Today it seemed everyone wanted to meet with Tony Solari.

Rather than take the link back for an early lunch, he made plans with Alma Valerian at the new meridies, when the sun was at its apex, even if he'd only been at work a few hours. He hadn't gone home at lunch in recent weeks, despite his promise to spend more time with the family.

First thing in the morning, Candra Satiri had called Tony's wife to make an appointment, an irregular method that may raised a few suspicions for Cordelia; now it was Alma Valerian, the executive who announced she was running for the company precedency when she woke up yesterday, who called to discuss an 'urgent matter.'

There was something about Alma that Tony just didn't trust; he disliked her even more than that radical Sunyin Aura. It may be because if Alma Valerian really wanted the company to expand magical advancement, she wouldn't run against Aura, she would back her.

Maybe some secret bad blood ran between them?

The restaurant where Tony made reservations for two was packed full of the business crowd. No one wanted to sit outside and watch the sun pass prematurely overhead, so the patio was empty and accommodated Tony's last minute request, and it also provided privacy.

The hostess asked his name. "Solari," he said.

"Right this way, Mr. Solari," she said, leading him all the way to the end of the patio to where Alma Valerian was already seated, one red heel crossed over the other. Tony sat across from her, and the hostess left them.

"Why did you want to meet here, Tony?" Alma Valerian asked. Her head tilted to the side let dark brunette curls tumble to bare shoulders in her red summer dress.

"It's close to my office," said Tony. "And I like the food." He settled his napkin on his lap.

"But why so secluded? I love the chatter of a financial district restaurant at lunch time. Why so hidden away? Do you have something to tell me? Maybe a secret?"

"I don't want to be seen with you. I'm only meeting with you because I need to eat anyway."

"You met with me because you're curious. You're wondering how I plan to persuade you this time."

"You're right. I am very curious." The server came for their drink order. "Two glasses of the oldest single malt you have, neat," he said, and the server nodded and disappeared.

"The best for your enemy?"

"You called the meeting — it's on you," said Tony.

"Ah, fair enough. Try the porterhouse, then. It's delicious."

"You won't win my vote with bribery, or guilt over an expensive steak."

The smile left Alma Valerian's face and she interlaced her fingers, thinking. "That's too bad. But I'm not surprised it will take a lot more to change your mind." Through short curled lashes, her vivid gray eyes glinted. She started on a prepared speech. "Do I need to tell you again that President Solin is ridiculous and ineffective? She has a very noble mission, certainly, but at this pace some other civilization will discover magic before we get halfway to the potential—"

Tony cut her off. "I'm familiar with your position. It's all very nice, but it's also very naive. Unchecked experimentation has already had consequences: the destruction of industries, restructuring of the social fabric, new dangers. Look at the sky if you think I'm exaggerating. Links and weaponry and unlimited food production are all incredible advancements, but it's already happening too quickly for us to mitigate the damage, and you want it to move faster?"

"Tony, you can't stop change from happening. People have always been afraid of change. Afraid their jobs will be replaced? One thing always prevents it in the long run: consumption. Constant, unrelenting, commercialized consumption. Until the human race stops consuming its every littlest desire in heaping glutinous portions there will never be any lack for jobs. Only a change in what those jobs are."

They were interrupted by the arrival of the drinks. "A porterhouse steak," Tony requested as the server placed the whiskey in front of him, his eyes never leaving Alma.

"The same," said Alma, gazing back.

When the server was gone, all Tony said was, "I think we're going to have to agree to disagree."

The steel glint returned to Alma's eyes. "No," she said, "I'm afraid I can't agree to that."

"Fine, let's go back to 'constant, unrelenting consumption.' How does that work? Take magical food production, for example. Instead of using the unlimited resource to, you know, feed people—"

"That's not what I mean. I didn't come here to debate. You're going to have to come around to our way of thinking, Tony, like it or not. Today. You have until crepesculum to commit to voting for me, regardless of your personal position." Before Tony could say, "And why would I do that?" she slid an envelope across the table, the universal signal of intention to blackmail.

The division widens as a second candidate works to coerce Tony Solari's vote. Thank you for reading this chapter in Stars Rise. This book updates on Saturdays. Please leave a star behind if you had a good time.