SC.2023.02. League Headquarters, Casho Arnd Federation

"Ca$haf! Soldouts!"
"Cashaf! Bunch of profitmongers!"
The four buildings designated as League Headquarters wisely said nothing, even as angry fans pelted rotten produce at their walls. The four staid, dark stone buildings quite were inured to such things.
The league commissioner, his position unstable with all these protests, looked down in the rain. Wondering if he said anything, if it would make things worse, or better. He decided a definitive statement on his part would only drive them to greater anger. He'd been commissioner only six months, and he figured his mandate being the average length of a common pregnancy would probably go down as his moniker. The true power behind the league, the Over-conclave, had given him orders. They'd not need to come here to do so, but when they did, it was because they wanted to make it clear it was an order he couldn't refuse. Only they could even walk in here without clearing it with his staff. They could walk most of Arnd unopposed, but here, only they could expect people to look down while they did.
The league hired peacekeepers, all sixteen of them, he knew, would bow and scrape like any contractor. The team owners and governors, however, showed little deference, but in the end it was the same. The over-conclaved owned a team, and so was afforded 'high eyes' even from them. It was in the league by-laws. And if it hadn't, their power equalled some countries, it was a foolish owner who antagonized the over-conclave representatives, which, in Asirania, usually meant someone from Kautanissian Conclave, whose idea of power, according to rumor, was: throw a hundred thousand tons of ships a few kilometers and search the wreckage.
It was inaccurate, to say the least. But entertaining enough, the conclave members hadn't corrected it.
It helped that the one doing the throwing had been a second-string junior member.
The centre of this circle, or the zeroth of nine, either or, could have thrown over five hundred thousand tons in anger. They could have lifted the entire neighbourhood, around the other owner's ears, and thrown them, with enough force to cause lethal damage, while they themselves were unscathed, and knew it.
The owner's idea of 'in serious trouble' didn't even qualify as minor inconvenience to the more junior members of the circle, who had the power of tribunal, by local law, since most countries extant today had such a concept. When Sothlee de ByzanceBy the grace of the Elements, Aumhavar-Byzance, By the grace of the Elements, First Duty and First of the Nine, Aumhivina Kautanissian walked into a room, conversations hushed, even between married people. She was used to it, she used it as a distraction. Of course, it was kinda hard to hide a 2m20 tall woman even if she wanted to. That she'd been a lumberjack, and looked down at some of her fellow lumberjacks as she worked, was documented. That her husband was 20cm shorter than she was documented, but discreetly. That because he was married to sixteen other women, and so she'd taken a miptun, was unprecedented and undocumented, and her relationship with Rei Matsumoto still drove her to fits. They were leading a unit of specops pilder armor together, well, kinda, it was complicated. Rei was a cutie, when she wasn't trying psyops psychological warfare techniques on her lover, Sothlee thought. Dan was a cutie too, just too inaccessible. Time to get her game face on.

Type

Neighbourhood