Augustus was well-pleased.

As far as he could tell, Dresden’s tasks had been completed to satisfaction. Nevertheless, he looked forward to hearing the details. As the saying goes, good help is hard to find, and if Augustus had truly found someone of capability and discretion, then the prince was in luck.

Augustus and his guards maneuvered the familiar backway to his secret hideaway. They’d carefully clear any stragglers that might be lurking so that the prince was not met by any strangers. He’d slip the key to his flat out of his pocket as he strolled up to Dresden with a sly smirk.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Augustus joked before slipping his key into the lock and going inside, expecting Dresden to follow. Guards would take up places on either side of the door, but other than that, he’d leave Augustus to speak with his new associate alone.

“I take it things went well?” Augustus asked idly, pouring two whiskeys from a well-stocked, beautifully-made liquor cabinet.

“Unfortunate indeed.” Augustus smirked to himself as he picked up the glasses. Turning, he saw the letter in Dresden’s hand. He momentarily put his glass down and took the letter from him, exchanging it for the whiskey that he pushed into Dresden’s hand. If the man didn’t take it, the glass would tumble to the floor.

Augustus, his own drink momentarily forgotten, broke the wax seal eagerly and pulled the letter from its envelope. He read it silently, smiling at times and once chuckling to himself. Once finished, the prince shook his head and tucked the letter into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“Lady Atwell’s son Emilian is seeking a law apprenticeship in Loren.” Augustus was beaming with pride that he did not attempt to conceal in the slightest. “He’s a smart lad. Charming, highly capable. One might think his being born a baronet to his detriment. Me?” He shrugged, “I think there’s something to be said for a man that can pull himself up by his own bootstraps, don’t you?”

Augustus eyed Dresden now, talking both of the man in front of him and Lady Atwell’s son. He picked up his whiskey and took a sip of the smooth but smoky liquor.

“Precisely,” Augustus said with triumphant zeal before making his way to the sitting area by the fireplace. He dropped into a comfortable chair with a sigh and indicated to the chair opposite him so that Dresden might sit as well. He sipped his whiskey, staring into the flames with a slight smile. He looked less in that moment like a prince and more like a lovestruck youth.

“So,” Augustus looked at Dresden with curiosity, “An orphan, eh?” If his task had been the first part of the interview, then this part was surely the second. Regardless, Augustus took a great interest in the people of Lorendale—be they royal, commoner, or anywhere in between.

Augustus’s brow furrowed as he listened to his story. Despite the gruesome nature of Dresden’s assignment, Augustus was a compassionate man. He had the kind of benevolence that some of the rich and powerful possess. For a man who had every resource at his disposal, political and material, there were few things that were not immediately accessible. The feeling of having something as ultimately insignificant as money to keep one from their family was both foreign and heartbreaking.

“Then we’ll see what we can do about that,” Augustus said, taking a sip of whiskey. It was a promise, without using the word. Both a reward for services rendered and the act of a royal taking interest in the welfare of one of his citizens.

“I’d like to keep you in my employ,” Augustus said, clearly in an exceedingly good mood, “The work might not be regular, but the pay will be. So long as you can be called upon quickly when your services are required.”

Augustus’s smile warmed. He looked at Dresden as a father might a son, though the two were not so far apart in age as to make the analogy a perfect one. Augustus considered himself a benevolent guardian of Lorendale and its people. Whatever attention he might show his own ambitions, ultimately it was the people of Lorendale he served and cared for most. Augustus sipped his whiskey, putting one foot up in his knee.

“My title grants me great privilege. Financial, political, otherwise—I won’t deny it. There are many who enjoy the privileges of their position without accepting any of its responsibilities.” He shrugged, sipping his whiskey before continuing. “I strive to not be such a man. Yes, at times I fail, but my life’s work is not one of service to myself or even service to the crown: it’s to the people of Lorendale. And last time I checked…” Augustus’s eyes sparkled, in a tease, “You were such a one.”

Augustus would make good on his promise. He was a man of his word, which the man across from him would eventually discover. Yes, his methods were severe when need be, but he was—in his own way—a man of principle. Of honor. And if a man didn’t have his word, he had nothing at all. He smiled at Dresden’s question, eyes sparkling.

“There is. There have been rumors that my niece has become too friendly with her guard, Titus Huxley . Of course, I’ve done my best to crush these rumors as nothing more than ill-spirit slander. But…” Augustus grimaced, “I must know if there is any truth to them. As you can imagine, my meeting with Sir Huxley would only fuel the fire of gossip. But if you were to make your own inquiries, man to man,” Augustus inclined his head, “Perhaps he'd open up. If you are satisfied with his denial of the rumors, please impress upon him that his relationship with the queen is to remain strictly professional in reality and appearance. Whatever friendship they've developed must become a thing of the past.”

“See that you do.” Augustus smiled, confident that the task would be completed to satisfaction. Yes, in all likelihood this was all that it appeared to be: a baseless rumor. But Augustus had a perspective on the issue that Dresden didn’t. He’d seen firsthand how attached Iliana had grown to her guard.

On the one hand, Augustus couldn’t blame her. She had been little more than a child when she’d been thrust into the position of reigning monarch. It was only natural that she’d reached out and clung to those closest to her. But she was very much a woman now: a queen and a married one. If there was anything untoward happening, it needed to be dealt with swiftly.

“Shall we have a toast, Mister Drake?”