Hohenfels

“You said the duel would be interrupted,” Leonhardt growled from his bed, where a gaggle of Sonnenfeld physicians and alchemists were tending to his gruesome injuries.

Maximilian was getting really tired of incompetent allies. “The Principal was already en route! If you had just held out a short while longer–”

“If you had told me what kind of monster I’d be up against, I would have never agreed to this!” the Wessen heir shouted, prompting the physicians to fuss over him even more as the long wound on his chest began bleeding again.

“What are you even talking about, you inept– You claimed you could match him with the saber!”

“I can!” Leonhardt sat up, rage distorting his features. “He’s good, but I’m better!”

“So why did you lose so spectacularly?”

“Have you felt that aura? That thing does not belong to a student! You set me up to–”

“Watch your tongue, Lord Leonhardt.”

His mouth snapped shut, but Maximilian could see the fury in his eyes. ‘That might become an issue if I leave him unchecked...’

“Now stop making excuses. I expect you to do better in the future.”

Maximilian whirled around and left the room. This day had been a huge disaster.

The plan had been solid. He had relied on Arnold drawing out Ludwig’s public humiliation – it only made sense. It would have rallied all the dissatisfied Northerners behind him. An easy win for Hohenfels.

But he had not done that. He finished the duel quickly and cleanly, and let Ludwig keep a modicum of dignity. And with that random, irrational decision, everything had gone downhill. The timing was off. The lines he had prepared for Leonhardt were off. Both of those could have been salvaged had the ‘Lion’ not lost in such a pathetic way.

And speaking of pathos, Maximilian had another visit to make.

He stormed into Ludwigs suite, located on the highest floor of Sonnenfeld Hall. The subject of his ire was lying in bed, whining to his fiancée. Christina seemed torn between sympathy and exasperation, and promptly vacated the room once she noticed Maximilian’s approach.

Ludwig looked up and shot him a withering look. “Tell me again why it was a good idea to make this thing public?!”

“You tell me why it was a good idea to challenge a mudlord to an ‘honorable duel’,” Maximilian spat back. “I picked the best way out for you. And it worked! Everyone is talking about the duel between the two brutes, instead of your foolishness.”

“Careful,” Ludwig hissed. “I am still the future Duke of Sonnenfeld.” ‘And you are only a third son’ was left unsaid.

“Not if you keep acting like this!” Maximilian was growing more and more irritated. How could a single person be so proud and incompetent at the same time?

“Get. Out.”

For the second time, Maximilian whirled around, not sparing the fool another glance.

= = = = =

Matthias von Falkenstein sat in his soft armchair, stewing in anger. Anger towards the insufferable morons from Sonnenfeld, Altengau, and Westmark. Anger towards the lunatics from Hohenfels. Anger towards himself.

All things considered, the outcome was favorable. Arnold had defeated his opponents, cementing himself as a formidable powerhouse. Sonnenstein and Wessen would owe him substantial restitution. Maximilian’s harebrained scheme had been foiled, the Hohenfels heir accomplishing the unexpected feat of being sensible for once. Everyone’s attention was no longer on the localized conflict in the East, but instead back where it belonged.

But the price had been too high. He had panicked upon hearing of Princess Klara’s impending demise, and hastily mobilized all of his assets. Now, the Western duchies knew just how far Falkenstein was willing to go. It was a mess.

But there was one ray of hope amidst the chaos: Elenor.

His fiancée was positively glowing with anticipation. She was right in her element. Not an hour passed without her coming up with another plan, another strategy, another small detail they had missed before. Even now, while she was consolingly running her fingers through his hair, she hummed happily.

“I’ll have tea with Princess Maria later today,” she purred. “Is there anything you want me to relay, dear?”

“Tell her that we should have a long talk about Eisengrund’s financial situation,” he sighed.

Elenor giggled with delight.

= = = = =

Klara was feeling conflicted. On one hand, seeing Arnold’s face all bloody and cut up made her feel bright and happy inside. On the other hand, she was a first-hand witness to Hohenfels’ reputation soaring to new heights.

Could that clan of savages please stop birthing monsters? Arnold may never measure up to Lady Paladin Elisabeth or even the big oaf in terms of raw combat talent, but his control over aura and magic was prodigious in its own right. She would have to send a letter to her sister – perhaps Johanna might be able to explain why Hohenfels suddenly had aura experts at its disposal.

That Katharina woman was another mystery. She had scurried off after the duel, too anxious for more than a hasty goodbye. Klara didn’t mind, per se – all those formalities were grating on her nerves anyway. Still, her earlier words had been worrying. Was she lying about Arnold’s intentions? It would be a very silkling-like thing to do.

But if she was telling the truth, it was even more worrying. Was he using her as an intermediary to deliver his demands for saving her life? If so, why? It would be much better to do it himself – unless they were so outrageous as to provoke a duel on the spot. Klara was aware of her well-deserved reputation as a human powder keg, and evading her immediate ire might be the sensible thing to do. But when had Hohenfels ever been sensible?

Still, she had agreed to Katharina’s proposal. It had been quite some time since her last tea party… Klara dearly hoped she was up to the task.

= = = = =

“No entry,” Friedrich insisted.

He stood guard in front of Prince Arnold’s door, barring Katharina’s way like an immovable mountain.

She swallowed her frustration and worry. “I assure you, it is of utmost impor–”

The door opened, and a team of alchemists and physicians left the room, muttering quietly amongst themselves. Not long after, the Prince poked his bandaged head into the corridor.

“It’s fine, Fritz. She can come in,” he said tiredly. Friedrich nodded and stepped aside.

Katharina followed him into his lounge. It had a… rustic charm, she supposed. A little anachronistic like all of Hohenfels Hall, but the muted, earthen colors and sturdy furniture reminded her of her family’s country estate.

Arnold slumped onto a couch, exhausted and spent. After a quick debate against her sense of decorum, she sat down right next to him.

He looked up with a tired smirk. “What happened to that ‘propriety’ of yours?”

“Would you prefer if I left again?” she pouted, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Not at all,” he said, leaning back into the soft couch. “I appreciate the company.”

Despite her stress and worries, Katharina felt her face heat up a little.

“...How are you doing?” she asked after regaining her composure.

“Better than I thought I would. The pain helped me keep a cool head. I still have a major headache, but it’s getting better already.”

“What about… your face?” she asked hesitantly.

He shrugged. “The bandages are purely performative. The physicians refused to leave without putting them on. Could you help me remove them? I’d do it myself, but they were rather thorough with their work.”

“Is that wise…?”

“You’ve seen my regeneration. It’s been hours since the duel.”

“All right.” Katharina leaned over and began gingerly removing the cloth covering the left side of his face. There was no blood whatsoever, which made her feel a lot more confident about taking the bandages off already.

When she removed the final piece, she could not stop herself from wincing.

“Mhm, it’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” the Prince sighed. “I don’t think it will ever go away.”

A fresh, red scar adorned his face, curving from his left temple all the way down to the corner of his mouth.

His magic was still mending the flesh underneath. Even from a distance, she felt the heat radiating from it.

“Once the body accepts a scar, it will never fully heal through regeneration,” she murmured absent-mindedly. “Even if you remove the skin entirely, the scar will simply grow back.”

“That’s what the head alchemist said,” he said, eyebrow raised. “Almost word for word.”

“Ah, pardon. I practically devoured medical treatises when I was younger,” she explained sheepishly.

“Why would the daughter of an Imperial Count read medical treatises?”

“My mother asked the same thing many times,” Katharina sighed while sitting back down, ‘thoughtlessly’ placing herself a little closer to him than before. “When I was a child, I wanted to become an apothecary. I suppose some of that interest stuck around even after I was confronted with the realities of life.”

She paid close attention to his reaction, but as usual, he did not seem bothered by her proximity. It hurt her ego a little.

As if to underscore her irritation, Arnold bumped into her shoulder lightly. She fought down a rising blush. ‘Composure is strength!’

“Is that why you’re so competent with tourniquets?” he wondered. “I didn’t think one could learn that from books alone.”

“W-well, I didn’t,” she said, silently cursing herself for stuttering like a fool. “I had our court physician teach me.”

“Color me impressed. Many knights and soldiers in my father’s employ are worse at it than you even after years of practice in the field.”

She allowed herself to bask in the compliment for a while. “Thank you,” she preened happily.

To her surprise and satisfaction, Arnold suddenly looked away. She was sure that if it weren’t for the fresh scar, his face would be slightly flushed.

He coughed lightly, collecting himself. “Ahem. You mentioned something urgent earlier?”

Katharina almost flinched. She had completely forgotten the reason for her visit – aside from checking up on her only ally, of course.

“Yes. I made contact with Princess Klara, and set up a tea party,” she recounted. “She seems to be doing well, so we can consider her healing by the Church confirmed.”

“Well done,” he praised. “That means we have a reliable line of communication to Eisengrund. Something that might prove beneficial sooner rather than later.”

“Because of the healing?” Katharina mused. Was the Prince looking for a way to exploit Eisengrund’s impending financial distress?

“Indeed. There is no way Eisengrund can pay for it out of pocket. Which means they either have to sell their soul to the West, or cede territory to Hohenfels,” he explained with a pensive expression.

“You’re talking about the mines in the border regions, I assume?”

“Indeed. Technically, Marbach would be a potential buyer as well, but they lack the funds to actually develop the region after acquiring it. They wouldn’t want to jeopardize their alliance with us over mines they can’t even use.”

Katharina mulled that over for a bit. Judging from his words, Hohenfels was wealthy enough to afford both buying and developing the region, which did not quite line up with what she knew about the East.

“Hohenfels is that affluent?” she asked, keeping her tone neutrally curious so as not to cause needless offense.

“Not really,” he admitted. “But I’ve told you about our three new steamboats, yes? They could help finance the mine development if we skimp out on a few reforms. In my admittedly amateurish estimate, it would be more than worth it.”

She was no economist either, but that made sense. There was a great opportunity for her here – exactly what she was looking for. Instead of beating around the bush, she decided to be direct. “So, you want me to facilitate negotiations?”

Arnold snorted at that. “Hah, I wish. That’s between my father and Duke Albrecht. All we can do is try to make his daughter hate me a little bit less.”

Katharina felt like a fool. Caught up in her own ambitions, she had momentarily forgotten that she was not talking to the Margrave, but his son.

“I– I know. But how should we go about that?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged. “She blames Hohenfels for an error in Eisengrund’s strategy during the last war with Polania, which led to the death of her brother.”

Katharina froze. “Pardon?”

“Yeah, it’s… complicated. But you’re an expert, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find a way” he grinned.

The amused twinkle in his eye was most infuriating.