"Then we are at an unfortunate impasse."

The knowledge is all the worse for knowing that this is not done by the Captain's command. Lorventi is the face, the voice, the spearpoint, the champion--the designated victim, the sacrificial lamb. Briefly, she wonders what would happen should she manage to divine which in the formation was truly giving the orders, pick them out, strike them down. Would Lorventi be angry or grateful? 

It's pointless to do more than wonder, she knows--her eyes are locked on Lorventi's. See? We are all friends here. We all serve the Empress. This is merely a misunderstanding. Honesty and integrity line every marble surface of this face. Never mind that while we're here meeting each other's eyes and smiling at one another, neither of us have stopped tracking exactly where the other's speartip is.

"If the throne calls her child home, then this must be directed to the child in question, for it is she that I must follow. I am sure that when she is less..."

In the distance, the child in question starts to sing. Alexa meets Lorventi's eyes, deadpan.

"...indisposed, we may sort this out."