Theron Aradia was visiting an imperial garden.
Nobody believed this was innocent.
Mezos had received the message twenty minutes earlier and had been staring at it ever since, seated at the end of the emperor's council table with the expression of a man attempting to identify where exactly gardening became a security threat.
Severin leaned over enough to read the final line.
"He says he is comparing soil conditions."
"He does not care about soil."
"You said he wanted a garden."
"He wants something to occupy himself."
"That generally involves soil."
Mezos lowered his communicator.
"My father spent forty-six years in the Agaronian military. He does not simply wander around imperial gardens asking harmless questions about irrigation."
Across the room, Arik continued reading the document in front of him.
