4.37 Black Mana

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Reinhardt stared down at his rippling reflection in the dark water surrounding Bison’s yacht.   The Warden of Dreams and The Black Market Trader were arguing inside the ship.

“Those paintings could have made us a fortune!” Exclaimed Fredrico with heat in his voice. “And if your men hadn’t been playing around with destroying them we could have avoided this entire mess.”

“You mean the mess you made to begin with?” asked Reginald Bison calmly.

“I’ve gotten you The Belvidere Court,” Defended The Warden “Word is spreading so fast, we’ve even caught the attention of The Queen Witch.”

“Excellent,” grinned Bison.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Fredrico began casting his eyes toward Reinhardt and motioning him forward “The Grey Guard won’t be able to help us if The Queen Witch finds one of your Fairy’s before the auction’s complete.”

“After the events of this afternoon, I’m not sure they can help us either way.” Stated Bison sharply.

“We had the situation under control…” Reinhardt interrupted “…Until those things of yours popped out of that painting,” spat the troll. 

            “Those things, mentioned you having an obsession with one of the thieves.” Observed Bison “Is that true?”

            “Thompkins, is a former member of The Grey Guard,” Reinhardt began “He was let go when we had to downsize after The Vampire Wars, been a pain in my ass ever since.”

            “Is he dangerous?” asked Fredrico.

            “He taught me everything I know,” admitted Reinhardt

            “Then we have nothing to worry about.” Snapped Bison.

            “He is a learned Troll.” Stated Reinhardt “We have intel he’s been running with the Gutter Mages for the past few years, we’ve just never had proof until now.”

            “Yet he still eludes you?” asked Bison “Along with this mysterious boy named Kai, what do you know about him?”

            “Next to nothing,” said Reinhardt “Another Gutter Mage we’ve busted for illegal cartomancy a few times in the past, but nothing important to note.”

            “Is that all?”

            “Yeah, what’s it to you Bison?” wondered The Troll.

            Bison dismissed the question without answering it. Instead he beckoned the men toward a small table at the center of the cabin. Three tiny shot glasses were waiting for them beside a tall, unmarked black glass bottle.

            “Gentlemen,” said Bison as he began pouring the shots. “For this to work you’re going to have to let me do things unhindered. I suspect The Grey Guard is going to find itself quite busy in the days leading up to the auction.” He added sliding the first glass over to Reinhardt. “History will remember you as a great man, Fredrico. The Queen who has so often seen fit to make you a laughing stock will soon realize the error of her ways.” He passed the next glass to The Warden before starting on his own.

            “Entire Households have crumbled attempting to do what we’re about to.” Bison continued, raising his glass into the air. “It is to them I dedicate this drink,” he let the faintest drop of black liquid spill from his glass. “To The Fallen,” he said before throwing it back.

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