Cardamine. The cause of all the pain. And those mutated semi-human scum that peddled it. Francisco's blood boiled. Did the businessman at their table have his snout in the trough too, or did he merely tolerate it happening around him?
"You're a smuggler of some distinction Senor, and we're certainly not your only clients.”
Ronaldo and Trueno shot a glance across the table towards Francisco that screamed "Shut up", but Francisco carried on, unabated. Pulse quickening, voice dangerously quiet, he enquired.
"That's not a reputation you get from smuggling tea. So tell me, do you move Slaves and Cardamine Senor, or just merely tolerate the odd shipment?”
