| |
“The plot thickens! That is the saying, right? The plot thickens?”
Presley tossed the book of Thessalian history he hadn’t really been reading on the table in front of him. Grigory had been at a department brunch, and Presley had been twiddling his thumbs at home, as he often did these days. If Grigory was correct, and some sort of plot had thickened, Presley was beyond interested in hearing all about it.
“That is exactly correct,” Presley said, getting up from the couch so he could give Grigory a welcome home kiss. “Now sit down and tell me all about this thick plot.”
“It’s more news about Faustinus’s bank. He has gotten very serious.”
A few days earlier, Grigory had returned from campus with the news that Faustinus had put out feelers about starting a bank. Presley had been intrigued about the idea (mostly about the fact Faustinus would never have the time or patience to actually run it), and he had sent his old friend an invitation to supper. Presley was eager to ask Faustinus about his plans, since he had a lifetime of financial experience, and he would be happy to offer Faustinus some advice. After all, what were old friends for? Also, Presley needed something to occupy his time. Retirement might offer more time with Grigory, but it also provided more time of absolutely nothing interesting. Unfortunately, Faustinus’s reply to the supper invitation had been that he was busy.
“So, how serious?” Presley asked. “Has he bought any property?”
Grigory’s eyebrows crinkled together. “I don’t know. But professor Alcinus was at a party last night with professor Orlus from Economics and Accountancy.”
Presley nodded enthusiastically. Professor Alcinus was a respectable old man in Grigory’s department who gossiped like the worst society mother. But his information was almost always accurate. And Professor Orlus was someone Presley knew well from the Accountants’ Guild. He was very tuned in to the treasury, and if he heard something and repeated it, the thing was almost assuredly true. “Yes?”
“Faustinus has applied for the license. He is almost certain to get it approved is the common consensus.”
While Faustinus could be a divisive figure, he was also a difficult man to say no to. In addition to being charming and smart, he had that whole hillichmagnar-who-can-kill-you-with-a-thought quality going for him. So, if he really did have every intention of starting a bank, he really would need Presley’s help.
“Tullius and Vita’s supper is in two days,” Presley said aloud, mind working. “He will almost surely put in an appearance there. And if for some reason he doesn’t—”
“Tullius and Vita will know what’s going on,” Grigory finished for him with a nod. “You intend to offer to help him, don’t you?”
Presley shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but he had no doubt that Grigory saw through him. “I have the time. And what does Faustinus know about banking? Nothing. I wonder where he’s getting the startup money? You can’t open your doors for business with an empty vault.”
“Tullius and Vita? Maybe he also has investors already. He might not know the day-to-day of running a bank, but he does know how to talk people into doing things.”
Grigory had a point about Faustinus’s probable prowess at lining up investors. “Private investors probably. I don’t know that Tullius and Vita would or should be able to invest in the private bank of one of their ministers, which Faustinus, of course, technically is as court sorcerer.”
“I’m sure you will be able to get answers Tuesday. So, what did you do all day while I was out?”
“Hold on. What on earth will he use for capital?” Presley mused, still confused at how Faustinus was pulling off the technical details of getting a license to start a bank.
Grigory laughed beside him, and Presley only then realized that Grigory had asked him a question. He laughed, too. “Sorry. I read a little. I probably should have worked on some letters. Now that I have all the time I could possibly need, I’ve become a terrible correspondent.”
“Letters! Did you see that some have been left on the front table?”
Presley had not. They only kept a small staff, and Sunday was their day off. However, their maid, Morgiana, had mentioned that some letters had been dropped off before she left. Presley had completely forgotten about it until now when Grigory mentioned it. Which was sadly becoming typical. His attention for the past few weeks had been awful. He had said to himself he would go check the mail as soon as he reached the end of a chapter in his book, but by the time he’d slogged through to the end of the chapter, he had completely forgotten the mail.
He kissed Grigory on the cheek. “You probably want to go change. I’ll grab the mail and meet you back here for a glass of wine.”
“I’ll make tea instead, if you don’t mind. Professor Alcinus insisted on mimosas, and if I have any more wine, I will fall asleep before supper.”
Naturally, Presley agreed, and jogged out to the foyer to get the letters. On top was an invitation from an old business acquaintance, Egnatus Cinna, who ran the dockyard here in Presidium. In truth, Cinna was one of the men Presley had been looking forward to never dealing with again now that he was retired. He might have been forced to smile at the nasty, cheap asshole when he’d had no other choice but to stay on his good side for the sake of his work at Stylianos Shipping. But now his invitations could go straight in the fire.
Next was the new copy of the accounting newsletter the Guild had started publishing a few months ago. Perhaps he should offer to write something for it? Again, he now had the time, so why not? Below that was a thick letter on fine paper. He recognized the writing on the outside, of course, but he still flipped it over to check the seal. It was a white bird on blue with a crown. The Myrcian royal seal.
He hurried back to the parlor and called out to Grigory in the bedroom down the hall. “There’s a letter from Rohesia.”
“What does she say?”
“I’m just now opening it. I’ll tell you in a bit. It looks long.”
He settled into the corner of the couch and slid his finger under the seal.
Wealdan Castle, Formacaster
September 6, 365
My dear friend, Presley,
I hope you and Grigory are as well as when I left you. As nice as it is to finally be home in Formacaster, that does not mean that our friends in the Empire are not sorely missed, you and Grigory in particular.
We are all well here. Edwin barely remembers Formacaster, which is occasionally awkward and frustrating for him, but I think his native air suits him, and he is in excellent health. I believe the climate has also proven beneficial to Irena and Aurora, as mother and child both have a healthy color. Alice also is doing fine.
Oh Presley! I should be entirely frank with you. While Alice is well physically, she is extremely trepidatious about some plans we are still attempting to form for her. By “we,” I mean myself, Edwin, and Duke Aldrick. Given Aldrick’s involvement, I know you will understand that nothing is running as smoothly as one would hope. As you surely recall, to help win support for Edwin’s return to Myrcia, Edwin had to authorize Aldrick to make promises on his behalf. One involves a match for Alice, and things are not progressing as one might hope with it. Let me tell you everything.
As you have no doubt heard, the speed and ease with which Edwin reclaimed the north of the country owed much to the Earl of Moltzig, William Trevelyan, defecting to his cause. Lord Trevelyan had many reasons for breaking from the Gramirens, but one of them was that Aldrick promised him “a Sigor marriage.” It was not until Lord Trevelyan had abandoned the Gramirens and Edwin once more sat on his throne that Aldrick specified which Sigor Lord Trevelyan would be marrying—Alice.
Although most men would consider themselves supremely lucky to marry the sister of the king and knit his own line to royalty, Lord Trevelyan was not pleased. It turns out that for the past few years, Lord Trevelyan’s duties required him to be often in Rawdon. While there, he and Lilianne Sigor, Aldrick’s oldest daughter, have formed an attachment. Knowing that Aldrick was aware of his regard for Lilianne, and her preference for him, Lord Trevelyan naturally assumed his intended Sigor marriage would be with Lilianne.
As I am certain you must suspect, Aldrick deceived the man intentionally. He, apparently, has his own plans for Lilianne, although I cannot guess what they might be to make the noble, wealthy Earl of Moltzig unsatisfactory. He refuses to budge, and there is little that Edwin and I can think to do beyond going forward with the match Aldrick negotiated, even if he did do so in a less than entirely honorable manner. The fact is, the earl is a man Edwin would do well to keep close, because of his talents and popularity. Also, I have met him, and he is a good man. He would make a fine husband for Alice. Given the possible matches Aldrick could have made for her, there is not a mother alive who could not rejoice at the prospect of such a husband for her daughter.
There is another issue. Since Earl Cedric Stansted led Edwin’s troops during the invasion, he has remained in command of Edwin’s army. No formal captain general has been named yet, but Earl Cedric holds the post in all but name. But as you know, the captain general is traditionally a member of the king’s family. After all these years of relying on Earl Cedric, acting as a mother to his daughter, Jennifer, while he was fighting for Edwin, and then living with him and Jennifer in exile, the Stansteds feel very much like family. And yet they are not. He is not.
I would love for a stronger king someday to throw over this tradition and simply name the most qualified man to lead his army, much as happens in the Empire. But Edwin is in no position to remake the monarchy, and Aldrick knows this. He has already begun hinting to Edwin that he wants the post, since he is the king’s highest-ranking cousin. His appointment, however, would be a disastrous invitation for Broderick Jr. to return. Edwin has placated Aldrick with the post of Treasurer, hoping your old pupil, Paul Broward, will be able to mitigate his worst impulses. But if there were a member of the royal family fit for the post of captain general, say the king’s brother-in-law, Aldrick would be easier to deal with on this front.
This is all a very long way of saying that, once again, Aldrick has made life harder for everyone. I am doing my best, but given our history, negotiating with Aldrick is a challenge. Also, I find myself in desperate need of advice and counsel from someone I can trust. But who can I completely trust? There is not a single person in Myrcia who did not at some point bow to Broderick, even our old friends like Duke Robert Dryhten. The only Myrcian of real intelligence whose opinions I trust without reserve because he never caved to Broderick and always remained true to Edwin is you. I also seem to remember you once helping a nervous young woman come to terms with her marriage, which ended up being extremely happy. Also, a marriage of the level of Alice to the Earl of Moltzig will have many complex financial and legal aspects requiring an exceptional mind for contracts and money.
Presley, the simple fact is, I need your assistance quite profoundly. I know that part of your motivation for retiring was to spend more time with Grigory, and the thought of pulling you away from him is the one thing that gives me pause in asking this favor. But I have no one else I can trust, and certainly no one with your skills.
I am about to head to Rawdon with Alice to see what might be accomplished with Aldrick and Lord Trevelyan. Rawdon is quite beautiful in the autumn. It has been many years since you have seen the changing colors in Myrcia, and many more since you could do so in complete safety. Please say yes, my old friend. We have worked so hard to win back the throne for Edwin. It would be such a pity to allow Aldrick to ruin it all.
Your friend,
Rohesia
Grigory arrived with the tea about the time Presley hit the part in the letter where Rohesia was singing William Trevelyan’s praises. He took his tea, and handed Grigory the first page so he could read the letter as well. When he finished the letter, Presley set down his untouched tea and walked over to the sideboard to pour himself a whiskey.
When Grigory reached the end, Presley’s whiskey was half gone. They just looked at each other across the room for a while, saying nothing. Eventually, Presley returned to the couch and curled up against Grigory’s side.
“Aldrick hates me,” Presley said. “I don’t know how much help I can be. He’s likely to go against anything I propose for no other reason than because I propose it.”
Grigory kissed the top of his head and pulled him closer. “She knows that, and she asked for you anyway. What about Faustinus’s bank, though?”
“Oh, fuck Faustinus.” Presley stopped to take a deep breath. “You know what I mean. Yes, I would be happy to help him, but he hasn’t even bothered to tell me what he’s doing. I’m not sure how much he needs or wants my help.”
“I am very sure he needs it. But yes, want is a different thing.”
“He’ll be fine. He always is. But Myrcia.... I could be gone a long time. And your semester has just started. I know you won’t want to leave.”
“I do not. But I will miss you so much every day.”
Presley wrapped his arms around Grigory’s waist and kissed his throat. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
“I would never stop you from going home to help Rohesia and Edwin. You know, at brunch this morning, there was mention that the department is looking for someone to speak at a conference in Teperum next week. Professor Alcinus had to cancel at the last minute. If you wait a little, take your time packing and getting organized, we could go as far as Teperum together.”
There were two routes to Myrcia, and Grigory was right—one of them went through the resort town of Teperum. It would be the better route, since he was destined for Rawdon. He twisted his position so he could make eye contact with Grigory. Beautiful, wonderful Grigory. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve so much.”
They kissed and cuddled together even more closely, Presley knowing his back would never withstand this position for long. But for now, he would take it, take Grigory, take everything he could get before he had to start for Myrcia alone.