李家茶館 – 南城區 – 永勝技術民國
Lei's Tea House – Naam Sing District – Technocratic Republic of Wing Sing
Lei's Tea House – Naam Sing District – Technocratic Republic of Wing Sing
A teenage girl in a school uniform stood on the street corner holding a metal box. She shook it to attract attention, rattling the coins inside. She stepped in front of a passerby, blocking his path, “Spare a donation for war orphans in the zou gwok?” The girl used a term for the Jizhou Republic that was rarely heard in Wing Sing: 祖國, 'the motherland.' The man pulled a few guilder from his pocket and slipped it into the metal box, at which point the girl slapped a small sticker on his jacket. The red lantern on the sticker was marked with the character 鐵, meaning 'iron.' It was a sign to all the girl's associates not to harass this man for more money.
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And it was indeed a necessary symbol. Today, the schoolgirls in service of the House of Iron Lanterns were swarming not only over the Naam Sing District, but every busy street in Wing Sing. The Spring Festival was fast approaching and the Lanterns were keen to capitalize on the spirit of the season. The renewed hostilities in mainland Cathay had breathed new life into the organization, presenting it with a unique opportunity for progress that its leaders had every intention of seizing.
Just around the corner and down the alley, an old man with a white beard sat, sipping his tea in a little hole-in-the-wall, dimly lit by titular iron lanterns. “Li disappeared,” the old man grumbled in the Gan dialect of Chinese, “His armies fight on. And ours alongside them. But no one has been able to reach him for weeks. We don't know who's leading the fight anymore.”
A woman, just as well-traveled, set aside her pipe to answer him, “We don't need Li. Honestly it's best to get rid of everyone associated with the Old Republic. Get one of our own boys in there. A salt-of-the-earth peasant character. These Oikawan-educated types that are running the show in Chongbin are no good.”
“Wing Sing is excited to see the devils out of the motherland once and for all,” the odd-man-out in the tea shop was a middle-aged, redheaded, Warreic-looking man in a green turtleneck. Despite his foreign appearances, he held his own in Gan, “But nobody wants to see the JMD back at the top. If the Lanterns can put a more Chinese face on the rebellion, we'll see a huge outpouring of support. The Heaven and Earth Societies won't come near us until the nationalists are gone.”
The old man leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, “The Spring Festival is the best time for a new offensive. We've already got more money than we can move in time,” he folded his fingers together, “If only we knew more about what's going on on the ground there.”
“It seems too smart for Li,” the white man said, “He was never this subtle, this clever. Whoever is really running the show is doing it so expertly. The pieces are moving, but no one can see who's moving them, or how they're doing it.”
The old woman exhaled the smoke from her pipe, “Then can we really afford to interfere? I understand our desire to shape this revolution, but why should we work against what is clearly a well-run organization that is already working toward our goals?”
“Because we have no idea if it is working toward our goals,” Old Murong answered pointedly, “I made an agreement with Li. If he's gone, then all bets are off. Our boys are fighting and dying and we don't know who or what they're doing it for. We could've gotten sold out to communists, or the Commandry or Heaven-knows-what.”
Warreic Jack poured himself another cup of tea, “Then we just need a little recon is all. Get a trusted man inside the revolutionary command structure and tell us what's what. If we're headed the right way, we stay the course. If not, we put our own guy in.”
The Lady cast her pipe aside, “Sounds easy. I'll make sure I pick someone who doesn't fuck up.”
“Gentlemen,” Old Murong stroked his beard pensively, “For the first time in a long time, I feel like we have a real chance at freedom.
“And I'm very tired.”