[Current Balance: £418,963,435 4s. 2d.]
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Minutes after Thulani and Reuben got out of Alaric's office, Alaric still stayed. He had one more business to attend, a meeting with a certain Viseroy.
Alaric stood by the tall window, not looking into the room, but out at the celebration below. He wasn't watching the powerful men Penn was entertaining; his gaze was fixed on a group of women gathered in the garden.
Kassandra was there, laughing, her head thrown back, a genuine, unburdened sound. She was surrounded by Flavia, Eleanor, Linette, Aveline, Caroline, and Elizabeth, their conversation animated and joyful. He saw them include some of the maids in their circle, their laughter mingling. A warmth spread through Alaric's chest, a deep, quiet joy that was more potent than any power he possessed.
The heavy oak door to the office opened, breaking his reverie. He turned as William Penn entered, followed closely by the Viceroy, Fernando de Alencastre. They were talking quietly, a final exchange of diplomatic pleasantries. When Fernando looked up and saw Alaric, he paused.
From the courtyard, Alaric had seemed like a distant, impressive figure. Up close, on the same level, the effect was… overwhelming.
The man was a giant, his 6'4" frame exuding an aura of power that was utterly at odds with his youth. His platinum hair seemed to catch the light, and his blue eyes, when they finally turned to meet Fernando's, were sharp and piercing, holding an unnerving intelligence that made Fernando self-concious. The Viceroy, a man who had commanded armies and stood before kings, felt an involuntary jolt, a primal instinct screaming that he was in the presence of a predator.
"'Laric, good timing!" Penn smiled, gesturing towards the Spaniard. "Allow me to introduce a friend. Viceroy, Captain General, and representative of the Spanish Crown's highest authority."
"..."
"..."
Fernando waited, expecting some reaction… a bow, a respectful greeting, the usual fawning that accompanied his titles. But the young man simply… watched him, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. There was no awe, no deference. It was as if Fernando's titles, his power, were completely irrelevant.
"Buenas noches... my name is Fernando de Alencastre Noroña y Silva," the Viceroy finally said, forcing a smile that felt tight on his face. He was surprised at himself, at the nervous flutter in his own chest. He, who had faced down assassins and pirates, was unnerved by a man two decades his junior.
"Buenas noches, señor marqués de Goubea. I am Alaric Jonathan Kenway," the blonde replied, his Spanish perfect, his voice a calm, resonant baritone. He extended a hand. "Welcome to Philadelphia."
"Oh," Fernando took the offered hand, his mind still reeling. "That's it?"
"...Yes?" A single one of Alaric's eyebrows rose. "Is something wrong?"
Alaric glanced at the Quaker, but William Penn just shrugged slightly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"I mean, young man," Fernando began, gesturing around the opulent office, trying to regain his footing, "you own this large house, la casa más grande I've ever seen in my life." He looked Alaric up and down. "What is it that you do? What is your título? Achievements? Do you have a negocio that made you so rich? Is this all your padre's money?"
"..." Surprised by the barrage of questions, Alaric looked at Fernando, then at Penn, then back at Fernando. A soft chuckle escaped his lips.
"Yeah, I forgot I was talking to an official of an empire," Alaric smiled. "Silly me."
"I don't have that many achievements, señor. Maybe... I have pulled my family out of poverty? I value that achievement," Penn and Fernando listened intently as he continued. "Another achievement of mine would be that I'm surrounded by people that I care about, people that don't betray me, and people that care for me."
Alaric's voice was serious, his gaze drifting back to the window for a fraction of a second, to the image of Kassandra laughing in the garden. 'Back then, I had no one... just my phone and a tissue in an old apartment filled with mold. Now... I will never not thank Kami for giving me a second chance I don't deserve.'
"..."
"Heh… I'm actually delighted to hear that, 'Laric," William Penn smiled. "It was not what I expected to hear, but I was not disappointed."
"Espere… You said you pulled your family out of poverty… does that mean this huge mansion, the fiestas you throw... it's all your hard-earned dinero?" Fernando stared at Alaric, his eyes searching for the truth.
Seeing Alaric's simple nod, Fernando pressed his final question. "What is your negocio, mijo?"
"Oh, that?" Alaric replied with a nonchalant shrug, as if discussing something utterly trivial. "The Celestial products. You know, Celestial Tea, Celestial Salve, Cigars..."
That was all it took. The name, whispered in the highest courts of Europe and the richest merchant houses of the New World, a brand synonymous with miracle cures and impossible quality.
"WHAAATTTT!!!???"
Fernando de Alencastre, Viceroy of New Spain, a man of impeccable composure and immense power, exploded, his voice cracking as he stared at the young man before him as if he had just claimed to be God himself.
The Viceroy's outburst echoed in the vast office, his carefully constructed diplomatic facade shattered. He stared at Alaric, his mind racing, connecting the impossible dots. This young man, this… Kenway… wasn't just wealthy. He was the source of the miracle products that were already causing seismic shifts in global trade and politics.
Penn, ever the calm center of the storm, simply took a slow sip of his tea, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
Fernando finally regained a measure of his composure, though his face was still flushed with shock. He sank into one of the plush wingback chairs, running a hand over his face. The predator he had sensed earlier was not just a predator; he was a leviathan.
"So," the Viceroy began, his voice a low, intense murmur, "it is you. You are the one behind 'Celestial'." He looked from Alaric to Penn, then back again. "Señor Penn, you have been holding a very powerful card close to your chest."
"A man must have his secrets, Excellency," Penn replied smoothly.
Alaric just smiled, pulling out his cigar case. He offered one to Fernando, who took it automatically, his movements still slightly dazed. Alaric lit both their cigars with a familiar snap of his fingers, the small act of impossible fire doing little to calm the Viceroy's racing mind.
"Now that the… introductions are out of the way," Alaric said, leaning back in his own chair and crossing his legs, "perhaps we can discuss why you are truly here, Señor Viceroy. I doubt you traveled all this way just to admire my house."
Fernando took a long, steadying drag from the cigar, the rich smoke surprisingly calming. He looked at Alaric, his eyes now sharp, the shock replaced by the shrewd calculation of a seasoned statesman. He had come here to negotiate with Penn, a powerful but predictable peer. He now realized he was negotiating with a force of nature.
"You are correct, Señor Kenway," Fernando said, his tone regaining its authority. "I came to discuss an alliance. But my needs are… significant." He sighed, the weight of his office settling back on his shoulders. "New Spain is suffering. A series of poor harvests, followed by a virulent fever that swept through the southern provinces… we are facing a famine. Our people are starving, dying. We need grain, massive quantities of it. And we need medicine." He looked pointedly at Alaric. "We need your Celestial Salves."
Penn and Alaric exchanged a subtle, almost imperceptible glance.
"In exchange," Fernando continued, pressing his advantage, "I can offer the full military support of New Spain's garrisons. The British Crown believes these colonies are isolated, vulnerable. An alliance with us changes that equation entirely. Your fledgling nation would have a powerful, established ally at its back."
"We can provide the grain," Alaric said, his voice cutting through the diplomatic maneuvering. "How much do you need?"
Fernando blinked, surprised by the directness. "To stabilize the region and build a reserve… half a million bushels. At least." It was an astronomical amount, a figure he had expected to haggle over for weeks.
Alaric didn't even flinch. He looked at Penn, a silent question in his eyes. Penn gave a slight, almost invisible nod. It was doable. 'Growing crops is too easy for me,' Alaric thought, a flicker of amusement passing through him. 'Noragakure Crop Cultivation and Wood Release make it a trivial matter. They don't need to know that.'
"It is doable," Alaric stated calmly. "The salves as well. Consider it done."
Fernando stared, speechless once again. He had come prepared for a long, arduous negotiation. This young man had just agreed to his most extreme request in less than a minute.
"There is more," the Viceroy said, recovering quickly. "By the end of 1715, New Spain needs a new fleet. Our current ships are outdated, vulnerable. We need to build, and we need to build quickly. If you can provide the resources… timber from your vast forests, and perhaps… financial assistance to expedite the construction… we can secure the Caribbean against any British naval aggression."
This time, it was Penn who answered. "We can provide the timber and the funds, Excellency," the Quaker said smoothly. "In exchange, we would propose a… cultural exchange. We will send our scholars, our artisans, our teachers to your cities, and welcome yours to ours. Let us build our alliance not just on steel and gold, but on shared knowledge and mutual understanding. A soft diplomacy."
Fernando considered this, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. It was a brilliant move, a way to weave their two societies together, creating bonds that went deeper than a simple military pact. "An inspired proposal, Señor Penn. I agree."
They discussed other matters… shared intelligence on pirate activities, the establishment of secure trade routes between their territories, a mutual defense pact against any European aggression. The alliance was taking shape, a new power bloc forming in the Americas.
Finally, after hours of negotiation, Fernando de Alencastre stood up. He looked from Penn to Alaric, his expression one of profound, genuine respect. He extended his hand to William Penn, the man he had originally come to see.
"Que Dios bendiga a nuestro estudiante de último año de la Alianza, William Penn," he said, his voice ringing with sincerity.
Penn looked confused, glancing at Alaric for a translation.
Alaric smiled. "He said, 'May God bless our Alliance.'"
A wide, triumphant smile broke across William Penn's face. He grasped the Viceroy's hand, shaking it firmly, sealing the pact that would change the future of the New World.
Fernando then turned his head towards the blonde before smiling. "Puede que seas joven, pero eres un hombre capaz. No olvidaré haberte conocido, Alaric Jonathan Kenway."
(You may be young, but you are a capable man. I will never forget meeting you, Alaric Jonathan Kenway.)
Seeing that the Viceroy also extended his hand towards Alaric, the blonde took it and shook it.
"Fue un placer conocerle, Virrey Fernando de Alencastre."
(It was a pleasure to meet you, Viceroy Fernando de Alencastre.)
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