Von Kolben lived in a modest manor house at the edge of the ‘rich-bastards’ part of town. The city guards were out in force in this area, patrolling in groups of two or three on every street. The hubbub and hoi poloi of the rest of the city, as well as the urchins and street vendors, were notably absent.

  A short gravel drive led to a gatehouse set in tall wrought iron fences that stretched away to either side. A footman approached me wearing a smart grey uniform with a matching tricorne hat. I presented the letter of invitation, and the gates were opened for me.

  Simple gardens, shrubs, and sweet-smelling flowers lining their edges, were laid out neatly around the looming house. Three storeys tall and made of red brick, it was well kept, but the paint was peeling on a few of the upper window frames. A groundsman was chipping away at the paint on one of the ground-floor windows, a pot of purple ready to one side of him.

  I approached the main entrance and raised my fist, but the door swung open before I could knock. I snatched my hand back to avoid boinking the petite maid on the other side on the forehead.

  “Sir Bob. Please come in.” She curtsied prettily, and I followed her into the mansion. The entrance hall was grand, walls covered with expensive-looking wooden panels polished to a gleam. On one side was a small room with a chair and a desk covered with communication orbs, but my guide led me to a comfortable sitting room.

  “Will you be needing food or drink, milord?” she asked with yet another curtsy. Mammals and their scraping and groveling…

  “I’m fine, thanks. Is Kolbens going to be long?” I asked as I sat down on a settee lined with deep blue velvet.

  “Viscount Von Kolben is never unpunctual for a guest,” said a male voice in a slightly waspish tone from the door behind me. I turned and nodded to the man as he swept into the room. “Punctuality is the politeness of princes. I’ll have some of the Butterbloom tea, please, Mildred.”

  The maid did her favourite move, her knees damn near touching the floor this time, and rose to hurry off, closing the door behind her.

  “She’s a good girl. Didn’t even tell me wife about the time I tumbled her.” He grinned broadly. His tunic was made of a material that seemed to glimmer faintly, and the sea green of his clothes matched his eyes. Thick, greying hair shaped into a large pompadour sat atop his head, making it seem as though he was wearing a baseball cap.

  “You screw a lot of your staff, then?”

  “It’s mine by right! But me wife… she doesn’t see it that way.” A dirty chuckle that made me want to add him to the menu came forth in bursts. And this is what Nyal thought of as a good guy?

  “I received my marching orders from Mrs. Sanderson. That jumped-up thug wants us to push through some legislation, so that is what we will do.” He’d gone from jocular-if-slightly-pervy to pure business in a blink. “What are you bringing to the table? Wrigglesworth has agreed to support it, and I’ve got Gigglebottom, Longshanks, and Scramblebass in my pocket. All their liegemen will follow their leads. Who have you got leverage on?”

  I blinked slowly. I had no fucking clue who these people were or how their system worked.

  “Won’t the emperor just make the decision in the end?”

  “The Madson? No one trusts him. The petty council rules with the backing of the nobles, and we make sure they do what we all agree on. Collectively.” He shivered. “As long as the peons never figure out how it works, we’ll be fine. Imagine if every baker and shoemaker got a say!”

  “So, it’s the dawn of a democracy. Well, I don’t have any leverage on anyone. I suppose I could eat a few people if they’re evil? I’m pretty sure that’s allowed.” I smiled broadly, and he winced.

  “Alas, no. But you do have a certain cachet. A beast in human flesh! A monster in our midst! We could sell that.”

  Fucking merchants. At least Philpott and Dalgliesh were open and somewhat honest about it. Dalgiesh sold fear, Philpott sold any old shit. And my bloody feathers.

  “Look, this kind of system is pretty well known to me. Better than all the other options, to paraphrase some prick with a cigar. What is Dalgliesh’s, erm, your proposal about?”

  “Speaking of which.” The man reached over to a humidor on a small table next to him and produced a pair of cigars. He offered me one, which I politely declined, then lit the other with a small cube he pulled from his jacket’s pocket. As thick smoke filled the air, he took a slow breath. “I don’t understand it meself. He’s looking to enforce uniformity of pay and working conditions across the board for dockworkers. Same money, same hours. There’s some stuff about the right to reconciliation and elected representatives, as well. It’s very popular among the plebs, so I hear. Half the nobles are up in arms at the thought, though.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  A union then. Assuming he already controlled the lion's share of the workers, he was aiming to gain a monopoly. Maybe. My head spun as I tried to work it all out. Just eating problematic people until I got my way was so much simpler.

  Glaswegian gangster. Used to dealing in drugs, weapons, prostitution, and protection rackets. Already controls a lot of the dock work and the access to transport that would entail… But Ankmapak seemed pretty lax about drugs, judging from the clouds of opium-like fumes that haunted the rafters at the Long Horn. And I could buy a dozen enchanted daggers (guaranteed fire effect or your money back) for a gold piece in the Pap Palace.

  “What is the most valuable cargo that gets brought into the city on a regular basis?” I asked, settling back into the remarkably comfy settee.

  “Hmm. System spawned items?” I snorted. Unless there was some other system, based on my experiences with Philpott, that was bullshit. “Arkendrite, maybe? Rare alchemical supplies. As in the really rare stuff; heart of a dragon, wing tips of a phoenix, manticore penis, that kind of thing.” I glowered at the idea that my scales, feathers, and heart were just trade goods to these squishy beings. I was also briefly happy that, as a dragon, I didn’t have a wang. “Maybe exotic species?” he added hurriedly as a look of anger crossed my face at the thought of some mendicant rubbing their hands together over a bubbling cauldron containing my heart.

  “What kind of exotic species?” I growled.

  “Now listen here, you’ll be respectful to me in me own home, Bob!”

  “Apologies, Von Kolben. What kind of species?” My tone didn’t change at all, but he seemed somewhat mollified by the empty words.

  “Well, anything really. The various beastkin fetch good money as fighters in the arena. Some of the others make excellent craftsmen and enchanters. That very sofa you rest your arse upon was handcrafted and enchanted by an Elven maid taken from the Silver Woods when she was a girl! So what will you do? Burn down the opposition's manors?”

  “Nothing so crass, mammal.” I could kind of see where Philpott’s demons got their attitude for the locals from. “I can have a chat with Pratnip. I’ve had some dealings with his minions.”

  “He’s in the neutral group, swinging him could be just the trick! A most prominent man,” Von Kolben burbled around rich-smelling clouds of cigar smoke, choosing to ignore my insult. At least he was learning. I was coming to the conclusion that Nyal, a demon obsessed with sex and dreams, thought this man was good because he was a horny devil who liked to shag his servants. I mentally added him to the ‘probably edible’ category. “I’m having a pre-ball orgy tomorrow evening, it would be lovely to see you there. I’ve never seen a woman filled with dragon cock!” Probably edible became ‘definitely edible, but wash thoroughly before eating’.

  “Who leads the opposition?” I asked.

  “That uptight whore, Foreverknot. Always scheming that one.” He nodded sagely. “Desperate for war against the Orlics. War with the dwarves. War on the Pixie Confusion. I agree with her on that, to be fair. Viscous little shits, Pixies.”

  “You got a safe teleport room in this place?” I asked, having made up my mind. I checked on my demons, and Greed had passed out. Lust was taking advantage of the situation. Both were distracted, albeit in a fairly disgusting way. Good.

  “Of course. It’s just next to the Pondering room.” I stared at him blankly. “The room with the orbs. I’ll show you there meself! My loins are telling me you’ve got a rock-hard idea!” Dude. Just… wash twice before eating.

  “Thanks.”

  I was led back across the entrance hall and found myself in a small room, barely three metres squared. The walls were lined with arcane symbols, and strange gems glowed in sconces in each of the four corners.

  “Flair for the dramatic? All the other safe rooms have been pretty plain.” He shrugged at my question.

  “Depends on which Tech-Mage sets them up. I went for the best!” He sounded proud of himself.

  “I doubt it. If anyone got the best, it was Dalgliesh. I’ll meet you here after your pre-event entertainment tomorrow evening. If, in the meantime, our lord and master has any questions, I’ll be working to deal with Pratnip and Foreverknot.”

  I pulled out my portal stones, and a blue ovoid appeared in front of me.

  “Do you mind?” I asked pointedly. He bid me good day in a harsh voice and closed the door behind him as he left. I sent the other end of the portal to the safe room in the Forgotten Library. As soon as I stepped through, I sent both ends back to a backroom in the Cod. I should be ok, but I didn’t want to pinpoint my lair on whatever the hell the Web happened to be if it could see through Von Kolben’s ostentatious protections.

  I blinked in the darkness and waited for my eyes to adjust.

  “Back so soon?” A sultry whisper in my right ear. I spun, but the gloom was empty. Faint glimmers from torches in the corridor outside threw just enough light to make out my surroundings, but I couldn’t see the vampire anywhere near me.

  “Looking to hire the Blood Mare, Agatha. You up for some work?” A tinkling laugh danced around me for a moment, seeming to come from every direction at once.

  “I dreamed of you last night.” Not creepy at all.

  “Won’t Bulldo be mad about that?”

  “Tsk. Mortals understand what it is to love one of us. The dream wasn’t like that anyway. How many of those you love have you watched grow old?”

  “None, but I’m kind of new here.”

  “It will happen, sad to say. Who has earned your ire?”

  “Lady Foreverknot is posing a problem for me. It needs to look like a noble who’s against the dockworkers legislation did it. Like they were pissed off she wasn’t fighting it hard enough.” I was kind of grasping at straws here. I hated politics.

  “Ooh, blue blood is on the menu!”

  “Only if you can make it look like it wasn’t you!” I snapped.

  “I can make it look like whatever you want, dear Bob. I’m a little like you in that regard.” A hand squeezed my buttock, and I jumped, spinning round in the Kitten-Caught-In-The-Cupboard form, but there were only shadows behind me.

  “Fifty thousand, my lovely lizard. I will make it seem as though Earl Hateskale arranged the blood feast. How soon, my love?” Well, on the plus side, kicking the shit out of Bulldo if he found out about his vamp-girlfriend's fondness for me and got pissy wouldn’t be an issue.

  “Done. Tomorrow night at the ball.” Even as I spoke, my greed-demon woke up, slapped the lust-monkey away from his earhole, and began hammering at my sanity.