6 Breaking Fast
brEAKING FAST
THE LIGHT OF day was an unwelcome intrusion into the stygian blackness of my sleep, sending shafts of sunshine piercing through my eyelids.
For a moment after the curtains were thrown aside, my body went on red alert, but there were no sounds of battle, no covert shuffling of infiltrators, just the footsteps of somebody walking around the room.
My battle sense switched off, dropping me back into a miasma of newly awakened stupefaction. I groaned and turned over.
“Now now, Captain. It’s time you were up. The rest of the prince’s retinue is already at breakfast.”
“They are?” I mumbled, the words barely intelligible. That voice, it sounded familiar…
“Indeed. Now, we have to get you dressed. Come, I’ve brought you a morning suit.”
Dreading the act, I opened my eyes. As expected, the brightness hurt. After my pupils contracted, the silhouette of a Commonwealth royal valet swam into focus. Not just any valet, but the one who had stripped me down after my meeting with the high marshals.
“You,” I said as I slowly rose to a seated position. “What are you doing here?”
The valet did not look up from the suit he was laying at the foot of my bed.
“Somebody has to make certain you are correctly attired during this soiree. As a result, you may consider me your personal valet for the duration of this Imperial jubilee. Now, wash yourself, and quickly. It does not do to keep a prince waiting.”
I swung my feet out from beneath the sheets. “You’re certain I can do it myself?” I chided.
“I trust you can clean off a single ballroom evening’s grime,” he said, his voice droll.
I considered the situation as I showered in the small commode attached to my room. When I emerged, I said, “Captains don’t get valets.”
“Consider me your batman, then,” he replied, holding up an undershirt and a pair of trunks.
I raised my eyebrows as I took them and began dressing. “You don’t look much like a corporal.”
“Good thing, too, since I am a master sergeant.” He was busy pulling out the grey three-piece suit, so he didn’t notice my shocked expression right away.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. Every member of Her Majesty’s household is a trained member of her Royal Guards.
It keeps the illusion of a civil, genteel monarch without sacrificing her protection. ”
I considered this while I finished buttoning my shirt. As I pulled on the pinstriped trousers, I said, “That still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here.”
The valet helped me shrug into my one-and-a-half breasted waistcoat, leaving me to do up the nine buttons.
“I am here to instruct you in the language of diplomacy, to guide you through the difficult steps of etiquette, and to make certain your bumbling soldier’s brashness does not outweigh your strategic usefulness. ”
“An assistant’s assistant,” I quipped, noting with disdain the tiny, useless pockets barely large enough to hold a fob watch.
“A gentleman’s gentleman,” he corrected, holding up my cutaway jacket.
It looked like a civilian jacket, except for the regiment-marked shoulder boards and the gold rank stripes around the sleeve cuffs.
I’d not had a servant help me dress since my last visit to my family estate before the war, so I was amazed how easily the old habits came back.
“Well, if we are to be together these next several days, I should know your name,” I said as I slid my arms into the tight jacket sleeves.
“You may call me Wiktor.” Wiktor the valet brushed down my shoulders, then spun me about. He inspected my cufflinks, cravat pin, and pocket watch chain. “A little out of order, but I suppose it gives you a sort of rugged, soldierly charm, and we don’t have time for the proper instruction.”
“I have had the proper instruction since I was six.” I adjusted my collar, then tried to slide my hand into a pocket to adopt a rakish pose, only to find it was nothing more than a decorative pocket flap.
Scowling, I continued, “What I choose to forget is my choice. Now, lead me to my breakfast, if you please.”
Wiktor led me down a short corridor lined with doors which, I assumed, led to other chambers like mine.
The hallway let out into a fine suite of rooms, richly decorated with damasks and furs, and Wiktor directed me into a long dining room.
An entire wall was given over to large plate-glass windows revealing a glorious view of the forested slopes leading down to the pink sand beach and aquamarine lagoon below.
The other walls were amber-colored crystal.
The room was dominated by a long dining table of polished red stone veined with turquoise-flecked jet.
Seated at the table were several members of the Royal Commonwealth delegation.
I recognized few faces, but Prince Aureli sat at the table’s head, and Colonel Boleslaw, despite her relatively low rank, sat at his right hand.
“Levar,” Boleslaw called when she saw me. “Glad you could make it.”
“You’re late,” another voice said with a snap of disapproval. “I’m afraid you’ve missed all the food.”
I moved to an empty seat near the end of the table. Sir Blandesky, sitting before a collection of dirty dishes, glowered at me. I still had no idea what his problem was, but mine was abundantly clear. My stomach growled as I sat down.
A silver serving tray slid gracefully before me.
“I had the kitchen staff put a plate aside for you,” Wiktor said, the perfect image of servility standing beside me, but his voice was loud enough to carry to Blandesky.
I nodded in thanks, and Wiktor removed the cloche to reveal eggs, ham, and savory muffins, smothered in a delightfully tangy sauce.
It was almost as delicious as the way Blandesky’s face flushed.
Perhaps Wiktor would be bearable after all.
I tried to eat my eggs Benedict with as much grace as I could muster, but I could feel Wiktor’s disapproval emanating from somewhere behind my left elbow. The habits of a decade’s soldiering died hard, it seemed.
The prince cleared his throat. “First of all, regarding last night’s unscheduled diplomatic interaction with the Emperor.
” I swallowed a bite and put my fork and knife down.
“Colonel Boleslaw debriefed me on the full details of the event and the circumstances leading to it. With the knowledge possessed by the individuals responsible at the time, I must agree that Captain Boylan’s actions were indeed correct and the most beneficial move which could have been made at the time. ”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Boleslaw gave me a wink, and I cut another slice of ham, egg, and muffin.
“With that in mind, in the future, I expect all members of this diplomatic envoy to consult with myself before undertaking any risky negotiating tactics,” Prince Aureli said, a hint of reproach in his voice. My mouth full, I nodded my assent.
“How were your evening activities, Your Highness? Fruitful?” Boleslaw asked.
The prince settled in his chair. “More enjoyable than informative. I’m afraid Lady Agincourt’s charms lie more in her body than her brains.”
“I thought Lady d’Lyre was the target of last night’s diplomatic reconnaissance,” Boleslaw said.
Aureli shook his head. “She was too tight-lipped during the dance and too eager to get me into her bed instead of the other way around. Agincourt was freer with her political information. I only wish she had more to reveal.”
“Was there anything you learned which could help us?” Boleslaw asked.
“Aside from Agincourt being a noisy lover?” Aureli asked. “Not really. The Federation is willing to restore most pre-war borders, but Lady Agincourt implied the Federation expects to maintain control over the Valdotian sector going forwards.”
“I’m certain the Despotate lords commander will love that,” an aging sky martial remarked.
“Indeed. We’ll see if I can gather any political information from a comelier member of their delegation,” Prince Aureli said.
“May I suggest Lord Commander Savs? She looked keen to reconnoiter the extent of your diplomatic prowess,” Boleslaw said.
“Indeed, and I’ll be pleased to show her, although I’m rather looking forward to getting the Emperor into my bed. I’ve never had a demon woman before. I expect it to be a thrilling experience.”
At this point, I was compelled to interject, if only to stop the prince from speaking about Astrid that way. Despite no longer being her lover, I found myself disquieted hearing Prince Aureli speak of Astrid in such a carnal manner.
“Excuse me, but are we seriously discussing licentious liaisons as part of our national strategy?”
Every eye turned to me, and Sir Blandesky chided me, saying, “It’s standard practice: sleeping with allies and enemies to gather information. What’s the matter? Do the diplomatic corps’ deviant doings shock your soldierly sensibilities?”
“No, I only wish I’d joined sooner,” I said on reflex. By the time I processed my reply, the assembled notables were chuckling appreciatively. “Did you have a, a nighttime rendezvous, as well?” I asked Boleslaw.
“Of course,” she said with perfect equanimity. “Why would I not? Someone needs to gather diplomatic reconnaissance from gynosexuals.”
“I tried, but a damned flirt of a deposed League duchess got in my way,” a female general protested.
“I would have thought you would be able to maneuver around a stateless noble in exile,” Prince Aureli said.
“Yes, well, she’s young, and was wearing this dress which my uniform sadly can’t compete with,” the female general replied, indicating a low-cut bodice across her high tunic front.
“It’s just, I didn’t see you flirt with anyone,” I said, redirecting the conversation back to Boleslaw.
Boleslaw smiled warmly. “Then you weren’t paying attention. I was flirting with everyone.”