As the sun rose upon the horizon, Port Aurora seemed beautiful for the first time that Groshaas had ever visited it. Gone were the days of a bloated ramshackle village of wood and ugly stone, smothered in storms and drowned in storm. Now, the wood was distinguished, the stone had become brick, and the grand buildings of the Northside were made of marble, steel, and glass. Limoen had outdone himself in this city.

Now if only he could rid it of the human filth that infested it.

Port Aurora was a font of vagabonds and drifters, just as it had been since the days of the Pirate King of the Aurora Kingdom. Big cities were like this. But still, one could ignore these plagues and pestilences for long enough while in the safety of this frankly marvelous Glashalle. It was an exhibitionary palace made entirely of Crystal Glass Limoen had built, to attract aristocrats, well-to-do businessmen, and industrialists. And my my, it did do its duty.

But now, today it served as the meeting place for the kings of business, the tycoons of commercialism, the barons and burghers of capital and commodity: the Cadre of Shaicks. The Commander-generals of the Lion’s share of the mighty Glimmerite economy.

And unlike the burghers, they were no uncultured pigs among them. Except for Walfänger.

Speaking of that salty bastard, Walfänger was the first to arrive. He controlled a fleet of whaling ships, and brought in fish after fish, and gallon after gallon of oil. What he didn’t control was his vast appetite, and an appetite for more than just sweets and meats. Nevertheless, he made quickly for the smorgasbord, a Leichforster tradition that Limoen had made expressly for the pleasure behemoth of a behemoth-hunter. A happy partner was a malleable one, and Limoen knew this well.

Not all present were malleable here, least of all von Schmitt. He was an intractable ironmonger from a long line of intractable ironmongers, working with their intractable metal in the intractable land of Rothovel. His face was tight, his head shaven bald, and his muttonchops seemed to twitch with the draft. It was almost like he was a statue in some museum, a monument to the stiff-upper-lip and grim determination that all poor seemed to think all great commercialists have. But legend had it that Arner von Schmitt was not all morose all the time! No, no, legend had it that he had a friend.

Perhaps this was one of the legends that were just legend.

In any event, the Baroness of the Haver River, Silvya Reine strode in wearing a man’s frock as she was infamously known to do. After her came Andreas Zucker and Oskar Overich von Gnado, a banker and a sugar mogul (or perhaps the other way around) who made their first fortunes in the Starburst Colony, and then returned to make even more. They were cordial, but not friends. Perhaps acquaintances. Certainly no more than that (unless the rumors were to be believed). After those two came Jakob Timmerhout, the Titan of Leichforst Lumber, Furs, and Hunting alike, and after him came Den Klejnsmed, the Boilermaking, smoke-belching, pipe-puffing, and loud-mouthing industrialist and philanthropist. A pair of bankers, a pack of arms-sellers and gunmakers strode in in a herd, but though they were invited they did little of note. The Great Factory-architect and coalseller Kulmann, whom everyone loathed silently, openly, and equally. The shipbuilder Kristoff van der Bilt, with his large purple nose. The ostensibly-unemployed (but notorious Salvadarean blackmarketeer) Cicero Paulomo. And, after a bookseller waltzed towards the fondue pot (to which Walfänger blocked while scarfing down some frosted cheese-cake), Limoen finally arrived.

Let the business begin.

“…and the penal colony will be under the Limoen Overseas Company and General Whaling’s joint jurisdiction, and shall be established in the year of 857.” That matter had been concluded, at last, and not without some polite debate. Groshaas was pleased at this – it was a nice change of pace of the endless shouting and scrupulous bribery of the sovereign diet. As he noted, these Shaicks of Commercialism knew how to do business most pleasantly.

Of note, they had also decided more. Efferia would be invaded, and they had decided how the cost would be divided to buy the necessary burghers and their all-important consent. Colonies would be returned. Afterwards, fleets would move. Additionally, Kulmann would build more of his factories for Reine. She was most pleased with this arrangement. Finally, more trader fleets would be built for Groshaas and Limoen, and some philanthropic Glaunist projects in the south to please those ascetic, puritanical Leichforsters.

But now, it was time for an important topic.

“Ardrah.”

It was one of the last on their agenda, for it was the most divided. For a moment, all was silent. Limoen chewed on a piece of cheese. Clever, for it relieved from him the burden to begin.

“Let us cut to the chase – Ardrah is the key to the Great Alliance.” Overich said. The Great Alliance, a term that was thrown around a lot within the Cadre these days. Castrisya, Ardrah, Bulkhai… Glimmer, Syd, Ocrana… Fourside, Aimeria, Ritholushat… Mandawar, Ganjapara, and the Square. A gigantic league, a huge web of those that would dare of confront Salvadare. Of course it was all hypothetical, and most of the interest that the Cadre had in it was derived from those two lovely words: exploitable market.

“A truism.” Said von Schmitt.

“Aye, a truism.” Said Walfänger, between bites of his meat-pie. “But the matter at hand is the successor. There are two squabbling claimants to the title Alaafin, and they are as different as cats and dogs.” At last, the fat man had said something that was both true and of note.

“I’ll remind you that the Alaafin is not dead yet.” Stated Zucker.

“No man lives forever.” Said Limoen, finishing his gouda slice. Groshaas wondered how old his dear friend was.

“Very well. Quite frankly, Ohun is a common thug who fell out of a queen’s ass instead of that of a streetwise whore, and one who would stifle industry and business within Ardrah. Uwaifaikon knows the importance of Commerce, and would do well to open the markets of Ardrah to our potential.” Said Zucker. It was clear what his opinion was.

“Red gold is good money. I am in favor.” Said von Schmitt, who lusted after the mines in Ardrah.

“We need to think of more than Ardrah in this situation,” said Reine “Ohun may enact protectionist policy, but that hurts Bulkhai and Aimeria and Ocrana. It’ll drive them right into our arms. I say three fish are better than one large one.” Her carefulness shone through her statement.

“Yes, the mines in Bulkhai may have coal and iron, but Ardrah’s have Coal, iron, and mountains of gold.” Said von Schmitt.

“Why hunt three fish when you could have a whale?” thought Walfänger out loud.

Another silence.

“There’s also the question of Salvadare,” Said Kulmann “A stronger Ardrah would be needed if blow comes to blow with Mendoza. It would distract the Salvadarean navy, as well. Keeps the pressure off us.” These was the unsaid thought that if Salvadare were to fight, Glimmer would be the first casualty, and Business would be the second. Not good.

“Of course, there is one man who would make for a strong Ardrah – Ohun,” said Groshaas, “but he may very well distance himself from the rest of the Great Alliance. A weaker Ardrah is better than no Ardrah at all.”

“No, Ohun would never back down. He’s a fighter.” Said Limoen.

“Ardrah hates Castrisya too.”

“But they hate Salavadare more. And in any event, perhaps that’s a good thing.”

An intriguing notion. A break with Castrisya?

“Castrisya threatens ironmongering and steelmongering. They threaten to beat us out. Perhaps they may beat us out by strength of firearm.” Said von Schmitt.

“Salvadare will not fight us. Of this, I am sure.” Said Paulomo.

“Forgive me if I do not share this sentiment. Salvadare is a wild bear – you cannot tame it,” Said Groshaas, “Castrisya, on the other hand, is a wild boar. Still untameable, but not nearly as dangerous.”

“But it would be prudent to keep a strong Ardrah around, in case Castrisya does become too powerful. We must balance the power between Salvadare, Castrisya, and Ardrah.” Said Limoen.

“But we cannot sow discord within our Great Alliance – it will be central to its downfall! Say Salvadare does attack, but Ardrah and Castrisya are divided. It will be our undoing.” Said Groshaas. There seemed to be a surplus of bad outcomes, and a deficit of good options. A bad economy, and a poor price for which to buy the future.

Groshaas hated metaphors, especially bad ones.

“Perhaps if we… hmm, no…” the Cadre was hemming and hawing. Limoen nibbled on more cheese.

“The choice is simple – either we open Ardrah, and weaken it in the process. Yes, we gain access to Ardrah in the short term, and yes we keep the Great Alliance strong, but Ardrah and Castrisya destroy us in the longterm. We simply cannot compete,” Said Timmerhout, “Or we close Ardrah, and gain the markets of Ocrana, Bulkhai, and Aimeria. Castrisya remains checked, but if Salvadare attacks, we may all be doomed.”

“You forget – our colonial power. No other nation in Pan Gu will have such command in Silvonia and Takia. This could be our power if we back Uwaifaikon. That could be our salvation.” Said Zucker.

“We could have both colonial power and economic dominance in Pan Gu.* said Groshaas.

“Yes, and we may have a quicker war with that too.” At this point, Groshaas was not even sure which side correlated to what.

“Gentlemen, this is all baseless speculation on the future. Ohun may keep the Great Alliance strong, true, and he may drive the Maat powers into our economy, true. But he may also seek a war where there is no need. Or, perhaps we could pressure him like we pressure Salvadare, and open Ardrah’s markets as well.” Said Reine.

“Our pressure in Salvadare has not succeeded, woman.” Cicero Paulomo said, and got the response of a caustic look. The Salvadarean Crimelord somehow seemed smaller.

Reine continued, “Likewise, Uwaifaikon may weaken the Great Alliance, and he may usurp us. But we cannot know. There is too much to lose here. And I will remind you, the Alaafin is not dead yet.”

Interesting.

“I see. And I agree with Ms. Reine, the best move here is to wait. We shall need more information before we attempt a balancing act, as confident that I am that we should succeed.” Said Groshaas.

“We shall wait?”

A silence.

“We shall wait.”

The cadre was in agreement.

“Anything else before we move on?” Limoen asked.

Another silence. Walfänger broke it:

“Is there any more of this cheesecake?