In other words, it's still a nest of cannibalistic vipers, but it's our nest of cannibalistic vipers.
[ The comment is enriched with fondness, a sense that no one gets to talk bad about Barrayar except Barrayarans. For all that Naismith is (and will become) an outlet for Miles from all things Barrayaran ... he's still Vor down to his fragile bones. Nothing can remove that from him. ]
[Aral let himself unfold at that. He relaxed, almost melted into his chair, expression almost blank with relief and no little amount of wonder.]
Amazing. [The word was breathed. After a moment, he seems to martial himself. The look favored both of them, each in turn, lingered, possessive to some degree, proud to another.
[ In retrospect, Gregor can see how a man embarking on a twenty year colossal effort would want some reassurance it all worked out in the end. It was strange seeing Aral this young; his mental image of him growing up was all towering competence, impossible to live up to. It was a new thought, to see him with the same worries and uncertainties about the future as everyone else.
Gregor finds his own seat, taking the remaining armchair and leaving Miles to that couch. He still sits straight, not slouching, not casual, given the topic and who from. ]
We have. [ He inclines his head in a formal nod, hazel eyes dark but something soft behind them. ] And lest you think to worry on it, we have a positive relationship of the appropriate distance. [ One finger taps on the chair arm for just a moment, belying a bevy of hidden feeling. ] No one dares to question that anymore.
[ Gregor's reaction post-Vordrozda had quickly put paid to that. ]
[ Vordrozda, ah ... Miles immediately picks up on that, clouds a bit as he debates whether to go into it. There's telling his father about their history and then there's getting into all the details ... He swallows a bit, and once again refocuses on the lighter answer. ]
You're Prime Minister now, Da. Mostly because Mother can't convince you to retire, I think.
They'd question gravity if they thought it would get them half of an advantage. A quarter.
[There was something there, obviously. Something sharp. For now, however, he let himself be guided on.]
I'd be telling myself I'd go to ground the moment I could pass the mantle. [There's a bit of a smile there.] No, that makes sense. There's no lack of crisis and the small ones are all seeds for the large. It's manageable by one man and his party, but easier with two.
[ Gregor is completely on board with focusing on the lighter answer. He's perfectly aware that Aral is going to pick up on the undercurrents-- he'd hardly expect his reign to be problem-free-- but there's no reason to drag them out ahead of schedule. ]
Much easier, [ Gregor agrees wholeheartedly. ] When I said no one dares question it, perhaps I should've said no one questions it to me.
Hm. Cetagandan, Without a doubt... that area would be valuable to hold.
[Though, Gregor and I... He didn't miss the unusual turn of a phrase there. Dispatched by the Emperor? Through what venue? At what rank? Had he gotten through Imperial Service? There would have been a pile of negotiation to get forces through Pol, they were never warm and welcoming to their neighbors. It took a moment to find the way to phrase it.]
[ He's about to scoff (internally only) before he realizes that of course there's no way for Aral at this time point to know Gregor's capabilities in any area. Not easy to tell in a five year old. ]
Diplomatic, of course. [ He's reluctant to sound like he's touting himself, so Gregor immediately and smoothly switches to touting Miles instead. ] The Dendarii are no fabrication-- Miles and his forces were responsible for holding the line until you could arrive with backup.
Oh, yes. We've closed that loophole. And here, Miles has put me on personnel screening duty, so I'm quite literally approving each of them. [ Lobbing it right back at him now. ]
[He simply settled, watching the interplay with growing interest. It had been one thing to see Gregor carrying Miles with such exquisite care. This was a new layer on top of that. His own mind balked at the same interplay with Ezar.
But then Simon's role came up, and the dry humor flares like the sun, even though his expression remains cool, unbroken. His tone is perfectly bland.]
I'll see if Lady Vorpatril has his wine preferences before next Winterfair.
[ Gregor is all too cognizant of this evaluation and tries not to strain too hard with his effort to convey, See, I don't mistreat your son, I swear. It's nothing like with Ezar. It's not a fear he thinks Miles would be aware of, but Gregor has had far too much access to history archives.
He can't feel that dry humor, but he can guess at it, and his tone matches it. ]
That hasn't escaped her. It came to a point where we couldn't assign him to anyone else.
Insubordination was considered a family curse. Or a skill, depending on how it was phrased and to whom.
[He seems to feel no particular need to clarify whether he meant it as an adjunct to the crack about ImpSec's specialty assignment or the creative results.
He'd certainly done his own. It wasn't hard to picture Captain Negri's expression... or lack thereof, save for the twitch just below his right eye.]
More a curse for you than for me, [ he murmurs. ] I don't mind it.
[ Deliberately said, that, as a message that he's not about to demand strict obedience from Aral. Anyway, Miles (and Aral, though this comes up for Gregor much less often) is never insubordinate when it really counts. Gregor tries hard not to entrap either of them in orders they cannot fulfill without crushing some part of themselves. It's one reason he's so sparing with orders. ]
[ Only fondness over their link, drifting past Aral as it slides over to Gregor. ]
Admiral Naismith is a permanent cover for me. Hence why I fell to using it here until I could read the situation - and then Gregor turned up and made it all but necessary. It seemed unwise to broadcast his full identity.
[He meets Gregor's gaze, levelly, holding it for a moment, before inclining his head. There's a slight relaxing of his shoulders.
His attention falls back to Miles.]
Just so.
[There's nothing in him that would contest the need to protect the Emperor through whatever means necessary.]
Especially given what seems to be some confounding nonsense about proper time having no place in selection. The width and breadth of enemies expands nightmarishly.
[ Miles eyes go wide. He'd been picturing Metzov, Cavilo, maybe Oser. Not the whole range of Barrayaran history ... A particular shudder goes through him as he pictures, say, Prince Serg showing up to be a torment to Gregor. Yes, he's very glad h decided to keep a cover after all, even if it's unnecessarily complicated this particular meeting.
He sucks in a breath. ]
Yes, it does. All an accident at first, but permanent now. Admiral Naismith commands the Dendarii and serves as the liaison between them and the Imperium. A bit new, still, but we're working on it. It's not just a way of getting around Vorloupulous' Law any more.
Greg Vorthys? One of my Auditors-- a kindly old professor. He wouldn't begrudge me borrowing his name. [ Because that had been a consideration for him.
Gregor sounds smooth enough that it's very hard to tell he's hiding anything with his explanation as he goes on. ]
I'm related to the Imperial family and therefore well-connected, but orphaned with a foster-mother that looks after me. [ And here he nods at Aral, confirming that. ] I found life as High Vor too constraining, and ran off, whereupon Miles was gracious enough to rescue me from my plight of being a useless, penniless noble. I tend to come across as charmingly clueless.
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[ The comment is enriched with fondness, a sense that no one gets to talk bad about Barrayar except Barrayarans. For all that Naismith is (and will become) an outlet for Miles from all things Barrayaran ... he's still Vor down to his fragile bones. Nothing can remove that from him. ]
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Amazing. [The word was breathed. After a moment, he seems to martial himself. The look favored both of them, each in turn, lingered, possessive to some degree, proud to another.
They settled on Gregor.]
So we've managed our war as well.
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Gregor finds his own seat, taking the remaining armchair and leaving Miles to that couch. He still sits straight, not slouching, not casual, given the topic and who from. ]
We have. [ He inclines his head in a formal nod, hazel eyes dark but something soft behind them. ] And lest you think to worry on it, we have a positive relationship of the appropriate distance. [ One finger taps on the chair arm for just a moment, belying a bevy of hidden feeling. ] No one dares to question that anymore.
[ Gregor's reaction post-Vordrozda had quickly put paid to that. ]
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You're Prime Minister now, Da. Mostly because Mother can't convince you to retire, I think.
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[There was something there, obviously. Something sharp. For now, however, he let himself be guided on.]
I'd be telling myself I'd go to ground the moment I could pass the mantle. [There's a bit of a smile there.] No, that makes sense. There's no lack of crisis and the small ones are all seeds for the large. It's manageable by one man and his party, but easier with two.
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Much easier, [ Gregor agrees wholeheartedly. ] When I said no one dares question it, perhaps I should've said no one questions it to me.
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[ Adds Miles, grinning a bit. He can picture them now. They're certainly the same old bastards that Aral is dealing with now. ]
Anyway. Things are well for the Imperium, if not always quiet. Gregor and I recently foiled an invasion at Vervain.
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[Though, Gregor and I... He didn't miss the unusual turn of a phrase there. Dispatched by the Emperor? Through what venue? At what rank? Had he gotten through Imperial Service? There would have been a pile of negotiation to get forces through Pol, they were never warm and welcoming to their neighbors. It took a moment to find the way to phrase it.]
Diplomatic or tactically?
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Diplomatic, of course. [ He's reluctant to sound like he's touting himself, so Gregor immediately and smoothly switches to touting Miles instead. ] The Dendarii are no fabrication-- Miles and his forces were responsible for holding the line until you could arrive with backup.
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And Gregor assured we actually got that backup. We just pinned them down at the wormhole.
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[A pause. While the title stated it was a free mercenary company...]
They ARE the Emperor's own, correct.
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Oh, yes. We've closed that loophole. And here, Miles has put me on personnel screening duty, so I'm quite literally approving each of them. [ Lobbing it right back at him now. ]
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It's all a very neat operation now. I take care of messes too public or awkward for the Imperium to handle directly.
... Poor Illyan is in charge of me.
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[He simply settled, watching the interplay with growing interest. It had been one thing to see Gregor carrying Miles with such exquisite care. This was a new layer on top of that. His own mind balked at the same interplay with Ezar.
But then Simon's role came up, and the dry humor flares like the sun, even though his expression remains cool, unbroken. His tone is perfectly bland.]
I'll see if Lady Vorpatril has his wine preferences before next Winterfair.
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He can't feel that dry humor, but he can guess at it, and his tone matches it. ]
That hasn't escaped her. It came to a point where we couldn't assign him to anyone else.
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I'm not terrible to him. I bring him results, after all. Just ... not necessarily in the way he intends.
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[He seems to feel no particular need to clarify whether he meant it as an adjunct to the crack about ImpSec's specialty assignment or the creative results.
He'd certainly done his own. It wasn't hard to picture Captain Negri's expression... or lack thereof, save for the twitch just below his right eye.]
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[ Deliberately said, that, as a message that he's not about to demand strict obedience from Aral. Anyway, Miles (and Aral, though this comes up for Gregor much less often) is never insubordinate when it really counts. Gregor tries hard not to entrap either of them in orders they cannot fulfill without crushing some part of themselves. It's one reason he's so sparing with orders. ]
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[ Only fondness over their link, drifting past Aral as it slides over to Gregor. ]
Admiral Naismith is a permanent cover for me. Hence why I fell to using it here until I could read the situation - and then Gregor turned up and made it all but necessary. It seemed unwise to broadcast his full identity.
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His attention falls back to Miles.]
Just so.
[There's nothing in him that would contest the need to protect the Emperor through whatever means necessary.]
Especially given what seems to be some confounding nonsense about proper time having no place in selection. The width and breadth of enemies expands nightmarishly.
[There's a pause and he continues, mildly,]
Does that cover exist in full back home?
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He sucks in a breath. ]
Yes, it does. All an accident at first, but permanent now. Admiral Naismith commands the Dendarii and serves as the liaison between them and the Imperium. A bit new, still, but we're working on it. It's not just a way of getting around Vorloupulous' Law any more.
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And the other cover story?
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[A longer glance at Gregor.]
But I'd meant yours.
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Gregor sounds smooth enough that it's very hard to tell he's hiding anything with his explanation as he goes on. ]
I'm related to the Imperial family and therefore well-connected, but orphaned with a foster-mother that looks after me. [ And here he nods at Aral, confirming that. ] I found life as High Vor too constraining, and ran off, whereupon Miles was gracious enough to rescue me from my plight of being a useless, penniless noble. I tend to come across as charmingly clueless.
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