Klaus' morning meeting awaited him on the docks a town over. The specialty fabrics Klaus rush-ordered for Magnus’ new wardrobe were supposed to show up. It was worth braving the horrific carriage ride. The experience was the intersection of the worst possible conditions. The heat was nauseating, and the road was potholes on shuffle. Klaus was too hungover to cope and survived the trip by imagining Magnus draped in various wool blends.

The docks smelled exactly like hot piss. The captain of the merchant vessel was a stout smelly gentleman dressed in poor people’s clothes. He reached inside of his gross sweaty vest and handed Klaus a letter with a broken wax seal. Klaus snatched it so that only the very tips of his leather gloves had to touch it. Peasant sweat would ruin the Italian leather.

The large feather plume on Klaus’ tricorn bounced in the wind, “Did you read this?”

“No. My Lord,” the letter was obviously opened. This exchange was off to a terrible start.

“Last time we met I executed one of your sailors,” said Klaus.

The captain bowed his head, “You disemboweled him on the deck of my ship.”

“I wanted to make sure you remembered,” Klaus scanned the letter.

“Sir, does our prior arrangement sill stand?”

Klaus held up a finger. He needed his full attention to speed read. 

“Sir, you offered me double my fee if I rushed deliveries…”

“I said that?” Klaus looked up.

“Yes, Sir, double.”

“That’s out of character for me,” Klaus tucked the letter inside his breast pocket. The coat was ruined now. “I assume you opened this because you thought there would be money inside. I’ll forgive you for being poor and desperate.”

The merchant thumbed at the fraying edges of his hat, “I don’t want to harp on it, Sir. It’s just, we had an agreement about the double fee.”

Klaus paid the annoying double fee, climbed back in his coach, and put the piss-soaked docks in his rearview. A double fee was a waste of money, but he didn’t feel like disemboweling anybody.