Katarina sipped her tea.
It was fucking terrible. The humans of Karstow either were trying to insult it or had been introduced to the concept of tea two days ago. She drank it anyway and kept her face as pleasant as she could given the circumstances.
Across the table, Guildmaster Hobrecht folded his hands. He was a big man with a grey beard, and forty years of being the richest person in every room had made him confident.
"Six hundred gold marks for the license," he said. "Per year. That's our offer, Signora. Generous, considering the... novelty of the product."
[Six hundred. He said six hundred with a straight face.]
The product in question sat in the corner of the guild hall, behind a curtain. Her newest invention.
The shower!
