Molotov

“If we wish to ensure the loyalty of Prussia, the only rational move would be to insist on the marriage.” A bureaucrat, dressed in conservative, German-influenced fashion, declared sotto voce, matching his stride to keep apace with his longer-legged companion. “Stettin was a good beginning, but we have no guarantee they won't seek the rest of Pomerania once all is through.”

“You only say that because your mother was one of them,” a tall, auburn-haired soldier several years younger than his counterpart retorted with a scoff. The halls were not as packed as they had been in previous days, and he seemed well-aware that the theatrics of his friend came with a degree of purpose. “And we all know your master favors an unprincipled peace, Axel.”

Axel rolled his eyes, although the fact that their gaze landed as far away from the soldier as possible could have said much. “You know very well that Görtz is not my master, Stenheim. I serve the Privy Council-”

“As far away from its president as possible, to hear tell,” Stenheim interjected. “Unless you ran off to Lund when I was not looking, hm?” Passing a trio of ladies who appeared to be debating the merits of a dashing soldier as opposed to the rising popularity of French fashions, he doffed his hat, prompting his friend to follow suit.

“It makes no matter. I have heard a rumor that Görtz has fallen in line with the Count af Ekebyholm. It must please you greatly, ers nåd.”

Stenheim winced at the form of address, and muttered tersely, “It would please me to serve the King in whatever manner his councilors find fitting. Or the Riksdag, if it is called.”

“You only say that because of how well he regarded last engagement went, old friend,” Axel said with a heavy air of sarcasm, tutting reprovingly. “Have you had word from your man, ah, Nilsson?”

Feigning an innocuous glance, the soldier looked around, thin lips pursed in disapproval. “I have,” he whispered once satisfied with the level of apparent privacy. “We will speak of it later, over brandy. For now, I must take my leave. I can scarcely wait to see the look on the face of Princess Ulrika when Horn delivers his report.”