DIPLOMATIC EFFECTS / CH. 14:ARCHITECTS
MONACO, 9AM, FEB 2ND
“Allow me to introduce you to my second cousin, princess Claire du Basse-Monaco,” King Hervé said, “arch enemy of those who park illegally and of architects.”
“Nice to meet you again, Imperial highness,” Eliza said, “or do I pretend I don't know that?”
“Please do pretend,” Svetlana said. “You're most perceptive.”
“Perceptive nothing, I'm just well informed. It's amazing the difference clothes and hairstyle make, I wouldn't have recognised you. The mole is make-up?”
“Yes,” Svetlana replied.
“I'd be constantly afraid I'd get it in the wrong place one day and someone would notice,” Eliza said.
“There ought not be any photos of me that show it.”
“Ah, that helps. Sorry for knowing secrets, blame security for being curious about who Albert and I might run into. What was that about architects?”
“The whole breed of them appear to be snobs, or terrified for their reputations, and absolutely convinced that they know better than me what I want.”
“Ah, they don't know the princess is always right?”
“Those that do, say sorry princess, I fear for future jobs.”
“What do you want?” Albert asked.
“I want a low cost, highly insulating youth hostel and restaurant on the beach. Straw fits the bill exactly, from what I've seen, but apparently straw is beneath all architects around here. I've spoken to established architects in Swizerland who start talking about not building for people in a material for pigstys, and to established architects here who talk about it not lasting long enough, and the cost savings not being able to justify the land taken up by external and internal walls (which is totally irrelevant since we're talking about my beach here) or about how all right it's cheaper and faster but it won't last, which is fine since I don't know it'll have any custom. I've spoken to students who talk about being warned away by their lecturers because apparently a commission that isn't still standing at the end of your career is harmful to a reputation, and I've spoke to architects in France who say, 'House of straw? Non, we would be laughed at.' I'm seriously thinking of banning all architects from the beach. But Hervé tells me I probably can't enforce that.”
“Want me to ask a young woman I know who hates following the crowd? Qualified about two years ago, growing business, but not afraid to turn down stuff she sees as boring and conventional. She says she'd rather be a part-time house-wife than work on stuff that anyone can do.”
“Christian?” Svetlana asked.
“Yes.”
“What's her husband do?”
“Structural engineering and truthsayer. They much prefer to work together, so if you get her, the assumption is you get him. Has Sarah told you about the clan she's matriarch of?”
“She mentioned it.”
“He's part of it, well, she is too, but by marriage.”
“What does that tell me?” Svetlana asked.
“Expect honesty, integrity, lots of talking up-front, and the quality of the job and family emergencies to be more important than boring things like project deadlines.”
“I think I can live with that.”
“Bella?” Eliza asked her friend and body guard, “Can you call Zach and Zara?”
“Of course,” Bella said. She'd already looked up the number.
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PRINCE ALBERT'S SPACE-SUBMARINE, 11AM, SATURDAY 2ND FEB
“Welcome aboard, Zach, Zara,” prince Albert said, as they entered the Guillemot, “Let me introduce her royal highness princess Claire du Basse-Monaco.”
“I don't know why we get a royal chauffeur, your highness, but thank you.” Zara said.
“Because we know Mer submarines don't get targeted by reporters with parabolic microphones,” Svetlana said, “but I'm not a hundred percent sure about my cousin's palace. I wanted to talk their highnesses, and I heard you like to talk before deciding if you'll accept the commission.”
“That is true, highness.” Zara agreed, “You mentioned straw?”
“Yes. I'm not a hundred percent set on it, but I like the low cost, high insulation, and the speed of building. I am imagining a two storey building, with a restaurant/bar and kitchen downstairs, ten to fifteen youth-hostel style bedrooms upstairs, sleeping three or four people, and a staff flat for the managers. All to be built on the beach, which brings its own challenges.”
“It does,” Zara agreed. “When you say restaurant/bar, are we talking elegant and expensive meals?”
“We're talking about not my decision. But I'd guess easy to prepare snacks, ice-cream and mass-catering at lunchtime in high season, and maybe full meals, live music and wedding receptions at other times of the year.”
“Hmm. Other parameters?”
“Cool and shady in the summer, warm and dry in winter. Low upkeep costs, low maintenance, plus of course low initial outlay, since this is a total experiment.”
“Quite corners for romantic conversations, or big-open space for a dance-floor?” Zara asked.
“Not a ballroom-style dance floor, because of the ice-cream, the sand and the hassle of keeping it clean. But yes, would a few little corners around the edge and open space in the middle work?”
“Maybe, but I see a problem.” Zach said.
“Yes?”
“Straw is a moderately light material, but it is compressible. Basically you squash it, and then if you let go it'll spring back. If you stick a thick plaster on it, then the straw holds the plaster in place and the plaster itself takes the load. That's one way to go. But.. to me it sounds like you want a big downstairs hall with a concrete floor and ceiling — that non-flammable ceiling is a must, I'm afraid, for bedroom accommodation when there's any risk of fire below, and smallish upstairs rooms with lots of dividing walls. If it was the other way up, I could see the interior walls supporting the load but vice-versa would be hard. If you really want that, you could do concrete pillars and just use straw bales to in-fill between the pillars, that'd work, but I think Zara would call it boring.”
“Depends on what the layout is, but... maybe.” Zara shrugged.
“But, your highness, what about the other way up? Or alternatively, do you actually need to have a two storey building?”
“Tell me about the other way up,” Svetlana said.
“You'd have the downstairs walls built — while keeping everything absolutely dry — pre-squash the bales to the right loading, lay pre-formed concrete beams on top, or a big forcefield, pour concrete while keeping the bales dry, let the concrete set and the bales settle for a couple of weeks at least, plaster the walls to keep the rain out, and then build the top layer. But you do need to keep the straw dry. Did I say that enough times?”
“What happens if you don't?”
“It starts to rot and eventually the walls fall apart. And if you've got a big slab of concrete on top, that might be considered problematic.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” Eliza asked, “How about not having the wet, steamy, fire-risk kitchen built out of straw, but just where the people sit? Ditto for bathrooms. I assume you're not planning en-suite bathrooms for a youth-hostel type of place, are you?”
“No,” Svetlana said, turning to Zach, she asked, “Would that change things?”
“Hmm. I think so. Zara?”
“It would,” Zara said, “If you've got a nice fire-proof area, say, like a serving area, with a natural exit for flames and heat away from the dining area, say because of a stepped ceiling and fire vents, then the kitchen can be a nice fire-proof box, and the restaurant could have a lightweight ceiling. Do you really want a dance floor?”
“Didn't I say no to that already?” Svetlana asked.
“Sorry, you said an open area in the middle.”
“I was thinking of a stage, and romantic views of the sunset, things like that.”
“What you need to remember, Zara,” Eliza said, “Is that the princess is a busy woman, probably doesn't eat out at restaurants very much, and is looking for imagination within a few well defined parameters and a lot of vague ideas.”
“Very few well defined parameters.” Svetlana said, “Cheap, experimental, rainproof, heatable eating area to seriously upgrade my tenants' ice-cream hut, occasional evening concerts which can spill out on the beach sometimes, and accommodation for one couple now, and maybe another later on, a visiting band, and some extra youth who don't like camping. More detailed ideas from Arianne, who's been dreaming along these lines for years just never told me. Oh, her family can give you numbers of how many ice creams they serve in high season which probably tells you something about people on the beach or similar.”
“And the nearest competition is five kilometers away?” Zara asked.
“The other end of Monaco is only a couple of kilometers away. There are plenty of luxury hotels, five star restaurants, and so on. Like I said, I'm looking at the cheaper, family friendly end of the market. Food, drink, no sun in summer, somewhere to warm up in winter.”
“What can you tell me about the planning process?” Zara asked.
“Tell me it won't fall down and won't cost too much, and convince me and the Dubois family it might work.”
“No, sorry, I mean getting planning permission,” Zara corrected herself.
“That's the question I answered,” Svetlana grinned. “Basse-Monaco is a semi-autonomous feudal principality, and I'm the princess-autocrat.
"I do listen seriously to my tenants, especially my friend and language teacher Arianne. By the way, Grandma made her a marquise on her fifteenth birthday, for managing to get me fluent in French. It probably would have been something lesser, but grandma had just been really irked by something the count of Monte Carlo did, so she decided to demote him by promoting Arianne above him. That plan backfired slightly because Arianne didn't want to go to any dances or functions at the palace where grandma could rub the count's nose in his demotion. I actually think Arianne probably thought it was just my grandmother's little game and it wasn't true, but I found the letters patent properly filed in the royal archive.”
[What are letters patent?] Zach asked Zara silently.
[The act of ennoblement.]
[Oh, of course.]
“Your highness spoke of tenants? How many people are we talking about upsetting if I get it wrong?”
“I have four tenants — the Dubois family. Arianne is at University and almost certainly moving up in society, René is planning on marrying as soon as we've built him and his wife somewhere to live.”
“What would they have done otherwise?” Zara asked, curious.
“I don't know, we haven't discussed it. He's been trying to get a job, but he's discovered that not getting qualifications wasn't the most sensible choice he's ever made. He's not stupid, it's just he couldn't sit still in class. The head-master issued him with an ultimatum to sit still or leave. It was tourist season, with plenty of stuff to do, so René left.”
“That wasn't particularly sensible of the head.” Eliza said.
“I know. Grandma was absolutely furious when she heard.”
“Can't he go back?” Albert asked.
“It was five years ago. It might work if adult education was in the winter months, with everything finished by Easter, but last time I asked the classes were when teachers are free, i.e. high summer. But now you mention it, I think I'll suggest he puts some of his parking money into getting some private tuition. I would like him to have some paperwork. And actually... it'd be good to hear their plans about employing people. I'm pretty sure they'll need to, after all.”
“Probably, if they're rushed off their feet already in summer,” Eliza agreed.
“So, they're going to be changing from self-employed to employers? From what I've seen, that's much harder than it sounds,” Zach said.
“More long discussions then,” Svetlana said, “With lawyers, probably. Oh joy.”
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BASSE-MONACO, ARIANNE'S HOME, 4PM, SATURDAY 2ND FEB
Zara looked up from Arianne's pile of ideas. “So, your ladyship, why do you actually need me? These are excellent ideas.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“But I don't have the skills or knowledge or training to know they'll work,” Arianne said. “And I didn't think about the youth-hostel idea at all.”
“Yes you did. Here, see: you wrote, 'I don't know what to put in this wing, but the building looks lopsided without it.' Call it youth hostel and what have you got?”
“A problem in terms of toilets. If we put them here then that's in the way of deliveries, and if we put them here then people would have to go through the restaurant to get to them which doesn't work either.”
“What about if they're here?” Zara pointed at the other end of the block.
“But I thought you were saying the kitchen and bathrooms ought not be part of the same building.”
“No, just they shouldn't be part of the straw construction. But actually... let's imagine there's a concert on. Who's going to be in their bedroom?”
“People who don't want to be at the concert, or who are sick.”
“Right. I expect more of the first than the second, do you agree?”
“Yes. So this is no good after all, is it? We can't have the accommodation wing next to the stage area.”
“Well, we could, but people would moan at you. Next question. If there's a concert on, who's in the restaurant?”
“People who want to listen and are hungry, people who are hungry and don't want to listen. I don't get where that gets us.”
“Two sorts of people. And someone mentioned a shop for the campsite, I think, didn't they?”
“Well, eventually.”
“So, we want accommodation for youth, who can cope with noise. We want accommodation for your brother and maybe eventually kids, yes?”
“My parents say René can move into the house, and they'll have the new flat.”
“OK, but they're not going to want noise either, are they? We have a restaurant and a bar, and a campsite shop. The bar, shop and the kitchen both need storage and deliveries, the accommodation and the restaurant both need toilet facilities, but not connected, or someone using the restaurant might surprise someone coming out of the shower. And the campsite needs a washing up area as well as toilet blocks.”
“Oh, no! I'd totally forgotten that.”
“Don't worry. It's probably a separate building. That'd be much more convenient for the campers, even if it costs more.”
Svetlana winced, “try not to add too much, Zara.”
“Of course not your highness, but we do need a shaded terrace overlooking the beach, don't we?” Zara suggested.
“Is this all possible?”
“Of course it is.” Zara said confidently.
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MONACO PALACE, 8PM, SATURDAY 2ND FEB
“Can I admit my complete confusion?” Svetlana said, “I thought you were asked to design a small youth hostel with a restaurant under it and a flat for a manager, not a whole complex!”
“But there is talk of the campsite, your highness, and err, I got a bit carried away.”
“I see that,” Svetlana said.
“Your highness, what I wanted to do was see how it would all fit together. One early version didn't leave access to the campsite, and just blindly moving it would have ruined other aspects of the design. So I felt I had to sketch out the whole thing. Anyway, here are our ideas, lady Arrianne's and mine. We've had a lot of fun and I really hope you'll let me turn some of this into proper designs. But... urm, if I'm going to work on it more then I will need to start charging.”
“Before you tell me how much you'd want, please tell me about what I'm seeing here.”
“OK, well, here's the old house, as you see. I've started with the assumption that people are used to heading to the house for ice-cream, and the Dubois family have all the equipment they need there in the house, so there's no point moving it, really. Thus I've just incorporated the ice-cream hut into the design, but with thicker walls, and as you see we've got a covered walk-way and seating area there. That should let people going down onto the beach see both the ice-cream on sale in its normal place as well as the restaurant-bar. This road here follows the line that most people take with their trailers down to the beach, so again, I've tried to incorporate what people are used to, but we've got some parking beside the hostel and a spur towards the campsite. The restaurant here ought to block sound from the stage reaching the campsite and the manager's flat which is here, and as you see I've got the hostel accommodation with its back to the restaurant. There's some simple reasons for that: firstly we can't have everything facing the sea, and this is a youth-hostel not a luxury hotel, but also it means that we don't get people peering into bedroom windows from the beach. It also protects the accommodation from the worst storms, which Arianne says is probably a plus point.
"The hostel is entirely plastered straw, as is the restaurant. The manager's flat and the kitchen are straw-free at the moment. I've done the manager's flat like that because I am a bit worried about the lifetime of straw this close to the sea. Feel free to overrule me. These toilet blocks on the campsite are plastered straw, except for interior partitioning and splash-proofing in the showers, and Zach's done some calculations that say they shouldn't need much in terms of foundations at all, and if you really want to you can just put some overgrown gravel under them so that water drains away rather than letting the bales sit in it. They're round because that saves on hay, means that some wire mesh around the whole thing helps makes it really solid and also means less corners for condensation, flies or spiders to collect in. It also means that when kids run round the building they don't crash into people who have just turned the corner carrying their washing up.”
“I'm convinced. Why no curves at the restaurant-bar?”
“Basically because both the inside and outside are important spaces at the walk-way, and at the patio. I thought about it, and you could have a curved alcove, here, with a round table, for instance, but while that can look gorgeous, it means more windows, more bales, and a more complicated roof.”
“OK. Tell me about the roof.”
“Standard, boring, roofing tiles. They can be removed and relaid or you need to rebuild or sold if it doesn't work. What I've done is say that the insulation underneath them is a straw and clay mixture. That keeps the bio-degradable nature of the rest of the construction, and means stuff cut off the bales is useful, not waste, and the clay sticks it all together and makes it possible to walk on. In other words you get some unheated storage space. If you really want me to, I could work out fire escapes that would let people sleep up there too, occasionally. But too much traffic up there is going to degrade the insulation, and it's going to be constantly dusty too. But it does remind me of an issue you'll need to watch out for.”
“Go on,” Svetlana said.
“Mice and other rodents. Some people say bla bla theory, they can't get thorough the plaster, and it's really uncomfortable for them, just don't leave any gaps. Other people say, yeah, they'll get in if you accidentally leave a pencil-sized gap you didn't notice, so make sure there's some cats around.”
“Ah, right. Just what you want in a restaurant, mice eating the walls and cats after the ice cream.”
“What I think I ought to point out at this moment, are the following two things. Firstly, with the current layout, there's no requirement that the walls of the restaurant area be made of straw bales, especially since most of the outer restaurant wall is window anyway. Secondly, the cost of a design change before the contract is signed is precisely zero. Thirdly, and I've just thought of this, even if nothing comes from today, I've had a lovely brainstorming session, a wonderful meal, sat chatting with enough royalty to make even my ultra snobbish mother green with envy for a year, and been to a part of the world I'd never thought I could afford to step foot in, and had a trip by space-submarine. So, I've had a very lovely and memorable day. Thank you so much for inviting us, your majesty, your highnesses.”
“The question the canny princess should now ask,” prince Albert suggested, “is whether you've had such a lovely day that it affects your prices.”
Zara laughed, “How would you tell, your highness, since such things are almost always covered by commercial confidence clauses?”
“Only `almost' always?” princess Eliza asked.
“Some governments and corporations want publishable figures. I try to discourage it, but... it's not my decision.”
“Why do you try to discourage it?” Albert asked.
“Because it ties my hands. If I produce a design for an office space in one location and another company wants what they think is a similar building, they'll assume the price will be the same. But maybe they're actually specifying something harder to design. They won't know, because some details can be entirely hidden from view, and something as seemingly trivial as a different entry point can make the whole design harder.”
“It's happened,” Zach said, “Someone wanted 'that university office you just designed, only with the lobby on other side.' The problem was the side they specified held the major load-bearing structure and the lift-shafts.”
“Which also played a structural role. There was a reason I had no doors or windows on that side. It's like saying I want a human just like normal but with the back-bone at the front. I just took one look at what they were asking for and asked if they were prepared to pay for my time while I told them why it wouldn't work with the same materials, did they understand that I'd done the university project for a student competition and now I had extra costs, and did they also realise that the engineering nightmare of what they were asking for was going to be a major headache for someone.”
“What happened next?” Eliza asked.
“The last I'd heard, they got a graphics designer to draw up the pretty plans, and can't find an engineer who doesn't laugh at them, or say, 'I can make it work if we fill your half your open plan lobby with reinforced concrete pillars'.”
“So, if I want you on board, and I foolishly decide I want you to give me a cost of construction and estimates of speed of building, insulation values and all the rest, using straw and another set using something entirely mouse-repellent, what's that going to cost me?”
“For everything here, or just the building you actually asked for?” Zara asked.
“I don't mind having options,” Svetlana said, “but I don't really like being told 'I'll let you know in a few days'. Patience is a virtue I need to practice, I'm afraid.”
“Zach, you heard her highness.” Zara said.
“Am I right in assuming that given time constraints, tourist season and so on, this would be an urgent job?” Zach asked, “and that you'd also want fully specified designs a site-manager can just look at and start ordering labour and materials from?”
“Err...What's the alternative?”
“One option is that Zara draws the plans, I do my engineering bit, and like most architects we then leave the builder to study the plans and work out how to get the right stuff, and how much labour to arrange for when and so on. But to do the costing, we've already done some of that, so another option is that we do part of that job too. It all depends on how big a contractor you've got working for you.”
“Assume I've got no contractor at all yet, but I've got some prisoners coming to provide dumb labour, and the Dubois family know some builders for whom this might be the biggest project of their careers so far, but they're willing to learn and they have a good reputation. Otherwise, I'm going to need to go with an unknown corporation and the whole 'tenders are invited within three weeks' thing. Your advice is welcome.”
Zach waved his finger at Zara and “Be careful, Zara, love. Very very careful.”
“Aren't I always?” she shot back.
“No,” Zach replied, “but I still love you. Please consider travel costs and hotel costs and work out her highness won't want to make it possible.”
“Oh all right. Spoilsport,” Zara conceded.
“Do I take it,” Svetlana asked, “from that interchange that you'd be willing to supervise the project?”
“I'd love to, highness, but I'd need to travel down at least once a week, and I can't work on trains without getting travel sick, so I'd need to charge for my travel time too. It's not going to work.”
“Zara, allow me to decide what will work. Tell me prices and hourly rates and construction times and when the project can start with the different options.”
“Certainly, your highness,” Zara agreed, “If you'll permit me, I'll consult with Zach.”
“Go ahead,” Svetlana smiled, and went to talk to Albert, Eliza and Hervé about whether she ought to be looking for a hotel for Zach and Zara, since it was getting late.
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PRINCE ALBERT'S SPACE-SUBMARINE, 10PM, ABOVE MONACO
“So,” Eliza said, “How are you going to find time to do this, Zara?”
“I think it ought to work out wonderfully, actually,” Zara replied, “I don't have that much on at the moment and the hypersonic connections aren't too bad. I can catch an early one, doze a bit between throwing up on my way down, and then get home by eight, as long as everything's working well.”
“And after midnight if it's not,” Zach said, resignedly.
“In which case she suggested you should come down too, Zach, remember?”
“If I can take the time off work, yes.”
“Out of interest, what's your opinion of princess Claire?” Prince Albert asked.
“Decisive. She knows what she wants, but is open to other ideas. I like that in a customer. I imagine it's hard to persuade her of much. Also very self controlled, I only heard a couple of decisions from her. One confused me.”
“Well, you've taken an oath not to reveal it,” Eliza pointed out.
“I know. Does she have a home in Monaco?” Zara asked.
“She has a room at the palace. Why?”
“Trying to interpret what I heard,” Zara said. She'd heard Svetlana decide she wanted it settled tonight, but she couldn't take them home because she was too jet-lagged.
“Either forget it,” Eliza advised, “or ask her about it face to face and in absolute privacy. Churning things over just helps things leak.”
“Thank you, your highness. And thank you so much for playing chauffeur again, your highness. We could have taken the hypersonic.”
“You could have, but I wanted to talk,” Eliza said. “Don't get curious about your new client, Zach, Zara. She is genuinely princess Claire of Basse-Monaco, genuinely a child of God, but she's genuinely someone else too, which isn't as stable as home. If people there knew who her father is, she'd be hounded by the press worse than I've ever been and some of the people with cameras would probably be planning a kidnapping. She wouldn't be able to move without a huge security team. If you get any enquiries about her from anyone, refer them to the Monaco press office.”
“I understand.” Zach said.
Zara asked, “Can we tell people we were just out for a walk this morning when a mer space-submarine swooped down and prince Albert and princess Eliza invited us aboard and gave us a lift down to Monaco?”
Eliza laughed, “absolutely. And that the king of Monaco's girlfriend made you fresh ice-cream for lunch.”
“You can also tell people that you compared notes about combining work, pregnancy and morning sickness with princess Eliza,” Albert said.
“Isn't that a state secret?” Zara asked.
“Not officially,” Albert said, gazing fondly at Eliza, “I mean, it's not like it's the first time.”
“I think I'd like it to be the last though, God willing. Three is enough for me.” Eliza said.
“And since you're in Sarah's clan that sort of makes you family.”
“Thank you for saying so, sir” Zach said.
“Zach, it's not just saying it,” Eliza said, “We don't meet much, but I do hear about you all from Sarah — because I ask — just like I hear about George's cousins from Karen.”
“I didn't realise you saw either of them often enough, maam.” Zach said.
“Oh, I don't see Sarah very often,” Eliza said, “mostly at committee meetings, but we do have a good natter quite often.”
“Committee meetings?”
“International Committee for Major Threat Assessment,” Eliza said, “but that I'm on it is a state secret.”
“You and Sara are both on it, Maam?” Zach asked, surprised.
Bella laughed, “It's nice to know that some secrets are holding, Eliza.”
“Other's won't,” Eliza said, “we need to pick another drop-off point, Albert.”
“Press on the hillside?”
“One reporter — Tony — but he's part of a group of bird-watchers, so there are lots of cameras, anyway. I guess there's something rare around. Maybe not as rare as a glowing guillemot, though.”
Zach looked at Eliza in shock, unable to make sense out of how she could know that, then he decided she must have the power and Sarah had told her.
[What you've just decided is a class delta state secret, Zach.] Eliza thought to everyone in the guillemot [And the bit about Sarah was wrong, too. That I can do this is a bigger secret, unsurprisingly.]
“Hence, all the recent press speculation about the existence of interception-proof wrist units based on us doing a lot of talking while Eliza was in hiding are entirely inaccurate,” Albert added, “But also hence the absolute silence from the government on the topic.”
“Erk.” Zach said.
“Did we need to know that, your highness?” Zara asked.
“Yes,” Eliza said, “Because if you're going to be hob-nobbing with princess Claire you might end up wondering about truth and untruth and webs of misdirection. So, when I say she's genuinely princess Claire of Basse-Monaco and a genuine Christian that's truth, you don't need to doubt it. And if she tells you not to go digging into her family background, that's a genuine warning out of concern for you. I'm allowed to trust you to know a class epsilon state secret, Princess Claire is not allowed to trust you to know another other title she has, and that probably means if she finds out you know it, she has to report you; and not to the King Hervé, either.”
“Who can tell a princess what to do?” Zach asked.
“Her king, of course,” Zara said, “I take it she's a noble in some absolutist system?”
“Yes,” Eliza said.
“OK, I can be studiously disinterested,” Zara said.
“I'm not sure I can be,” Zach admitted.
“You are required to be, for your own protection,” Albert said. “An absolute monarchy is not the stablest of systems, but be assured that no one wants undercover assassins causing diplomatic incidents.”
“Assassins?” Zach yelped.
“If an absolute monarch decides you're a risk to their relatives or their plans, then their response is normally along those lines, yes,” Albert said, “That's what happened on Mars. There is even a section of international law regarding it — basically while assassination is counted as a punishable crime in the country where it happened, and diplomatic responses can be made, the assassination of a commoner who poses certain threats to a royal (or in some places a noble) is not something that counts as an international crime. It's not something we like, but there's nothing the UN can do against it without having the absolute monarchies leave en-masse.”
“So, say, the emperor of China can just send assassins anywhere he likes?” Zach asked, aghast.
“No, but he could against commoners who know state secrets and threatened to reveal them,” Albert said.
“Such as princess Claire's alternative title,” Zara said, “which I guess might make her the target of an assassination or kidnapping attempt.”
“Correct,” Eliza said. “Albert, can we stop and look at the milky way?”
“Of course. Pretty, isn't it?”