Stefan noted the subtle change of expression on the Reconcillator's face with suppressed satisfaction. They were more alike than either of them realized in their fierce protectiveness of the honor of their families and throwing some of the insult he'd been served back in the blond man's face fed a savage need that lurked, hungry, somewhere deep inside the scion of House Dornkirk.
The words that came from the man in response were nearly enough to break the mask of calm, orderly Manager he had been wearing since Dreyfus had entered his office. Through gritted teeth and an only moderately controlled tone he said,
"It is a violation of the laws of our city. Of course the Prince," The word was spoken with undisguised contempt, "Knew the laws, had been informed of them by our ambassadors before his arrival and then re-briefed on the subject by the State appointed escort." It did not seem worth mentioning that Brenner had been that escort and thus Stefan knew personally that the group as a whole, and the prince, in particular, had been informed of the laws of the city.
"He was informed again, less formally, by myself upon entering the Windworks." It had been a part of the conversation rather than any kind of warning, but the words had been said, "He was well aware. More than. It was a direct violation of both the law and the rules which he agreed to abide by when he was invited to tour our facility. Only his diplomatic immunity saved him from a trial that would have, I can only assume, based on having read the minutes of every trial of an unlawful witch in the last five years, led to his execution."
Stefan's eyes were burning, a hazel heat coming off his direct gaze. He did not mention that one of those trials had been for Dreyfus' own aunt, the renegade Childs, but left the implication hanging clearly for the other man to grasp. Trying in vain to contain his response to the last, more subtle jibe at his family he said,
"My family takes great pains to see to the lives and livelihoods of all those who we employ. Which is more than could be said for those that send their loyal retainers into intentional danger and pretend they had no connection when they fail."
The same could be said of any of the major information-gathering families, but it still disgusted Stefan. Spy work was dangerous, and by its nature secretive. If the puppet masters revealed their connection to every dead or captured operative their businesses would die quickly. These facts did nothing to dampen how he felt.
The next words from the man had Stefan out of his chair, the tension in strong his body a threat even if no thought of violence entered his mind. Physical altercations were not things that existed in his mind when he was acting as Manager of the Windworks, but it often happened that he forgot how he might come across to a person who did not know him well.
"Sir," He started, managing to make the honorific an insult, "You are entirely out of your jurisdiction. The running of a business is not within the preview of the Order. If you are not, as you say you are not, questioning the loyalty of my family then you have no business here whatsoever." His use of language became more sophisticated the angrier he became, defaulting back to the merciless training he'd received from before he'd left the cradle. A smile actually crossed his lips, cruel in a way it was possible he'd never expressed before at the mention of shutting down the Windworks.
"If you imagine those 'higher on the food chain'," The common phrase rolled off his tongue filled with implications as to how Dreyfus might have been raised and what sort of barn it might have happened in, "that you refer to are higher than those who order the commission of ships that this factory provides, I believe you will find yourself sorely mistaken."
The orders were often sent by the highest-ranking Acquisition General herself, and Stefan knew that some of the designs passed by the desk of the Grand Mashel himself. Even if the factory was seized by the State the making of the ships, Stefan's own new designs, were secrets kept close enough that even the famed Monteliyet's would have no copies.
He calmed somewhat as Dreyfus spoke of the qualities of the Monteliyet's, nodding along almost as if he agreed, or at least expected such comments, for he had heard them from members of the old families more times than he could count. He waited, politely, until the little speech was done before catching their eyes on each other once again.
"Mr. Monteliyet, I think you will find that the implication that your family knows how to 'get their hands dirty' when no single member has seen an honest day's toil since," He paused and then continued in an imitation of the man's exact phrasing "before the fall of the Gelerian Imperium will not impress me."
They were both standing now, facing each other across the worn and polished wood of his drafting desk. It took a long, silent moment before Stefan responded to the threat. When he did it was quietly, enough so that Dreyfus might have struggled to hear the words had they not been so close to one another.
"Or what?" He let it hang, briefly before continuing in the same quiet precisely enunciated tone, "Your threats are as banal and toothless as your protection. Do you imagine none have ever tried to ruin this family before? You have, in this very conversation, stated the contempt of the old families quite plainly. The Dornkirks are hated by their so-called betters for rising to serve the new needs of the State in ways they could not, for daring to reach above our station. We are looked on in malicious envy by the commons who wish to rip off pieces of our success to turn a quick profit. There are plots, endless plots, to break us. We are used to it by now. I was raised in it."
The last sentence sounded resigned, tired, as though he knew his life would be nothing if not an endless struggle to keep the place his father, and to a lesser extent, himself, had fought and bled for. The apology came just at this moment, when he was, briefly, vulnerable and it settled in him. Sighing he stepped back from his own desk, letting the distance between their conflict draw it apart. It took a long moment, but eventually, he straightened his coat and said,
"I also did not intend to allow this to grow... heated. If what you say is true for a family who has severed the State since before the Imperium fell, how much more sensitive must a new family be?"
Settling himself back into his chair he ignored the refreshments, ran a hand through his hair to set aright what might have become disarrayed he let himself come back down into his role as Manager.
"I suspected the same. The only way all of my precautions against accidents could have been superseded was by intention. I can see no other conclusion. I did everything within my power inside these walls to find out why, and how. I did find significant information but it is not my right to pursue the culprits. I turned all my information over to the State Police, as is my duty. I gave all relevant information on the illegal use of magic into the hands of the Order. You can imagine how I felt, and why I reacted so inappropriately to having you come into my domain and suggesting that I put the life, and soul of one of the men loyal to me in danger."
When asked to be shown the place of the incident he waved a hand,
"You've seen it already, it was in the grand foyer you entered by. The rotunda offers an excellent view of one of the working floors but there is never any secret or new work done there, only pleasure yachts and private commissions are built where anyone who walks in might observe them. Of course, you can investigate it further if you so wish. Having visual aids to envision an action has helped me in many of my designs."
Standing again he led the Reconcilliator from his office and back through the halls he'd been taken down when he arrived until they stood in the foyer again.
"Here. They entered through the visitor doors, I was waiting outside to greet them and led them in." He vaguely mimed the entrance, "Then the pidge lord stood here," He pointed to a section of the marble railing that overlooked the working dock, currently there was no ship being built there. "We spoke for a short time, the delegates asking questions. My brother and I answered diplomatically but without giving any information not readily available to the public. Then..." He trailed off, his eyes growing distant as he relived what had, for him, been a traumatic incident.
"Then the worker fell and that monster befouled my factory." He finished, coming back into himself and frowning in anger not directed at Dreyfus this time.