In the dungeon under the palace of the Beaumonts, Jean Preminger sat in a cell.
He had been there for nearly two years, during which he had overheard a great deal of the goings-on in the country from the twelve guards stationed at various points outside of his cell. He had heard, soon after his imprisonment, that the girl Erika, the imposter, had been put up in the palace; Anneliese had begun mining operations for some sort of gemstone; Erika had left, for one reason or another; and, after a long stretch, come back again to marry King Dominick in a double ceremony with Anneliese and Julian. Currently, the whole of the royal family was away for Erika's coronation, with the palace being left to Mathieu Dubois, formerly the secretary of law on the Queen's council. Preminger had once been head of that council, but no more.
He was not the same man that had been put into prison. Bereft of his powdered hair and silk breeches, one would hardly recognize him; but the real change had taken place on the inside. On his first night, and several nights after, he had paced his cell, ranting and rattling the bars. He had been ignored, of course, and gradually he had fallen into silence. He had not said a word in over a year.
"Here's your supper," said Hank, opening the door to slide a tray through. The other eleven guards had their hands on the hilts of their swords, but Preminger remained where he sat, on his cot several feet from the door. It was the same twice a day—they were taking no chances with him escaping. Hank shut the door with a clang; the guards visibly relaxed and resumed chatting casually with one another about what might be happening at the coronation.
Preminger stretched languidly and stood. On the tray was a boiled potato and a cup of milk, the same meal yet again; he had not expected anything different. He barely tasted it as he ate, and it crossed his mind that he still did not know why the Beaumonts had been so lenient. True, prison lacked any luxuries or entertainments, but he was alive, and it was more than he had expected, in those few rare moments he had given thought to what might happen if he were caught in his schemes. His thoughts turned now to his idiotic cohorts, Nick and Nack.
Born Nicholas and Alexander Schumacher, they has been orphaned at the age of five, and spent the next ten years in the orphanage of Slade, at which point they were kicked out to make a living as they would (primarily through thieving).
Five years later, Preminger happened across them on one of his biannual tours of the country (trying to pick his pocket at an inn), and on a whim he'd taken them back to Astraea and set them up with work in the mines, where they'd spent the next ten years discreetly skimming gold and contributing neatly to Preminger's scheme.
The plan had been born from King Alphonse's ill health and Preminger's own greed. As the king sickened and wasted away, Preminger grew more confident that he would succeed. There were no talks of betrothal with any of the noble families or indeed anyone else, which meant that once money came to a head, the highest bidder would get the crown—and, of course, the princess, but he didn't want her. Precious few knew it, but the kingdom's finances had been rocky for ages, and Preminger helped that along with a few subtly disastrous economic policies that ironically only ever made the queen more dependent on him. When the king finally passed away, Preminger became the queen's most trusted advisor and was consulted on nearly every decision. Had he been in the country when the mines ran out, he would be running it today, he was sure of it. Instead, he sat in a cell. He had manipulated the Beaumonts for a decade, and they let had let him live.
It was a pity he wouldn't be returning the favor.