“Strange.” Lord Aden laid the sheet on his desk. He struck a match and began to puff out clouds of intense aromatic smoke. “I have no information for you, I fear. I suppose it's possible he had been given my crest in hopes of targeting me for death.”
The empress said, “This bomber was one of the Undead from the north. He was an agent of Prince Cesare's. And he claimed that a human confederate here in Equatoria brought him and other Undead to Alexandria. And provided him with bombs. He also claimed this Equatorian traitor wore a ring with that crest on it.”
Aden's face grew stern. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I must protest this in the strongest possible terms. On the word of some northern refugee lunatic, you are accusing me of attempted regicide?”
“We are accusing no one, Your Lordship. Nor do we care for the tone of your voice. We are merely telling you what the bomber said.” Adele stood and eyed the man. “We are informing you that we are launching a complete investigation of war production, which will include detailed oversight of government contractors. But after all your sound arguments in the Privy Council, that won't be a problem for you, will it?”
Aden adjusted a porcelain vase filled with pungent paperwhites a fraction of an inch as if it were desperately important. “I need not remind Your Majesty of my family's long service to the Empire. My grandfather invented the Randolph Boiler to increase the efficiency of our limited coal resources. My father financed the expansion of Equatoria into Burma and Zululand, and built our modern fleets. I have brought vast new coalfields into production, including many on the frontier. My coal lights Alexandria. My coal fires our steamships. And my coal will drive our new ironclad air fleet. I have given everything to this Empire. And I must tell you honestly, I resent your implications.”
Adele replied icily, “We make no implications, Your Lordship. And you need not cite your forebears' contributions to this nation. We are well aware of the importance of your coal, and your unique place at the center of our economy and our war effort.”
“Is it truly in the court's best interest to antagonize your industrial leadership during wartime?”
“It is in the court's best interest, my lord, to have no doubts about our industrial leadership. Don't you agree?”
“I have nothing to hide.” Aden buttoned his jacket.
Greyfriar said, “You're lying.”
“That's rich!” Lord Aden laughed viciously and scowled at the swordsman while blowing a scented fog of smoke into the room. He paused to consider some thought, moving behind a desk in the corner, where he remained standing. “Very well. Let's spread our cards on the table, shall we, Your Majesty? I have information which, if made public, would shake the Empire to its foundations and end your reign forthwith.”
Adele shifted nervously despite herself. Aden always sounded confident and capable, even now when she assumed she'd have him at a disadvantage. She did her best to give a bemused look. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” Lord Aden studied his glowing pipe with a smirk at the skittish empress's attempt to seem assured. “Let's just say that if the court attempts to tie me to the bomber or interfere with my business concerns in any way, I will be forced to inform the world as to the true nature of your relationship with the Greyfriar.”
Greyfriar started to move, but Adele held up a hand. “Meaning what, Your Lordship?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don't play games. I know what he is.”
Immediately the door opened. Greyfriar started for his weapon and Adele reacted with alarm. The butler entered quietly, pushing a service cart. Silver pitchers and china cups rattled as the man wheeled the coffee into the room. He paused, glancing up curiously at the imminent visitors frozen in aggressive postures, staring at him. He looked from them to Lord Aden and back.
Adele's face transformed from intense to pleasant, and she slowly straightened to full height. “Ah. The coffee is here.”
The butler asked, “Shall I serve, sir?”
“No, that's fine,” Aden replied as if they were sharing a polite cup after dinner. “I will deal with Her Majesty.” The butler bowed and withdrew. Once the door clicked shut, Aden said sarcastically, “Would you care for coffee, ma'am?”
Adele returned to her seat, trying to regain some inner calm.
Aden glanced at Greyfriar. “I assume you don't drink coffee.” He laughed at his little witticism as he poured himself a cup and carefully added cream and sugar. He carried the tinkling cup and saucer back to the desk, where his pipe smoldered in an ashtray. All very domestic.
After a moment of silence broken only by the gentle clink of a stirring spoon on fine bone china, he said, “Please be aware, I have no personal interest in your situation. Your affairs are your own. I have no agenda that impacts the state, private or political. I am content that we should lose the war, or win. I will profit handsomely either way. I look forward to a closer relationship with the court. We have been too contentious, you and I.” He sipped coffee. “So there we are. I think you see why you wouldn't care to have me testifying before Commons or in a court of law.”