Augustus made it his business to have eyes and ears across Loren. Money was of no object to the prince, and he found a little coin went a long way when it came to keeping the information flowing. Besides that, the goodwill he’d generated among the commoners made them want to be helpful, which was worth its weight in gold. There was nothing more valuable than an eager, loyal subject.

All this to say, finding Scout Kane did not take long.

Augustus headed to the Bronze Lion on foot, walking the streets as if they belonged to him, as a well-tailored coat fits its wearer. Arriving at the door, Augustus waved for his guard to remain outside, save for one that followed him in and stationed himself by the door. Upon entering, the music petered to a halt. The tavern was frozen in a moment of stunned silence. The dancing stopped and the common folk looked up to see the royal in their midst. Augustus looked about, spotting Scout before grinning at those gathered.

“Don’t stop on my account. Good sir, another round. This one on me.” There was a cheer as the band struck up anew. Augustus whispered to his guard to see that the barkeep was paid before he made his way over to the Lady Steward. Men bowed and women curtsied as he passed, beaming and dipping with shiny-eyed joy. When he arrived at the table, he raised an eyebrow at Scout, his expression one of gentle though perhaps patronizing concern.

“Mind if I join you?”

Augustus sat, looking as at home in the tavern as he did in the palace. That was perhaps the prince’s greatest asset: his ability to move seamlessly from Lorendale citizen—warm and accessible to the common man—to a beloved but formidable royal. The foriegn king lacked this quality, something which gave him great satisfaction. He was about as warm as a fish from a Nevermeran boat.

“You’re a hard woman to find, my lady,” Augustus said with an easy smile, “Perhaps unfortunately for you, I’m a persistent sort.” He waved over one of the barkeep who sprung to and came to their table. “A bowl of stew, if you don’t mind. And an ale,” Augustus said, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Scout, “This one is making me jealous.” The barkeep readily obeyed, waltzing off to the bar to do what was asked. It was then he gave Scout his full attention.

“Surely a few rumors aren’t enough to scare you off. That is…” Augustus raised an eyebrow, still smiling, “Unless there is some truth to them?” There was no use beating around the bush. It was likely no mystery as to why he was here.

Augustus’s manner was not confrontational or judgemental. In fact, he looked sympathetic.

How interesting.

Whether Augustus believed Scout’s denial of the rumors remained to be seen. In any case, her explanation would seem to satisfy him. He made a ‘hmm’ sound, scratching his beard before shrugging.

“In the future, my lady, you needn’t trouble yourself with soldiers. Any concerns you have should be brought to your uncle. He’ll handle it.” Augustus's tone was final, indicating that it was more of a kindly delivered order than a suggestion. The stew arrived at the table. Augustus thanked the barkeep and started to tuck in with gusto.

“What was the nature of your argument with Master Drake?” There was no investigative quality to his tone. Augustus seemed to be making casual conversation.

Augustus raised an eyebrow and stopped eating his stew. He had a new vested interest in Mister Drake’s career, so he wasn’t about to call attention to this apparent crime. Self-defense or not, such things should be brought to the authorities; they were hardly the stuff of an equipment room scolding if that was indeed the truth.

“A man’s death, no matter the circumstance, is hardly a trivial thing,” Augustus said, his friendly manner shifting into something more serious. He wouldn’t comment on it further. Instead, he resumed eating his stew, taking another drink from his flagon before giving his final admonition.

“I think it’s best you refrain from speaking with Mister Drake from this point forward. It will only add fuel to these silly little rumors, do you not agree?” Augustus looked at her in a manner that implied he expected her consent.

Augustus nodded. These things did happen. Fights got out of hand and self-defense turned deadly. Augustus was in truth not terribly concerned with the matter nor would he inquire about it further. It wasn’t worth dragging Scout and Dresden—who had found himself in Augustus’s employ—into anything that would attract more attention than the pair already had.

“But of course,” Augustus waved his hand with an affable smile, continuing to eat his stew, “I hate to see anyone’s reputation sullied with falsehoods. Rumors like these can impair the ability of the queen’s emissaries to carry out their duties. And anything that complicates her majesty’s governance…” Augustus paused, rather ominously, his eyes connecting with Scout’s if she’d meet them, “Is of my primary concern.” He lingered for a moment before returning to his stew.

“If you’ll permit me another moment of business,” Augustus said, “I am interested in seeing her majesty give a public address to her people. I was wondering if in your conversations with her subjects there is anything in particular you’d like for me to know.”

For messaging was a fickle needle that had to be threaded carefully.

Fear. Fear was the gunpowder of unrest. Let it accumulate, and one spark is enough to blow a common sense to pieces. The incident at Allemeade Keep was enough to raise the hackles of both sides, something which was very concerning indeed. Someone had to be the cool voice of reason, and Augustus intended to see that Iliana Rainecourt filled that void.

“Community meetings,” Augustus put his spoon down and stroked his beard thoughtfully, “A chance for people to speak frankly. To air their grievances. It would have to be done carefully, but I can see how such a thing could be valuable. If anything it’s an intriguing idea.”

The idea of a so-called ‘buddy-system’ had him frown. He waved his hand as if brushing the idea aside. “I think we must be careful of catering too much to the gifted. After all, it is they who hold power over their fellow citizens that they did not ask for, but neither did they earn.”

Augustus took up his spoon again, eating a bite of his stew before asking:

“And would you be interested in leading such a meeting? A kind of test-run.”

Augustus tilted his head from one side to the other, as if weighing two sides of one argument he was having in his head. Economic considerations were always important ones. True, gifteds didn’t make up a huge portion of the Lorendale population, but a notable one at least. To silo a whole segment of Lorendale’s economic life could be disadvantageous at best, disastrous at worst.

“Non-discrimination provisions, then. For gifteds that are registered.” Augustus wasn’t certain of anything but was toying with the idea. He found himself rather impressed with Lady Kane. She’d obviously been doing her homework, which is more than he could say for some stewards in the past.

“I’ll take the idea to the queen,” Augustus said, “If either those provisions or the community meetings are of interest to her, I’ll bring you into the conversation.” He once again turned to his stew. The rumors had been forgotten. The prince’s mind was focused on other matters, which was evident in the way his brow furrowed and unfurrowed in a silent conversation of one.