There had been a time where he would have scowled at such covert dealings; by his very nature he opposes them, hardly able to force out even an acidic smile around those whose ire he has earned. Was that not why he is now quarreling with Leonid Potemkin, because he does not possess the constitution for the facades and double-dealings needed to navigate the court at such a fragile juncture? Delicate hands are needed, but delicate hands he does not possess. Nor does the man whose company he seeks, but what the eldest of the Dashkov counts has to offer is worth even more than tact and social graces: what he desires is an alliance, both for himself and his nephew, and the one man like-minded enough to understand why is the very same man in whose private apartments he now stands.The only place truly discreet enough for such a meeting, damn it all.
“Your Highness,” he greets respectfully, curtly. “We have much to discuss, and I'll not waste your time with trivialities. War looms in our future, and your family has been especially loyal to that of my wife and nephew." There is a pause, a sudden weight upon his mind. War is coming. This is the first step in solidifying such impending bloodshed. "I am here to call upon that loyalty yet again.”