The steam hissing from the heavy copper kettle filled the back parlor with warmth.
Outside the thick iron walls of the Outer-Sky Merchant Inn, the northern blizzard screamed against the rusted hull plates. But inside the room, the bitter chill of the plateau was replaced by the rich, comforting fragrance of roasted mountain tea and dried orange peel.
Captain Old Mo leaned forward over the iron table, resting his scarred forearms on the metal.
His mechanical eye whirred softly, cycling through thermal and optical calibrations before locking onto Lin Mo’s face.
“The Blood-Tax Star Chamber of Commerce,” Old Mo repeated in a low, gravelly whisper. “They are not from this star system, Director Lin. They operate out of the Crimson Nebula three void-leagues beyond our outer planetary boundary. They travel in colossal crimson void-dreadnoughts shaped like jagged leech-mouths, powered by the stolen life-force of dying worlds.”
Su Wan stood beside Lin Mo, her stylus moving rapidly across an encrypted digital tablet.
“What kind of trade do they conduct?” Su Wan asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she cross-referenced the corporate archives. “We have audited three thousand years of court trade manifests and provincial customs registries. There is no official record of any interstellar merchant guild operating under that name.”
