República Guanacasteca 0–5 Cabo Azure
Scorers: Corte-Real (11', 35', 68'), Cardoso (19'), Gouveia (75')
A tightly-executed, decisive victory to put the Macaricas on track to advance out of Group B. Corte-Real caught fire, scoring a trio of goals, with goals from Os Dos Vascos rounding out the win.
Corte-Real's first goal came off an unexpectedly pacey cross from Marciano Ferrerra, headed into goal. Cardoso followed up eight minutes later by burning Rosas as the second runner into the box, sneaking in behind Gonzalez. Corte-Real finished his first-half brace at the thirty-five minute mark by converting a direct kick, sailing the ball past Gonzalez's outstretched hands.
The pace of the second half was slower and Los Cerdos mounted a more robust defense, but there was just no stopping Corte-Real, who found the back of the net again with a half-volley off a cross from Rathbone. Ever one to beat a dead horse, Gouveia scored a late header as well, off a corner kick from Rathbone.
The Macaricas will next face a Holy Empire side which was unable to achieve liftoff versus Atheara, and will round out the group stage with a match against that same, unexpectedly strong Atheara side before moving into their bye in the fifth matchday. It's too soon to tell, but after a perfect start, three or four points from those two matches seems like it might be enough to put the Macaricas through.
“Five out of Six”, pt 3
Nine years ago
Eustaquio Silva pushed his cigarette into the ashtray, where it joined two of its fellows smoldering in the warm evening air. It was quiet around the Silva manor as Eustaquio and his father Carlos stared together into the hedges that separated their family home from the neighborhood to which it had given its name; Villa Silva. Their conversation had gone silent, which meant it was time for one of them to broach the topic they'd really come onto the deck to discuss.
"We fly back to Acadiana Wednesday night after the funeral," Eustaquio said, as if he’d just realized it.
“Don’t go,” Carlos replied suddenly, sounding more vulnerable than Eustaquio had ever heard him. “I know you need to keep your own house, but please stay. I don’t have many years left, and someone needs to run the business after I’m gone.”
“I haven’t been part of the business in twenty years, Papa,” Eustaquio protested. “Plus I’ve got my own interests in Acadiana. Why don’t you promote from within?”
“And let what I’ve built leave the family? Do you hear yourself? Do you want us to end like the other aristocratic families?”
Carlos had him there, Eustaquio had to admit. Of the nine houses that Sebastien di Portelo had raised to noble status to help him and his descendants rule the islands, only the Silvas retained their lands and titles. The others had long since relinquished their titles and sold their ancestral homes in the depths of various misfortunes. The death knell for many of them had been King Adolfo II when he had removed the noble houses as intermediaries for taxes paid to the Crown, instead collecting them directly and disbursing the proceeds to the islands based on their petitions. This practice won him the love of the people, who paid significantly lower taxes and saw much better results, but drove many of his lords into poverty.
Carlos continued, breaking the silence. “I know why you’ve stayed in Acadiana so long. Let me clear your debt with Boss Kierney, so you can return home with your head held high. You can repay me by taking over the business.”
Eustaquio stifled a laugh. As a young man he had left Cabo Azure to find his fortune, seeking to make inroads in Esportiva for his family by setting up a logistics operation in Acadiana. In this he failed miserably, spending most of his seed money attempting to generate goodwill with very little return on investment. Broke with no source of credit and faced with the prospect of humbling himself to his father, he turned to a local loan shark, who in turn referred him to Ashley “Boss” Kierney to finance his ventures.
Kierney set up Eustaquio as the legitimate face of a large-scale money-laundering outfit, using a chain of Hungry Pat’s service stations as fronts. Eustaquio ran the stations, managed the books, and presented for the world as a hard-working immigrant entrepreneur, while Boss Kierney and his crew moved dirty money through his bank accounts. Kierney hadn’t accounted for Eustaquio’s natural business acumen and work ethic, and within a few years, the business was in the black in its own right, which was all the better for laundering.
“Boss Kierney is dead,” Eustaquio said matter-of-factly. “Killed by his mistress’s boyfriend or something; I don’t know all the details. I squared with Ma Kierney when I pulled strings to get her boys into university so they wouldn’t follow in their father’s footsteps.”
Carlos was quiet a moment. “So what do you do now?”
“I run a chain of service stations, Papa,” Eustaquio said, his voice cracking with mirth. “Sixteen in Acadiana and three in Sylestone. I’m Hungry Pat’s second-largest franchisee.”
“Where does the money come from?”
Now Eustaquio was laughing. “From fuel, Papa. And burgers. And little plush crocodiles.”
Carlos laughed, too, in spite of himself, before turning deadly serious. “There is one debt you haven’t yet paid.”
“What’s that?”
“You owe me an heir,” Carlos told his son, “Someone who will spend years learning the business and take over for me, the way I intended you to.”
“Carlito is an infant, Papa,” Eustaquio protested, meaning his youngest child and only son, who was safely home with an au pair in Acadiana, along with Eustaquio’s two younger daughters.
“I’ll be gone long before Carlito fucks his first girl,” Carlos said dismissively, “Though I do appreciate you and Lianne committing to having a son. The house and titles are his when he comes of age, absolute primogeniture be damned, but I need someone who can learn the business now, while I’m still on my feet.”
“Which girl?” Eustaquio asked, getting to the heart of the matter. “Janice or Marisol?”
“Janice is sweet and smart,” Carlos mused. “And beautiful, too. She got Lianne’s looks. She’ll make a man very happy someday.”
The implied decision hit Eustaquio like a punch to the gut. Janice was everything her grandfather had just described and more, in many ways a perfect daughter, but for that reason she’d be ill-suited to the task Carlos had in mind. The Silvas weren’t criminals like Boss Kierney’s outfit, but the business they were in wasn’t for the faint of heart. In the old days, Carlos had gotten his way by spreading bribes among the Gang of Seven faithful; nowadays, politics was the racket. Mario Borges, the football player-cum-bureaucrat, was tipped to be the first prime minister under the new system, which made him a sacrificial lamb in Carlos’s eyes. When the people inevitably turned on their champion, he meant to be there with a candidate of his own, and from there they’d rule Cabo Azure, no matter who sat the throne in Portelo.
To do that, he’d need a right-hand man, someone younger and more agile than he, and also hungry and ruthless. He needed Marisol.
“So Marisol stays,” Eustaquio said quietly. “I’ll let her know.”
–
Six months ago
When the housekeeper found Dom Carlos dead in his bed, Marisol’s first call was to Janice in Acadiana. The sisters, thick as thieves through their adolescence, had drifted apart in adulthood as Janice went to university and made a life in Acadiana while Marisol first went to sea, then took the reins of the Silva empire. Nevertheless, and despite the absurd hour in Esportiva, Janice answered on the second ring.
“Avo’s dead,” Marisol said matter-of-factly, her voice barely holding back tears. Though she hadn’t grown up with Dom Carlos in her life, they’d grown inseparable over the years she’d been in Cabo Azure. He’d kept his wits til the very end, a mercy for which Marisol was eternally grateful. As she let the priest in the front door to perform her grandfather’s last rites, she contemplated saying a prayer of thanks that she’d had as long with the man as she had.
After the priest came Carlotta. Even though she had nothing to do with the family business, and even though she was once again known as Queen Carlotta, Carlos’s twin sister never forgot her birth family. She’d gone back to the Silva name soon after her husband King Reinaldo I died, and though she chose to live in the widow’s house where her stepson had stashed her, she was a regular fixture at dinner at Villa Silva.
“My dear girl,” said Carlotta as she emerged from the bedroom, her lined face streaked with tears. “How are you holding up?” The funeral director had arrived and was downstairs, preparing to remove the body. Funerary arrangements on Cabo Azure were simple, a consequence of being a small archipelago with strong historical ties to both warfare and seafaring. Carlos would be cremated and his ashes committed to the sea from the port bow of his yacht, the Silver Dragon, just as a fisherman might expect his remains to be spread from the deck of his trawler.
“I’m well, auntie,” Marisol said in answer to the queen’s question. “I miss him.”
–
Nine years ago
Marisol was opposed to the arrangement until the moment Dom Carlos said she would no longer have to attend school as his protege, then all of a sudden took to it as if it were her own. In Cabo Azure, her mornings were taken up with a few private lessons, mainly geared at preparing her for the entrance exams to Maritime (the application would take care of itself, but there was no corrupting the exam process). Afterwards she was free to shadow Dom Carlos or the members of his inner circle as she saw fit; if she slacked off or wasted time, he reprimanded her sternly and dictated her schedule until he deemed she was back on track.
Once expectations were set, though, there was very little need for incentives. Having seen her father grow his petrol-station business from the ground up in Acadiana, Marisol was delighted to learn the inner workings of a business empire that had been up and running for centuries. The Silvas controlled a veritable cartel of interrelated businesses in finance, logistics, insurance, and other industries, mostly but not entirely centered around commercial shipping. She decided early on she needed to go to sea, as Azurean businesspeople put a premium on those who’d started out as mariners. Originally she wanted to ship out as a cabin girl, but Dom Carlos talked her into accepting an appointment as a midshipman at Maritime and becoming a rated deck officer instead.
Janice returned to Acadiana with her parents after her grandmother’s funeral, where she helped raise the three younger children and went to an Acadianan university while working the till at one of her father’s convenience stores. It never dawned on her to return to Cabo Azure, except maybe to visit Marisol, and even that fell in the vague realm of “maybe someday.” The girls followed each other on social media, but remained virtual strangers until the fateful day that Miranda Silva died.























