. It was, in short, the ultimate land of opportunities.

It was also a cultural melting pot. Its politics were dominated by the Social Progressives, but beyond mere policy stances, Chiavere was a place where one could find something from even the smallest realm, be that cultural performances, exotic cuisine, souvernis or even something as simple as a food stand. In the past three decades, Chiavere had developed a lucrative tourism industry, taking advantage of its multiculturality to promote itself under the wildly popular abroad, though not so much in the other realms, Sartoria in One City. This had been a goal for the city government, and one on which locals took great pride, but it mattered little to the hundreds of companies that occupied the various skyscrapers in the business district or to the hundreds of obscure think tanks and associations that had their offices in Chiavere.

Mario Arcelli was a member of one such association. It lacked any definite structure, and very few knew it even existed, but he took pride in the fact that he had recently been invited to seat in the meetings of the senior leadership. He always thought himself important, and at least to the public eye he certainly was. He was one of the wealthiest people in his realm, founder of a very influential company, with easy access to the leadership of his realm and arguably those of others as well. Then again, he knew as well as anyone that power and wealth were not necessarily all that it took to climb to the top of the association. He had never met them, but he knew there were others who owed their positions to the skills they had displayed in the service of their common cause. Knowing what little he knew of the association, it was an unsettling thought to imagine what kind of skills they would have needed to display to reach the higher circles.

As he walked along Via della Chiave, one of the most important in the city, he thought of all that had transpired to get him to where he was, on his way to his first senior meeting as part of an association whose existence he had not even known ten years earlier. Then he was a wealthy undergraduate student, on his final year in university, planning his future as a successful business leader, someone who would have enough time to go on extended vacations and pleasure trips. He would go to Porto Centenio every couple of months, perhaps Selene or Noveaux every other year. Things had changed the year after he graduated, when he started working on postgraduate options. He had come across something that had changed him for good, something that had changed his goals in life, from personal pleasure to something much different, which even he struggled to understand at first.

It was better not to dwell on it. That was all in the past, and he had to focus on the future now. Nine years after first making contact with the association, he had finally joined the senior leadership, or at least had taken the first step towards true senior leadership. As he reached a tall building, one of many skyscrapers scattered throughout Chiavere, and entered the lobby, he thought of how much he had done to reach this point, so much that he had done to set the wheels in motion, and briefly smiled at the thought of all that would follow. Once in the lift he followed the protocol that he had been taught days before, and soon enough he has moving towards a floor whose existence few knew.

He exited towards an empty hallway, and upon reaching the end he turned right, where he found a locked door. He knocked on the door, as he had been instructed to do, and a few seconds after someone opened it.

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#2

A middle aged man opened the door, motioning for him to enter. Mario knew the man, who was in his late fifties and wore what was arguably an old fashioned grey suit, which made the fact that he was answering the door even more unbelievable. Still, he stepped in and felt as the door closed behind him. He waited until the man gestured towards an empty chair, to one side of the table at the centre of the room, and he sat on it. A conversation was ongoing, seemingly undisturbed by his entrance, to the point that nobody had even looked at him as he took his seat, so he instead looked around the room, paying special attention to identifying who was also in the room. He knew some, all insanely powerful people, whose public reputations made it difficult to imagine they would be involved in the association, and yet here they were. Others were less known to him, but based on their interventions during the discussion, they were well aware of the issue at hand, and had clearly earned their right to be at the table.

"Let us move to the penultimate item on the agenda, then." Said the woman who apparently led the discussion. "You may have noticed that we have a new associate. He has been involved in our association for over ten years, displaying exceptional dedication to our cause in a variety of ways, and for that he was invited to join this table. I have no doubt that, in future meetings, he will prove just why that decision was right."

It was obvious that that last sentence was less of an encouragement and more of a threat, an invitation to even dare not prove his worth, a warning not to put her into ridicule for inviting an incompetent associate to the table. He took the threat for what it was, and discreetly nodded at her.

"I will brief our new associate on table protocol after our meeting concludes. Until then, let us discuss the last item on the agenda." She turned to the second woman on her right, a middle aged woman with sunglasses, in spite of the low illumination in the room. "What do we know of the criminal investigation?"

"There have been few developments since I distributed my last communication. My contact has confirmed that the investigations are at a loss as to the nature of the crimes, and of the five officials who were close to the truth, only one remains convinced of their original theory. If nothing changes, and my contact will ensure that nothing does, the investigation will be shelved within the next week at the most."

The leader looked to the immediate right of the woman who had just spoken, where a tall man, roughly the same age as Mario, but somewhat slimmer, sat in silence. "What of the impending publicity campaign?"

"All the flyers are ready, and I have spoken to my counterpart in charge of the criminal acts. He will ensure that the criminals leave the signals that were agreed upon on our earlier meeting. The first hints will be revealed on February 4, unless a new directive is issued."

"Does any associate have anything to contribute on the matter?" All remained silent, seemingly in agreement with what had already been explained. "Good. I am most encouraged by these developments. We shall meet on the afternoon of February 4, before the publicly campaign begins. We will assess its progress then, and issue further directives on the steps to take forward when we know how the public and the government react."

They then rose and performed a procedure. It was highly illegal, and nearly everyone in Sartoria would be horrified to see the people in that room perform it, but in the privacy that it offered, it was their way of signaling the end of the meeting. Mario approached the woman who had led the meeting, eager to know more about the topics that had been discussed.

#3

She was incredibly angry, but her face betrayed little, certainly no more than an eyebrow twich. After so much time under the public eye, and even longer as part of an organisation that pride itself on its ability to remain underground, she had learned the art of known when to restrain her emotions, how to remain calm and calculating in the face of adversity, and this definitely qualified as adversity.

"Is that confirmed?"

Marco Arcelli, who was standing behind her, nodded. She saw his reflection in the mirror, and nodded in return. This complicated matters at a time when she couldn't afford complications. They had already cancelled one operation in February due to the clumsiness of an associate who had lost control of the criminal investigation. She had allowed the Carabinieri to come dangerously close to catching an important asset, and even if they managed to prevent that, and apparently the investigation had been closed, it was obvious now that it had been picked up by the Royal Eastern Security Service, and they did suspect a more organised effort was ongoing. They were aware of Il Parlatore, having briefly followed him during an intervention, and probably already had a sketch of his face, courtesy of the man who had accessed that cult website.

Without turning, she spoke. "Fine. That bridge has been crossed, let's ensure others can't cross it as well. Keep him recalled, until we figure out what part he will play in all this. You know who was his supervising associate; make sure she can't hurt the association again. Tonight."

"What of tomorrow?"

Tomorrow. She closed her eyes, trying to decide what to do. They had been planning an important operation for March 18, something much more significant than the aborted operation the previous month, but the affair with the RESS cast into doubt the desirability of moving so fast. Then again, they had been planning for this exact moment for years, and they were too involved to back down now. It was an ambitious plan, and if everything went well, it would be an important statement about their renewed ability to act, after so many years in obscurity. In the end, there was no question: they had to act, and it had to be tomorrow.

"Tomorrow will happen as scheduled. Call the associate responsible for the initial operation and make sure everything is ready. When the time comes, I want you here to help coordinate the response at our central facility. I will be in Messelia. Unless there are urgent developments, I am not to be contacted during that time, and until I say otherwise."

She raised her hand. He followed suit.

#4

Sironia, Sartoria

Mario Arcelli sat at one end of a table, facing a woman in her mid fifties, short grey hair, with a suit that betrayed her successful status in Belaria. Or perhaps that was a conscious choice? It was of little consequence in any case, considering what their priority was at the moment. This was his first field assignment, no easy feat for an associate. While operatives went on the field all the time, associates were only allowed to do that when the situation was dire, or when their stature was high enough that they could allow themselves the privilege.

Since his accession earlier in the year, he had quickly risen through the ranks, to the point that he had recently been elected as coordinator of several important operations in the eastern regions. It was in that capacity that he had been dispatched to deal with the woman in front of him, one with far more experience than him, though also one who had much more to lose, should her role in the association be publicly known. He was always amazed by that, even after all this time. Those near the top of the pyramid were often those whom one might least suspect to be involved in such conspiracies, yet they happened to be the ones most devoted to the cause.

Shortly after meeting in the room where they currently were, they raised their hands, palm open, then recited a certain chant, of which there were no public records, and which was long assumed dead, stricken from living memory. Only then they took their seats.

"You have become an accomplished associate, have you not?"

"We all leave our marks, some stronger than others."

She was about to reply when the speaker came alive, and they both prepared for their conference call with their senior associate. With several operations due in the near future, there was much to discuss.




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