Vice Pheasant Viceroy MacPlumb was nervously pacing outside the Head Eagle’s office. He was the bringer of bad news, and being in lower middle management, he knew the phrase “don’t shoot the messenger” would mean very little to the receiver of said message.
A small bell tinkled outside the door, and a bored looking secretary sighed as she stood up to open the door and let Viceroy in. The office was tall and menacing, with trophies of old hunts and raids lined along the walls. The walk from the door to the desk itself was impossibly long, Viceroy thought, as the seconds ticked away. Behind the massive oak desk was a man much too small for everything around him.
“Liceroy McPlopp?”, he enquired in a nasal and annoying voice.
“Viceroy MacPlumb sir, yessir”, the shaking Vice Pheasant corrected. “I’m your Vice Pheasant sir, you’ve known me for years.”
“Protocol must be kept!”, the little man snapped, and turned a page in the book the size of Viceroy’s home. “You’ve got news?”
“Yes sir. Sir..there is news of a new guild plaguing the city. A trader’s guild.”
“WHAT?! But the Left,- Right,- and Centercompany has monopoly on trade! A royal decree! How come this rabble hasn’t been put to the sword?”
“A-a-apparently some lawyer found a loophole that means they are allowed to function within the law as long as they call themselves a merchant confederation, rather than company! The king has allowed them to trade within the city walls as long as none of them ever refer to themselves as a company.”
Viceroy quickly ducked as the Head Eagle threw a knife in his general direction. The little man was breathing unevenly and shaking with rage. “Never in living memory have we been so unfairly treated!”.
“Sir! Inhale, exhale, inhale..”, the Vice Pheasant dodged a stray bullet and quickly shouted. “Sir! I believe I’ve found a solution!”.
The smaller man slowly lowered the throwing axe he had been aiming, and asked “Well? What is it?!”.
“We tell them we want to trade-PLEASE LISTEN! We ask to sign a treaty with them. An agreement so long and confusing, with such small handwriting, they’ll never read through the whole thing. We’ll get the Head of Ornithological Departments and Other Things Related to Creatures That Dwell in the Air as Well as Snakes and Other Reptiles Because Birdlegs are Kind of Creepy, Like Snakes to sign it seven times, randomly throughout the document, and we’ll make it look really real by driving a hard bargain, to make them think they’ve won it in a fair fight. And somewhere along the hundreds of pages of drivel, we’ll refer to them as a company rather than a confederation. They’ll sign, thinking they’re making the deal of a century, and we’ll see them all hanged.”
“By God..you’re only lower middle management? I’ll make sure you’re getting promoted to central middle management by the end of this fiscal year, or my name isn’t Patronominous Trout!”