André Vales
| André Vales | |
 In 1738 AN, an artist was invited to paint a new portrait of the beloved First Consul. The man was shocked to see what had happened to the Mandate's ruler. By then, André was 103 years. The painter talked about a stench, barely hidden by the overwhelming presence of incense. | |
| Full name | André Vales |
|---|---|
| AKA | The Ageless Consul |
| Pronouns | He/him |
| Physical information | |
| Species | Human |
| Gender | Male |
| Biographical information | |
| Fathers | Scott Vales |
| Mother | Iris Vargas |
| Spouse | Pasha Baharlu |
| Children | Amritpal Wasli |
| Date of birth | 1635 |
| Place of birth | 's Koningenwaarde, Batavia |
| Date of death | ? |
| Place of death | Unknown |
| Allegiance(s) | International Mandate |
| Occupation | First Consul |
André Vales (1635 - ...) was an explorer and self-styled conquistador. He was instrumental in the establishment of the Duchy of Leylstadt, as he undertook four expeditions - the so-called Valesian Expedition - between 1664 and 1674 AN to what later became the Duchy. Vales is of Aldurian and Batavian descent, and received Leylstadter citizenship. In Hurmu, he is by birth, Knight of the Holy Lakes. His actions gave him a sort of saintly status within the local religious community and he was soon seen as patron saint of adventurers, scientists and opportunists. He was elected as first and only First Consul of the International Mandate, which he remained since 1687 AN, being reelected every four years.
Rise to Power
In 1675 AN he received the title of Knight of the White Bear for his aid in the development of Leylstadt. Eventually, the collapse of Leylstadt prompted a new chapter in Vales’ life. Declining an invitation to reside in Jingdao, he instead focused on the burgeoning opportunities in Tiegang. When Jingdaoese forces vacated the region, Vales played a crucial role in establishing the International Mandate for the Settlements in Apollonia in 1687 AN. His leadership and charisma saw him unanimously elected as the First Consul of the Mandate, a position he has held unopposed ever since.
The Consulship and Unraveling Mysteries
Despite his apparent popularity and enduring legacy (winning elections every four years), the latter years of Vales’ rule have been shrouded in mystery and suspicion. By the late 1730s, disturbing rumors and reports began to surface, hinting at a dark transformation within the Consul’s administration. Observers noted an overwhelming stench of incense perpetually emanating from the Consul's Palace, coupled with the eerie presence of men and women dressed in pink (why should it always have to be black?), shadowing Vales wherever he went. This ominous entourage fueled speculation that Vales was under the influence of a sinister cult.
Further deepening the intrigue, whispers emerged suggesting that Vales had long since perished, his corpse allegedly preserved and manipulated by shadowy figures from the elite circles, possibly orchestrated from the infamous Blackfriars' Redux pub. This macabre theory posits that the once vibrant and heroic Vales had been reduced to a mere puppet, his legend and symbolic presence exploited to maintain control over the city-state.
The Blackfriars' Redux Conspiracy
The Blackfriars' Redux pub, a notorious hub for the city's intellectual and political elite, has long been rumored to be the epicenter of covert power plays and clandestine meetings. It is within this chaotic environment that the alleged puppet masters of Vales’ corpse are said to convene, drafting decrees and laws under the guise of boisterous debate and drunken revelry. This informal yet influential governance structure blurs the lines between legitimate rule and manipulative control.
Later Life
By the mid-18th century AN, the mystery surrounding André Vales had become more unsettling than ever. Despite being well over a hundred years old, the First Consul continued to appear, though less frequently, at official functions, his presence more spectral than statesmanlike. His once-thunderous oratory had diminished to whispers, relayed through intermediaries, and his rare public sightings were carefully choreographed affairs, always under the watchful eyes of his enigmatic attendants in pink.
Skeptics and loyalists alike debated whether Vales was truly still alive. Some claimed that he had achieved a form of unnatural longevity, sustained by esoteric rites practiced within the Consul’s Palace. Others whispered that his public appearances were staged with an elaborate combination of wax effigies, puppetry, and actors trained to mimic his once-charismatic presence.
A more unsettling theory posited that the First Consul’s body, if indeed he was deceased, had been hollowed out and repurposed as a vessel for some lich entity, its movements jerky and unsettling, its voice an unnatural echo of a man long dead. Those who met him in private spoke of a disturbing aura, of eyes that did not blink, of a presence that felt more like an absence, while a stench - as of that of a corpse - filled the room, despite the heavy use of incense.
The Final Years (or the Eternal Reign?)
By 1740 AN, reports emerged of a hidden sect operating within the Mandate. It was said that these devotees maintained Vales' continued existence, through means best left undescribed. Their influence extended into the highest levels of government, ensuring that his rule remained unchallenged, even if he himself no longer dictated policy. The growing sense of unease culminated in an incident in early 1742 AN, when a group of dissidents attempted to storm the Consul’s Palace, demanding to see Vales in person. They were never seen again, their disappearance explained away as a “tragic accident” involving a collapsing balcony. The next day, Vales appeared, if briefly, on a palace balcony, waving stiffly to a nervous crowd. The message was clear: he remained in control.
As of the latest records, André Vales continues to serve as First Consul, though few can say with certainty that he is still among the living. His governance has taken on an eerie predictability, as if guided by forces unseen. Decrees emerge bearing his signature, yet no one recalls seeing him write them. The incense-drenched halls of the palace remain impenetrable, and the shadowy figures in pink remain ever watchful.
