Okay, so a new chapter that plays on the previous ones with Logan. Enjoy!

Reaver watched Logan polish off the last bite of his dessert; one Reaver had ordered to be prepared specially for the king's visit. He couldn't help but to notice that the king looked worse than ever. It looked like he'd lost weight recently. Not surprising since their last bedroom meeting had been rather lackluster with Logan's low energy. But he was eating more this time. He may have only taken a few bites of everything else, but he'd eaten dessert with a little more enthusiasm.

Still, Reaver couldn't help but to think tonight would be just as lackluster as their last foray. No need to focus on the charm in that case. Best to get other issues out of the way, ones Reaver had been stewing over for almost a week now. He'd save the extra charm for their next meeting.

"Younger siblings are often troublesome, I'd keep an eye out if I were you."

"I am keeping an eye out. You don't need to worry about my personal affairs, Reaver."

"You consider barging in on a business meeting in the throne room and yelling that you need to quit lining your pockets with gold and help your subjects nothing to worry about? Oh, and let's not forget that little suggestion to have me executed for treason due to corruption." Reaver squeezed his cane as he remembered the little debacle from the previous week. "I've even had protestors showing up at my manor gates."

Logan sat his fork down with a loud clatter. "It won't happen again, you have my word on it. I thought I came here to discuss business, or should I just leave?"

Reaver resisted rolling his eyes. Logan always refused to discuss issues that didn't relate directly to business. He typically preferred to stick to business matters himself as well. Business partners who yammered on and on about their personal lives always made his hand itch to grab his gun, but in this case, he feared personal issues could start to interfere with his business dealings and he couldn't be having that. He may not be sailing the seas as a feared pirate anymore, he'd chosen the different route of piracy called capitalism, but it'd done him even better than his pirate days had. He'd become a household name across Albion. Besides the king, he was the wealthiest man in Albion and it'd only taken him a few strategic business contracts with Logan to get there as well as some of the old Reaver charm.

Reaver tapped his cane against the ground and Barry rushed over, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste.

"Yes, Mastah Weaver," he lisped.

"Grab the contract. It's sitting in the middle of my desk."

Reaver took his gaze away from his royal guest as Barry took off. He took a bite out of his half-eaten dessert, savoring the sweetness. It'd been a surprise to find out that Logan didn't like chocolate or any kind of nuts, but to his chef that had been no challenge at all. So far, his chef had yet to repeat a single dish on the king's visits. If Reaver was a more generous man, he'd consider giving the worker a raise. But, he wasn't a generous man.

"It's all ready for you to sign. It follows the terms we discussed last time. You sell me the piece of property, and I build another factory and give you a share of the profits. It'll pay you way more than the rent you currently get off of it."

"Good." Logan gave a nod and moved his dishes away.

Barry appeared with the roll of parchment along with a quill and ink bottle. He handed it to Reaver before bowing and backing away.

Reaver unfurled the paper with a flourish and sat it down in front of Logan. He watched as the king read it, noticing the way his forehead crinkled and that dark, troubled look entered his eyes. He recognized that look. It was the look of a man with a conscience debating over doing something he didn't want to do. He always got that look when it came to signing contracts with Reaver. The citizens of Albion thought of Logan as a ruthless tyrant, but Reaver knew that couldn't be entirely true. He had yet to find a piece to the puzzle explaining the king's willingness to work with Reaver, a piece that'd been bothering him.

Logan signed the paper.

"There's a second copy below it. I want one for my own records, as usual."

With a frown, Logan signed the second one.

"Thank you," Reaver grabbed his copy, giving the signature a quick once-over. Satisfied, he smiled and rubbed the king's thigh.

"Shall we retire to my chambers for a bit of celebration?"

"No. I can't this time. I'm too tired."

Reaver let his smile drop as he removed his hand and sat back in his seat. "That is rather disappointing." He sipped at his wine to hide his annoyance.

"My health hasn't been doing so well lately. Next time."

"What should we do then, talk?" His words came out sounding more sarcastic than he meant. Reaver froze a moment then put his smile back on. "I hear you're good at telling stories about your travels. I've been dying to hear about your trip to Aurora. I've been extremely lucky to make your acquaintance after the trip, yet I've never gotten to hear about it."

"There's nothing to say about it, that's why you haven't heard anything." Logan finished off his wine in one long gulp.

"Nothing at all? Surely you have something interesting to say about it. I went on a treasure expedition myself there once. Found a few relics and a bunch of ruins. Did you get to see any of that yourself?"

Logan met Reaver's gaze this time. "Nothing noteworthy. A waste of time, really. It kept me away for nothing."

Reaver listened closely to the king. He met that intense stare of Logan's who wasn't just meeting his gaze but trying to stare Reaver down. He had to be lying. The way his hand twitched on the stem of the wine glass showed nervousness. So he really must be hiding something about Aurora. He knew what the king had decreed when he came back, but Reaver had met the people of Aurora himself once, and he'd heard their legends. The king had stayed away from Reaver until that little trip. He'd denied every attempt Reaver made to do business before then.

"You know I met an interesting man once. Horrible sense of fashion, but he told some grand tales about Aurora. I think he may have a bit of a drinking problem but I can't blame him there. That tavern had some of the finest mead I've ever tasted. In one of his drunken ramblings the man mentioned myths of shadow creatures."

The king stiffened at that. Mystery solved then. Reaver would just have to find out the fine details another time after two or so bottles of wine since he figured Logan would try to change the subject any time now.

"That sounds ridiculous."

"That's what I thought." Reaver leaned his head against his hand, letting his elbow rest against the table.

"You said protestors were here. I've gotten a few at the palace. I didn't realize they'd been protesting elsewhere as well."

And there was that change of topic. "They've been protesting at my factories. They seem to think I might pay them more mind if they protest outside of my house. It usually only takes one shot in the air to send them all running like cowards. They're useless the lot of them. Just taking up space and leeching off whoever is stupid enough to pity them enough to give them food."

"They'll give up eventually."

"We can only hope." Reaver toyed with his wine glass, turning it about in his hand. "Have I told you how dashing you look in that outfit? I bet it's enough to send even the most righteous of your maids begging for a go at your cock."

Logan cleared his throat at that. The usual amusement or embarrassment such comments usually received didn't appear. Quite the pity in Reaver's opinion. It made the king much more entertaining.

"I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to cut this visit short. I have a meeting with my advisors first thing in the morning. We'll have dinner at the palace next time."

"Of course." Reaver tapped his cane against the ground. "Barry, get William to escort the king to his carriage."

"That's not necessary. I can go myself, my driver is waiting."

"It's always prudent to be safe when your royalty. You'd only be the third ruler to be deposed of by a younger sibling. I believe the last one meant his end via poisoned tea if I remember correctly."

"Thank you for dinner." Logan stood up hastily and Reaver stood as well.

"I look forward to the next one."

Logan took a step towards the doorway as William appeared in it.

Reaver reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. "Don't forget I can always find a way to profit. Even in the wake of misfortunate accidents. Once againI suggest keeping an eye on that sibling of yours."

"Goodbye, Reaver." Logan strolled out, his head held high, but his back stiff.

Reaver sat back down to finish off his glass of wine. He'd originally expected to have the king tied to the posts of his bed by now. "Such a spoilsport." Another night ruined by whatever demons the king fought.

The tapping of shoes against the floor alerted Reaver to William's return.

"Did you really just suggest that you'd overthrow the king?"

"Not so fast there, dear boy." Reaver waggled a finger. "Always thinking the worst of me, but for once, it isn't so. The king might get overthrown, but I won't be the one doing the overthrowing. Tell me, what's the name of that bouncy maid you've wooed? The one with the black curls and cleavage that I wouldn't mind burying my face and something else in?"

William gritted his teeth. "Her name is Rina."

"Well then tomorrow you get that cute little backside of yours up to the castle. I hear her father died, I'm sure she could do with some comforting in the form of her being bent over a bed. And while you're at it, find out what you can about that little royal running around and causing Logan trouble. You have two days or I'll feed you to the balverines."

"You're worried. Normally you would have insisted more on the king staying longer."

"I don't think the king is fully aware of how precarious his situation is. I'll admit that part of turning Bowerstone into that muck filled sewer that it is has been due to my hand in things. But the king is the one who'll bear the brunt of the anger over it."

"He's a tyrant, why would he care?"

Reaver stood, towering over William even without his hat. "I think he's hiding something. He has too much of a conscience to by a tyrant by choice. Unfortunately, that wench of a sibling probably won't be as susceptible to my tactics. I'd prefer to keep our great king on the throne. So remember, two days."

"What if he did get overthrown, what would you do then?"

Reaver sighed. "Then I'll just have to turn my charms on high for our new leader. You're dismissed for the night." He began walking toward the staircase.

"No sex tonight?"

Reaver stopped and turned around. His face lacked his usual smirk. "This is going to shock you to pieces, but I have other things on my mind tonight. It takes more than sex to keep a business going." Reaver continued on his way and William didn't make another peep as he slipped off toward the servant quarters. Barry had disappeared off somewhere, but Reaver didn't care about that.

Reaver tossed his cane onto his bed as he continued to his balcony overlooking the lake. He took a deep breath as he opened the glass doors. A crescent moon hung in the sky, unobscured. Stars dotted the sky with black patches where clouds inched across the sky. The wind carried a slight chill, but out here he didn't have to worry about the putrid smell of Bowerstone. The air was still fresh and crisp, unspoiled by his grand factories and their filthy workers. The lake couldn't match the ocean, but he liked having some water nearby, even if it did stir up ocean longings from time to time.

Below, a figure ran across the road and pounced on something near the water's edge, sending ducks flying away with loud honks of protest. The balverine lifted its head and turned in Reaver's direction. It bent its legs, prepare to jump, but Reaver whipped out his gun and got it right in between the eyes before it could.

"That'll teach you to try and bite Barry, you furry bastard." He slid his gun away while he considered whether or not the king would suspect him if a certain young royal went missing. Even Reaver knew certain lines needed to be walked carefully. He usually refrained from getting involved in royal coups, but he just may have to make an exception this time if it came down to that. He certainly wasn't about to let some little brat ruin the business empire he'd built.

He watched as the ducks the balverine had scared off landed back in the lake, sending ripples across the reflection of the moon. He wrapped his hands around the balcony railing, squeezing them.

"Mastah, can I get you anything?" Barry's voice interrupted his solitude.

Reaver whipped around and strolled back inside while Barry watched him from the middle of the room. Reaver shut the doors to prevent any unwanted balverines from getting inside. Once had been enough to learn that lesson. He didn't bother to ask where Barry had been. Knowing him he'd been off cleaning himself in case he got lucky enough to get into Reaver's bed, a rare occurrence, but oh didn't Barry like to try.

"Bend over the side of my bed." Reaver grabbed his cane again, watching as his servant dutifully obeyed. With a quick smack, he cracked the cane against Barry's ass, earning a yelp. Reaver whacked him again. This time Barry let out a hiss of pain followed by a groan. Reaver waited a beat before whacking him one last time. He leaned the cane against a chair before reaching out and grabbing Barry by the hair to tug him back into a standing position.

"Mastah?" Barry stared down at the bed, if not for the bulge in his pants Reaver may have mistaken his heavy breathing for fear.

"Look at you, you get off on my abuse, don't you?" He grinded himself against Barry. He let out a hum. "Such a good servant." He let go of Barry and plopped down on the bed, holding his feet up off the ground. "Take my shoes off." He watched with a smile as Barry complied, kneeling down and sliding the shoes off gently as if they were made of glass. Barry wore a small, content smile of his own as he worked. Barry might not be the brightest, but he was loyal, something Reaver prized in his servants. Barry had stuck with him longer than anyone else.

Reaver leaned back, ready to enjoy the show. Barry touched Reaver carefully, almost reverently. Barry was the servant and Reaver his god, just like Reaver preferred. He might not be able to count on the king outside of business matters, but at least for the time being he still had his most faithful servant. He hadn't been lying to William, he didn't feel much in the mood when he had planning to worry about. But blowing off some steam might get him in the mood. It might clear up his mind, make it easier to think afterward.

Before Reaver became Reaver, he'd had younger siblings of his own to deal with and he knew they weren't to be underestimated. The king was torn between his affection for his sibling and playing the cold tyrant. Reaver could see the cracks opening up in the king, ones that whispered he might not be strong enough to stay on the path he'd been going down. And if he changed his mind and let that little royal whisper in his ear too much, that could spell bad news for Reaver. He needed a fallback plan. Over the years he'd learned to only trust himself and not rely on others to always pull through on their end, even business partners. He knew to always plan ahead and have fallback plans, or even escape routes to allow himself to regroup.

Barry kneeled between Reaver's feet, waiting for further instructions. As Reaver met his gaze, Barry lowered his to the floor. Reaver leaned forward to run a hand through Barry's ginger locks. He'd never understand why his servant enjoyed his abuse so much, but at least it gave Reaver an outlet.

"Barry, get my whip." He smiled at how fast Barry moved. He just might have to get himself in the mood to give his loyal servant a reward and worry about the king later. Besides, no matter what happened, he was Reaver, and Reaver always prevailed.