CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Prince Rupert looked around the small meeting room in the Assembly of Nobles, trying not to show any of the contempt he felt at having to persuade people rather than simply order them, maintaining the smiles and the joviality that seemed to convince so many people to do the things he wanted.
He’d learned that lesson long ago—that people were stupid, and didn’t look beyond the surface of things. That if you looked good, and you smiled, and you pretended to some interest in their pitiful lives, then they would not just obey, but hurry to do it as if they were doing you some great service.
“Are we all assembled?” he asked, checking who was there and who was not. Lord Birly, Sir Quentin Mires, and Earl Stutely were all there, along with a collection of lesser men. Sir Hen
