"I'm surprised to hear from you, Mr. Munroe."

"Of course you are." Silas sat in the most comfortable chair in the room as he stared into the man's fireplace. "After all, it isn't every day that your betters visit to claim their just due, Jonathan."

The man was appalled at his lack of etiquette and blustered, "Don't get careless, Mr. Munroe. You are a lowly peon. A simple member of local HR. If you don't watch-"

Silas waved his hand and the man's voice ceased, "I'm exactly where I should be." He laughed as he watched the man try to force his voice to speak. "You see, Jonathan, I have decided that you are a failure. Money and status do not measure the man. But power... power does." Silas didn't bother with the theatrics this time, the man forced to sit on the sofa, "You see, Jonathan, I've been doing some research and it is time for some downsizing within our company. Not death, mind you. Not only would that be rather complicated to explain but..." He laughed a little, as he approached the man's in house bar. Such expensive alcohol and yet not a single drop had been enjoyed. All for show. All for the parties he claimed he could entertain to those he wished to impress. Wasted on a man such as this. "Jonathan, come here. We shall see if you know how to prepare a good drink."

The man, eyes full of terror at the unfolding events felt his body walk him to his own bar. When he arrived, his body seemed free at first, but when he tried to speak or move to strike Silas in outrage he felt his body push back against him at every turn. Eventually his drive to escape this waking nightmare faded and was replaced with a strong urge to drink. Half on instinct, he got all the materials to make an Old Fashioned, complete with a cherry. Before he could go to drink it, Silas snatched the glass and sipped it eloquently. The man was furious, but after a look of approval, he felt the urge to make another one for himself. Once he had, the two sat again in his parlor.

Silas spoke in a casual manner, as though he wasn't forcing this man to listen to his every word. "Power, my dear Jonathan... That is the one thing that cannot be denied. You, despite your position, have none. No strength of spirit. No noble ideals or bearing. You have failed upward because the people above you view you as basically capable but not a threat to their own power." He sneered, "A cavalcade of fools trying desperately to hide their inadequacies." Silas threw a folder onto the table and motioned the man to read it. Doing as he was directed he saw an entire series of papers showing Silas' past. Nothing but lowly gutter trash now sitting on his fine furniture in a suit of immensely fine make and drinking HIS SPIRITS! Despite his outrage, he still lacked any power to change the way things were. "You see, Jonathan, I have nothing to fear. Because my power cannot be denied. I am not here because you are a threat. I am here to claim your resources for myself and use them as I see fit. You have a choice for how you fit into that." Silas snapped his fingers and stated, "I can cleanse you of your weakness or you can learn how the weak serve the strong. Your choice."

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Jonathan shouted, "I'll show gutter trash like you where you belong! Stealing what isn't yours! I work my ass off every day for every cent! I'll never bend to someone like you."

Silas snapped his fingers again, Jonathan just now realizing what he had done. Why didn't he try to bargain? Why didn't he think twice about venting his anger and frustrations? "That's simple, Jonathan. I wanted your first instinct. I'm sure you are smart enough to hide your true intentions, and I'm not foolish enough to assume that outburst is the truth in its purest form. Rather, it speaks to your character. You don't recognize my power nor do you respect it because you cannot see past the surface." He waved a finger, "But me? I do my research, Jonathan. I know that your 'work' has been ripping off the company in secret, shifting funds through various invoices to your personal projects and away from other more useful members of the company. Misappropriation of funds is not only illegal but a sign of weakness in spirit. A spirited man works with what he is given to accomplish his goals." He motioned to the door dramatically as a sharply dressed woman entered, her gentle voice guiding others to move various goods in that he couldn't clearly make out. "Jonathan, you are to work the bar when not on shift at the company. You are also to funnel those funds back to their intended projects. I will manage your projects for you and make sure they accomplish the most they can, given your meager scope." Silas leaned in and sneered, "A petty and small minded man like you should keep your eyes focused on your drinks. It's about as far ahead of yourself as you can see."

Jonathan nodded, walking meekly to the bar and cleaning all of the equipment at his station. The woman approached him and sighed wistfully, "You are such a gentle touch. To think what a lesser man would do in your place. But you found a home even for the useless scum of the earth." He laughed a little which was all the reassurance she needed that Silas was in a good mood. "How has the investing been going?"

Silas waved his hand dismissively, "Ronald has an odd talent for it, especially with all those insiders who have been pressed under his charge. A few bad leads here and there is all it takes to clear the market for ourselves. Then we sweep in with what we have. Cost the competition billions while we make a few tidy millions on companies with an actual future. The smart stay in and benefit too. To think there are some so weak of spirit that they try to cheat stocks of all things. The Economy is a marketplace, not a casino."

She sat next to him and placed her head on his chest, "Have we still not been noticed yet? Are we still an unknown?" She knew that Silas had power over the mind. An undeniable influence. One he had used to help her little more than a year ago. One she feared would paint a target on this man. The man with the makings of a king.

He nodded but his smile didn't fade, "We have been making mild ripples. I have seen to that. So far, we are nothing but the stuff of urban myth. With my precautions, we will remain that way." When she continued to rest her head on him, he smiled at her softly but dismissively. He didn't need to ask her. He knew. He knew she still saw him for what he was. The one destined to rule the world. Those who bent like reeds, bowing to his majesty, would survive this transition. Those who refused would be broken and made low. The king had arrived and there would be no denying the proper state of the world. A world shaped by his will and to his preference. With power like this, there was little that could be done to stop the reformation.