“First,” Jonah Levin said, speaking directly to Harrison, “let me apologize for any perceived slight to the Raven Alliance. We’ve been organizing this since December, but there are still a few legal kinks to work out.”
Harrison nodded. “The Clans setting foot on Terra being a major one,” he said, understanding. “That was the entire point to their invasion in 3050, wasn’t it? To become the chief Clan?”
“The ilClan,” Julian said, providing the correct term. “But there is some debate among military historians as to how that works. First Clan to simply set down on Terran soil? First to win a victory? Or does it take the subjugation of the entire world to trigger that event?”
“We’re playing it safe,” Levin said. “Geneva and the surrounding environs will be officially classified as neutral ground for the duration of Paladin Victor Steiner-Davion’s funeral. And as we cannot commit to an ambassador’s privilege of granting ‘sovereign soil’ to any Clan, the Sea Foxes have helped us draw up a ‘contract’ by which a Clan representative is granted diplomatic immunity so long as they agree to abide by the boundaries and renounce all claim of sovereignty for the duration of this visit. It should be ready for Khan McKenna by tomorrow at the latest.”
“We are the first to arrive then?” Harrison asked.
“Nearly.” Levin smiled tightly. “First with a Clan warrior, at any rate. But a small contingent from House Steiner arrived two days ago. They have taken over the Carlton-Swiss in Geneva.” He hedged, obviously uncomfortable. “The Commonwealth embassy in Mannheim is currently …unavailable.”
“Melissa is here?” Harrison sounded surprised.
“No. A distant cousin, Trillian Steiner, with a small escort of military attaches.”
“Steiner-Davion,” Julian said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Julian shifted to the side of his chair, leaning away from the fire. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but now that he had: “Trillian Steiner-Davion. She is Peter Steiner-Davion’s granddaughter. Victor would be her great-uncle.”
“Interesting. That relationship was not made clear to me. And Trillian, when I spoke briefly with her, actually requested a city residence rather than take a nearby estate.”
“Family issues,” Harrison said, dismissing the problem. “Relations with the Commonwealth have been less than warm of late. And shared blood makes it no easier.”
The exarch frowned. “Well, we aren’t going to make that any easier, I’m afraid. There are several reports due to break publicly any day now, a few of which I recently released, to support our political agenda. Others I wish I had never seen myself. They will tarnish Victor’s record, and the Steiner-Davion name, I’m afraid. Which is a shame, coming on the eve of his funeral services.”
Julian rubbed at the side of his face. He wondered if his hair was beginning to singe. “I thought Victor helped uncover the Senate cabal? Wasn’t that why he was killed?”
“He did. It was, we believe.” Levin blew out a frustrated breath. “But how he went about it makes it difficult for The Republic to maintain the high ground in our situation with the Senate. Documents in my possession, and in the hands of others, I’m afraid, make it clear that Victor kept ties to some ex-intelligence operatives after the Jihad, for starters. ROM agents whom he might have encouraged to return to ComStar. Even worse, he essentially supported one of the plagues of The Republic; an organization of spies-for-hire and information brokers who hide behind the illuminati pyramid.”
The conversation was quickly veering away from security issues and into territory not exactly within Julian’s purview as the prince’s champion. Political territory. He was as fascinated as anyone with family gossip—especially gossip at this level—but this was material more fit for Harrison’s intelligence corps. They should vet it, and decide what Julian needed to know.
Plus, truth be told, Julian felt as if he were being broiled to death. He stood, taking a step away from the fire.
“I should see to the security of the grounds, Uncle. And to the Duchess Hasek’s disposition.”
But Harrison made no bones about it. “Sit down, Julian.”
There was no disputing a direct order from the first prince. Especially when he used the curt tone of voice normally reserved for recalcitrant generals or his wayward son. It warned that Harrison would brook no argument or interference.
It was not a tone he took often with Julian.
Julian sat, though he edged over to the sectional first, away from the blazing fire. He perched on the arm of the long couch, sitting at attention but looking as if he were ready to leave at a moment’s notice. At the prince’s whim.
“I appreciate the heads-up,” Harrison told the exarch. “Have Gavin and Simone been told?” he asked, naming Victor’s two surviving grandchildren.
“Simone, yes. Gavin has dropped out of sight—hopefully, just as a protest over our political use of his grandfather.” Jonah shrugged. “Kitsune has also lodged a formal protest”—naming Victor’s son from a previous relationship—“but he’s keeping it low key.”
“I assume none of this will impact plans for Victor’s state funeral?”
“No. We will move forward as outlined in the calendar we sent. But I wanted you to be forewarned, in case this will cause you any difficulty back home.”
Harrison combed his fingers through his black beard. “Not nearly what it is causing you here,” he said. “Your senators will use any handle they can get on Victor to smear the rest of the paladins.”
“Which is why most of them are off-planet at the moment.” Levin held up four fingers. “I’ve kept only a handful of my best on Terra. The others are tending the desperate situations with Clan Jade Falcon and the Capellan incursions, or running down senators with delusions of their own nation-state.”
Julian had his own opinion on that subject. But he remained quiet, feeling far out of his depth. Harrison, though, seemed determined to drag him under the exarch’s nose.
“Julian and I talked about that on the way in-system. You have bitten off quite a large problem, Jonah. What was it you called it, my boy? ‘Brute force politics?’” He chuckled, a laugh that rumbled deep in his chest.
“What I meant by that—”
But Levin waved him down. “Don’t start apologizing for speaking the truth, Lord Davion. It is a rare and precious thing at the higher levels.”
“Personal experience, Exarch?” Harrison sat forward, placing large hands on his knees. “Have your teat caught in the wringer already?”
“I’ve discussed things,” Levin said slowly, choosing his words with obvious care, “given orders and solicited advice that I would not care to repeat in front of a recorder. And I’ve smiled into the faces of people I knew I’d have to send to their death in battle, or ruin politically as soon as they were no longer useful to The Republic. Honestly, Harrison, I don’t see how anyone can live with this job for as long as you, or Vincent Kurita, have done.”
“It needs doing. And if you have those kinds of questions, Jonah, then you might be the right man for the job after all.” Harrison glanced meaningfully at Julian, but if there was a silent message behind it, the prince’s champion did not catch it. “You’ve been thrown into the deep end on your first time out,” he continued. “Redburn left you with a right foul cock-up. And in your position, given the relative youth of The Republic and the forces you have pressing against you…”
He trailed off, and Julian suspected that his prince had begun to regret going so far with the praise. But then Harrison Davion often surprised his champion.
“I’d have done just the same thing,” the prince said, nodding.
Levin smiled, but quite obviously didn’t believe it. “You would have, eh?”
“The Lyran Commonwealth radically altered their government once… Julian?”