11-20-2017, 11:09 PM
Jacques was shown in after less delay then he had expected; a common 'power move' he had had to put with many times in Africa back when the Legion had been just another private security company. Nikolai, the Ascendancy, was more polite in person then he would have expected as well; as the most powerful man in the world (both politically, and as recent displays had demonstrated, in magic as well) had every right, as many would have seen it, to be dismissive and arrogant of anyone.
The displays of wealth and power were lost on him; as works of art, he could appreciate them, but he saw such things as what they were. Ostentatious baubles, meant to show power and importance; something Jacques himself was guilty of, he well knew. His uniform was finely tailored, the Legion's staff car was nearly a century old, but ostentatious displays had their place in the world. As did, in his opinion, tradition.
"Your CDPS is very responsive when requesting routes to the Kremlin, especially when one drops a name such as yours, Ascendancy."
He flashed an amused smile; the phone conversation between his aid and the CDPS representative had been interesting, to say the least. They had not been happy to have received such a request on such short notice, but mid-conversation someone in the Kremlin had notified them that the Ascendancy himself had requested Jacques' presence.
While he preferred to stand, mostly out of his own comfort rather then in defiance of being seated in the presence of another (another common power-move he had had to put up with often in Africa), he unbuttoned his uniform jacket with his left hand, and tugged his pant legs to sit comfortably in the offered chair.
What had brought him to Moscow? It had always been his end goal during their brief journey across the CDC. Stops in other major cities, meetings with survivors of the Jeddah evacuation, and at the regional offices of companies and manufacturers that had the expertise or equipment that interested him for his work in Africa, had been mere stepping stones along the way.
To drum up public interest in his people's cause, and the plight of those he was coming to represent. To find volunteers, and to make the connections that his people would need in the coming months as they fought to rebuild the economies of the nations that had flocked to his banner. And more importantly, to help them further resist and advance against the aggressions of other nations and Al'Janyar, the rising extremist force that had been sweeping eastern Africa.
"3D printers. Vaccines. Medicine. Experts of science and medicine. Social workers, doctors, nurses. Soldiers, police officers, fire fighters."
A mischevious smile, and a faint arm-raising shrug and shake of his head, "Things the people of the CDC are loathe to give up without hefty bills or some very ambiguously worded contracts or off-the-books agreements. I understand why, of course. One does not become rich by being a philanthropist."
The displays of wealth and power were lost on him; as works of art, he could appreciate them, but he saw such things as what they were. Ostentatious baubles, meant to show power and importance; something Jacques himself was guilty of, he well knew. His uniform was finely tailored, the Legion's staff car was nearly a century old, but ostentatious displays had their place in the world. As did, in his opinion, tradition.
"Your CDPS is very responsive when requesting routes to the Kremlin, especially when one drops a name such as yours, Ascendancy."
He flashed an amused smile; the phone conversation between his aid and the CDPS representative had been interesting, to say the least. They had not been happy to have received such a request on such short notice, but mid-conversation someone in the Kremlin had notified them that the Ascendancy himself had requested Jacques' presence.
While he preferred to stand, mostly out of his own comfort rather then in defiance of being seated in the presence of another (another common power-move he had had to put up with often in Africa), he unbuttoned his uniform jacket with his left hand, and tugged his pant legs to sit comfortably in the offered chair.
What had brought him to Moscow? It had always been his end goal during their brief journey across the CDC. Stops in other major cities, meetings with survivors of the Jeddah evacuation, and at the regional offices of companies and manufacturers that had the expertise or equipment that interested him for his work in Africa, had been mere stepping stones along the way.
To drum up public interest in his people's cause, and the plight of those he was coming to represent. To find volunteers, and to make the connections that his people would need in the coming months as they fought to rebuild the economies of the nations that had flocked to his banner. And more importantly, to help them further resist and advance against the aggressions of other nations and Al'Janyar, the rising extremist force that had been sweeping eastern Africa.
"3D printers. Vaccines. Medicine. Experts of science and medicine. Social workers, doctors, nurses. Soldiers, police officers, fire fighters."
A mischevious smile, and a faint arm-raising shrug and shake of his head, "Things the people of the CDC are loathe to give up without hefty bills or some very ambiguously worded contracts or off-the-books agreements. I understand why, of course. One does not become rich by being a philanthropist."