Hohenfels

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Arne repressed the urge to frown for the hundredth time today.

Recently, he found himself hurrying from crisis to crisis. Be it fictitious engagements, silkling soirées, or Friedrich being Friedrich, it was the exact opposite of what he wanted from his stay at the academy.

“Say, what can I do to make them leave me alone?” he sighed dejectedly.

Katharina’s expression morphed from a performative pout to incomprehension. “What do you mean?”

“Matthias caused the first duel, Maximilian caused the second one. Leonhardt obviously didn’t want to be there, and neither did I,” he said tiredly. “You know the Westerners much better than I do. How do I get them to just… stop this?”

“You could ask them nicely,” she replied, her voice and aura dripping with sarcasm until a flash of panic and contrition took over. “I apolo–”

He held up his hand. “It’s fine. Be candid.”

“...You won’t be able to do anything about it as long as you remain in their general vicinity. They will keep testing and using you.”

Arne sighed again. “I figured.”

He sank back into the couch, the constant sting in his left cheek adding to his irritation.

“It’s only going to get worse from now on. Prince Ludwig is not the type to let things go,” Katharina sneered. Regret. Frustration.

“What do you think their next play will be?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “My best guess is that they will try to isolate you, probably by forcing Prince Matthias into a compromising position. Which would mean a period of calm for us while they’re focused on Falkenstein.“

“Followed by a storm of consequences,” he grumbled.

“Quite so. If we don’t intervene and they manage to keep Prince Matthias and Lady Elenor busy, they will be able to spread whatever lies they want about you. And now that our… arrangement is public knowledge, I won’t be able to steer rumors as easily anymore, especially if I’m going against a majority opinion.” Calculation. Worry. An undercurrent of triumph.

“And once we’re at that point, there is no coming back,” Arne muttered. “If they can twist everything I do to their advantage, I can just as well pack up and go home.” ‘Which would not be too bad, all things considered… Until Father disowns me for being an incompetent idiot.’

“I have a suggestion,” Katharina offered. “We should look for friends among the Northern Countships. They may not be the most powerful or wealthy territories, but some of them are quite unhappy with the Emperor at the moment. Particularly Trisin, Wittlin, Krodeck, and Kirchlin.”

“‘Not the most powerful or wealthy’ is a very optimistic view of Trisin and Krodeck. They can barely keep the Danes from raiding their harbors. I have no clue how Kirchlin manages to stay afloat, and the Wittlins just married off their youngest daughter to the future Duke of Eisengrund.”

Katharina winced. “Duke Albrecht is still in his sixties, isn’t he? His wife is a few years younger. Perhaps he’ll sire a second son…?”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Arne snorted. “It would be a miracle if the Duchess managed to birth a fourth child. And even if she does against all odds, there is no guarantee it won’t be a third daughter.”

They sat in silence for a while, contemplating their options. From time to time, Arne felt spikes of ambition from Katharina, which reassured and worried him in equal measure. She was clearly invested in their success – but so far, her ambition had been a double-edged sword at best.

“I believe our best course of action is to build ties with Greifenau,” she finally said. “Do you have a connection with Princess Maria?” Curiosity.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“She was a guest at my sister’s wedding, but that is it. She does respect my title, though.”

Katharina perked up. “That is great news! Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a connection with her either… But her fiancé is a distant relative of mine, perhaps that could help.”

“She’s betrothed to the Duke of Schwarzwald’s nephew, isn’t she? You’re related to House Tannburg?”

“Yes, and I am,” she confirmed. “My mother is the Duke’s second cousin once removed.”

That was a distant relation indeed, though still better than nothing. “Do you believe you can leverage that to get me into talks with Princess Maria, without making it look like I’m desperate? Waltzing up to Greifenau Hall and asking for an audience would be the worst possible way to start out.”

“I believe so,” she mused. “I might need some time, though.” Calculation. Optimism.

“Good. In the meantime, try to net us some connections to the North. They may be poor, but they’re still high nobility.”

“Will do,” she confirmed cheerily. Satisfaction. Anticipation.

Arne himself also had the beginnings of a plan. It was not fully formed yet, and the gnawing hunger from using so much magic did not help with that. It would be a very good idea to make a public appearance today, so he ignored his instinct to entrench himself in Hohenfels Hall and made a decision.

“How about some Lumbardian cuisine?”

= = = = =

Anne von Breisenhof watched with great interest as Prince Arnold and Lady Katharina left Hohenfels Hall, followed in polite distance by Lord Friedrich and Lady Sieglinde.

The duel had left obvious marks on the Prince, in the form of a long scar across the left side of his face. It made him look quite fierce, befitting the terrifying aura he had displayed earlier. A true Eastern lord.

“His regeneration really is impressive,” she whispered to her friend Flora as they ‘inconspicuously’ snuck after the small group. “Could he be better at it than Lord Friedrich?”

“No way,” Flora whispered back. “Lord Friedrich is on another level! I heard Princess Klara stabbed him twenty-eight times, and he walked around merrily the next morning!”

Anne hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder how Lord Leonhardt is doing. His wounds seemed much worse.”

“I doubt he’ll leave Sonnenfeld Hall any time soon. Lion of the West, my foot.”

“More like Lion Cub of the West,” she giggled. “Leonhardt the Cub.”

After a long round of snickering, Flora suddenly gasped in surprise. “Look over there, Anne!”

Following her friend’s gestures, she witnessed a most interesting sight.

Princess Klara was staring at Prince Arnold’s group from across the plaza. From this distance, Anne could not quite make out her expression, but she doubted it was friendly.

“Do you think she’s jealous…?” Flora asked in a hushed tone.

“Looks like it, but the question is: Of whom?”

“I still don’t buy into the idea that she might be interested in Lord Friedrich. He’s not even from the Hohenfels main branch,” Flora muttered.

“Sure, but wouldn’t that explain why she’s so angry all the time? The son of a ‘mere Count’ rejected her, and laughed about it!”

“...You know, that makes some sense. But still, didn’t he beat her half to death twice? I doubt any lady would be interested in a man after he did something like that to her.”

“Unless…” Anne lowered her voice even further, leaning in to whisper directly into Flora’s ear. “...Unless she enjoys that kind of thing!”

“No way!” she yelped, scandalized.

A few passersby turned their heads at her sudden outburst, and Anne quickly shushed her. “Quiet!”

Flora nodded frantically, eyes wide. “Do you really think so…?”

“Not really… But it could be, right?” She vividly remembered reading a certain Francian book pertaining to this subject matter. Its contents were beyond outrageous!

“We should definitely keep an eye on that situation! In the name of decency and good manners,” Flora suggested.

Now it was Anne’s turn to nod enthusiastically.

They followed the group all the way to the mess hall and found a table near the one Prince Arnold had claimed. Thankfully, Prince Matthias wasn’t around to invite them up to the Falkenstein table, where it would have been impossible for the daughter of a Baron to catch even the tiniest part of their conversation.

It was still not easy to make out specific words, except for anything Lord Friedrich said. His booming voice allowed Anne to guess the current topic, and from there she could–

Her eyes met Lady Katharina’s.

A dagger pressed into Anne’s neck. She broke into a cold sweat as the tip of the blade caressed her skin.

It wasn’t real. The rational part of her mind knew that. But her instincts disagreed.

She grabbed Flora’s arm and fled the hall.