B.T.V. -- Session 13 Interlude 2: The Table Room

Maldon knocked on the table twice. It was a signal to let whoever was waiting in the adjacent room enter. Maldon had selected that method of communication as it was simple, without magic or mechanism, and required only keen hearing and an understanding of the changeable code to act. It also required the correct table. The Table Room was eight sided, a homage to his Chaos roots, six of which held tables. An inner ring had four. There was a single table a few feet into the room from the entrance, of no particular purpose other than an initial obstruction. Although he likely would find an alternate use for it at some point in the future. Upon each table was a setting. The one he stood at held two trays. The first was empty, having been executed. A small effort to aid in the declaration of war between Fenario and Two Rivers. In truth, it would have taken place anyway, but given his contracted timelines, he gave it the necessary push, in the necessary way. More important was the second tray which held his notes on the peace he would help establish, and what gains he expected it to bring.


Which brought him to the next table. That was when the door opened and Jesper entered. He was a smaller man who had survived in a world populated by much larger people. It was his first time in the Table Room, and his expression betrayed both a camouflaged excitement and a curiosity that was expanding. Maldon motioned him forward. Jesper took four steps around the table situated before the door, making his way to the right, examining the room from right to left, having already examined it from the doorway from left to right. All of which Maldon made a mental note of.

“Who do you serve?” asked Maldon when the smaller man arrived beside him.

Jesper considered the question, careful not to answer too quickly or consider too long. “The Ambiguous Color.”

That was the name of Maldon’s organization. It alluded to the current Realm’s power and his place within it. “No. Again, who do you serve?”

“The Tai-Pan.”

That was Maldon’s title, both as Master of the Ambiguous Color and lord of his mercantile efforts. The hidden and the exposed both the same. “No. Again, who do you serve?”

When Jesper made to answer again, too quickly as concern edged its way into his features, Maldon raised a hand. “Life.”

Jesper’s eyes darted about the room thinking he meant he would lose his. Maldon smiled. “That is who you serve. Life.” He let the small man absorb the statement before continuing. “Amusing isn’t it? We who are granting the gifts of ending life are servants of it.”

Maldon left the table with papers relating to his recent acquisitions. He had decided with his limited resources to invest in transport. If the war proved to his benefit, his further gains would introduce him to investments into certain raw materials. And from there continue his pursuit in bolstering various cities mercantile councils with the intention of forging political power cells to create a lattice of influence.

“We serve Life, Jesper, because we’re Human. Do you remember what I said to you six days ago when you were informed you would have the opportunity to visit the Table Room?”

Jesper re-focused. “You pointed out a broken spoke on a wheel.”

“No. You noted a broken spoke on a wheel. I simply said, look at that, and pointed.”

“Apologies, Tai-Pan.” Jesper lowered his head.

“Do not lower your head to me or anyone else. I’ve told you before. That is subservience, weakness. Our calling is a higher one. There will come a time to take the knee, and you will know it when you see me do it. But until then . . . .”

Jesper saluted, four fingers to his hidden blade.

“Better. The craftsman who made the spoke that became part of the wheel that became part of the wagon that we saw carrying the barley for the brewmaster to make his ale, serves who?”



“Life?” answered Jesper after too long a delay.

Maldon laughed. He stepped to a table with a single key on a velvet clothe as its setting. “This is the Black Key. And what do keys open?” “Locks?”

“Doors. You’ve heard the expression, Key to the city?”

Jesper nodded.

“The maker of this is the original source of that expression. Just as every legend has its basis in truth, every act has its origin. And this key opens doors within the greatest of cities. Adrilankha is included in their number.”

Maldon noted the common reaction to his mentioning the Capital of the Dragaeran Empire. Humans, or Easterners as they were called here, were considered inferior to the Dragaerans, an offshoot of Sinardin lineage. That humility was deeply ingrained. He had initially attempted to purge it by dealing with some of those Dragaerans as examples. But the result was not as he hoped. It secured his own place as a notable assassin, and person of extraordinary ability, but nothing more of lasting value. And while those strangely tall Sinardin were easy to bend his hate toward, he had to remind himself they were not his enemy, and may at some point be required as allies. “Did you want to touch it?”

Jesper shook his head.


The Black Key upon the table was not the actual Black Key. That, of course, was upon his person. But it was a good replica, and served its purpose both for himself and others. The ‘maker’ of the true relic as he had referred to him, was his father, Absolom. They had come together to Axildusk to engage in the hunt for the Master and his Sheld, and to search out the shards and echords to be used to restore his family. And undoubtedly to prepare for the World of Conflict and the final engagement with Darkness and Vaxus and their spawn.

Maldon moved to the next table which was one of the inner four. Its setting was a book bound in tiger skin, or rather a version of. “Do I seem determined to you, Jesper?”

The small man nodded. Maldon stared at him.

“Very determined, Tai-Pan.”

“It is an asset and a hindrance. I’ve done much to change my passions, curb the weaknesses which while providing sustenance to my ambition, also afford opportunity to my enemies. It takes a great deal now to get in there.” Maldon touched the striped fur of its surface. “But it’s not empty.”

Jesper looked uncertain, whether he should comment or not. He chose not to.

I think that’s enough for now,” said Maldon.

“Tai-Pan,” said Jesper, fingers to hidden blade, then turned and left.



He was replaced by one of the Lethal. They were his closest servants, highest within the Ambiguous Color. But then again, they were Lethal, so that could only be expected. And he was fortunate to have them. Absolom had suggested he summon them, a gift of his inheritance as a member of the Lethality, the founding form that all assassins aspired to. He could bring four. And in doing so, he condemned them to the mainstay of Axilcraft, as the Dragons of Time and Shadow ensured there was no other option, and to his own cause. Fortunately, they seemed quite content with the choice, and even agreeable to the circumstance. His father got it right, it seemed. As he did when he suggested Maldon leave Adrilankha for nations more human. Or their cities rather. He had chosen Karrion, and events had progressed from there. But there had been one other suggestion his father had made before he most recent disappearance. One that had caused Maldon hesitation. But that would be corrected.

“The man in the Corner?” Maldon asked the Lethal.

“Gone.”

“Gone? He’s been in that corner the same time every second day for the last month.”

“Gone,” repeated the Lethal.

“Shit.” Maldon had not acted fast enough. His father would not have mentioned the figure if he was not significant. He had learned the man in the corner was an assassin by trade, who was or had been a Jhereg, one of the Dragaeran Houses, but who was also an Easterner, however that worked. He had a reputation and knew well the world. Had travelled in places low and high. And had skills bordering on Maldon’s own. Such a person might have proven crucial to his plots, both short and long. And now he was suddenly gone? “What of that bird?”

“The Jhereg?”

“Ah, yes. Beasts and houses. The creature. Has it been seen? Is anyone tracking them?”

“There were no orders.”

Maldon cursed to himself. His organization was small yet and its resources were spread thin. “Very well. As much as it pains me, I need one of you to make it their job to find him. Don’t make contact. I’ll do that.”

“Tai-Pan,” acknowledged the Lethal.



When the door closed, Maldon passed the table related to the Dragon Carta, and moved to one with a single page as its setting. The page was blank, but filled suddenly at his touch. He read the words as he did every evening.

‘At my prow I saw a sight, the sight stirred blood-chaotic. A serene ship sailing t’ward us, with a ‘fane Queene most despotic. Though my fleet was great, I knew my fate was to serve Her and no other. I’m an enraptured thing, this forlorn ‘fane, that the waters must recover. My holed ship of war, I land ashore a plane so Grey-exotic. Yet nothing there is quite as faere as my Queene, Her Grace hypnotic.’

Some obsessions were more difficult to be rid of than others, he conceded.

The Tai-Pan's words transcribed by A. Fraser