“Yes, Sire.” he nods with respect, his posture growing stiffer still when the Grand Duke rips the letter into pieces and tosses it into the fire, which causes the silence in the room to heighten and swell in the seconds it takes Dorian to move on to the next matter to be discussed.
“I have it on good authority that foreign armies have been passing over our borders in the North. Uh--” he swallows, “with the promise of the threat of an advancing royal army, the rebels in the low land have dispersed, too, which is most fortunate, but--” he withdraws another report from a pile of documents, “Here are the names of those who refuse to announce their actions; 53 of them; they are to be charged on suspicion of treason.” his jaw ticks, “--Sire, you must forgive me but... in the face of the threats we have been facing of late, I think we should build more ships.” he brings up, and Petruccio frowns harder, sitting a little straighter, “You mean, double the fleet?" he asks, and Dorian looks at him, “Treble it! Fortify our strongholds as we did in Portoferraio!” he explains. “To do this will cost us money, sire.” Petruccio turns to Cosimo, and Dorian stands his ground, his expression growing fiercer, “To leave it undone will cost us lands!” he maintains, and Petruccio’s expression, too, hardens. “Must I remind you that we are in the mid of chaos, here, Master Orsini? People are dying in droves; is this the time to be building ships?” he counters, and they both look at the Grand Duke, for his word matters above theirs. “Your Royal Highness, what are your instructions regarding the setting of the parliament at Florence to see to the matter of the rebels? Shall we send word tonight?” Dorian asks, knowing they need to resolve one issue at time.
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