Thursday, December 31, 2212
“Factor?”
Mercer turned away from the window. Intendant Locke was at the door, a folded letter in his hands. The set of his face was stony as ever, but there was a certain lilt in Locke’s voice, which Mercer took to be a good sign.
“Happy tidings for the New Year? Take a drink and a seat, Intendant.”
Locke glanced around the Factor’s office and found the bar buried under a stack of paper. A moment’s rummaging produced a bottle of unidentifiable red wine, which Locke took to be the best he’d be getting. He took his seat and pushed the letter and bottle both towards Mercer. A ray of sunlight illuminated the vellum, though this was not of much significance. At this time of year, the sun never set on Fish Island, and Mercer’s window was quite large. Mercer prioritized the wine.
“The Handfidh Atlas, Intendant? If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to poison me.” Mercer uncorked the bottle into her cup of water and poured two glasses.
“It was on your bar, Factor.”
“Bah. Call me Vicky.”
“As long as you address me by my title I will address you by yours, Factor.”
“Well, damn.” Mercer inspected her glass, gave it a swirl and a sniff, tasted it, and choked into her abused water cup. The intendant gave his own glass a worried glance before returning to decorum.
“I think I’ll pass on the drink, Factor. What was it you said it was?”
Mercer took another sip. She paused for a second, made a face, and swallowed.
“That’d probably be for the best. It’s a Handfidh Atlas 2194. My wife gave it to me last year on Mother’s Day. What were you here to tell me about?”
“Doesn’t seem like much of a gift to me, sir. Scanthor reported that the Regicides finished loading aboard Cold The Ice Below an hour ago. Minovinu will finish up shortly as well. The conversions for the ASF-04s to Sapphire Dragon spec are delayed but will complete on schedule. Pierce reports that Periselene’s engine issues have been resolved and that her group is ready to proceed. I’d like to suggest she gets a bonus.”
“Approved, you figure out how much. We’ll be good to proceed as planned?”
“All indicators seem to say so, Factor.”
“That could have been an email.” Mercer took another sip, and Locke realized with a start that Mercer had finished her glass and started on Locke’s.
“And miss out on your drink collection, sir? All the money and resources of the Company and that was the best your wife could get you?”
“She actually worked quite hard for it. Atlas only ever got to make one vintage before they went out of business. Some Pippaki smashed up their yard and storeroom after tasting a bottle, I presume. Lord knows why you would ever open a wineyard in Pippakistan.”
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t know, my wife told me. I mentioned wanting to learn wine to her and she went and found me this. She says it’s the rarest bottle of wine in the world, only two survived.” Mercer poured two more glasses.
“I think I’ve changed my mind. A toast?”
“Mhm. To our coming success!”
The glasses clinked, and both officers drank deeply.
Locke decided then and there that he had made a mistake.
- standing on business
- Screenshot 2026-06-22 041955.png (14.91 KiB) Viewed 47 times
