The Invitation
On the road back from seeing Allan, First Imperial Princess Victoria sat perfectly upright in the carriage.
Her spine was straight, the line of her shoulders set precisely over the line of her waist—an impeccably correct posture. Anyone who saw her might have taken her for a child being scolded, but there was no one in the Empire who could scold her. This was simply the position she found most comfortable.
Her body was at ease. Her mind was not. Allan's words kept coming back to her.
"I'm all right. Please don't think them too petty. Being wary of what you don't understand, suspecting it—that's human instinct."
How could he take in even the people who had tried to undermine him? He might, of course, have been measuring his words because a member of the imperial family stood right in front of him. But to Victoria he had seemed sincere. If that had been an act, he had no business being a knight. He ought to have gone on the stage.
Ability. The art of handling people. And, above all else, loyalty to the Empire.
A talent like this doesn't belong at Siena's side. He really was wasted on her.
As Allan himself had said, a title would be coming to him before long. She even had a fair idea of which one was under discussion. It would be one of the many peerages the imperial house held in reserve; that much was certain. Nine viscountcies and earldoms currently stood vacant. One of them would be his.
But the title was not the problem. What mattered more than a title was seeing to it that he could use his ability and earn people's respect while he did. Wasn't that the real work?
I could do that for him better than Siena ever could. Now that she thought of it, even his first posting had been a waste. Allan had graduated from the swordsmanship faculty with excellent marks. He had not quite been of a caliber to be assigned to the Emperor's own guard, but had he wished it, he could have come to Victoria herself. So why in the world had he set his sights on the Third Company of the escort knights who served Siena? The thought still rankled.
No. It isn't too late. Once Allan had his title, he would hardly be able to go on as an ordinary knight of the order. When that day came, she need only find a suitable pretext and advance him. She did not even have to leave him a knight. She knew knights were a breed bound tight by pride, but Allan did not seem that sort. A knight in name who did not even carry a sword. Bringing him into the military would not be such a bad idea—closer at hand, where they could work together more efficiently. There was no private feeling in it. She was only looking at ability.
I'll have to watch for an opening soon. Persuading Siena would not be easy. Victoria did not know the details, but she was aware that Siena had lately gone all the way to the Great Forest just to see Allan. That was how much she valued him, wasn't it? Even so, if Siena had any real care for a capable subordinate, she would accept in the end. And if she did not, so be it. Fortunately, the outlook was bright.
The moment Victoria returned to the Military Ministry, her uncle Hayden came to her.
"Your Highness... From now on, we will not be denouncing Sir Allan in your presence. I think we looked at him through too narrow a lens."
The warning she had given him earlier seemed to have taken. His face was hardly pleased, but at least he did not look likely to cross her will and do something foolish. Privately relieved, Victoria warned him sternly to mind his conduct with particular care from here on.
"Yes, Your Highness. I'll be careful."
At the sight of her uncle yielding so readily, Victoria could at last relax.
Allan was not pleased. Far from pleased—he had shown no reaction at all. What was the reason?
Siena sat sunk in thought, her hair left to a maid's hands. Was the silver vein not enough? It did not seem so. She had expected Allan to say it was far too much for him and let the burden show. It was an interest vast enough to draw the envy of every man doing business in the Empire down on his head alone. Even if he shut down the drug trade and did nothing but dig that silver mine to his heart's content, Allan would one day stand among the Empire's greatest fortunes. And yet he had been strangely unmoved.
What does he want me to do, then? Asking him outright how he felt was out of the question. There was nothing more undignified than handing someone a gift and then demanding a return on it. She had never really given anyone a gift before, so she could not even tell what counted as normal. The means she eventually landed on was, in the end—
"Should I just pile more things on him?"
"Your Highness?"
"I wasn't talking to you. Just do my hair."
"Yes...!"
The maid labored to shape the silver hair into soft, natural waves. A single wispy strand of Siena's bangs came away in her fingers, but Siena gave no sign—not out of any worry that the woman would be seized by the terror of death, but because she had too much else on her mind.
A gift. A gift that could draw a reaction out of Allan. A sawmill? Copper? No. She did not have to lean on the Great Forest. Some other gift would do just as well.
While she was still turning it over, the man himself appeared.
"I have something to tell you."
Nearly a handspan taller than she was, ash-gray hair, a handsome face whose killing aura had faded somewhat since the old days. Allan. The wretched man who had accepted, with perfect indifference, the gift she had swallowed her pride and gone to unreasonable lengths to obtain. They got along because they were both wretched people, but this time the context was different.
Siena glared at him for a moment, then looked away.
"Good timing, Allan."
"Your Highness?"
"If we use our heads, I think we can get our hands on the natural saltpeter too. They'll probably say no at first, of course. But it's a resource we never could have had without you anyway, isn't it? Otherwise we'd have to sacrifice tens of thousands of soldiers and barely scrape it together."
Allan said nothing.
"I'll go talk to Papa. You're in favor, aren't you?"
She did not entirely mean it. Natural saltpeter was, in effect, a resource on which the Empire's security depended. If the Empire was a functioning state, it would never hand such a thing to a private enterprise. Even the Emperor, weak as he was where Siena was concerned, would turn serious and refuse her that much. She had only thrown it out to test Allan. If he would not be pleased, she at least wanted to provoke his irritation.
How will he react this time? If he answered like a block of wood again, she was genuinely prepared to go through with it. Allan would not welcome that, but it could not be helped. Once the board was set, he would have no choice but to cooperate, if only for his own safety. If she could not win his favor, then she would keep him beside her that way—
"Your Highness Siena. There's no need for you to go that far."
"What?"
"I said there's no need."
Allan delivered it with a face that was not even particularly troubled. He was so calm it made her want to snap. Part of her wanted to dump on him even the humiliation she had suffered at the Empress's hands, but she worried about the aftermath. Considering what lay between them, she ought to endure it. But what was the point of enduring? He would not appreciate it anyway.
Then Allan tossed out a single line.
"Come with me to the manufacturing room."
He offered his arm as he said it. Siena rose before she quite realized she was doing it.
A return for Siena's gift. What I had to do, and how, if I wanted her to go on living quietly—that weighed on me as well. A modest present bought with money made selling drugs? That did not seem like her taste. Honestly, the two of us exchanging coy little gifts felt awkward in the first place. We had done things together that made such gestures ridiculous. More than that, what Siena wanted from me was not that sort of thing.
So I brought her to the manufacturing room. The place where I had first made morphine on hastily thrown-together equipment, and where I could now manufacture heroin as well. Natural products could all be produced here, and semi-synthesis was possible for the most part. Heroin was one of them. Reaching the next stage would take a great deal of money, and the site would have to move, but it was not impossible.
"Why... here?"
Siena still looked dissatisfied. Even so, her affection for the drugs themselves seemed genuine; life had come back into her face. Which only made her harder to handle. A woman whose interest in me appeared real, and who loved the drug business nearly as much. A woman who seemed to want to treat me well, and who, I suspected, had no intention of living quietly all the same. In the end, the only method was to tame her little by little. That was why I had brought her here.
"Your Highness. While I was away, you entered this room."
At that, dismay rose plainly across Siena's face. I had only guessed, because some of the glassware had been moved, and I had been right. I had even posted guards, and Siena was the only person who could have forced her way in regardless.
"Allan. If you're about to take me to task—"
"I'm not interrogating you. This manufacturing room stands inside the grounds of Thames Palace, after all. Thanks to Your Highness's consideration, I'm even using it free of charge. It started as a rush job, but when I thought about it, there's nowhere more advantageous from the standpoint of security."
She said nothing.
"And it's a business I never could have started without you."
Perhaps it was that bare you, stripped of her title. Siena faltered for an instant. I had thrown it out on purpose, to sound her out, and the reaction was not bad. The face that had been full of discontent had grown a little gentler.
"Then... you're saying I can come in?"
"Yes. From now on, you don't have to browbeat the guards. You may simply visit."
"Even when you're making the drugs?"
"I'm sorry, but that won't do."
Her expression sank again. I did not leave it there.
"There are any number of dangers during manufacture. You'll need to know at least the basic precautions if you're to observe safely."
"Then..."
"I'll teach you. From now on. Slowly."
A notice that she was the only person I trusted enough to let into the manufacturing room. And a notice that, from here on, she was to listen to me. Siena stood blankly for a while. Perhaps it had not sunk in yet. But before long I saw the corner of her mouth twitch, faintly. She fiddled with an innocent lock of her own hair, and in the end her eyes went soft and watery as she stared straight at me.
"All right, Allan."
At last she nodded, her face bright. The moment I understood the gift had done its work. And the moment I understood, as well, the feeling with which this woman looked at me. I did not know how things had come to this. There was no way to undo it.