Hohenfels

Chapter 23

By the time Katharina managed to calm herself down, it was evening. The light falling in through the tinted window was taking on a distinctly orange tone.

Now that her head was a little bit clearer, she realized just how clean the niche was. Without all the dust and fallen books, it no longer had the same atmosphere. Even the half-collapsed shelf had been dusted off and haphazardly ‘fixed’ with a chair now supporting the brittle boards.

The cushions were great, though. And so was the cleaned-up table–

With a start, she realized that Arnold was still holding her hand. The Prince was lost in his thoughts, staring into space and completely oblivious of her growing embarrassment.

As if he had read her thoughts, he suddenly refocused and looked at her. “Is something wrong?” he asked, before his gaze fell on the table and he came to the same realization.

“Oh, pardon,” he mumbled, and pulled his hand away.

Katharina’s body betrayed her. She reached out reflexively before she could think better of it, and caught his fingers with her own.

She immediately let go again, but the damage had been done. She felt her face flush a deep red as his eyes widened. She had already mentally prepared for the inevitable mocking grin – but he simply grasped her hand again, with a light blush of his own.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, until Katharina gathered the courage for a polite cough. “Ahem. I’m… Thank you,” she said, cringing at her inability to find the right words.

“For… not abandoning me, I suppose,” she mumbled pathetically. “It would have been so much more convenient for you to simply ditch me. I’m nothing but dead weight right now.”

“Well…” He ran his free hand through his hair in contemplation. “It wouldn’t have felt right. Besides, I owe you.”

“...You do?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“Fritz– Friedrich might be dead if not for your help.” He looked her straight in the eye, causing her blush to deepen again despite the severe subject. “Thank you.”

Katharina knew that nothing useful would come out of her mouth right now, so she simply smiled at him. It felt more satisfying than she would readily admit when he broke the eye contact in embarrassment.

She had not considered all that. Of course he would feel indebted to her now. House Hohenfels’ honor demanded it. Easterners took such things much more seriously–

‘Wait a moment. If…’

Her sudden realization made her take in a sharp breath, alerting Arnold. “Are you all right?” he asked in a worried tone.

“The situation might not be so dire after all,” she blurted out excitedly. “Everyone saw you aiding Princess Klara after the incident, while you could have easily chosen not to do that.”

He furrowed his brows in indignation. “I would never–”

“I know, but that doesn’t matter!” she interrupted, now positively giddy. “If she survives the ordeal, she will owe you a considerable favor. And even if she doesn’t, your very public attempt at saving her might de-escalate tensions somewhat.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “It wouldn’t fix things, but it would certainly help.”

They looked at each other excitedly, but he soon put a damper on their enthusiasm. “Still, we have to wait for news from Princess Klara before deciding on a course.”

He gazed up to the window. “It’s getting dark. We should get some rest – I have a feeling we’ll need it.”

Katharina wholeheartedly agreed. “I’ll keep an eye on the rumor situation. I suggest we meet here tomorrow morning before classes, to discuss any new developments.”

“Sounds good.”

Arnold – reluctantly? – let go of her hand and rose from the bench. Then he looked around and sighed. “It’s just not the same now, isn’t it?”

“I think so, too,” she agreed. “It’s a shame.”

They shared a look. Then a smirk.

Ten minutes later, the floor was cluttered with books, and the shelf was in its original state of perpetual collapse once more.

= = = = =

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Christina von Lauringen paced through her chambers, fighting the urge to bite her exquisitely manicured nails.

Everything was going great – in theory. Princess Klara had been seen returning from Halden healthy and hale, meaning that Eisengrund had potentially tripled their debt by asking the Church for help. A golden opportunity for Sonnenfeld to swoop in with its bursting treasury and essentially turn them into a client state. Tensions between Hohenfels and Eisengrund were at an all-time high, destabilizing the East once more and ruining whatever scheme they had come up with to legitimize Hohenfels’ ascension. Princess Klara would surely stop calling Lord Arnold a ‘Prince’ after this incident, and Greifenau might follow suit once the mood flipped, as they usually did. Falkenstein alone was not enough support, by a wide margin.

There was, however, a huge problem, coming from an unexpected angle.

Someone, most likely that accursed Elenor, was hard at work spreading rumors about Prince Ludwig and Lord Arnold. The current consensus among the gossipers painted Ludwig as a cowardly wretch who interrupted a conversation only to be harshly reprimanded by a man of lesser station – a grave insult to which he failed to respond, allegedly out of fear.

Now it fell on Christina to inform her whimsical fiancé of those rumors while keeping him from doing something very stupid.

= = = = =

Yet another practice sword splintered in Klara’s hands as she stabbed the training dummy for the hundredth time. She tightened her fist and punched the target with all her magically-enhanced might. It met the wall with a loud crash, leaving her to stare at her bleeding knuckles in impotent rage.

Erzfeld would be gone, and with it any hopes for Eisengrund to regain its former glory while she was alive. She would have to watch the people responsible for her brother’s death prosper in its stead.

Father and Mother wouldn’t even blame her for it, even though she certainly deserved it. Mother would embrace her, tell her everything would be all right. Eisengrund would survive, as it always did.

But it was just so frustrating. Everything went so well for Hohenfels. They had made huge territorial gains, claiming the fertile land along the river Droska and thus solving their persistent famine crisis. They found a surprising amount of support for their ducal ambitions. They had Elisabeth the Paladin. And now they might get Erzfeld, as well.

The next practice dummy crashed against the wall, and the dull pain in her knuckles intensified. She barely noticed it.

Klara reminded herself of the only thing she could do, the one thing she had always aspired to. If she just trained harder, if she became Eisengrund’s own ‘Elisabeth’, she could restore her homeland to its prime. And this time, it would last a thousand years.

She took the next practice sword and got to work. The night was still young, after all.

= = = = =

Arne woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly rested despite his myriad worries. After a quick morning bath, he grabbed his favorite doublet – and immediately put it back into the wardrobe, feeling like a fool. He donned one of his less formal Logrian suits instead and headed down into the refectory to get some breakfast.

The first thing he saw upon arrival was Friedrich, sitting in front of a dangerously overloaded plate and shoveling food into his mouth. An assortment of young ladies surrounded him, occasionally feeding him grapes or pieces of cheese.Two of the girls weren’t even from Hohenfels Hall. From time to time, male dorm residents stopped by his table, patting his massive back with pride and offering words of admiration.

Arne shook his head and retreated into an isolated seating niche, happy that everyone’s attention was firmly on his cousin.

His peaceful meal – a simple affair of freshly baked bread, cheese, sausage and a cup of milk – was interrupted when Friedrich noticed his presence and strolled over, waving away all but the most persistent of his followers.

“Glad to see you’re doing well, Fritz,” Arne said sardonically.

Friedrich laughed jovially, completely missing the undertone. “How could I not? All I’ve been doing since yesterday is eating all I can. I’m bursting with energy and magic!” Satisfaction.

He sat down on the bench, which groaned under his bulk. One of his… lady friends handed him another plate filled with fruit. “Thank you, Linde,” he grinned broadly, causing her to blush and the other two to giggle.

Arne rolled his eyes in an exaggerated motion, something Friedrich could not take lying down.

“Don’t judge me. I’ve heard some things about you and… Uh.”

“Lady Katharina,” ‘Linde’ helpfully supplied.

“Right. What’s all that about?” he continued with a knowing smirk.

Arne shot his cousin an annoyed glare. “Nothing much. We’re just working together to solve the issues you caused.”

The sudden guilt in Friedrich’s expression and aura almost made him feel bad, but he steeled himself. “For the love of God, learn to control yourself. We’re not on the battlefield anymore.”

Friedrich nodded awkwardly. This was the limit of chastising him in a semi-public setting, so Arne returned to the more pressing concern.

“Have you heard anything about Klara?”

Friedrich happily accepted the change of topic. “Yup. The Church fixed her up.” Vague relief.

Arne stared at him in shock. “What? Where the f– where did Eisengrund get that kind of money?!”

“No idea,” Friedrich shrugged. The auras of his remaining admirers spiked with… something as they fixated on his shoulder muscles. Arne suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again.

‘I suppose I’ll have to ask Katharina or Matthias,’ he mused, knowing full well that continuing this discussion with his cousin would lead absolutely nowhere.

As he lifted his final piece of sausage to his mouth, he was once more interrupted. This time, it was a nervous-looking servant holding a sealed letter.

He took it and fished a small knife out of his pocket under Friedrich’s curious gaze. His entourage wisely stepped back several paces to avoid intruding.

“Who’s that from?”

“Sonnenstein,” Arne replied while carefully opening the envelope. The stylized sun on the waxen seal was unmistakable.

He pulled the letter out and unfolded it, rapidly scanning its contents. His eyes grew wider with every word he read, until he found himself staring at it with a gaping mouth.

“What’s wrong?” asked Friedrich, his aura tinged with concern.

“...Ludwig just challenged me to a duel.”