Hohenfels

Arne silently cursed himself. He had completely and utterly dropped his guard, and only noticed it when he examined Katharina’s aura directly. It was the aura of a specialist – expertly defined, finely controlled, and dangerous. In a very different manner than Friedrich’s oppressive power, which could knock out lesser practitioners with a simple burst of intent. No, hers was a sharp knife, kept hidden until the very last moment. He was willing to bet that she could do very scary things with it, but he had no clue what exactly those might be.

He had known about her competency before, of course. It was the biggest reason why he was so wary of her – nobody learned to put up a fake aura as a smokescreen if they did not have a need for it. But he had gotten lost in the moment.

The only saving grace was that she was in the same boat as him. He was very aware just how flustered she was, even though she did her best to hide it. She had even forgotten to use the appropriate honorifics despite them being in a semi-public location. Only after the direct aura contact did she manage to catch herself, just like him.

Now, Katharina was letting her frustration out on the poor practice dummy. Arne had to admit that her form was decent for a silkling, with very little energy spent on flourishes and wasted movements. He suspected this was mostly thanks to a very talented teacher, who realized her disinterest and did his best to install viable basics in her mind as quickly as possible.

The biggest flaw she displayed was a severe lack of experience with corporeal magic, owed to a typical Western lady’s upbringing. Though thankfully, she was not a total beginner, and her extremely precise control facilitated rapid improvement whenever he pointed out problems.

The constant aura contact was, in theory, not necessary – he was keenly aware of the fluctuations in her magic even without it. It did, however, improve his senses by a significant degree, and it would be impossible to explain how he knew so precisely what she was doing wrong otherwise. And as an added bonus, it helped him understand the depths of her skill better. To his dismay, she had dropped her ‘shell’, something he had looked forward to examining more closely.

When Katharina prepared for yet another lunge, he noticed the telltale flickering of exhaustion in her magic and intervened, retracting his magic.

“That should be enough for today. Good job,” he praised, noting with amusement how she ruthlessly crushed an ember of childlike pride the moment she noticed it.

“Thank you, Your Highness” she smiled coyly, and once more he found himself glad to know of the terrifying mind behind the pretty face. “Would you say I’m qualified to wear a sword now?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he laughed, amused by the tinge of indignation in her aura, which was now engulfed by the shell again. “Your basics are pretty good, but you lack actual experience.”

“Will you help me become more experienced, then?” she cooed with fluttering eyelashes. Amusement. Vindictive playfulness.

For a few heartbeats, Arne was at a loss for words. He simply blinked at her, not quite slack-jawed from the unexpected innuendo, but not far from it either. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched. Katharina pressed her lips together, trying to maintain composure. It didn't work.

They spent the next few minutes desperately trying to stop their ever-escalating and utterly undignified laughter, but whenever Arne managed to take a deep breath and regain some self-control, a giggling fit from Katharina ruined his progress, and vice versa.

When they finally quieted down, Arne was relieved to see that they were still alone in the yard, assuaging his greatest worry. A worry she shared, given her panicked scanning of the vicinity.

“I don’t think anyone saw us,” he said in a reassuring tone. “The only adjacent buildings are the servant quarters and the armory. But we should probably wrap it up. The training field usually gets busy around this time.”

“I see. I’ll go change then, Your Highness,” she smiled. Expectation.

‘What is she… Oh.’ “I shall do the same then. May I escort you back to your dorm, Lady Katharina? We should be fine if we take the long route around the plaza.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you!” she preened, confirming his suspicion. She was trying to exploit the situation for all it was worth, pouncing on his lowered guard. Fine then – if she wanted to play it that way, he would do the same.

Still, he really needed to be more careful around her.

= = = = =

Katharina found herself happy and distressed in equal measure – an all-too-common occurrence, lately.

The evening had gone very well, all things considered. She was sure that she had gotten much closer with the Prince today, but she had paid a high price for it. On one hand, it was great to know how much he enjoyed teasing her, something she could (in theory) easily use to her advantage. On the other hand, his uncanny intuition seemed to help him figure out her actual weak spots, and she was well-aware of her own tendency to fall for provocations.

She really needed to be more careful around him.

Leaving the uniform in a laundry basket, she strolled out of the armory’s changing room and headed towards the drawbridge, where Prince Arnold was already waiting for her. He was dressed in an antiquated, but obviously expensive doublet, with his saber hanging from his hip.

While it fit the general Hohenfels aesthetic rather well, she would have to find a way to make him change his style to a more modern one. A well-dressed young Prince was sure to be seen more positively than one looking like he jumped out of an ancestral portrait, which in turn would reflect well on her if she aligned herself with him.

The Logrian suit looked very good on him, for example. Perhaps she should tell him that? Men tended to be very receptive to compliments from women.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, once more displaying his scary perception.

“I simply thought how good you looked in that suit yesterday, Your Highness,” she replied with the most innocent smile she could muster.

He perked up for a short moment, a grin forming on his face. It was replaced by narrowed, calculating eyes that quickly faded into a look of dread as he figured out the true meaning of her words. ‘Damn it, that is not how I wanted this to go!’

“...Is it really that bad?” he asked, looking down at his outfit and then back up at her with a pleading expression.

She almost fell into the trap of reassuring him, but caught herself in time to realize that he would probably know that she was lying to make him feel better. Since he usually appreciated bluntness, she decided to tell the truth instead.

“Pardon my directness, Your Highness, but you dress like my grandfather did in his youth,” she explained, increasingly worried about how he might receive her words. Hopefully today’s events would be enough for him not to think of it as an insult.

“Ugh,” he groaned, obviously uncomfortable. “This is my favorite…”

‘Oh no.’ “Well, it still looks quite good on–”

“Spare me,” he sighed. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll go change again.”

True to his word, he led her back into the castle, where they crossed paths with a small group of dorm residents. Arnold did not even seem to notice them, but Katharina returned their inquisitive looks with a friendly smile she wasn’t feeling in the slightest. ‘All my earlier discretion ruined…’

She had to stop Arnold from bringing her to his chambers – he seemed to have little interest in propriety, and hadn’t even considered the implications behind that. Thus, she claimed a couch in the common room and waited a few minutes until he returned, now dressed in his suit– no, it was a different one. The cut was nearly identical, but the fabric was a little brighter. It seemed less formal, more approachable. His ridiculously valuable saber remained on his side. Luckily, its dark leather sheath went well with his coat.

“Better?” he asked, his voice still tinged with dejection.

She gave him a genuine smile. “Much better, Your Highness.” And indeed, while he would not fit in with Western nobility in the slightest, he certainly looked a lot more elegant now.

His expression lightened at that, and he smiled back. “Glad to hear that. Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm in a practiced motion.

She looked around the room briefly, noting the curious looks of the few others who were lounging on couches and armchairs.

“Don’t worry too much,” he said quietly. “We wouldn’t have been able to avoid that for long anyway. It’s better to make it seem like we have nothing to hide in the first place.”

That made sense, so she took his arm and let herself be escorted back out of the castle, his height still feeling a little off compared to what she was used to.

Once they had left the premises and were no longer observed, Katharina aired her concerns. “This might severely impact my ability to play up the Sonnenfeld situation,” she sighed. “I had expected word of our… alliance to spread slowly over the next few days, not immediately.”

He shrugged, unperturbed. “It doesn’t matter. Prince Matthias is aware of it, which means that Lady Elenor is, as well… And that means that everyone will know anyway if – or rather, when – she finds it convenient.”

That was a surprising, but not completely unwelcome piece of information. It meant that the Prince took their agreement seriously enough to tell his allies about her. On top of that…

“Oh, that might explain a few things, Your Highness. I was wondering if someone else had already prepared the groundwork for new rumors, since it was unusually easy for me to steer conversations in the correct directions. I take it Falkenstein is responsible for that?”

“Correct. As you said before, Matthias has a vested interest in damaging Sonnenfeld’s public image,” he nodded.

“We need to be careful, though,” she cautioned. “It is easy for Falkenstein to manipulate the situation to their own advantage, now. I don’t think that will be a net negative for us, but we should keep an eye on things anyway.”

“Good point. Perhaps we should–”

They both flinched as a huge tumult rose from the nearby colosseum, a cacophony of screams and shouts.

“What is going on over there…?” Prince Arnold all but dragged her towards the noise, and she was glad that she was wearing her fencing costume instead of an elaborate dress.

He physically stopped one of the many young nobles fleeing the arena for questioning. He did not get a whole lot of coherent information out of him, but the two names he heard made him go pale. Something had happened between Princess Klara and Lord Friedrich. Something bad.

Katharina saw his muscles clench, a look of panic etched on his face. His breathing was growing shallower.

She carefully took his hand, gently loosening the fist he had formed, and not a moment too soon – his fingernails were digging into his flesh, almost drawing blood.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly.

Her words shook him out of his stupor, and she got to witness his transformation once again. The friendly, slightly awkward young man turned into an imposing warrior prince within a heartbeat, his expression stony, his aura deploying to exude solemn determination.

She did her very best to match him, drawing on her memories of her mother’s formidable poise during official events.

The fleeing crowd parted before them as they entered the colosseum. Some of them even stopped to stare. The Prince did not spare them a single glance.

Despite his outward composure, she felt his arm twitch when they finally got a clear view of the arena.

Down there in the sand were two figures. Princess Klara was slumped against the wall, blood streaming down her face, glassy eyes staring into the void.

Lord Friedrich laid motionless on the ground, a sword piercing the left side of his chest and protruding from his back.

Prince Arnold’s magic erupted, blanketing the entire colosseum with icy rage.

“Friedrich?!”