The Paper Tiger | So Surprisingly Early
and I'll take kingdoms back from thine.
— Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Lit not by the ruddy glow of phosphor lanterns but mostly by the flickering warmth of candles and a pair of lanterns, bodies huddled around a gilded table, poured into red plush seats like last night's ever-flowing booze. The hair of the banderwolf in the form of various fruity liquors, a steaming pot of kofi har, and an impressive spread of breakfast pastries was scattered over the well-waxed surface.
A wick without a writ drinking with so many familiar faces this morning.
Grinning around the spur, his dark eyes wandered over the faces of his compatriots, aware that some of them were still so very hungover and giving no clocking cares whatsoever. They should have known better. He did. Some of them he expected. Others he didn't. If he snuck a wink in somewhere, nobody noticed.
"Gentleman, have we all broken our fast well enough?" The King of the Underworld offered coldly, setting his glass daintily on the table and leaning forward on his elbows, the jewels on his fingers catching the flickering light like some dazzling bit of vroo while he wove them together to rest his chin upon them, puffing his cigar as he spoke, "Old business first, eh? New year and all that."
There was the discussion of trade routes. The muttering and grumbling about the prices of spices and silk. A comment on silver and platinum. There was a mention of the Vein, Silas leaning forward against the table just a little bit more as if suddenly perking up from sleep, but then—
"The Resistance refuses to become old business." Grunted one of the men seated around the table, an older man with one bloodshot eye. It was difficult for Hawke to look at anything else, so unsettling was his disfigurement, "We've wanted them quieted for years."
Slowly, the wick nodded, hiding his disappointment behind a deadpan expression.
"It's become abundantly clear there's no formal law to speak of in Old Rose, regardless of how proper we pretend at appearances." Spoke a second man who clearly disliked the Bad Brother before him and everything he stood for. Silas amused himself with the thought that the High Judge's voice might have been distilled into a noxious cologne called Pure, Unmitigated Contempt (for men), "And, consequently, there is nothing to rebel against there, save you and your band of ... associates. From your reputation, I know you're remarkably skilled at keeping the population grumbling under their breath with minimal unpleasantness. How great is your influence beyond the Harbor?"
"My grasp exceeds my beach," replied Silas, smooth as silk, before taking a long puff on his cigar and blowing smoke rings in the older man's direction.
"Clever." Remarked the man with the bloodshot eye.
"My dear Mr. Julian Megiro, I'm always clockin' clever. Expect it from me an' maybe, just maybe, we'll be friends."
"Oh my, thank you." Julian replied over-dramatically, raising his mug of coffee for emphasis, "But your company may be a bit too rich for my humble blood."
"M'haps." Hawke sniggered, rolling his dark eyes and adding from over the rim of his wine glass, pinky out, "But I doubt it."
"As Captain D'Arthe here can confirm, the Seventen are prepared to provide you with ample compensation in exchange for a steady stream of information," High Judge William Azmus all but growled from his seat, glancing at Damen for emphasis, "We have no interest in the Rose. It is, if you can forgive the slight, a foregone conclusion. We have no interest in controlling the Vein. I hope, despite the inevitable, that we might continue to uphold the ancient, unspoken understanding between the government and you—and your ilk—"
The wick narrowed his eyes and snuffed out his cigar on the waxed tabletop with a vicious hiss,
"William, darling, I have no ilk." His glass tinkled with how firmly he set it down, "I have no peers, no brethren, no kin, nor do I have any successors, confidants, contemporaries, or even admired cohorts. Let me remind you that your little comfortable world here depends raaaaattther heavily on my continued survival, ye chen. Because I am unique—in what I do, in how I do it. No one could do what I've done thus far. Now, we've moved into new business, me thinks. Go on, let's discuss what this new year has in store for us, eh?"