After the most unpleasant surprise the little shit of an emperor had gifted him, one that had cost Alpheo four thousand silverii, the prince was more than a little curious to see how the coin would be spent.
Last thing he foreseen was to be shaken down in a foreign court, least of all by a boy barely a bit above half his age who'd wrapped himself in imperial rhetoric and puppy-eyed gratitude. Never before, as far as he knew, had one nation not only come to another's rescue, but been bullied into opening its purse for the privilege.
And that burned like bad wine.
Especially since, just months ago, he'd lectured his own men about restraint, about building for the future, about the virtue of saving for leaner day.
That sermon had aged like milk under the sun.
