The courier reached for his wine again while Hajin sat beside the untouched contract paper.
Midnight cold crept around the reception room shutters while the visitor studied the draught above a fire that reached him. Hajin waited beside the blank page as another sip delayed the answer, letting his guest learn that silence bought nothing.
'Drink slower, buddy, I can outwait a damn glacier if the wine holds out.'
"Sound ramparts, disciplined sentries and surprisingly fresh bread, my lord," the courier purred, setting his cup beside the paper.
"The baker already knows he's good."
Hajin nudged the blank contract into the gap between them, "So skip the compliments, what does your mistress want from mine?"
The visitor folded his gloves together instead of pretending the question offended him.
"An exclusive partnership," he said, lining the gloves beside his cup finger to finger, "before the embargo forces your people into less favorable arrangements."
