Amon Rajan did not face the room as he regarded the city-scape through the massive glass window. He appeared as a trim silhouette against the sunset and kept his hands tucked in the small of his back. It was melodramatic, aloof, and, with any luck, frustrated his host.

“Will you come sit down already?” Marion asked.

“I can hear you from here.” He replied.

The old woman exhaled her frustration, got up from where she’d been sitting, and walked to the bar. She splashed a pair of glasses half full and joined him. He took it, sniffed the carmel aroma, and raised an eyebrow.

“So, Marion, what is it you’d like to discuss that’s worth a thousand dollar drink?”

“You, Amon. Always you.”

He smiled. This was good. It confirmed that the ball was still in his court. “Don’t tell me I’m going to get a lecture about rocking the boat from you too?”

Marion took a sip. “A lecture? No. But there are things you should know. Things you’re not aware of.”

“I doubt that.” In the time since announcing his intentions he’d heard every opposition argument there was. There was nothing she could say he hadn’t already considered.

“There are things in this world that are meant to die.” She said.

“Is that a threat?”

“No. A reality. This path of reclamation you’re on. No good will come of it.”

“Oh, the perils of sustainability. Besides, since when do people like you give a damn about good when there’s money to be made?”

“Only when it has consequences.”

He scoffed. “Another threat?”

She levelled a serious gaze at him. She was three times his age and a part of him always felt like a child when she looked at him. He hated it.

“I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you.”

Amon downed his drink, crossed the room, and poured another without asking. “And why, after years of trying to destroy my business, would you warn me of anything?”

She ignored his presumption. “I’d rather push you down than watch you trip on your own. So I’m showing you. That way, when you ignore me and cock it up, I get to own it.”

Amon swirled his drink. She was full of shit. She had to be. There was nothing he hadn’t considered.

“So, go ahead, spill it. What dire iceberg lurks just below my horizon?”


Who are the Men of the City and what do they have to do with Amon’s plans for the future? Find the rest, and dozens of other stories, on my Patreon!