xp_logs | Valentia's Lullaby: Manuel, Amanda then Adelardo

Manuel and Amanda get ready to leave the hotel for meetings.

Leaning over the mahogany desk in the lounge room, Manuel flipped through files of the names he had acquired from Emma, contacts that needed rebuilding, ones that needed to be felt out for ill intentions and others that needed their positions checked and assessed, whether or not they could hold their status from where they were. Here, he felt at home, asserting his lifestyle on lavish comfort and allowing Amanda the same luxury. He believed she deserved it. At times, she treated herself no better than a sewer rat however, he liked to believe she was far better than a mere scavenger and should be soaked in it now and then. As it were, he was currently soaking up her emotions on a constant basis, though where he would have found it stressful with others, the familiarity of a lost link was both sore and refreshing. It brought a settling comfort over him that he didn't have to try and ignore, he could just ignore it like whitenoise. He marveled why he hadn't noticed this before.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." The voice was Amanda's, but the accent was clean and polished. It matched the figure who came out of the room - blonde hair pulled back into a neat twist, the crop of earrings replaced by two simple pearl studs and the eyebrow piercing gone, make-up applied in that careful way that gave the impression the wearer wasn't wearing any at all. As she came into the room, Amand smoothed down the front of the white business suit she was wearing, her low heels clacking on the tiled floors. "I trust everything is satisfactory, Mr. de la Rocha?"

Manuel looked up from his papers, collecting them together and he smiled. "I believe it is Señora Sefton. Are you feeling confident?~" he asked in Castillian Spanish and placed the papers into his folder, already knowing her answer. Manuel approached her slowly, warmth filling his eyes and his thumb grazed her earlobe, allowing for his index finger to trail down her neck. "These are new yes?"

"~Present from Sofia when I mentioned what I was doing.~" She met his eyes squarely and caught his hand in hers, moving it away from her neck - he knew full well it was one of her spots. "~I do believe that might count as inappropriate contact, Mr. de la Rocha. I might have to call my union.~" It was a gentle admonishment.

He allowed her to withdraw and laughed because of it, offering his arm. "I believe I may need to keep my distance then and be satisfied that my rivals will be paying attention to your neckline and not the cards in my hand."

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In a meeting with an old Black Court member, Manuel tries to sway the old man, only to find out he hold's more in his hand than he was revealing. Amanda stands by on the watch.

Manuel leaned back in his chair and turned his scotch by the rim of the glass, watching the man across from him. His eyes lingered on the paper in front of him and then lazily shifted to Amanda before dragging over the smooth conference table and landing directly on the crease in the white pressed shirt of whom was suppose to be of the white court. "I came prepared for a cold reception."

"There's never an excuse to fail being a gracious host, even in the face of possible unpleasantness. Your father taught you that much, I hope." Adelardo Estebanez Canovas del Castillo spoke Spanish with a liquid aristocratic air, the kind that Manual himself had grown up hearing. Canovas had been old when he he was just a child, but like some of his class, he seemed to remain perpetually at the same stage of aging. His grey streaked black hair had now gone completely silver, his heavy beard a touch longer, and the lines on his face marginally deeper, but he still radiated the kind of vitality and charm of a younger man.

He had joined them for a small glass of Toro red, before switching over to scotch for his guest, and choosing a cigar for himself. Sitting at the end of the conference table, he could have been anything; ally, foe, devil or savior.

"A most gracious host you have been." Manuel sat up, setting his drink aside and switched to his home language. "Naturally the shift is in your favour, however I require a certain amount of trust walking into a situation like ours. The courts are on the rise and your position has always been unclear. Would you still maintain that position, despite the implications?"

Adelardo made a dismissive gesture. "Titles, positions; these are all merely symbols, and none of them worth anything substantive. Power is still the only currency, whether as a king or as a humble servant of the court." He rolled the heavy cigar smoke around his mouth for a moment, before letting it go in a slow plume. "You came here with a purpose, young Manual. You must decide whether or not it is valuable enough to risk trusting me." He smiled comfortably.

"I don't trust my enemies Senor," he spoke fluently. "And I trust my friends even less." Manuel paused to lean over and repossess his drink, letting the cool golden liquid warm him. He tilted the rim of the glass before him, swirling the liquid and watched it thoughtfully before he set it down and lifted his gaze. "I trust you will not risk being on the wrong side when royalties clash."

He went quiet for a moment before vocalizing his thoughts. "They have seen you, haven't they?" The Black court has been here, Manuel thought, resisting the urge to glance in Amanda's direction.

"Of course. There is no sense trying to do work in secret if you are not going to allow your enemies and allies knowledge of it. That way, they believe they know what I am planning, which is preferable to them actually discovering the truth." Adelardo stared at him calmly over the top of the cigar. "It is a curious habit of youth to believe in the finality of conflict, Senor de la Rocha. While a Black King may fall or a White Queen supplanted, the courts themselves survive, and in the fullest of time, the ascendant fall and positions reverse. Your father made the error of trying to eliminate opposition wholly, believing that at some point, opposition could be stopped entirely. What a boring world it would make if that were so."

The Spaniard traced the air with his hand, the red tip of the cigar making complex patterns. "However you choose to trust, Manuel, it is you that need me, which does put the onus on you to propose an arrangement, to my satisfaction."

"I am not my father and I understand the likes of gambling, risk and business Senor, however some sort of insurance is required. Faith is a tradition I can no longer walk blindly with, hand in hand. You tell me the Black Court has been here and you insult me with a comparison to my father. Personal aside, you also leave me with very little to work with except dwindling power and an empty bank account, chasing after the courts and picking up whatever pennies they decide to throw at you. We can offer you a steady position, respect and a firm handle on power you once had. You may very well be sitting here in the same room as me, but you have become a shadow of what you once were."

"Through the White Court? I think not. No one is especially as well hated as a turncoat, Manuel. Besides, you would need to know what it is that I actually wanted." His smile had not wavered. "As I told you, Manuel, that which is ascendant now will fall eventually. Besides, this shadow-" Adelardo laughed warmly. "is the spectre that holds your own needs; your father's files and the final transfer of property from what remains of the estate. A job with Emma Frost? She is little different from Selene in her own way, metaphorically draining people, as opposed to literally. I have no interest there."

"I did not mean a job. The White Court frowns on you and the Black Court throws charity at you when they feel you are useful. You have spirit, old man. It channels through your patience to wait out whatever powers will decide the positions. Naturally, someone would pick you up, but you would be the last pick because you are not deemed the strongest amongst the pack. I beg to differ, however, I am curious to know what it is you demand."

"You know, Manuel, that is something that you take from your father. The brute force approach." He said, making a dismissive motion with his hand. "My demand is very simple, young man. Two demands, actually. This first is that, as per the request of your father, you will honour the conditions of the will that he set out for his heir, regarding the reorganization of the estate and the continued care of the personal employees and servants. You father was many unsavoury things, but he did believe in honouring the loyalty of his people. The second is that, on your word as a gentleman, you will assume responsibility for any outstanding debts left behind by your father outside of those to the Black Court. The obligations of the de la Rocha name should be honoured." Astonishingly, Adelardo had asked for nothing for himself.

"If only to make one thing clear. I am not my father's legacy. His choices were his own and he has shamed our name. I am returning to re-establish it, however it is not the point of this trip. I find your conditions are acceptable in terms of the state affairs. However, what of the outstanding debts? I have heard nothing of this until now." While the information was new to him, the lack of surprise was not. He'd expected that his father would have left things behind, unfinished business though he did not know to what extent.

"An estate as extensive as your father's had been has certain financial obligations which other people taking over would do their best to ignore." Adelardo shook his head. "Remember, young Manuel, I knew your grandfather, and your great-grandfather. Your father decided to entrust me with his estate in the event of his death, to hold in trust for his heir, released on my judgment. If you wish them, you will act in the spirit of a de la Rocha. You can agree to my terms and accept the responsibilities, or not."

Amanda arched an eyebrow. "So you're suggesting that Mr. de la Rocha meet debts he doesn't legally have to pay, having been disowned by his father, but selling what remains of his family's wealth?" she asked, her Spanish as smooth as the two men's but small hints revealing it wasn't her native language. "To maintain the integrity of his name?"

"Suggest, no. I am demanding those terms to release control back to him. If young Manuel gives me his word, on his honour as a de la Rocha, to fulfill those terms, he will have completely control transferred to him. If he chooses to break his word, there is nothing legally binding to force him to do this. He can retain a still considerable amount of wealth by simply lying to me and walking away once the transfer of authority is complete."

Whatever debts there were, Manuel was well aware they would put him in debt, but it was nothing compared to keeping his name in good standing. That was always his wish. Smoothing a hand over the surface of the table, he mocked a consideration, despite the fact that his choice had already been made.

"I am not my father," he stated again and suddenly, this business deal dropped to a very personal level. "I will honour your demands and uphold my name. I am not liar and I will not be seen as such filth. My word is good, Adelardo and it appears tradition of the old does have a place in modern business. You have your deal. Do I have mine?"

"Certainly. I'll make arrangements to transfer deed and title, as well as the various accountings of what remains of your father's estate. Let us say, four o'clock tomorrow? That should be enough time to complete the paperwork."

Amanda pulled out an organiser from her purse and flipped through it, before glancing at Manuel and nodding. They both knew he was free, but it helped to give the impression he was extremely busy. Her expression gave no indication of what she was feeling, but she knew Manuel would be able to see the turmoil of emotions - concern for him, fear and hatred at the memory of Alphonso and what he had done to her, but above all else, pride in Manuel himself - true it was for the Hellfire Club, but it pleased her to see him making his own reputation and reclaiming the name that had been such a source of identity to him. "I believe Mr. de la Rocha will be available at that time," she replied.

Drumming his fingers once, Manuel polished off the drink and stood up. "Then I believe we have little to discuss until tomorrow." Pushing in his chair, he walked towards the older Black Court member and offered his hand to his father's long time friend.

Adelardo looked at the hand for a moment, and then took it firmly. "Until tomorrow, Senor de la Rocha."