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It was with a strange ease that things fell into a kind of normality. It was clear that the Prince had a routine when he was living here in his own halls, and Perroy slipped into it with barely a ripple. They tended to eat breakfast in the morning together, after the Prince had spent some time doing sword drills and Perroy had organised his own day. After that they mostly attended their own affairs - Alphonse dealing with the estate and Perroy busy combing through what information they had to either identify the possible source of the assassins, or reduce the chance of them striking again.

The Prince had essentially given him free rein within the estate. Perroy used it to vet staff and make improvements to the security of the place with the aid of Madame Dubois, who had by now been informed of the situation. Thankfully she was clearly a good housekeeper who knew her people - a useful fount of knowledge. Judging the trustworthiness of strangers could be a challenge, after all.

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As Alphonse had predicted, Mme. Dubois returned with a whole entourage of staff in tow, carrying buckets and bowls of steaming hot water.

After some deliberation they ended up relocating to Alphonse's room in order to give the servants more time to properly scrub away the blood on the flagstones in Perroy's. The staff dragged the large copper bathtub in front of the fireplace and began to fill it as the housekeeper directed affairs.

Once the tub had been filled it wasn't too long before Alphonse managed to convince the servants to leave. To Perroy's relief they had also left an array of sponges, brushes and other tools, as well as oils, scrubs, and Perroy's own collection of the above. He sorted through his things fussily, arranging them on a nearby stool; there was a process to bathing which he greatly enjoyed, and even with his headache and general wobbliness he was looking forward to it.

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In the wake of the housekeeper's departure, the room suddenly felt both much quieter, and crackling with an electric tension. Perroy held Alphonse where he was for a moment, feeling the tension drain slowly out of him. Only once he was soft and pliant once more did he withdraw his thumb from his mouth, swiping it gently over his lower lip.

"Good," he murmured. "Now, my Prince. Have you eaten and drunk your fill?" He had a feeling that he was going to be keeping the Prince distracted for a while, and didn't want him to be going to bed hungry as a result.

Part 1 here

Less than a week later, the Prince and the Chancellor had both been busy.

Prince Alphonse's recovery had been gradual but promising, and the time had not been wasted. Perroy checked his food, made sure he rested, and acted as his eyes in the situations where the Prince's blurred vision made things like reading or writing impossible. In amongst all that, they plotted. By the time Alphonse was back on his feet, they had a plan.

Perroy had watched from a distance as the Prince addressed his troops, with a sense that he was watching a man who had finally been uncaged. No longer shackled by his desire to remain unremarkable, there was an undeniable charisma to the man. The troops seemed to agree, though the whoops and cheers probably had something to do with the fact that, after a stirring speech in recognition of his recent brush with death, Alphonse had granted them all extra rations, a generous amount of leave to visit their families, and the pick of his personal wine cellars.

More fascinating to the Chancellor was the fact that all of it had been the Prince's idea. It was social engineering in its purest form, Perroy's bread and butter, and yet he hadn't needed to be the one to suggest it. They'd worked together, of course. Perroy had begun to seed ideas around the camp well before the actual speech, talking wistfully about time off and family visits to the people he encountered while collecting food for the prince, or doing the other small chores he was currently handling for him.

It struck him, watching Alphonse speak: he understood why the Crown wanted him dead. Given the right motivation, the support of the right person - someone like Perroy, for example - Prince Alphonse was undeniably a threat to his brother's rule.

Perroy was still yet to throw in his lot with him entirely, of course. He wasn't looking to stage a coup - he just wanted the man to stay alive. And he wanted the kingdom to survive in the way most healthy for it.

That did sometimes mean breaking a few eggs. In this case: seeding chaos between the Generals. Nothing which would bring them to blows; just enough. He whispered to General Dumont about how his cavalrymen had been spurned for supplies in favour of General Odson. Odson, he told about unkind rumours which had been being spread by General Mitry. And so on and so forth. It was nothing life-threatening, but what it meant was that the Generals would not be working together while Alphonse was gone.

Because that was the next part of the plan, and the most important one.

No. Put the sword down. You have done enough for today, knight, and you will be of no use to anyone in the morning if you are exhausted. You are a blade for my use - the crown's use, I mean, of course - and I will not have you blunted.

Come. My quarters are closer, and you are dead on your feet. Close the door behind you. Lock it.

You dislike the influence I have over the prince? What a strange thing to say. I am an adviser. I advise. Are you accusing me of being too good at my job, that my guidance is deemed valuable? That your young master seeks my counsel on important matters?

Dear me. Now that is a serious accusation to go throwing around.

Hello, Your Highness. You won't mind me interrupting - my days are extremely busy of late, and we must speak on a matter of some importance. No, stay in the bathtub - continue. All you need to do is listen. Here, I will add more hot water before we begin.

Now. We must speak of your hypothetical betrothal.