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Presley was disappointed that Faustinus had yet to appear at the palace, but he still managed to thoroughly enjoy supper. Tullius and Vita were always excellent hosts and he liked seeing them. And needless to say, the food and drinks were always as good as any in the world. The company also proved entertaining. Vita had a gift for putting together the right guest lists, especially when it came to small affairs. Tonight’s meal had only been twenty people including the emperor and empress. Everyone there was someone Presley knew or someone Vita had correctly guessed he would like meeting.
At supper, he was seated next to an old friend, Intira Stylianos. She was more than the daughter of his former employer, Crispus Rufus Stylianos, though. She had also worked for Faustinus and Moira as one of their first Emissariae. She had accompanied him and Grigory to Leornian at the height of the Myrcian civil war in an attempt to help Edwin retain his last stronghold in the country and start rebuilding to reclaim his throne.
Intira had been extremely helpful in this, sadly, futile attempt. She had suffered a sailing accident years before their mission that had cost her an arm. Faustinus had supplied her with a prosthetic limb that also just happened to contain magysk spells she had been trained to use. In addition to these weapons, she was an exceptional agent for working with intelligence assets and ciphers. Presley had felt privileged to work with her, even if Leornian had ultimately fallen.
But not long after they returned to the Empire, Intira retired from Faustinus and Moira’s little correspondence department. She had spent a great deal of the years since traveling and enjoying life. In spite of Presley working for her father, he saw her seldom, since she spent so little time in Presidium. That made occasions like tonight and the chance to see her quite special to both him and Grigory.
After the meal, they all went to the Shangian parlor Tullius favored when entertaining friends. His mother had hailed from Shangia, a country far to the east, and she had gifted him with a love for silk covered furniture as well as his sandy complexion. Presley and Intira sank onto a red, silk settee across from a matching one in a rich blue where Grigory and Crispus Rufus sat. They traded old business stories about Stylianos Shipping, the men they had worked with and the clever deals they had made. Presley and Crispus Rufus both insisted they were loving retirement, which they had decided to do together at the end of the summer, turning the business over to Crispus Rufus’s son and Presley’s assistants.
But eventually, Crispus Rufus pleaded tiredness and departed, and then talk turned to that long ago journey to Leornian the three of them had made. Friends had died—Sir Alfred Estnor and Miles Richards and so many others—and years of war and exile for the Sigors had followed. Even though they laughed about some fond memories, they soon fell into a melancholy silence.
So much could have been different had the Sigors won at Leornian back in 355. But the Sigors were destined to lose that siege as soon as Aldrick refused to come to their relief. It’s always been Aldrick, hasn’t it? Fucking everything up. Rohesia wasn’t able to negotiate with him then, and I doubt the years she had to spend under arrest at his home has made her task any easier now. It’s probably made it worse.
But the real trouble goes back more than a decade from there to when Rohesia changed her mind about eloping with Aldrick. It’s been... twenty-five years at least. He’s had a wife and children, and yet Aldrick still holds that against her. And since I helped her then marry Edgar instead, he holds it against me, too. I really don’t know what help I’m going to be to her.
“Well, someone is completely lost in thought,” Intira laughed, poking him with her magysk arm. She was wearing a beautiful gold dress with narrow straps pinned at her shoulders with marvelous brooches of antique Thessalian design. It exposed her arms, allowing one to see the inner workings of the magysk arm with its gears and gems. At the moment, lights were bouncing between the gems, and it was quite lovely. He really had been lost in his own thoughts not to notice.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m actually getting ready to return to Myrcia, and it’s constantly in the front of my mind.”
She looked back and forth between him and Grigory, scrutinizing them both closely. “I didn’t think the two of you would move back to Myrcia, even with Edwin back in power.”
“Oh no. Not moving. And not both of us. Rohesia wrote asking for some help with negotiating things with their new allies. I’m leaving in a few days.”
“But I am staying,” Grigory added. “And Presley is coming back.”
Vita then came to join them, taking the seat next to Grigory. “Talking about the big upcoming trip? Grigory was next to me at supper, and he couldn’t hide how sad he is that you are going away.”
“You will take care of him, I hope,” Presley said, sincerely praying she would. He hated the thought of Grigory being sad and lonely.
“Of course,” Vita answered, taking Grigory’s hand to squeeze. “It’s a shame you won’t be here to help with Faustinus’s new venture though.”
As he had suspected, even though Faustinus hadn’t made it to supper, Presley had learned everything about the bank from Tullius and Vita. Before supper over hors d’oeuvres and whiskey, they had confirmed that Faustinus had gotten the necessary license to start his bank. More than that—such as where it would be located and who would run it for him—they didn’t know. But Presley found it touching that both Tullius and Vita felt Faustinus would have a better chance of success with Presley’s help.
“Does Faustinus know you’re going to Myrcia?” Intira asked. “He might be quite annoyed that you won’t be here to get things off on the right foot for him.”
Presley shrugged. “I haven’t seen him in a while. But I assume the mail packet that brought my letter from Rohesia had one for him as well. It wouldn’t surprise me if she mentioned asking me in her letter to him.”
“And it seems as though we have summoned him.” Vita nodded to behind Presley and Intira. They turned around, and as if by magy, there stood Faustinus in his impeccably tailored trousers and tunic of matching slate gray and a black jacket. He smiled and glad handed and greeted people as if he were arriving precisely on time instead of after supper had already ended.
When Faustinus spotted their group, he increased the speed of his progress across the room. Swiftly, but without seeming to have slighted anyone, he was bowing to Vita and kissing her hand. “My dear empress. It is such a delight to see you as always.”
“Oh, knock it off,” Vita chuckled, taking back her hand and smacking his arm playfully. “Get yourself a drink and pull over a chair. I’ve no doubt you have been doing something quite fascinating you will want to tell us about that caused you to miss my lovely supper. We had sea bass, you know.”
“I am heartbroken to have missed that. And normally nothing would bring me greater joy than to accede to your wishes,” he said. “But I am afraid that what kept me away was vital business for the good of the Empire, but not anything particularly noteworthy as a topic for conversation. Also, I apologize that instead of joining your party, I must steal one from your number.” He now turned his gaze from Vita to Presley. “Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Well, that’s wholly expected,” Vita said. “Go ahead. You and Presley run off. I think you should be able to get privacy in my sitting room down the hall.”
Faustinus bowed and Intira handed Presley his wineglass. They headed off down the hall, Presley wondering just what Faustinus intended to ask or tell him. At least they would, hopefully, all be on the same page after this. But with Faustinus, you really can never know.
Vita’s sitting room was a comfortable space he had been in a few times before. He knew sometimes she would write letters here, so there was a broad desk of maple full of fine linen paper and the smoothest pens. There was also a cozy seating area around the fireplace, which was not lit at this time of night when no one was expected to be using the room. Faustinus led the way to the hearth anyway, and they both settled in to well cushioned armchairs. With a snap of his fingers, Faustinus got a fire going to take the chill off.
“So, Presley,” Faustinus asked, sinking back and crossing his long legs. “What would you say if I told you I was opening a new bank?”
“I would say your news is late. Grigory passed that rumor along to me days and days ago before I invited you for supper.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
“And before we sat down for the meal tonight, Vita confirmed the rumor Grigory had also heard around campus, that you have received the license to open for business.”
“Well, this is convenient!” Faustinus said with a grin. “It saves me the time of explaining. And just so you don’t think you are the only one who knows things, I am aware of your upcoming trip to Rawdon. When do you leave?”
“Four days. Grigory and I are sailing to Teperum together, and then I will head to Cruedrua from there.”
“Oh, that’s splendid. Vittoria will meet you there. She can handle all of your travel arrangements.”
This caught Presley off guard. Vittoria was another of Faustinus and Moira’s Emissariae like Intira had been. She was a smart and resourceful young woman, but why Faustinus might think Presley would need her help traveling back to Myrcia now that Edwin had retaken his throne, Presley failed to understand.
“That’s unnecessary. I’m quite good with travel arrangements, and I’ve already made them.”
Faustinus waved a dismissive hand. “Vittoria will arrange something much faster than what you have planned. And she will be able to get you up to speed on some...variables while you are on the road.”
“Faustinus, you do understand that I’m going to Rawdon to help Rohesia? I’m not an Immani agent.”
Faustinus laughed. “Oh Presley, I would never make you into an Immani agent.”
“Do I need to remind you of Leornian ten years ago?”
“Never again. But Vittoria has a great deal of information that will enable you to help Rohesia, and I have instructed her to help you and the queen in any way she might while you are all in Myrcia.”
“That is very kind,” Presley said cautiously.
“Think nothing of it. But, you know, if you wouldn’t mind, there is a favor you could do for me while you’re in Rawdon.”
And now they were finally getting to it. Although, Presley really could not guess what “it” might be. “What do you need?”
“My bank is looking to expand. Since Aldrick is the Treasurer of Myrcia, I was hoping that you could talk to him about the licenses I will need to open branches and generally do business in Myrcia.”
“You’re looking to expand? Faustinus, you haven’t even opened for business yet. If you’d like my professional opinion—”
“I assure you that the day will come that I will very much want your opinion. Just not today. No, for now, all I really require from you, my old friend, is to smooth the way for my bank to work in Myrcia.”
Presley could tell that Faustinus was up to something; he just didn’t know what. But it probably did not involve proper banking practices, and Faustinus had no intention of discussing these irregularities with Presley. But is it just something atypical he’s covering up, or literally illegal behavior?
“If I help with getting your bank into Myrcia, can you promise that your business practices there will not be illegal?” Presley finally decided to ask bluntly.
“Of course! I have every intention of running a model business.”
That answer made Presley less assured than at any point in the conversation. But he couldn’t really tell Faustinus no. They were old friends, and Presley owed him a good deal for being yet another of those people who had helped him and Grigory get safely to the Empire.
Still, one final problem remained. “I can’t promise that I will be able to get anywhere with Aldrick. You do remember that he hates me, right?”
Faustinus leaned forward and slapped Presley on the knee. “I know you’ll do your best. I have faith in you.”