lead in—"
"Convoys!" Dunbar snorted. "Do you have any idea what it costs to make ships sit and wait for a convoy to form? How wasteful and inefficient the practice is?"
"It'll be even worse for the Imperials, sir," I countered. "And I can prove it. In the long run, it must help us win the war."
"It'll break us!" Lord Dunbar replied, shaking his head. "We'll lose fortunes ! And just when wartime rates are at their highest, too!" Then he too posed for a few seconds of grinning video with me—in fact, he was one of the ones who insisted on waving the pennant.
By the time we reached the Marcus suite all the way down at the end of the corridor, well… I was angrier than ever. "This is madness !" I declared, once Uncle Robert and I were alone at last. "Complete, utter madness! His Majesty would never have tolerated it!"
His eyebrows rose. "You might be surprised." Then he sighed and sat down, letting his arms flop at his sides. "David… Those are the most powerful men in the entire realm out there. They're the ones making the key decisions just now, for better or for worse. I'm asking you to please remain civil, no matter how much they might deserve otherwise."
I nodded. "Of course. This is your field of expertise, not mine." Then I sighed. "Whatever you want from me, I'll give it to you if I can."
He nodded. "Good." Then the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a too-rare smile. "Well… In that case I suppose you'd better settle in for a long stay. Do you have to report in at naval headquarters?"
I shook my head. "I'm on shipwreck leave— Richard was beyond economical repair and thus is considered a war-loss." I sighed. "Plus I have tons of accumulated time anyway. Though they asked me to drop by when I have a few hours free to be formally arrested and paroled. Another lost ship means another court-martial. Not that I'm particularly worried this time around. I'm growing jaded, I suppose."
"Lose enough ships and that's bound to happen," he replied with a grin. Then his expression grew serious once more. "The case will be opened and closed in a day," he promised. "Half the House of Lords will take a personal interest in the matter and ensure that it happens that way. It's obviously a mere formality. Anything else?"
I wriggled my nose for a moment, thinking. "I need to be measured for some new uniforms. And I promised to do a press conference, to get the reporters off my back."
He nodded. "Good. The more you interact with the press, the better." Then he sighed and folded his hands on his desk. "That excepted, however, I'd be pleased if you spent every possible moment sitting next to me out in the Hall."
My ears twitched upwards. "But… Why?"
He shook his head. "Things haven't been lining up as nicely as I'd hoped, David. In the absence of a clear-cut heir, it takes a two-thirds vote among the Houses to seat a new monarch. And every vote of any real significance keeps coming up almost exactly fifty-fifty."
I nodded—already I'd seen that we weren't nearly so popular as we might've been, at least among the leadership. "But… Uncle, what can I accomplish by just sitting there and taking up space?"
He stood up and, knowing better than to ask me to join him, poured himself a half-shot of whiskey. "I'm amazed you didn't see it," he replied, after downing it neat.
"See what?" I asked.
"David… I didn't anticipate this myself, mind you. But if you know them well, it's obvious. They're terrified of you. Or most of them are, anyway. Particularly the ones that're voting against us."
8
I was much too busy for the rest of the day to think about what Uncle Robert had said about the Lords being frightened of me. First there was the whirling maelstrom of a press conference, during which a naval intelligence officer stopped me from answering almost half the questions I was asked. He had excellent reasons for doing so, and for the