"But the main company of those families are untouched," Innsford stated.
"For the time being." Niejwein's cheek twitched. Has he the palsy? Otto wondered. "As I said, his majesty-" Niejwein stopped and rose to his feet, turning to face one of the side panels. A moment later he dropped to one knee: Otto scrambled to follow suit.
"Rise, gentlemen." Otto allowed himself to look up at his new monarch. The Pervert- no, forget you ever heard that name, on pain of your neck, he told himself-was every inch a prince: tall, hale of limb, fair of face, with a regal bearing and a knowing gleam in 'his eye. Otto, Baron Neuhalle, had known Egon since he was barely crawling. And he was absolutely terrified of him.
"Sire." Innsford looked suitably grave. "I came as soon as I heard the news, to pledge myself to you anew and offer whatever aid you desire in your time of need." Not grief, Otto noted.
Prince Egon-no, King Egon-smiled. "We appreciate the thought, and we thank your grace for your thoughtfulness. Your inclination to avoid any little misunderstandings is most creditable."
"Sire." Innsford nodded, suppressing any sign of unease.
Egon turned to Niejwein. "Is there any word of that jumped-up horse thief Lofstrom?" he asked offhandedly. Neuhalle kept his face still: to talk of Angbard, Duke Lofstrom, so crudely meant that the wind was blowing in exactly the direction Innsford had predicted. But then, it wasn't hard to guess that the new monarch-who had haled his grandmother and never seen eye-to-eye with his father-would react viciously towards the single biggest threat to his authority over the kingdom.