"Old Calvin." He seldom addressed the other man this way, "I've staked my entire life on you and your son."
The candlelight flickered gently.
"Louis is guarding the northern gate, Eduardo is seizing power in the Holy City, while you are beside me, managing the treasury, the nobility, and those allies who might turn against us at any moment."
Lampard paused, a weary smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't let me lose. If I lose, no one on this ship will survive, nor will the Calvin Clan."
Duke Calvin's shoulders imperceptibly trembled.
He bowed deeply, with even more reverence than when he arrived.
The elderly body nearly bent ninety degrees, and then he extended his hand, executing a standard and devout hand-kissing ceremony on Lampard's hand.
"May Our Emperor's glory forever persist." His voice was hoarse, yet extraordinarily firm, "The Calvin Clan will surely present you with that Triple Crown."
