Yuri tells Claude that he’s got no love for the Empire, that his alliance to the Emperor was only ever instrumental, that of course he’s happy to play for the winning side—whatever keeps him and his wolves safe, right?

Claude, sitting atop his still-too-new throne, is squinting as he strains to process what the turncoat spymaster is saying—it’s a bit hard to think straight, the morning after you’ve slept with someone you shouldn’t have, particularly when the impermissibility of it made it all the better, and particularly when you’re talking directly to the someone in question.

“Look,” Yuri adds impatiently, “if I’d wanted to backstab Almyra I could’ve done it years ago,” and Claude barks a laugh, because he’d say the same thing if he were in Yuri’s place—if you call attention to the obvious-point-of-vulnerability, you seem more honest, even if you aren’t—and then Yuri adds, “It’d be a shame to off someone who’s so much fun,” which is also what Claude would say, so Claude laughs again, and raises a hand to stop him: “Gods, Yuri, you’ve got it, alright? be my spymaster, for now at least, and I’ll just have to hope you don’t screw me—at least, not any way I don’t like,” he adds with a wink.