Hohenfels – Chapter 43

…third generation of students, ten years… communing with spirits of the land, Gods of Eld… Mandrake shavings and thornapple leaves… Lord of Storm and Thunder…

Arne compared the notes he wrote down from memory with the contents of his diary, growing increasingly concerned. The contents of the lesson remained clear in his mind, and so did the memory of calling upon the name of a Forgotten One.

However, when it came to remembering details about Professor Nowak personally, his notes were less precise. Not even an entire day had passed, and he had already forgotten the exact number of years the shaman had been teaching at the academy. He still could remember that part of the conversation now that he knew what he was looking for, but recalling it felt like pulling a soaked boot out of a puddle of mud. Entirely doable, but tedious, sloggy, and annoying.

The banesilver, while clearly effective, did not inhibit the entirety of whatever the Professor was doing. Had the first lesson been less fruitful, Arne would have seriously considered cutting all ties to Nowak, and perhaps even his neck in the process. But as it stood, he was willing to take the risk.

Ritual magic was only the tip of the iceberg of what the shaman could teach him. Even if none of it had immediate practical implications – vague weather divination rituals were hardly useful after all – it was increasingly likely that he could at the very least use this knowledge when dealing with the Khan’s shamans. And anything that helped with handling those pests would be a major boon for future campaigns.

Arne leaned back in his desk chair, humming to himself. He could scarcely believe what kind of potential treasure trove he had discovered by sheer luck.

Releasing a tiny amount of magic, he softly whispered, “Donar.”

Nothing happened.

“Donar!”

Again, the air in the study remained still.

He groaned in frustration – would he really have to inhale that vile smoke or chew on nightshade leaves every time?

“What a pain,” he sighed to himself.

Right on cue, there was a knock on the door. He rose from the chair and made his way to the front door, swallowing his annoyance. Outside, Ferdinand von Soltach, second son of the Baron of Soltach and the Guardsman tasked with keeping irritating visitors away from Arne’s chambers, was saluting with a rather bemused expression.

“I apologize for bothering you, Your Highness. Lady Sieglinde von Elmstedt has been begging for an audience, and quite insistently so. Something about Lord Friedrich and Princess Klara…?”

“Oh, for fu– Get her to the small lounge, immediately. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Arne stormed back inside, grabbed his saber and coat, and made his way to one of the two lounges adjacent to the common room. They usually served as venues for conversations that were too sensitive for the public, but not intimate enough to warrant an invitation to someone’s private rooms.

Inside, Sieglinde paced around nervously, her aura radiating anxiety and worry. “Your Highness! Fritz is– No, I mean, Lady Katharina– at Eisengrund Hall–”

“Quiet,” he ordered, and her mouth snapped shut. “Start at the beginning.”

“Well, earlier today, right after lunch, I went to see Flora–”

“Skip the beginning,” Arne groaned impatiently. “Where is Friedrich?”

“At the armory, handing out armor to the Guardsmen!”

“What? Why?!”

“He sent me to get you, but I think it’s a bad i–”

“Get to the point.”

“We were just told that Lady Katharina is being held at Eisengrund Hall–”

Arne did not bother listening further. He rushed out of the room and ordered Ferdinand to follow him to the armory, where Friedrich was barking out orders.

“–and after taking the foyer, we will spread out and look for–”

“Friedrich.”

The younger man flinched at the sound of Arne’s voice as if struck by lightning. The five Guardsmen froze and wisely decided to stand as still as they could.

“Explain.”

Friedrich turned around, his expression slowly recovering from the shock.

“That Eisenberg bitch is holding Lady Katharina hostage,” he stated, the severity of the accusation undercut by the glee and anticipation in his aura. “I am preparing our troops for a rescue effort.”

Arne’s mind reeled from the sheer lunacy of that statement.

“All of you, get out,” he briefly addressed the Guardsmen, who were more than happy to comply. When he turned back to Friedrich, his cousin’s aura began to carry a growing undercurrent of uncertainty.

“Who told you that?”

“Linde’s friend. Flora, or something.”

“...And you immediately believed her.”

“Well…”

“And then you decided that, instead of consulting me, it would be prudent to muster our ‘troops’.”

Friedrich visibly deflated, excitement fading into a mixture of guilt and stubbornness. “I thought you would–”

“For the last time, Fritz: We are not in Batuul anymore,” Arne growled. “This is not the battlefield. And the Guardsmen are not our ‘troops’, you absolute buffoon.”

“But Lady Katharina is in danger!” Defiance. Sullenness.

“Even if that truly is the case, it is not our place to mount a ‘rescue’!”

“Is she not our ally?! Do you have no ho–”

Friedrich cut himself off in a rare moment of social awareness, but it was too late. Arne’s unleashed aura slammed into him like a battering ram, smothering him with fury.

“You don’t give a fuck about Katharina,” Arne snarled. “And you’re not quite stupid enough to blindly believe such bullshit. You just want to raid Eisengrund Hall. Don’t you dare question my honor over this!”

“So fucking what?!” Friedrich spat back, blood trickling out of his nose and ears as he struggled against Arne’s aura. “We need to do something! She keeps – provoking – US!”

“IT DOES NOT MATTER!” Arne bellowed. “I told you to stay away from her, yet here you are, preparing to invade her dorm!”

Through a monumental effort of sheer stubbornness, Friedrich broke free, coughing up a bit of blood. “WHY?! Why do we have to put up with her bullshit?!”

Arne took a steadying breath. Keeping Friedrich under suppression had proven a lot more difficult than he would have liked, a testament to the warrior’s recent training efforts. He decided not to double down to avoid sending an intense wave of magic through the entire building.

The scent of herbal tea and parchment came even easier than before.

“She called us mudlords! She, a fucking Eisenberg! And I’m supposed to just take it lying down like a–”

With a raised hand, Arnold interrupted the mounting rant.

“We have talked about this before,” he stated matter-of-factly, enjoying the state of calm he found himself in. “I made myself clear, did I not?”

“…You did.” Discomfort. Awkwardness.

“So, why did you attempt to act against my direct orders?”

“Because…”

“Because you know better?”

“...” Worry. Defiance.

“Friedrich. This is the final warning. Forget about the damned Princess and stop acting like a soldier on leave. You are the heir of Steinberg, and the nephew of the Margrave of Hohenfels. Live up to that, or I will have you sent home.”

"You wouldn't–” Shock. Fear.

“You leave me no choice if you keep going against me. We have enough enemies as it stands. I need you to have my back, not stab me there.”

Friedrich’s eyes went wide as saucers. “But I didn’t–” Panic.

“I’m meeting the Schwarzwald princess later today. She has signaled interest in marriage, which would greatly benefit Father. What do you think would happen if we stormed Eisengrund Hall right now?”

“...You’d miss the meeting.” Confusion.

“Not just that. It would show her, and everyone else, that we are just Eastern savages squabbling amongst each other, ruining God-knows-how-many opportunities for us.”

“But– but we’re not savages!” Frustration.

“Then stop acting like one.”

= = = = =

Katharina hurried out of the foyer as fast as her dress allowed. When the taciturn, but competent attendant informed her that a delegation from Hohenfels Hall was waiting for her outside, her fear of further escalation drove her out of the infirmary.

And indeed, out in the sparse garden that served as a forecourt, stood Prince Arnold in his finest Logrian suit, accompanied by four uniformed guards. His face lit up as he spotted her, but she did not miss the small wince after he noticed her bandages.

“I’m glad to see you well, Lady Katharina. I’ve heard quite a few different versions of what happened to you yesterday, so I was unsure what to make of the situation.”

“I appreciate your concern, Your Highness,” she smiled and attempted a curtsy that turned out a lot less elegant than she hoped thanks to her sore muscles. “It was a simple training accident, and the Housemaster was kind enough to host me for the night.”

His raised eyebrow told her that he knew this was not the full truth, and she blinked twice in an attempt to silently convey ‘We’ll talk later’. He seemed to understand, blinking twice in return.

“Very well,” he nodded. “I’m afraid I am running late for a meeting, so I cannot accompany you back to Sonnenfeld Hall.”

Katharina ignored the pang of disappointment his words caused, and tried to remember what he knew of his schedule. He usually did not seem particularly busy–

Right. Princess Charlotte.

As the disappointment turned into something even less palatable, she carefully controlled her expression and curtsied again. “That is no bother, Your Highness. I shall fetch–”

“No need,” he interrupted her with a smile. “Karl, Rudolf. Escort Lady Katharina to her dorm, then return to your training.”

Two of his guards saluted in unison, first towards the Prince, then towards her.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she smiled back at him and gave the two men a shallow nod of acknowledgement. “I shall keep you no longer, then.”

“Rest well, Lady Katharina. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With those words, Arnold and his two remaining guards marched off towards Schwarzwald Hall, and she turned towards her own dorm.

Karl and Rudolf turned out to be… Well, not dumb, but certainly not versed in the art of conversation. Still, she managed to coax a few fascinating tidbits about the internal workings of the margraviate out of them. Nothing of consequence, but their descriptions of geography and urban development filled out what she already knew.

She arrived at Sonnenfeld Hall without much fanfare, with most students still socializing around the academy grounds. Her armed and uniformed escorts raised some eyebrows, though, so she bid them farewell at the gates and entered the premises alone.

On the stairs to the second floor, where House Sonnenstein hosted its particularly highborn allies including Lord Leonhardt and herself, she made a worrying discovery. Busy-looking servants were carrying hastily packed luggage down to the first floor, and she was almost certain that she spotted a familiar piece of fabric dangling from one of the coffers.

And indeed, as Katharina hurried up to the protest of her burning legs, she found the door to her chambers wide open. A light trickle of water ran all the way from the bathroom to the entrance, soaking the carpets.

Just as she turned on her heel to find someone with any semblance of authority, she almost collided with the Hallmaster.

“I’m glad to see you alive and well, Lady Katharina,” he said with a sickeningly sweet smile. “You have excellent timing – I’m afraid there has been a plumbing accident in your chambers. I have arranged for a replacement .”

“...And let me guess, that replacement is on the first floor.”

On the first floor, among the lower nobility.

“That is indeed the case,” he sneered. “I’m afraid the free rooms on the second floor are currently... under renovations.”

A blatant lie, but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. So, with one last look at her old accommodations and a not-so-friendly smile, she raised her bandaged nose into the air and strode down the stairs.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

Dramatis Personae

Arnold “Arne” von Hohenfels:
Son of the Margrave of Hohenfels.
Going on a blind date.

Friedrich von Hohenfels-Steinberg:
Son and heir of the Count of Steinberg, a subregion of Hohenfels.
Woefully unprepared for civilian life.

Sieglinde von Elmstedt:
Daughter of the Count of Elmstedt, a subregion of Marbach.
Woefully unprepared for Hohenfels shenanigans, despite her best efforts.

Katharina von Silberthal:
Daughter of the Imperial Count of Silberthal.
Contemplating treason. And arson. And murder.