Alden fidgeted uncomfortably as he stood a respectful distance away from the hallowed halls of the Blue Blood Club. His new shoes, be they ever so shiny, felt stiff around his feet, his black trousers were awkward to move in, and the subtle corsetry beneath his shirt made it slightly hard to breathe. Tiffany had insisted, however. Cinched waists and wide shoulders were, she assured him, the height of fashion among upper class men. Frankly, with the padded shoulders, narrow waist and long skirt of the frock coat, Alden felt rather like a pair of triangles stacked tip to tip. Still, he couldn’t deny the fineness of the garment. The coat was the deepest black he’d ever seen in a fabric, and the decorative silver embroidery that formed tasteful floral patterns stood out in stark contrast to the dark cloth. And the dark blue silk cravat was honestly quite comfortable around his neck. He did somewhat resent the top hat, though. Having gone his entire life up until very recently without ever so much as wearing a top hat, it felt rather awkward that he had now somehow come to own two of them. This one had a blue silk hatband to match the cravat, which honestly did nothing to endear it to Alden. And he had once again flatly refused the use of a cane, no matter how fashionable it might be. All in all, the entire outfit had cost over twenty pounds, which seemed to Alden an absolutely ludicrous sum to spend on formalwear. Even the white shirt he was wearing beneath the coat was silk, for crying out loud! But Tiffany had assured him it looked great on him, and that it was definitely fit for meeting royalty in, so Alden had swallowed his objections and paid the price without quibbling. “Alden, good day! I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Lucille was hurrying up to him, waving cheerfully. While Alden would have thought that a figure as slim and taut as Lucille’s couldn’t possibly require additional assistance, the way her rather elaborate gown clung to her frame suggested that she had procured some mechanical aid to bring a little perkiness to the chest and rear. Given that her ensemble, resplendent as it was in blue, white and silver, covered her body completely from the neck down, including out to the tips of her fingers with her silken gloves, it really was quite something how thoroughly she had managed to make it emphasize her femininity. But Alden hardly cared much about such matters at the best of times, and any thoughts about what means might have brought about this subtle transformation of her body shape were quickly banished when he noticed the strangely approving smile on Lucille’s face. If anything, her expression bordered on smug as she looked him over. “Blue and silver, Alden?” “It seemed appropriate.” “I didn’t realize you were such a people-pleaser, Alden.” “Nor did I realize you were so easy to please, Lucille.” Lucille burst out laughing, somewhat startling a passer-by on the street. “Now I feel a fool for thinking you might be nervous about our luncheon, Alden. It’s good to see you’re the same as always.” Alden, who was in fact really quite nervous indeed, decided not to correct her. Instead, he motioned towards the big, regal building before them. “Care to show me inside? I am, after all, here as your guest.” “Of course. Simply follow me.” As was appropriate for an escorted guest, Alden feel into line one step to the left and half a step behind Lucille. The alternative, which would have been holding on to her arm, was one Alden frankly refused to contemplate. And holding her hand was right out. As such, he politely followed in her wake as she tugged on the bell-pull by the front door, and was quickly greeted by a well-dressed servant. “It is my honour to greet Lucille Baines, Darling of the Clubs.” The man intoned formally. “How may we at the Blue Blood Club assist you today?” “I am here with a guest. We will be enjoying our lunch in the Rose Room, as per our reservation.” The servant subtly cast a glance at the interior wall, presumably checking some sort of schedule or list to confirm the reservation, then bowed deeply. “Understood. I will escort you there at once.” The servant led them through the huge, imposing entry hall and down a long corridor. Their footsteps echoed against the marble floor, but other than those echoing footsteps there wasn’t so much as a sound. But Alden didn’t believe for a second there was no-one else here. Rather, he suspected the individual rooms were so well soundproofed that not so much as a whisper escaped their confines. Even so, walking through the empty corridor gave rise to a reverent, sombre feeling that only served to put Alden further on edge. By the time they finally reached a thick oak door carved with an elaborate rose motif, Alden was thoroughly exhausted by the whole experience. But when the oaken door slid open, Alden couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. Every surface of the extravagant salon was covered in yellow and pink climbing roses, the symbol of the royal family. The walls, the pillars, even the furniture was covered in the clinging vines. They clambered along the ceiling and filled the hollow spaces in the beautiful chandeliers. It was like something out of a fairy story. The surreal, fantastical beauty of the room seemed frankly impossible. Which it was, of course. A closer inspection revealed the thorny vines, the green leaves and the beautiful blossoms to be nothing more than highly elaborate replicas, though Alden had to admit the craftsmanship was beyond reproach. The faux flowers were even sprayed with rose-scented perfume to further push the impossible fantasy of the rose-covered salon. Very briefly, Alden almost wished he could somehow arrange for Tiffany to spend some time here with Miss Oxley, though of course that would be patently impossible. “Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Lucille enthused. “Must have been quite a project to put together. And I imagine it’s an absolute pain to clean and upkeep.” Lucille huffed. “You have no romance in your soul, Alden Stowe.” “Largely correct. Although even I have to admit, as vanity projects go, this is a rather pretty one.” “Why thank you. I shall be certain to inform mother of your approval.” Alden spun around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and found himself face to face with the brother of the queen. Prince Wallace was a tall man with largely unremarkable features, although he had the sharp green eyes and the rather oversized ears characteristic of the royal family. His slicked-back brown hair was speckled with grey, and the faint wrinkles starting to form on his face spoke of a life spent frowning far more than smiling. He was also far less formally dressed than Alden, wearing an aging tweed suit patterned in the royal family’s tartan. Given that the royal tartan was in pink, yellow, green and brown, it almost looked as if he might vanish if placed against the backdrop of the rose-covered walls. It had to be a conscious choice, combining casual clothing and a relaxed attitude with an unsubtle reminder of his royal status. At a loss for how to interact with the man, Alden decided to play things safe and bowed deeply. “Your Highness.” The man waved his hand lazily. “Dispense with the formalities, please. It’s all well and good in front of the staff, but it rather gets in the way of things socially. So, I take it you’re Lucille’s new favourite? The tincturer?” Alden hesitated, but finally decided to take the peculiar prince on his word. “I wouldn’t know about being her favourite, but I’m Alden Stowe. I run a tinctury on Ratcatcher Street.” “Stowe’s Tinctures, yes? I had someone look into it. Fairly well regarded, as I understand it. How on earth did my little Lucille manage to rope a fine, upstanding craftsman like yourself into all this?” “With a mess of half-truths, a few outright lies and quite a lot of money.” Lucille huffed. “You wound me, Alden. And here I thought we were friends.” “The truth hurts, Lucille.” The prince glanced between the two of them. “You’re certainly getting along well. You’re even dressing him in your colours, after all.” “He dressed that way himself, thank you very much. I had no involvement in his wardrobe.” “Now that you mention it, he does seem to have been dressed by someone with a far keener understanding of men’s fashion than you.” “Quite frankly, Wally, I couldn’t give less of a damn what men consider fashionable.” “No, I suppose your aesthetic interests are very limited when it comes to men.” Alden frankly wasn’t sure what to make of just how close Lucille appeared to be with the prince. Even putting their respective social standing aside, the way they bickered put Alden more in mind of a pair of siblings than an employer and his employee. Then again, Lucille had rather struck him as being quite eager to dispense with formalities, and since the prince apparently shared that trait it might make sense that they would get along. But before he could find a time to interject, the conversation halted as a servant opened the door, bringing in a small cart packed with fresh scones, cold cuts, jams, cream, sweet treats and various drinks. Alden immediately stiffened into his best formal demeanour as the servant set the table, and politely waited for the prince to take his seat before sitting down himself. He didn’t let his guard down until the servant took his leave and closed the door behind himself. When the three of them were alone once again and Alden allowed himself to relax, he realized the prince was giving him a rather calculating look. “I’m starting to realize what Lucille sees in you, Alden. You’re quick to react, and you can read the room very well.” “You did imply I should observe the formalities in front of the staff.” “And you rose to the occasion. Frankly, with the glowing reports Lucille gives your efforts, I was almost starting to suspect she might have finally developed a liking for a member of the opposite sex…” Lucille made a noise that was halfway between offended and disgusted. “…but perhaps you really are as well suited for this line of work as she claims.” Not entirely comfortable with the tone of the conversation, Alden decided to slightly shift the subject. “I must admit I never would have pegged you as being involved with the intelligence service, Prince Wallace.” “Nor am I, in any official capacity. I do cooperate with the Royal Intelligence Service from time to time, but Lucille and the rest of my little band of troublemakers are simply… freelancers. I fund their operations entirely out of my own pocket.” “Might I be so bold as to ask why?” “Why, for Queen and country, Mr. Stowe. For Queen and country.” Something about the way the prince said those words rather stuck out to Alden, and he took a moment to go over what little information he had about the reclusive prince. When things finally fell into place, he couldn’t help but smile. “You simply wish to help your dear sister, don’t you?” The prince seemed almost stunned for a moment, then he burst out laughing. “And there it is. It really is just Lucille told me. You certainly have a knack for finding things out, Alden.” Out of all the things Alden had expected from today’s meeting, the brother of the queen calling him by his given name was not even among them. Still, he did his best not to let his surprise show on his features. “Well, I suppose that’s what you’re paying me for.” “Quite so, Alden. Quite so. And speaking of, I was hoping you could help me with something.” “Of course, Prince Wallace. How may I be of assistance?” The prince pulled a small vial from an inner pocket and proffered it to Alden. “A third cousin of mine was found with this vial and five others just the same hidden away in a secret compartment of his luggage. He turned rather tight-lipped when asked about the contents. I don’t suppose you could tell me what it contains?” Alden studied the vial curiously. The fluid was transparent, though a few white grains had crystallized within it and drifted to the bottom of the vial. Uncorking it, Alden took a hesitant sniff. “Not a tincture. A solution in water, but very pungent. The most noticeable scent is of ammonia, but there’s a different scent underneath it. Some sort of colourless plant extract, probably, in a preservative solution. Given the fact that it was smuggled in, one would assume either a poison or a mind-affecting substance. I would need to take it to my workshop to tell you more.” “If it’s a workshop you need, I could grant you access to a fully equipped chemical laboratory.” “Thank you for the offer, but it’s not simply a matter of equipment. I have a very talented young woman working for me, and I’m sure I could do a much better job of identifying this substance with her assistance.” The prince shot Alden a surprised look. “Really? According to my information the only tincturer working for you is one Mr…” “I have a very talented young woman working for me.” Alden repeated firmly. “And I will need her assistance.” The prince shared a confused look with Lucille, but then shrugged. “Just as you say. Feel free to bring the vial home with you. As I said, we have five others just like it.” Alden nodded and carefully sealed the vial before tucking it into an interior pocket in his coat. “I will look into it. I assume I should simply inform Lucille of anything I manage to discern so she can forward it to you.” “If you would be so kind. Now, with business matters out of the way, we did come here for a lunch meeting, and I am frankly starving. Let’s not have this excellent spread go to waste, shall we?” As the three of them enjoyed what was, in all fairness, an absolutely excellent lunch, conversation turned light and inconsequential. Or so it seemed. But Alden couldn’t help but feel that the prince was observing his every move, making note of his every word. His gaze just fell on Alden a little too often for it to be natural, and he seemed to react just a little more than one might expect to anything Alden said. It was a very subtle thing, but it was somewhat unnerving, and Alden found it rather grating in the long run. Enough so that he turned to look the prince dead in the eyes as the meal drew to a close. “Well, did I pass your inspection?” The prince looked a little surprised for a moment, but then smiled. “Absolutely. I think your powers of observation will prove very useful to me in the future.” Alden felt rather out of sorts as he wandered the streets of Westminster. The moment he had parted ways with Lucille, the reality of having spent almost an hour in shockingly casual conversation with a prince had hit him like a hammer. Originally, he had been planning to go straight back home after the lunch meeting, but now he felt like a brisk walk in the fresh air was just what he needed. And the air really was quite fresh today, at least in Westminster. The wind was coming in from the northeast, leaving Westminster conveniently upwind of almost all of London’s industrial districts. Admittedly, he felt like something of a toff, strolling around the Westminster area dressed as he was. Even among the fine folk of Westminster, only the most opulent dandies wore clothes like Alden’s when out for a casual stroll. The fine and wealthy folk reacted to his appearance with friendly courtesy, while the serving folk treated him with an almost unnerving degree of respect. But at least he had a good understanding of why this was the case. He looked like a toff, so he was treated like a toff. But the prince certainly hadn’t acted very princely. He had been mercurial in disposition, intrusive in his observations and informal to an almost discourteous degree. And worst of all, he had somehow managed to be strangely likeable despite it all. One part of Alden sincerely hoped that he would never have to interact with royalty ever again. But another part of him felt oddly compelled to assist this strange, slightly rude man in his quest to make life just a bit easier for his sister. Even if said sister happened to be the Queen of England. He just wished the prince wouldn’t put such obvious stock in Alden’s supposed ‘powers of observation’. Surely anyone with a functioning pair of eyes and ears could have done all the ‘observing’ Alden had accomplished in the past while. It was simply a matter of paying attention to one’s surroundings, and any Rascal learned early on to keep track of what was happening around them. For example, the drunk old man walking down the other side of the road clearly had more money than sense, with his fine yet dishevelled clothes and his purse hanging from a string on his belt. It would be the work of a moment to sever the string, after which a winsome Rascal could pick it up off the street and return the ‘dropped’ purse to the man in anticipation of a reward. Or a particularly brave and foolish rascal could attempt to just make off with the purse entirely. It was open information. Taking it into account was hardly a particularly impressive thing to do. Any fool who cared to look could tell that the woman walking in front of him had recently injured her left leg, and had most likely borrowed the lacquered cane she was using to help her walk from her husband. Or that the cabbie waiting outside the coffee shop across the street was trying to hide a hangover. Or that the young maid drinking tea by herself outside the teahouse across the street had taken care to style her long, slightly curly red hair in a way that pulled attention away from her complete lack of feminine curves… Actually, that maid bothered Alden just a little bit. The manner of her dress suggested she was a junior maid employed as part of the staff of some wealthy household, but here she was drinking tea by herself outside a rather upscale establishment in the middle of the afternoon. Crossing the street, Alden took note of the brown eyes, the shape of the nose, the cast of the chin… With a thoughtful frown, Alden pulled out a chair and took a seat across from the maid, who looked up in obvious startlement. “Can… Can I help you?” “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Corker, by any chance?” The maid seemed rather stunned for a moment, then let out a tired groan. “What have my idiot brothers gotten themselves into this time?”