Chapter 113: The Crowned King’s Table

Chapter 113: Chapter 113: The Crowned King’s Table

Donald burned the note in the bathroom sink, and Sylvia watched it curl into black ash without saying anything until the water had washed it away.

"She put it in your pocket in the car," she said at last. "I was sitting right next to you, and I didn’t see her do it."

"Neither did I."

"Then she’s better than her guards think she is." Sylvia leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded. "Do you believe her?"

"I believe she’s frightened of the man we’re eating with tonight," Donald said, "and I believe she wanted me to know that before I sat down at his table. Whatever else she wants, we’ll find out when she’s ready to tell us."

---

The car came for them at seven and took them back across the river to the Taeyang tower, where a lift carried them to the top floor so fast that Donald’s ears popped twice on the way up.

The dining room filled the whole floor. Three of its walls were glass, looking out over the lights of both cities, the old one low and gold and the new one tall and white, while the fourth wall held the great black sun they had seen from the airship, so close now that Donald could see the seams where the panels had been joined. A single long table stood in the middle of the room with only four places set at the end nearest the sun.

Park Jae-won was already seated when they came in.

He was a thin man of about seventy, with white hair cut very short and a face that had once been handsome, though the skin of it had gone loose and gray, as if he had been ill for a long time. He wore a plain black suit with no tie. On the third finger of his right hand was a heavy gold ring set with a flat black stone, and it was the only thing about him that looked healthy.

He didn’t stand, but he smiled, and the smile was warm and patient and didn’t reach his eyes at all.

"Investor," he said. His voice was soft and dry. "Thank you for coming so far. Please, sit. As I promised you, there’s no wine at my table tonight, only tea."

Donald sat across from him and opened [Valuation Eye] as he did.

[Target: Park Jae-won]

[Class: Warlord (S-Rank)]

[Level: 88]

[Status: Ring-bound host. Host awareness: 4%.]

[Item: Signet of the Crowned King (Relic)]

[Bound to: Paimon, the Crowned King.]

[Hostile Takeover Price: 210,000,000 System Credits.]

[Current Balance: 1,760,000 System Credits.]

He closed both windows. Four percent was very little of a man left over after fifteen years.

Seo-yeon came in through a side door carrying a tray with a teapot and four small cups. She had changed into a long dress of dark blue silk that left her shoulders bare, and she set the cups out and poured for each of them in turn without looking at anyone, before she took the fourth seat beside Park and folded her hands in her lap.

"My daughter-in-law," Park said. "You’ve met. She runs my Guild far better than I ever did."

"She was very kind to us this morning," Donald said.

"She’s always kind." Park lifted his cup and drank, and then set it down very precisely in the center of its saucer. "Now. You found my mark on your anchor, and you wrote me a very short letter about it. I liked that. Men who write long letters are usually trying to hide something in the words."

"Then I’ll keep this short too," Donald said. "What do you want for the lien?"

Park laughed. It was a small, pleased sound, and for a moment he looked almost like a grandfather enjoying a good joke.

"Do you know," he said, "you’re the first person in thirty-one years to sit at this table and ask me my price in the first minute. Kings and Guild Masters have eaten here. They all spent the first hour telling me what they wouldn’t do." He leaned back in his chair. "Before I tell you the price, let me tell you what I’m selling, because I don’t think you understand it yet."

Donald said nothing, and Park seemed to take that as permission to continue.

"When the Breaking came, the Circle sent its armies through every gate on the surface of this world, all at once," he said. "And your people fought back, and sealed thirty-one of our anchors under thirty-one cities, and for thirty-one years the Circle has been arguing about what to do next. My brother Bael wants to tear them all open, burn the cities on top of them, and drink every drop of mana that comes out. My brother Asmodeus wants to feed on your people slowly, one at a time, for as long as there are people left. And poor Azgalor"—he smiled again—"just wanted to win a battle, and you saw how that went."

"And you?" Donald asked.

"I want what every sensible owner wants," Park said. "I want the buildings to stay standing, the tenants to keep paying, and the doors to stay shut. A burned city pays nothing. A frightened city pays a great deal for safety, every year, forever." He spread his hands on the tablecloth. "Look out the window, Investor. Thirty-one years, and not one street of Hanseong has fallen. Every other nation on earth envies us. That is what I sell. Peace, at a fair price."

"Paid to you."

"Paid to whoever holds the locks." Park tapped the table once. "And until a week ago, that was going to be me, eventually, everywhere. Your Council in Aldmere was rotten from the First Seat down, and I would have had all seven of its chairs within five years. Then you walked in with your money and your strange skill and bought two of them out from under me in a matter of days."

He looked at Donald for a long moment, and Donald understood that this was the real reason for the dinner.

"You’re the only other person in the world who knows how to buy what I buy," Park said quietly. "That makes you a competitor, and I don’t enjoy competitors, but I’m a practical man. So here is my price. Sell me your two Aldmere locks, and I’ll lift the lien on Genesis City tonight, here, at this table. I’ll even pay you a hundred million credits on top, because I know what those locks are worth to me."

"And then you’d hold two locks in Aldmere," Donald said, "plus your reach through Hanseong into every other anchor."

"I’d hold two of seven, which is less than you’d hold of your own city’s anchor, once your Arch-Mage has turned it." Park shrugged. "You’d keep Genesis. I’d keep the rest of the world quiet. Everybody would be safer than they are now."

Donald looked down at his tea. It was green and clear and smelled of grass, and he hadn’t touched it. Beside him, Sylvia hadn’t touched hers either.

He thought about it carefully, because Park deserved that much. Then he set the cup down.

"No," he said.

Park’s face didn’t change. "May I ask why?"

"Because you’d use those two locks to buy the other five," Donald said, "and then all of Aldmere would be yours, and through Aldmere and Hanseong together you’d be able to touch every anchor faster than anyone could stop you. A hundred million credits is a good price for one city. It’s a very bad price for the world."

For a while the room was so quiet that Donald could hear the wind against the glass.

At last Park sighed, and picked up his cup again.

"I hoped you’d be greedier," he said. "Greedy men are so much easier to work with." He drank, and set the cup down in the center of its saucer. "Then let me explain the other side of the price, so there’s no confusion later. The lien matures in five days. I don’t need to kill you, or keep you here, or do anything at all. I only need to wait for you to fail to pay. Your airship’s flight permit was cancelled an hour ago by the Commonwealth Sky Authority, which is owned by a company that is owned by me. Every bank in Hanseong has been told not to handle your money. If you want to go home with your anchor clear, Investor, you’ll be selling me those locks before the week is out. If you don’t, you can go home any way you like, but the anchor will be mine either way."

He smiled again, warm and patient.

"Enjoy the tea," he said. "It’s very good."

Seo-yeon reached across the table to refill his cup, and as she did, Park’s hand moved.

It was a small movement. His fingers closed around her wrist, not hard, and for one second his whole face changed. The patient smile went out of it, and his eyes, which had been flat and dark all evening, were suddenly wet and frightened and old, and they went from Seo-yeon’s face to Donald’s as if he was trying to remember who Donald was.

"Seo-yeon-a," he whispered. "Is the boy home yet?"

Seo-yeon didn’t move or breathe.

Then the ring on his finger gave off a faint black glow, and the smile came back into Park’s face all at once. He let go of her wrist and patted it gently.

"Forgive me," he said. "I’m an old man, and I get tired in the evenings. Seo-yeon will see you downstairs."

---

She walked them to the lift in silence, and in the lift she stood facing the doors with her hands folded in front of her, until the numbers above the doors had counted down past the fortieth floor.

"His son has been dead for fifteen years," she said, without turning around. "Some nights he still asks me if he’s come home."

"Your husband," Donald said.

"Yes." The lift slowed, and she lifted her chin. "My car will not be waiting for you downstairs tonight, Investor. I’m sorry. I wasn’t permitted to arrange one."

The doors opened onto the lobby, where it was very quiet, and the guards who had stood by the entrance when they arrived were gone.

Seo-yeon stayed in the lift, and as the doors began to close she looked at Donald one last time.

"Please be careful in the old city," she said. "The streets there are very dark."

The doors shut, and she was gone.

Outside, across the plaza, the lights of the river bridge were still burning, but every streetlamp between the tower and the bridge had been turned off.