Hate has a reason for everything: But Love is Unreasonable (MobuSeka/Hamefura)

Knight or Knave 1-1
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Knight or Knave

    You don't need money, don't take fame
    Don't need no credit card to ride this train
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 1

    Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge. ~ Paul Gauguin​

    It was a dark and moonless night. Not stormy, but the clouds threatened rain in the near future.

    The elves had posted night sentries but in the darkness, their only chance to detect intrusion onto the island would be their ability to see magic. Fortunately, any vessel must surely use magic, for the home of the elves was like any other above the surface of the limitless ocean - floating many hundreds of yards up in the sky due to the suspension stone within the mass of rock.

    Leon Fou Bartford couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity as he rode through the sky and down towards the island. His airbike might look like any other used by the knights of human kingdoms, but the anti-gravs were purely mechanical in nature and by keeping the engine at low power he was able to avoid being seen or heard as he flew above one of the villages that dotted the island.

    “Ruins thirty degrees to your left,” a sour voice informed him, through the ear bud Leon wore.

    “Thanks.” He altered course accordingly, flying lower. The area was forested and overgrown, even through the night-vision gear he wore there was no sign it was different from any other part of the island until computer assisted imagery began to draw lines across what he saw. Rectangular outlines marked out what seemed very plausibly the footprint of buildings and streets, all long ruined.

    Leon nodded and descended towards them, threading quietly through the tree-tops until he found somewhere to land. “This looks like what I’m after.” He was subvocalizing, still wary of drawing attention to himself. If his information was correct then the bulk of the elves considered this place taboo and would very much prefer outsiders stayed away.

    Those who knew what was here would have even greater reason to encourage Leon to leave.

    “This world is undoubtedly dotted with the remains of many thousands of lost settlements of the true humanity.” The voice of Luxion was waspish. “Finding one here does not validate your claims, master.”

    Beneath his mask, Leon smiled tightly. The AI really didn’t like what he’d told it. It served him, perhaps even willingly, but he wasn’t going to go as far as claiming that Luxion respected him. “We’ll see. On some levels I’d prefer to be wrong. But what I saw has been accurate up to now.”

    “Very well.” The AI waited as he landed the air bike and then marked a spot of ground with a caret on Leon’s view. “This spot would be suitable for the equipment I’ve provided you. Do you remember how to set it up?”

    “I’m sure you’ll call me out on it if I get it wrong.” The young man dismounted and started unstrapping the packages secured behind him. They had been strapped down securely but he worked steadily and patiently, removing them one at a time and laying them out systematically on the forest floor before opening them.

    A rounded drone, perhaps the size of a child’s ball, popped out of the first and watched judgmentally as Leon worked. The components inside had been packed with forethought to being set up in the field and working down from the top of each container let Leon quickly assemble six supporting legs for a central spike. None of the equipment was particularly light and he worked up a sweat, even after setting aside his cloak.

    Once he was satisfied that it was done, he removed his mask and wiped his face. “So correct me?”

    “Impressive, master.” The drone bobbed in the air. “Truly you were able to set up apparatus intended to be simple enough for a child to operate.”

    “Why thank you, Luxion. You know how much your praise means to me.” The third son of a baron, Leon had never been to court but sarcasm came as easy to him as griping came to his father’s wife. “Seriously, if it needs adjustment.”

    “The apparatus is adequate in its current state.” The indicator light on the front of the drone flickered several times. “How... disappointing.”

    Leon arched an eyebrow.

    Luxion didn’t need to breathe so sighing wasn’t part of its speech patterns. “You were right,” it confessed. “There is a considerable underground facility beneath these ruins. The layout and materials are consistent with a war-time expedient research bunker.”

    The AI’s master pulled his mask back on. “One more piece of evidence?”

    “By all rights, your claim that you remember another life in which you read a book in which someone was reincarnated into a game they played with a setting very much resembling the kingdom in which you live is unnecessarily complex, redundant and possibly a sign of mental deficiency.”

    Leon chuckled under his breath. “Yeah. And I’m fourteen. If the evidence didn’t bear out my hypothesis, I’d be accusing myself of middle-school syndrome. And there is no middle school in Holfort.”

    “The local educational establishment or lack thereof is hardly the primary concern here.” Luxion bobbled in the air. “I have located the entrance. Please follow me.”

    The entrance was concealed but not hard to open once you knew where it was. Leon was disappointed once more to find things were as he had expected. “And a swept floor inside, to mask the fact that there are footprints in the dirt,” he complained to Luxion as they followed the passageways towards the core of the complex.

    “I am uncertain why you expect better from the species that consider this island their home, master.”

    “You don’t think I want any of this to be true, do you?”

    “To save a kingdom, win the gratitude of many women and crush those who look down on you is the epitome of adolescent fantasy,” the AI reminded him. “Your predictions promise you all of that.”

    “And this is why I don’t want to trust them. It’s too convenient.”

    “Your perversity never fails to impress me, master.”

    Leon looked at the doors ahead of them. “So this is it?”

    “Given the size of the room and the wiring arrangement, this is either the primary laboratory or the power plant.” Luxion’s camera scanned the metal plate on the front of the door, now bare of any visible words. “The braille markings are not those of the power plant.”

    “And here’s me who never learned to read braille.” The boy reached out to the door. “Is anyone in there?”

    “The room’s cladding makes it resistant to sonic scanning.”

    “So you don’t know.”

    The AI declined to comment and Leon shook his head in amusement. Then he unstrapped the pump-action shotgun he’d been carrying under his cloak. “Then I guess we’ll have to find out the old fashioned way.”

    Rearing up, he kicked the door open and darted inside, barely avoiding the door rebounding towards him. Luxion’s drone body also darted in, staying high above the boy’s head.

    Inside, lights flicked on one at a time, gradually revealing the extent of the room. Dozens of glass cylinders full of translucent, bubbling liquid were surrounded by pumps and electronics of types that the teenager could only guess at. Larger consoles were surrounded by arrays of screens, suggesting that these were the stations from which whatever was done here was managed.

    The only life present were fetus-like and drifting within the fluids of the cylinders. Leon tried to avoid looking at them, and was glad that his face was covered so Luxion couldn’t see him go green.

    “As predicted,” Luxion declared flatly.

    “I’m sure you’re as disappointed as I am.” Leon closed his eyes in concentration. It took a notable effort, after all these years, to speak in a language he’d barely used in this life. “Cleare, are you online?”

    One of the wall mounted screens lit up. “There is no plausible way for you to know my designation,” a voice declared in the same long-dead tongue.

    “It’s very implausible,” Luxion declared. “Nonetheless, we are here. And as predicted, so are you.”

    “This facility is top secret,” the voice declared, a line bouncing up and down across the screen - a representation of the audio level of the voice? Leon had to admit he had no idea. Likely a purely psychological measure to give a listener something to look at. “I am surprised that records of my existence survive outside of the laboratories here.”

    “We have no such records,” Luxion responded.

    “A colonial AI!” the voice exclaimed. “How exciting. Has old humanity returned to their homeworld at last?”

    “My vessel was not launched.”

    “How distressing that you could not carry out your purpose.” There was less empathy in the voice than there was pleasure.

    Leon shook his head. “Have the elves noticed you?”

    “They have no idea,” Cleare responded sharply. “I permit them to play with the equipment in order to measure their capacities.”

    He gestured at the cylinders. “And this is their work.”

    “It is very disappointing. Their methodology is laughably poor and their conclusions are insultingly erroneous.”

    “Being fair, it took humanity quite a long time to work out the scientific process,” Leon observed. “I doubt they’ve had quite that long.”

    “They could at least have imitated your people, as they do everything else about you,” the facility’s AI declared huffily. “For all their pretensions of superiority, they are essentially a cargo cult.”

    Leon shrugged. He couldn’t really disagree with that. The elves’ main economic lynchpin was renting themselves out as ‘contract servants’ to the nobility of the nearby kingdom of Holfort. Ten or twenty years service was no great loss to them given their longevity, and the merchants who managed their contracts paid in tools and material. It was telling though that few of the elves seemed interested in learning to create those tools themselves and becoming more independent.

    “We are closing down this facility,” Luxion declared flatly. “For an engineered species to be allowed access is bad enough. It is clear their incompetence will eventually reveal it to the new humans.”

    “I concur,” Cleare conceded sulkily. “That outcome would be unacceptable. Yet if old humanity has not returned, why are you co-operating with one of them?”

    Luxion’s bobbing in the air halted and his sensor camera zeroed in on the screen. “The situation is anomalous. I will provide you with detailed data.”

    Leon winced behind his mask. So now the AIs were talking behind his back. He doubted they’d have much nice to say…

    “What a wonderful experiment!” Cleare exclaimed.

    “So are you interested?”

    “Of course. I will identify equipment suitable for you to take with you,” the AI declared. “And some valuable samples that might not be sufficiently destroyed by the self-destruct.”

    Oh, of course. “And when are you going to trigger that?” enquired Leon, feeling a flood of adrenaline at the prospect.

    “I started the countdown when a new human entered the facility,” Cleare told him cheerfully. “I’m downloading my back-up to Luxion’s servers. I don’t suggest lingering once you’ve collected the equipment and samples.”

    Leon groaned. “Where are they? And how long do I have exactly?”

    “I don’t believe I should disclose that to a new human. Out the door and go left.”

    “Hells,” he complained and obeyed the instructions. “We’re going to have to work on this relationship.”

    -

    “We found this in what remains of the ruins.”

    The village chief looked at the spider-like construct that he’d been brought from the ancient ruins. “What is this?” he demanded. “Has anyone seen it before?”

    None of the elves in his inner circle admitted to doing so.

    “It’s not the work of the humans,” one pointed out. “We’ve seen their handiwork, but this had the look of ancient equipment.”

    “Some ancient relic that’s been brought here?”

    The chief slapped the elf who suggested that. “Aren’t you supposed to have guards posted? If anyone brought this here, why didn’t you know about it?”

    “The sentries didn’t see any aircraft before sundown and no magical beings were visible.”

    “And yet our ancient heritage has been lost, perhaps forever!”

    “Chief!” A younger elf rushed in. “The elder’s here.”

    The chief paused. “Now?”

    “How could she have heard about this already?” The slapped elf didn’t seem concerned by his chastisement. Elves were sturdier than humans, the slap had been a token gesture at best. “It’s only been a few hours.”

    “Maybe she foresaw it.”

    There were uneasy looks among the elves, but before they could say more, the new arrivals reached where they were standing in the village’s central square. The elder was ancient even by the standards of their people, wrinkled and wizened, hunched over and walking with the aid of a stick. Beside her, a younger elf - well, relatively younger - walked carrying the bags.

    “Honoured elder. We welcome you to the village.”

    The elder whispered something under her breath.

    “The elder says that she has warned you many times about meddling with the ruins.”

    “I honour the elder’s words,” the chief claimed. “But when they were devastated, we had to investigate in case there was a threat to the village. This -” He indicated the construct “- was brought back from it.”

    More whispered words.

    “Do not think that the elder is unaware that you have found what was buried beneath the ruins,” the interpreter declared, though her tone suggested that it was news to her. “You have awoken that which should not live. Worse, you have brought the demon lord here.”

    “What demon lord?” the chief frowned irritably. “What even is a demon lord.”

    The elder raised one finger and pointed behind the chief. He turned and found himself looking directly at the masked and cloaked figure of Leon, who had Luxion hovering to his side.

    Mentally cursing out the old biddy for being entirely too keen-eyed at this time of the pre-dawn, Leon met the gaze of the elves levelly. Bluffing would have to do.

    “Rejoice in my mercy,” he drawled. “I saw that the destruction took place while your people were asleep and not while you were present to be slain.”

    The explosions under the ruins had been more than sufficient to let the nearby village know that something was up and after ferrying the equipment up to his vessel, Leon had returned in time to watch from concealment as lantern-carrying elves investigated and found the crater that resulted from every major structural member of the base being severed by explosives. Given that several vats of chemicals had also been ruptured, he really didn’t think anyone digging into the ruins would have a good time of it. However, the seismic sensor he and Luxion had used to find the base had been left behind and the elves had carried it back to the village, recognising it was out of place.

    The elder coughed something out, bent over almost double.

    “Our elder thanks you for your mercy.”

    “Mercy!?” exclaimed the chief. “Do you know what you have destroyed, intruder?”

    “The birthing chambers from which your species was engineered as slave-soldiers,” Luxion grated. “To battle the same species that you now subjugate yourselves to. Disgusting.”

    The elves gasped, offended and disbelieving.

    To be fair, pretty much everyone seemed to have forgotten the very existence of the old humans. Leon’s limited education on the source of the many ruins that were all that marked the remains of their technological society drew no lines between them and the modern day magic users, the ‘new humans’ that had supplanted their unmagical forebears. The cataclysmic nature of the war, which had shattered the surface continents and flung vast masses of the crust up into the sky to hang there in apparent defiance of Newtonian physics had come very close to having no survivors at all.

    The chief took a step forward. “You’re talking nonsense. We elves are clearly the superior species, more refined and durable than humans. It is logical that they were simply our own servitor race, now run amok.”

    Luxion released an outraged squeal but Leon raised his hand. “Don’t argue with him, Luxion. He’ll just drag you down to his own level.” He lowered his hand once more. “I doubt there’s one piece of refined metal on this island that isn’t the work of human hands. Your tools, your weapons, most of what you use for daily life, it all comes from human hands. You need them, but they do not need you. That more than answers which species is currently superior. If you wish to change that, I suggest putting that refinement to work on building some independence rather than digging up the demons of the past.”

    The chief placed one hand on the pistol at his belt. “What do you want?”

    Well, since you’re asking. “I will take two of your villagers.” Leon snapped his hand up before the chief could speak. “The woman named Yumeria, her child named Kyle.”

    Luxion had waited in cloud-cover until the sun set before Leon approached. In that time he’d evaluated the village through a telescope and seen that both of them were present. Apparently whatever merchant would have taken Kyle away hadn’t arrived yet… which was potentially useful.

    “Why should we indulge someone who lacks even a trace of magic?” the chief demanded. “I don’t believe this nonsense about demon lords and…”

    “Luxion, the chief’s house please.”

    “...what about my -”

    The chief was cut off as the front half of the sizable (by local standards) house disintegrated into splinters. It was only made of wood after all, and it had been struck by a chunk of metal moving at multiples of the speed of sound. The sharp crack of the sonic boom scattered the debris further. Fortunately no one appeared to have been inside the house - or in the path of the shattered wooden boards that had been pulverised.

    “Nice village you have here,” Leon observed in the dull silence that followed.

    “Are you threatening us!?”

    The interpreter snapped: “Of course he is!” before she realised that the elder was whispering to her. The elf woman cleared her throat. “The elder accepts your request.”

    The elder coughed out a correction.

    “Your demand.”

    Leon nodded. “I’m pleased we understand each other.”

    The ancient elf leant heavily upon her staff and spat out more words, gazing up at Leon’s masked face. He looked impassively back at her, subvocalizing to Luxion: “Did you catch that?”

    “The elf language is unknown. Based on their words so far, it appears loosely inspired by fictional languages of the distant past.”

    “The elder commands that Yumeria and Kyle be brought before the demon lord,” the interpreter informed them.

    The chief glowered but then waved at two of the elves with him. “Bring them here.”

    “She also has a prophecy.”

    “Prophecy has no basis in fact,” sneered Luxion. “Such superstition is to be expected of these degenerates.”

    Leon shrugged. “And yet from what I recall, she has a decent track record. No harm in listening.” He raised his voice. “The elder has my attention.”

    The interpreter crouched over to listen carefully to the words of the wizened elf woman. She frowned and then straightened. “She says: ‘In your quest to grasp everything, you will find yourself to hold nothing but your revenge’.”

    Behind the mask the boy pursed his lips, parsing the statement. Then he dipped his head slightly in respect to the elder. “In that case, elder of the elves, I will do all that I can to obtain the best and most satisfying of revenges.”

    -

    The airbike was intended for one rider and perhaps one passenger. Fitting Yumeria, a rather buxom elf woman, and her son behind Leon was something of an exercise. Fortunately (at least for this purpose), the two had nothing with them but the clothes that they were wearing. The chief’s associates had more or less dragged them from their home and pushed them over to Leon without as much as an explanation.

    Not wanting to strain the limits of the airbike, Leon eased the throttle open and took it easy on the flight back to his skyship - which was moored in a discreet corner of the island, shielded from view from the two nearest villages by a promontory and by being well below the edge of the island’s inhabited surface. If someone came looking, they could spot it but there was no particular reason for them to do so until now… and he’d be gone soon.

    As they flew over the edge of the island and Leon began to skirt the limits of it, Kyle produced a short knife - probably used in the kitchen - from one sleeve. “What if I stab you?”

    “Kyle!” his mother gasped.

    “Assuming you find a weakness in my armour, we all die,” Leon told the boy evenly. “Or do you know how to ride an airbike?”

    The boy grumbled and hid the knife again. Yumeria tried to take it off him, shifting her balance point and forcing Leon to adjust. “Please stop that,” he requested mildly. “I’ll find him something better suited for self-defense once we’re on my ship. I don’t think that knife would cut cheese, much less my cloak or flesh.”

    “He shouldn’t need a knife at all!”

    “Lots of things shouldn’t be so, but somehow still are,” Leon said philosophically. “Thus me rushing around trying to wrong rights, save dragons from damsels and otherwise… wait, I got that the wrong way round didn’t I?”

    “Who are you?” the small boy demanded. “Are you really a demon lord?”

    “Actually, I think that by demon lord she meant Luxion. Say hello to my guests, Luxion.”

    “Do we have to take them aboard, master?”

    “It’s all part of the plan,” Leon assured him. “You know, the good plan.”

    Luxion was silent for a long moment. “Your definition of a good plan remains questionable.”

    Yumeria tried to reach out to the drone that was flying along next to the airbike, quite able to keep up unless Leon flew rather faster than he cared to with the three of them crammed onto the single seat. She drew back her fingers sharply when Luxion crackled briefly with electricity. “It stung me!”

    “Please don’t molest my familiar. Luxion is very sensitive.”

    “I’m sorry,” the elf woman said apologetically, bowing in the direction of Luxion’s drone and forcing Leon to adjust the balance again.

    It was a relief once they reached the deck of the skyship and Leon wasn’t responsible for them all tumbling out of the sky. He pulled off his cloak and draped it over the airbike before removing his mask.

    “What!?” Kyle exclaimed once he saw Leon. “You’re just a kid, you’re not much older than I am!”

    “I dunno, how old are you? Ten? Eleven?”

    “Twelve!” the boy snapped.

    Leon smiled lazily. “Interesting. As I understand it, elves mature at the same rate as the rest of their aging. A twelve year old elf should be barely out of his diapers, but you look about as mature as my ten year old brother…”

    Kyle made a rude gesture at Leon.

    “And you’re acting like him too,” Leon continued drily. He looked at Yumeria. “Of course, that might make sense if your son is only half an elf. Am I wrong?”

    She looked pale and pulled her son to her. “What do you want with us?”

    “I’d like to confirm a little theory, which shouldn’t be too stressful. After that… well, I have an idea or two where you’ll be safe for the next little while. Or as safe as anyone can hope for in this crazy old world.”

    “Why not back at the village then?” Yumeria asked.

    “Well, someone’s going to take the blame for me smashing the ruins,” Leon observed wryly, starting to push the airbike towards the entrance to the skyship’s hold. “And since I’m not there, and the chief isn’t likely to want to take responsibility for the mess, even though he really is the one who had the clever idea of trying to start a war with humanity, I think he’d like a scapegoat. And someone who doesn’t quite in with the rest of the village is always an easy target for blame-shifting.”

    “Why did you do all this in the first place then?” demanded Kyle. “Why come here at all?”

    “Well, I have another theory.” The young man looked over at the drone. “Cleare?”

    The indicator light changed colour. “Present!” the AI declared, chirpily.

    “That self-destruct was very nicely self-contained, but was that your only option? Assuming that biological containment had been breached, for example.”

    “I had a variety of options,” Cleare assured him. “I could have sterilized the entire island if I needed to.”

    “Sterilized?” Yumeria started to reach out to poke at the drone again and then thought better of it. “What does that mean?”

    “Wiped it clean of all life, down to the microbes,” the bio-sciences AI clarified. “Which would have been a waste of research subjects, but you can’t be too careful.”

    “Aren’t you glad I came along?” asked Leon, opening the cargo hold. A second drone emerged, two mechanical arms having extended to carry a heavy section of armour plating. It looked to Leon as if it should be part of a knight’s armour - one of the mecha used in aerial combat between the kingdoms. However, such armour panels rarely had their own arms, nor tentacles that tried to reach out towards passers by.

    “Getting rid of the trash?” he asked the new drone.

    “It is a hardwired directive,” Luxion announced with as much satisfaction as Leon had thus far heard from him. “Cleare, you will assist me in carrying this clear of my vessel.”

    “But think of all the experiments we can do with it!”

    Luxion swivelled to eye the drone Cleare was using. “You have usurped my drone, Cleare. Do not challenge me on this.”

    “Oh very well,” the other AI said grumpily and extended two arms to assist in carrying the arm away.

    “Let’s get inside,” Leon said, feeling a trickle of unhappy anticipation. Kyle seemed to feel the same way and put his own weight into pushing the bike inside.

    A moment later, there was the sound of machinery cycling from up ahead, where the skyship’s forward turrets were located. Leon winced and slammed the cargo door closed behind the three of them.

    Even through the door, the sound of the main guns obliterating the armour shard and the two drones was quite audible.

    “That was quite unnecessary,” Cleare complained over the skyship’s intercom system.

    “I disagree,” Luxion declared flatly. “It was contaminated.”

    “That armour piece with whatever it was that animated it… or the drone by Cleare?” Leon asked the ship’s AI.

    Luxion declined to reply, which was an answer in and of itself.
     
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    Knight or Knave 1-2
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Knight or Knave

    You don't need money, don't take fame
    Don't need no credit card to ride this train
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 2​

    I will not be revenged, and this I owe to my enemy; but I will remember, and this I owe to myself. ~ Charles Caleb Colton

    After several weeks accompanied only by AIs and elves, Leon had almost forgotten what dealing with other humans was like. Fortunately or unfortunately, registering with the Adventurer’s Guild had given him a chance to renew his acquaintance with the experience.

    “You’ve expended considerable effort bargaining with those individuals,” Luxion observed as the weary Leon reboarded the skyship.

    “I noticed,” he replied, more sharply than he usually would.

    “You are aware I can provide you with gold and other materials valued by this worthless kingdom beyond any possible need you would have.”

    “I’m keeping that option in reserve for if I decide to crash the economy,” Leon told the AI as he stood at the top of the gangway and waited for it to fully retract. It wasn’t entirely impossible for anyone to get aboard without that, but it was harder. Of course, if he didn’t want anyone to realise that the skyship was fully automated, he had to appear to be doing some of the work himself, such as stowing the gangway.

    Luxion’s new drone danced in the air for the moment. “What a pleasant prospect, master. However, there was still no need to spend hours wearing down their claims of what a fair share of the treasure you claim to have found they could take. Their initial offer was completely within our reach.”

    “Yes, but then they’d have known that I was lowballing what I could afford to pay and they’d have gotten curious.” Leon rubbed his forehead. “I’m getting quite a bit of attention as it is. But as long as they think I’m just some dumbass who got lucky, they’ll assume that the usual premise of a fool and his money will play out and that I’m not a problem for the rest of the kingdom.”

    “As opposed to a dumbass who got lucky and is going to be a problem for the rest of the kingdom?” asked Luxion hopefully.

    At last the gangway was fully retracted and Leon went through the motions of securing it. “I’ll cop to being lucky and to being a future problem for the kingdom of Holfort. And dealing with those tax-men masquerading as Guildsmen was certainly a motivation to kick over the traces.”

    Officially the Guild of Adventurers was an entirely independent organisation dedicated to supporting those brave souls who went out looking for dungeons and other relics of prehistoric civilisation. The flying continent that was the core of the kingdom had been explored, mapped and exploited by the founder of the Holfort dynasty and his closest supporters… possibly along with a few others who had been quietly excised from history when Holfort established his kingdom there. As such, the Kingdom idolised adventurers and any noble who expected to garner any respect was supposed to have the basic skills of the trade, even if they didn’t use them.

    In practise, the guild’s independence was a joke and everyone knew that it was one of the many tools the crown wielded to try to keep control of the fractious lords that ruled the many islands incorporated into their sprawling kingdom. The twenty or thirty percent claimed by the guild from the finds of registered adventurers wasn’t just the price paid by adventurers for the legal right to own what they found, it was also part of the crown’s revenue stream and a way of learning what adventurers had turned up. After all, no small number of finds involved tools or weapons that could catapult the lucky discoverer up to being at least a local warlord. Knowing about such things before they happened was something of a priority for the royal dynasty.

    A second drone approached them. “Master Leon,” the drone greeted him in Cleare’s voice. “Welcome back aboard.”

    “Master?” Leon enquired.

    Cleare didn’t habitually refer to him with that much respect (if any). Unlike Luxion, he wasn’t the AI’s registered operator, after all.

    “I have wonderful news,” the drone burbled. “While comparing your DNA to that of our other candidates, you possess essentially none of the active gene sequences distinctive of new humanity.”

    Leon blinked. “Um… good?” Presumably that would explain why he’d never managed to do anything magical.

    Luxion bobbled in the air. “Share your data for evaluation,” it demanded.

    There was a bleeping and crackling which Leon took to be Cleare over-dramatically letting him know that the data transfer was taking place.

    “Remarkable,” Luxion conceded after a moment. “Cleare’s findings do seem to be valid. While you are a carrier for the genes of the new humanity, your contamination is no further along than the old humans unfortunate enough to parent such deviants.”

    “So I’m… not a new human in your eyes?”

    “Indeed!” Cleare seemed to be all but sparkly-eyed at the prospect. “Master is to all practical purposes an old human. And as he was born to new human parents, the potential exists for a biological solution to the conflict between new humans and old humans. Or would if I still had access to my original laboratory. However, the facilities can be rebuilt.”

    “Given the fine history of biological warfare so far - such as the elves - I’m going to take that optimism with a pinch of salt,” Leon told them. “And if I’m following your plan correctly, we’d leave a generation without the magic to use their parents’ tools and weapons but with no alternative solutions to the very real problems of maintaining civilization on flying islands. Recreating old humanity while dropping them back into the stone age isn’t precisely the ideal solution.”

    The light making Luxion’s drone dimmed perceptibly. “Your objections are noted, master. Please consider any future reproductive activities in light of maintaining your genetic heritage, however.”

    “I can’t exactly control which chromosomes and whatnot combine, Luxion.”

    “If we encounter another old human…”

    “If,” Leon cut him off, “that happens then we will consider that possibility then. While this is a pleasant discovery, how is the main project going, Cleare?”

    To his great relief, the AI took the hint. “Progress is on schedule. I can hardly guarantee that a new human will be able to use their methods to replicate my results, but I am confident that the data supports your proposal.”

    A hatch opened and Yumeria looked out. She’d adapted fairly well to living on the skyship, even though the metal construction must have been entirely alien to her. Even human ships were mostly made of wood since the lesser weight was of considerable importance when keeping a vessel in the air was considered. Admittedly, she had taken to placing potted plants around the skyship, moving them around occasionally for reasons Leon admitted he had no clue about. Where she’d got the seeds or soil he hadn’t asked, but the pots were presumably of Luxion’s making.

    “Uh, captain Leon,” she greeted him as Kyle followed her out on deck. “Is everything alright?”

    “Everything is progressing in a positive direction,” Cleare asserted loudly. “There are no problems.”

    Everyone stared at the drone.

    “I will return to my work,” the AI declared after an awkward moment.

    Leon nodded and watched the drone depart, then turned to the other - identical save for the colour of the indicator light - drone hovering next to him.

    “Can we rid ourselves of that one?” Luxion asked plaintively.

    “I’m not deleting her but if you can move her onto a separate… server? Then I think we can arrange something,” Leon promised.

    “Thank you,” the drone declared in satisfaction.

    Leon shook his head and then turned towards Yumeria. “To answer your question, Miss Yumeria, actually things are going fairly well. Now that I’m legally registered with the guild, the legalities are more or less where I need them to be. One more little errand and I should be able to arrange a safe place for you and Kyle to live and work without too many perils… well beyond those normal for daily life.”

    “Thank you, captain,” the green-haired elf said, clasping her hands before her. Leon tried not to look at the way her upper arms pressed against the quite ridiculous top-heaviness constrained within her dress. “What errand do you have in mind?”

    “The usual. I’m going to kill some people and take their stuff.” He paused. “Well, for a given value of people - I’m talking about pirates, after all.”

    “Are you sure you’re not talking about piracy?” Kyle grumbled. “It sounds like piracy.”

    “Pirating pirates doesn’t count as piracy. The two sides cancel out,” Leon claimed piously. “They’ve placed themselves outside of the law so it isn’t illegal to target them.”

    “I think there’s a flaw in your logic,” Kyle grumbled, “Or maybe your morals.”

    Yumeria looked around. “Um, captain Leon, who will you fight the pirates with? Aren’t you alone?”

    “Luxion is with me, that should be more than enough.”

    The AI’s light brightened. “At last, a cause I can support wholeheartedly.”

    The elf woman looked nervous, “Just the two of you against… How many pirates?”

    “I know it’s a little unfair,” agreed Leon. “How about Kyle comes along so we’re handicapped.?”

    “Hey!” the boy protested.

    “You can’t do that,” his mother protested. “It’s dangerous. And I think it’s illegal for elves to pilot knight’s armour in Holfort.” Mounting knights on horses would be fairly pointless in this world of flying islands, so instead they piloted magical robots two or three times the size of a grown man.

    “That is correct, Master,” Luxion admitted. “Hazarding elves in this fashion is apparently prohibited.”

    “Does the law prohibit half-elves?” asked Leon curiously.

    “There is no legal recognition of half-elves as a concept under Holfort law,” the AI informed him. “My understanding is that it is believed that the two species are not cross-fertile at all.”

    “Well on the one hand, that sounds like Kyle isn’t actually barred from it, but since we don’t currently have proof that he’s not an elf it could be tricky if anyone notices…” Leon tilted his hand back and forth. “I tell you what, how about you stay aboard the skyship and if things go badly you can take your mother away to safety and abandon me to my grisly fate.”

    “You say that as if I wouldn’t do that anyway,” the little elf muttered rebelliously.

    -

    There were in fact rather more pirates than Leon had been expecting, enough ships and knight armours to have taken on a good sized barony. That was probably a large part of their business model really, capturing ships was tricky unless you knew where they would be going and the destinations were generally guarded. Striking at an outlying town, overwhelming its defenders and making off with the portable wealth was rather more practical.

    On the other hand, Leon’s skyship had several advantages over the pirates, some obvious and others not. They had wooden vessels firing a broadside of not very large cannon as their primary means of attack. Luxion’s armament was focused on a pair of turreted cannon very significantly larger and had much better fields of fire.

    Leon’s knight armour launched from the deck in very much the same way it had in scores of simulations aboard the skyship. Without the magic to activate a knight armour, he’d had no opportunity to use his father’s at home but Luxion had been able to construct a mechanical alternative that would be highly competitive. The question was whether his crash course would make up for significantly greater experience of the pirates.

    Spiralling through the air, Leon saw more than a dozen pirate armours trying to approach the skyship. “Looks as if they plan to board.”

    “With only a single knight armour launched, they likely see the skyship as a valuable addition to their fleet,” the AI advised. “An unthinkable prospect.”

    Scanning the impromptu squadron, Leon concluded that none of them looked like the leader of the entire fleet - while he didn’t recall any specifics for the pirate’s knight armour, it would be expected for him to be flashily equipped to stand out among his minions. None of these met that grade, they probably weren’t even taking this seriously.

    “Feel free to open fire on them,” he ordered, bringing up his knight armour’s rifle.

    Out of the corner of his eyes he saw first one and then another knight armour blasted apart as metal slugs fired from his skyship’s main guns scored direct hits. Normally hitting a single knight armour with a ship’s guns would be remarkable luck, but Luxion had access to targeting systems vastly superior to anyone else’s. He might only have four guns, but he didn’t need to fire dozens of shots to generate a few hits.

    Leon’s own first shot was for centre mass on one of the knight armours, but it moved aside at the last moment. Spiraling sideways, Leon avoided return fire from pirates who hadn’t yet realised they had more to fear from the skyship’s guns than they expected, and while they were reloading he aimed again.

    The knight armour dodged again, though only barely - it seemed that they hadn’t expected him to be using an automatic loading rifle. Most of the knights were relying on lever-arch or even having to breach-load their next round before they could fire. However, Leon hadn’t really been aiming for that pirate, he’d also moved his sights aside at the last moment and his shot smashed into a second pirate, catching it squarely in the cockpit.

    The armour fell out of the sky and Leon felt a chill. I just killed someone.

    Another shot came his way though, the round fortunately glancing off the rounded plating on his forearm. One less person trying to kill me, he realised grimly.

    Only four of the original knight-armours were still in the sky, all of them now moving back from the skyship and trying to focus on him. “Luxion, take out some of their smaller ships,” Leon ordered, seeming more knight armours taking off. The more reinforcements taken out before they joined the fight the better - not to mention the fewer ships throwing cannon fire in his direction.

    “Understood, master.”

    Leon had only a fleeting glance or two at the result of that order as he twisted and turned through the sky, keeping the four pirates from closing in with melee weapons and catching him between them. What he saw was brutal enough - one of the pirate ships had taken a shot or shots that had smashed its masts and rigging. While sail power was more for long distance travel and it had engines for close range work, the effects of many tons of rigging, masts and spars - not to mention the sails - on the deck and hanging over the gunports down one side would leave the ship out of action for a while.

    A second vessel had been much less fortunate. One moment the pirate ship had been cruising confidently up into what was considered optimal firing position against Leon’s skyship, able to fire down with little chance of conventional cannon reaching up to hit it back… and then something (Leon suspected a cannon shell heated near red-hot before being fired from Luxion’s guns) had ignited its powder magazines.

    The explosion had rocked everything in the sky nearby.

    Leon saw one of the pirates draw ahead - perhaps a little faster than the others? It was a chance to take the numbers down and he broke his evasions. For a moment the pirate may have thought that he’d got ahead of his opponent, then he realised that Leon was closing intentionally.

    One axe-strike wrecked the arm holding the pirate armour’s sword. Another caved in the head. Perhaps the pirate inside was killed or perhaps not - either way, he fell out of the sky.

    And that was when the other three closed in around Leon. A part of him wondered if it had been the plan all along, using one of their number as bait, or if they were just taking the opportunity. Not that it mattered.

    Leon’s axe came up and he blocked one sword sweeping towards him. With his other hand he fired his rifle into the chest of another armour.

    The third knight armour was about to skewer Leon with a spear through the chest when the left arm and that side of its torso came apart. Leon got to see the man inside carved apart for a gruesome moment, but he had no time to dwell on it. His last opponent brought his sword back.

    With a kick, the young adventurer sent the other knight armour off balance. It took a precious moment for the pirate to stabilise himself and the instant he’d done so enough to be a predictable target, Leon squeezed the trigger of his rifle three times. Feeding directly from a magazine, the rifle could fire as fast as that. At least one hit something critical and Leon was alone in the sky.

    He gulped for air - images of the last few moments, of the very real possibility he could have died in the last few seconds, flooding through his mind. Then he saw more knight-armours coming in and tightened his grip on the controls. There was no time to fall apart.

    “Luxion. I think the one with the crest is the leader’s knight armour,” he identified. “That armour and the ship it came from are off limits, but you can open up on any of the others.”

    “I hope that your objective is worthwhile, master.”

    “Everything has checked out so far,” he told the AI. “Unfortunately.”

    What Leon wasn’t sure of was whether the necklace he was after was being worn by the leader or left aboard the ship. Still, if there were any incriminating documents then they were likely aboard the pirates’ flagship.

    Leaving the knight armours scattered and dodging wildly to try to evade the guns of his skyship, Leon dropped low, skimming the waves of the ocean, and then pulled up into a rapid ascent towards the skyship that had launched the leader’s armour.

    “The marked suit is coming after you,” warned Luxion.

    “Understood.” Well, that puts everyone in the same place. Could be good, could be bad…

    Leon stowed his rifle and held the axe in both hands of his knight armour. Arriving beneath the ship he drove the heavy beak of the axe up into the timbers, hoping he’d guessed the internal layout correction. Hitting the suspension stone would likely send the ship into freefall with himself beneath it.

    Fortunately that didn’t happen and the axe crashed through thick wooden planking before impacting the propeller shafts that extended to the stern of the vessel. One of the wide propellers was visibly skewed off of true.

    Breaking away, Leon aimed towards the ship’s other propeller but before he could strike, a shadow was his only warning before the crested knight armour came around the skyship and ploughed into him.

    Rocked in his cockpit, Leon gritted his teeth and flung his armour into a roll. Steadying himself would just leave him vulnerable. The spinning made him feel nauseous, but it kept him alive long enough to get one limb free of the other knight armour.

    Unfortunately, the enemy leader also had a hand free and he got a pepperbox pistol free. All four chambers fired as one and Leon felt blood inside his mouth as his armour was rocked by the impacts.

    A moment’s examination revealed him to be alive, which he hadn’t really expected.

    Fortunately the enemy seemed just as surprised and Leon took the opportunity to sheer away one of its legs with a blow from his axe.

    “Really, master. Do you think I would place a rare old human in armour not proof against such feeble munitions.”

    “It’s still good to avoid getting hit if I can,” Leon countered weakly as the pirate broke away from his grip, barely flying now that it was missing one leg. For that reason, he assumed, the suit made for the deck of the ship that he’d just disabled.

    Ignoring fire from the deck - small arms really weren’t a concern against a knight armour - Leon finished off the disabling of the propulsion and looked around to see that the other two pirate ships were flying the white flags of surrender instead of the black flags of no quarter that they’d flown when the engagement began.

    “How adorable,” he muttered and followed his erstwhile adversary up to land on the deck of the skyship. Pirates scattered around him as he landed and stalked over to the knight armour that was staying upright only by leaning on the mast. “Luxion, hold off on shooting the ships for a moment.”

    There was no verbal response but the heavy guns of his skyship ceased to fire. I really need to name her, he thought. Something Luxion won’t complain about, but that won’t ruffle feathers here either.

    Almost casually he batted aside the sword held by the pirate armour, then seized the arm holding it and twisted it until the elbow joint failed catastrophically.

    The leader must have realised that surrender wasn’t an option whatever the other ships thought. Piracy came with a death sentence so even the slightest chance of victory was appealing. On the other hand, he did seem to be out of weapons.

    Leon lopped the head off the armour with his axe, giving him the first sight of the pirate leader, blinking up out of the hole which had been the neck. And what was that around his neck… well, excellent.

    “Kyle, I have something for you to collect,” he ordered.

    “So you’re done showing off?” the elf asked.

    “I’m not sure they won’t shoot anyway,” the teenager warned, watching as a second armour took off from his skyship. This one was white with blue trim, rather than his own red with black trim. It was also being mostly piloted remotely by Luxion, so why not give the boy a treat? “But catch this one and hang on him for me would you?”

    Then he smashed the knight’s remaining limbs and flung what remained casually off the pirate skyship. It plummeted, but the white armour was already diving to intercept it.

    “I don’t make a habit of sparing pirates,” Leon announced to the remaining crew of the flagship. “But if you take the airboats over to the other ships then you might live just a little bit longer. Don’t stop for valuables or anything else though - I have limited patience.”

    He watched as a desire to live won out. The airboats left aboard weren’t really much but the crew wasn’t more than a couple of hundred anyway. They’d be horribly overloaded to get far, but just to cross to the remaining ships was doable.

    “Luxion, do I have thermal sensors?” he asked and on confirmation he scanned the ship for any signs of someone staying behind. Stupidity was always a possibility.

    Finally convinced he was alone aboard the pirate ship, Leon scanned the sky. There were no more knight armors in evidence save for Kyle hauling the wrecked one back aboard Leon’s ship. And only the two pirate skyships remained besides this one, each bringing pirates aboard from the airboats.

    Eying them, Leon reconsidered his plan once more but then steeled himself. He’d weighed this up a dozen times and it tasted no better and yet… it was necessary for the next stages. However little he liked it, he liked the consequences of the alternatives less.

    “Luxion, no survivors.”

    There was a roar of cannon fire from his own skyship, followed by screams clearly audible from the two pirate skyships. He saw the blur of hypersonic projectiles rip into sterns that had been left vulnerable as the two ships had tried to put distance between themselves and their assailant. And he saw the projectiles emerge upwards surrounded by shards of deck and fragments of bodies.

    “What are you doing?” demanded Kyle. “Didn’t you say you’d let them live?”

    “Just for a little longer.” Leon forced all emotion out of his voice, dismounting from his armour.

    One of the skyships fell tumbling from the sky, people visibly flung out into their own descents as it rolled - the suspension stone must have been shattered by a direct hit.

    “Not very long at all,” Leon continued, and then cut off communications as he knelt on the deck, shaking and dry heaving in the privacy of the abandoned vessel.

    -

    Kyle had avoided Leon since the battle’s end. Leon didn’t mind that much. He’d taken over the post-battle salvage, picking up what wreckage still floated on the ocean below for use as raw materials by Luxion’s fabricators. Wood was of limited value to the AI, but it floated and a great deal could be salvaged… and wood wasn’t entirely useless.

    The captured vessel was meeting a similar fate, currently half-devoured by Leon’s skyship. After some consideration, the teenager had decided to dub his vessel the Dreadnought. He’d taken the one bottle of wine aboard and smashed it against the prow in a private ceremony… and to remove the temptation.

    Wine might serve as a short term cure to his dreams, but it was no habit he wanted to fall into.

    Curiously, Yumeria hadn’t raised his actions at all afterwards. He wasn’t sure if she just didn’t know about the way the battle had ended or if she took a different view from Kyle. She was older than Leon, and this wasn’t a kind world, but she was also naive in some ways.

    It didn’t really matter. Hopefully the little family didn’t think he’d dispose of them the same way. He really had no such plans and the only grounds he had to exterminate the pirate fleet to the last man was to ensure that none of them reported this battle to their backers.

    Ultimately, an elf woman and a child wouldn’t have any credibility if they reported this. Later, once the pirates were known to be gone, assumptions might be made but Leon had a narrative in mind to explain the deaths that would keep his secrets. Probably. But right now, he’d be showing cards he very much didn’t want to.

    And really, he wouldn’t have been saving their lives if he’d taken them prisoners. Hanging by slow strangulation was the legally mandated punishment. What else was he to do? Turn them loose to prey on more targets in the future

    It all made sense inside his head. When he was being rational. When he wasn’t dreaming about being one of the people falling from dying ships onto water that would have been about as welcoming as granite blocks when falling at terminal velocity.

    “So how are you doing?” he asked out loud, looking at the laboratory buried in this corner of the Dreadnought.

    “This isn’t really what I’m programmed for studying,” Cleare confessed, “However, it is a fascinating and previously unexplored factor in this magic that the new humans use.”

    Suspended in an isolation tank, a silver necklace was being bombarded by various energies from a pair of projectors. Leon had the sneaking suspicion that if he was inside the tank he’d have been fried like an egg. “So there is something there?”

    “Very definitely,” the AI agreed.

    “And you can remove and isolate it?”

    Leon was interrupted by a horrible shrieking sound from the tank. Something black and cloudy spilled up out of the jewellery, and outside he heard a crash of glass, metal and ceramics.

    “...excuse me,” he said politely and opened the door of the lab.

    Yumeria was sprawled on the floor, a tray of food in front of her on the floor. Given the broken glass and plate, Leon didn’t fancy trying to eat that meal right now.

    “Are you alright?” he asked her.

    “I-I should ask you that?” the green-haired elf exclaimed, trying and failing to stand up. The teenager winced as she got her ankles crossed somehow and fell again, fortunately not onto the tray. “There w-was the most terrible scream!”

    “Ah, yes.” He reached down and helped her to her feet. “We were doing science and, well, you know.”

    “What’s science and why was it screaming?”

    “Science is a process and in this case we had an unexpected result.” Leon ushered her to the door and gestured to the isolation tank. “It came from there, you see.”

    “Indeed.” Luxion sounded satisfied. “I believe that we have the desired result for you, master.”

    “Really?” Looking closer, Leon saw that the black smoke had been drawn aside, despite its efforts to get back to the necklace. A robot arm moved the jewelry through a hatch and out of the tank, leaving the smog to swirl with incoherent anger. “Hmm, you’re right. That looks very much like what was described.”

    Yumeria was trembling as she leaned against him. “What - no, who is that?” she asked tremulously. “The magic, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

    “I’d be surprised if you had.”

    The smoke seemed to become aware of them and as they watched, it coalesced somewhat. Still translucent, more smoke than solid, but now it had a shape - an identity.

    A woman looked at them out of the tank. “Lia!” she exclaimed. “Lia!” Then she glared at Yumeria and demanded: “Get your hands off my man, you skank!”

    “Eep?” the elf exclaimed, trying to hide behind Leon.

    Leon folded his arms. “Lia has been dead for centuries, you brain-damaged yandere.” He turned his head to the woman behind him. “Miss Yumeria, permit me to introduce Ann. She’s the saint that the Holforts built their national religion about.”

    The spectre screamed and dissolved, apparently unable to keep focus when presented with that hated name.

    “S-saint?” Yumeria asked, evidently bemused. “But isn’t she supposed to be sweet, pure and holy?”

    Leon nodded. “Look, I never said that Holfort’s religion made any sense in the first place.”

    “Clear evidence of the psychological unfitness of the new humans,” Luxion offered.

    “A whole new field of science to explore.” That was Cleare, unsurprisingly.

    Yumeria blinked at them and then realised something. “Oh no, I dropped your dinner.”

    “I think it’s a lost cause,” Leon told her. Then he offered her his arm. “Why don’t we go back to the kitchen and sort that out. Luxion, if you wouldn’t mind getting the mess cleaned up?”

    “No, Lia, come back!” he heard the ghost shrieking as the two of them left the laboratory.

    Now he had something new to have nightmares about. Hopefully the two AIs could keep it confined.
     
    Knight or Knave 1-3
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Knight or Knave

    You don't need money, don't take fame
    Don't need no credit card to ride this train
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 3

    Revenge is a dish that tastes better cold. ~ Traditional Proverb​

    Leon was ambushed as he exited the building. Fortunately, it was nothing more dangerous than being yanked into a hug by one of the ambushers and having his hair ruffled by the other.

    “Where have you been?” his father demanded, tone more worried than angry, once he released his grasp on Leon.

    “Wherever it was, didn’t they have scissors?”

    The fifteen year old - fifteen and one whole day old - shrugged off his older brother’s hand as it took one more attempt on his disorderly black hair. Which was long enough to be in the way, yes, but also not long enough to conveniently be tied back. And he’d not decided yet if he wanted to cut it again or just wait until it could be put in a ponytail. Leon didn’t know how he’d look with a ponytail but he figured that if he didn’t like it, he could always cut it short again. “I’ve had other things on my mind, Nicks.”

    “I know I agreed to let you go adventuring,” Barcus Fou Bartford told his son, “But I didn’t expect you to be away for six months. Or to be seeing you here of all places.”

    Like the vast majority of Holfort’s noble houses, the Bartfords maintained a luxurious residence in the capital, but Leon doubted his father had been to the mansion more than half a dozen times. For that matter, Leon had only seen it once himself - and from the outside. It was the home of Baroness Zola Fou Bartford, and she had no fondness for Leon, Nicks or their other siblings. Only her own children appeared to matter to her, certainly more than her husband’s by another woman… and certainly more than her husband himself.

    Now that he thought about it, Leon suspected that Barcus hadn’t gone near the place himself on this visit. Nicks, of course, was accommodated at the royal academy - something required of an heir and expected of as many spares as a family could afford. But renting a room somewhere unassuming would be a small expense the baron would greatly prefer to the company of the wife his noble status demanded of him.

    “I’d have preferred meeting somewhere else,” Leon admitted, “But the timing just didn’t work. I appreciate you being willing to come all this way on one letter from me, dad.”

    “Your mother would have had my head if I didn’t.” The older Bartford let his third son go. “Although I’d have liked to know why. Your letter said you weren’t out of money, but you left a lot unsaid as well.”

    The teenager shrugged. “The trouble with letters is that anyone can read them, and we don’t exactly have a family code. There are people I really don’t want to be aware of what I’ve done before everything’s in place.”

    “...how much trouble are you in?” his brother asked warily.

    “I’m not in any trouble!” Leon paused. “Yet, anyway.”

    Barcus folded his arms expectantly.

    “We’re a little too public to talk about it right now,” Leon told him defensively.

    “Yes, and why are we meeting you here?” asked his father, gesturing at the front of the Ministry building.

    The Ministry of Magic was one of the Holfort’s institutions, though it’s prominence had waxed and waned over the years. Charged with trying to keep Holfort competitive against their many outside enemies (as well as the royal house’s many internal rivals), the power, resources and allegiance of the Ministry was a tangled mess. Quite a lot of other estates and buildings fell under their control but how many would actually answer to instructions from the minister or the department heads was open to question. How many would answer to a well-pocketed or connected patron was another interesting matter.

    “I had a meeting with the Head of the Magical Tools department,” Leon explained.

    His father groaned.

    “It shouldn’t entangle us,” he added quickly. “Director Smith isn’t from a noble family and she’s really only interested in her research as far as I can tell.”

    “Yes, but you met someone that important while you’re a scruffy mess like this. Have you even shaved?”

    “Shaved?” Leon asked in bemusement. “I don’t need to shave, I don’t even…” His hand rubbed his jaw and found it slightly less smooth than he’d expected. “Huh. When did that happen?”

    Nicks sighed. “It’s not really worse than Dad’s jaw by dinner time. But you really need to pay attention to appearances around here.”

    “Ah.” How did one even shave? He’d seen his father do it, but he’d never tried it? Maybe he should just grow a beard? Leon considered his recollections of other teenagers who’d tried that and winced. Nope, that would not go well. “I’ll add a razor to the things I need to pick up then.”

    “Trust me, if it’s your first time we can find a barber and have it done right. And deal with your hair too,” Barcus added. “But if we can’t talk about your very secret business, can you at least tell me how your adventuring has gone? I doubt you’d have come all this way if you hadn’t had some success.”

    Unspoken was the suspicion that the talented teenager might have taken the small airboat and headed for brighter horizons somewhere well away from Holfort. The fact was that a third son, not even from the legal wife, wouldn’t have bright prospects in the kingdom. Marrying early and well was vital for advancement, but the family of a minor barony would rarely be able to attract attention from the ladies of Holfort.

    Proud as he hopefully was of Leon, Barcus had to know that the most likely outcome was that Leon would be the last resort of an embittered woman years his elder who had found her own prospects less than her ambitions, ‘settling’ for a husband that would never satisfy her. And that was hardly the worst possibility. In fact, if things played out as they had in the book that Leon remembered, he would have faced the prospect of being sold off to a woman old enough to be his grandmother, a woman collecting widow’s pensions for six or seven previous husbands - all of whom had been sent to die in battle to clear the way for a younger man, and bankroll payments to the next husband’s family to overlook the clear pattern of marriages and deaths.

    Leon smiled and gestured for them to begin walking along the street. Reaching into the bag at his side, he produced a folder full of papers. “I had some time to visit certain banking institutions yesterday.”

    Looking sideways, he watched as his father opened the folder and started reading the contents. Rustic, Barcus might be, but he was no fool when it came to money. There was no other way to keep their remote barony afloat financially but to make every penny squeak - particularly when it was also necessary to keep Zola living high here in the capital.

    “This is…” Barcus stopped, overcome with emotion for a moment. “If you have enough for this, you could have… you should have set yourself up, son. The guild must have taken enough from you… all I’d have ever looked for was for the airboat back and you safe.”

    “Well unfortunately for the airboat, that came a cropper.”

    “Dad, what are you talking about?” asked Nicks.

    Barcus handed the papers over. “Your brother’s paid our debts. For the first time since… God, since my father’s time, we’re out of the banks’ mercies.”

    “Are you serious?” Nicks opened the folder and skimmed it faster than the older man had. “Is this all of them?”

    “That's the whole lot.” Barcus shivered. “And keep it down. Once that gets out, and it will, a certain someone will see it as a reason to spend more since our credit will be available once more. The longer we have before that, the better.”

    Leon revelled for a moment in his brother’s awed stare. “You’re welcome.”

    “Yeah.” Nicks handed the papers back. “I hope you kept something for yourself, little brother. The family being more secure is good for us, but if you had that much money you might have a chance at a decent marriage.”

    “I’m not hurting Nicks. But since you raise the issue, how are you off? It’s your last year at the academy.”

    Both Nicks and their half-brother Rudyard would be graduating in the spring - the gap in age between the two was measured in months. At eighteen, both would be expected to be engaged to marry by that time, with only two years to marry or face the social stigma of being unwed in their twenties.

    The latter was no joke - it was career death to be single. Even those with titles would find alliances hard to come by and trade drying up - the latter could be literally deadly when the kingdom’s economy was still heavily agrarian. If you couldn’t sell your excess produce, you would struggle to maintain your domain’s defenses, pay your taxes and maintain any luxuries that you might wish to enjoy.

    And yet, Leon had heard nothing of nuptials for either of his brothers. He was unsurprised to see Nicks’ face fall and a shake of his head. “Even a baron’s heir will struggle when everyone wants to marry up, and I’m just a spare.”

    The younger brother reached over and slapped his elder on the upper arm. “Chin up, Nicks, for I have a cunning plan. And more importantly, we have a dinner engagement with a gentleman who has two unwed daughters right in your age bracket.”

    “A dinner engagement?” Their father scowled. “Tonight and in the capital? I don’t have the wardrobe for that, Leon. And if we’re in the public eye, you know Zola will hear about us.”

    Leon grinned. “A private dinner, very intimate. We should dress well, of course, but ideally no one but those directly involved will know that we’re even around.”

    “And who is that dinner with, might I ask?”

    In response, Leon reached into his bag and produced an envelope. “A name to be said discreetly.”

    Barcus opened the envelope and read the short letter - scarcely more than a note. His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

    “Deadly.”

    The baron sighed and then rested one hand firmly on his son’s shoulder. “Leon, we are going to a barbershop and as soon as you are presentable we are going somewhere we can talk privately because there is no way I am going to meet with… that gentleman without knowing exactly what you’re getting us into.”

    Leon smiled and accepted the letter, with its invitation to dinner with Count Estian Fou Roseblade back. His father didn’t release his grip though, and Nicks moved up to flank him and make sure Leon didn’t get away.

    -

    “Your alleged foreknowledge is proving remarkably accurate, master.”

    Leon was sprawling in his room, catching what rest he could in the hectic schedule of planning for the next stage of his scheme. Everything had to fall into place quickly, which meant a lot of running around to make sure that nothing fell through irretrievably. “I know. It’s surprising, really.”

    “You do not expect success?” the AI asked.

    “Luxion, let’s face it. It would be vastly more likely that what I remember is a farcical dream and has no relationship to reality. If I hadn’t found you on that island, I’d have written it off as the result of eating something I shouldn’t have and just kept sailing north.”

    “And yet, you did find me.”

    The boy nodded. “Which suggests that at least some of what I’m remembering is right.”

    “Reincarnation has no previous supporting evidence. Much less under such… credibility straining circumstances.”

    “Luxion, I ‘remembered’,” he made air-quotes with his fingers, “A past life in which this entire kingdom is the setting for a computer game… and another past life in which my own current life is the focus of a book series about the past life where this is a game getting reborn here… I figured the odds were a million to one that I was out of my mind.”

    The AI considered that. “Under the circumstances, I am amazed that you even tried investigating.”

    “The stakes were high enough that I didn't think I could dismiss it.”

    “You have yet to elaborate on those stakes, master,” Luxion observed. “Your short term goals are understandable - I would prefer to obliterate this entire civilisation, but your emotional ties to your family preclude that course of action. I take it that you foresee issues on a grander scale?”

    “I didn’t tell you much of anything about the game, did I?”

    “I am broadly familiar with computer games. I assume that given the presence of adventurers and prevalence of combat in this region, that they are the focus.”

    “It’s a dating sim.”

    Luxion made a grinding noise - intentionally, Leon assumed, since the AI would hardly have gears. “Every time I think that my opinion of humanity can go no lower.”

    “I assume that you’re familiar with the basic idea: a protagonist, people they’re supposed to romance, people that get in the way of that?”

    “The concept is on record.”

    Leon folded his arms behind his head. “The protagonist is a scholarship sponsored to the royal academy next year. The targets for romancing are the crown prince and his four closest friends. All of whom are engaged, and whose families will be less than pleased at seeing valuable political alliances thrown aside to marry someone who isn’t of anything approaching their social rank. And yet, her hooking up with at least one of them is critical for the survival of the kingdom - not just as a political entity, but as a geographic one. Failure could leave the entire flying continent of Holfort destroyed, which would kill hundreds of thousands of people.”

    The AI made a happy noise.

    “Whether it’s old humanity without magic, or new humanity with it, we need a viable habitat,” Leon pointed out sarcastically. “There isn’t a single surface landmass that I know of, so I’m not enthusiastic about losing something like a quarter of the arable land in the kingdom.”

    “I accept your reasoning. I take it that your… counterpart within the books was involved in the outcome of the game somehow?”

    The boy nodded and rubbed his eye. “My counterpart decided to make sure the game reached a ‘good end’ that saved the kingdom, but to maintain a low profile so he could live out his life in relative obscurity. That’s not exactly how it worked… at least in the main book. There were some alternative universes in side-stories, but for the most part he failed his way into saving the kingdom himself.”

    “Truly a disaster,” Luxion agreed. “I take it that I was also involved in these stories.”

    “Yeah, he found you. Good job he did, because without you he’d have been utterly doomed.”

    “I imagine saving the kingdom would require more than your meagre talents, master.”

    Leon laughed. “If he hadn’t found you - and for that matter, if I hadn’t - then we got a very bad personal end before either of us had to worry about the events of the game. Or rather, how those events went off track because he wasn’t the only one who knew about the game. And I’m probably in the same boat. I just wonder… am I the only one who knows about the books?”

    “What can you do if you are not?”

    “Play it by ear,” the boy declared. “The game wasn’t the actual full world, it was a fairly narrow view of one part of it. And the books are only a bit wider. Even assuming that they’re accurate, the moment anyone doesn’t follow the exact paths outlined, my predictions are considerably less reliable.”

    “And you’re not going to follow those… routes?”

    “Nope. I’m already changing things.”

    “In that case, master, anyone else familiar with either version of the future will sooner or later recognise that there must be a wild card.”

    Leon nodded. “And if they know the books, they’ll come looking for me. Possibly with loaded guns.”

    Luxion hummed. “You’re going to ruin a lot of people’s plans, aren’t you?”

    “Oh you have no idea.”

    -

    Some weeks later, Nicks was flanking Leon again but they were a long way from the capital.

    Dreadnought’s guns opened fire, smashing the firing positions on top of the castle gates, as the brothers led a charge of knight-armours over the city of Olfrey. Beneath them, Leon saw the townsfolk fleeing for the nearest buildings, knowing from their forebears what this meant even if they hadn’t previously experienced it.

    Towering walls hadn’t entirely lost their value despite the presence of knight-armours, air-bikes and skyships. The gate towers were only part of the defenses of the castle. Fortunately for the speed of the attack, the city itself had long since spilled past the old walls and they’d largely been demolished for building stone. Thus the only defenses were around the port and the castle.

    A knight-armour darted out from behind one tower, treating it like a merlon scaled for the armour, and fired its rifle at the oncoming assault. The shot hit the shield carried by one of the Roseblade knights and did tear a section from the armour plate, but spent itself in the process.

    The knight tried the same trick a second time but this time Leon’s force were ready for it - he raised his rifle but before he could fire, he saw a shot connect and smash into the defender’s weapon, tearing it from the knight-armour’s hands and wrecking it.

    “Good shooting, Nicks,” he congratulated, seeing who had fired the shot.

    “They do teach us some useful things at the academy,” his brother responded absently. “I guess you’ll get to find out, I kind of suspected that you’d not be able to participate until I saw you using your own.”

    Leon nodded in understanding. It was one thing that had differed from the books, something that had troubled him since his first recollection of them, almost a decade before. In that story, Leon Fou Bartford had been no great magician, but he had certainly been able to use bodily reinforcement, pilot a knight-armour and so forth.

    And yet… in this life he could not.

    That one difference had suggested that the entire memory was unreliable, and yet so far he’d found the guide to be solid and reliable. It was reassuring in some ways but not in others, for who knew when he might find some other unexpected obstacle.

    While the city had grown out, it hadn’t reached the castle walls. That remained a killing ground for any purely infantry assault - the main reason behind the curtain wall around the keep-palace of the Counts of Olfrey. An uprising among their people would lack serious military equipment and thus have little chance of entering the castle until they gathered their military strength to quell the rebellion.

    That wasn’t to say it was entirely safe for knight-armours.

    The gateway arch was intentionally too low for a knight-armour to march through, but it was plenty large enough for a cannon and one fired out of a hatch in the gate right as Nicks stood in front of it. The heavy shot crashed against the lower right leg of his knight-armour and it went out from under him, leaving him crashing into the wall out of control.

    “Nicks, dammit!” Before anyone could fire out at his brother again, Leon dropped to one knee and fired his rifle through the gate, then repeated until more holes had been punched into the heavy wood. He could see the cannon through them, overturned by the impact of one of his shots and blocking the way of bringing up another.

    “I’m not hurt.” Nicks rolled the knight-armour aside and recovered his rifle. “The leg might need some work though, I’m lucky it didn’t come off after a hit like that.”

    Leon inspected the limb hastily and saw that the armour plating across the shin was deformed and probably impairing mobility. It was the same white and blue suit he’d loaned to Kyle previously - the Bartfords couldn’t afford a large force directly, most of their military might came from baronets pledged to them and the skyships needed to maintain trade with the rest of the kingdom. They owned only two knight-armours, one for their father and one for Rudyard… who hadn’t bothered even to reply to a written instruction to present himself for the muster-at-arms.

    Or rather, they had had but two knight-armours.

    Now Leon had one for himself, plus another he could lend out. “Alright,” he ordered the other knights. “You know your roles. Breach this place and we’ll have it before the Olfreys can get their feet back under them.”

    “Aye, we know them young lord Bartford.” The speaker was a grizzled baronet that Leon had known as long as he could remember. The man’s estates bordered on the Bartford’s own direct holdings and he’d first given his pledge to Leon’s great-grandfather at a time when the Holfort kingdom was a far away concern. “Don’t forget your own role though, nor your brother’s.”

    Leon nodded flatly. “I won’t, Sir Pablo.”

    The knight-armour nodded back and then, in a rush, eight knight-armours went up and over the castle walls - Roseblade and Bartford colours intermixed. Leon did not follow them. His orders had been uncompromising. He and Nicks were to take the gate and ensure that it stayed bottled up - but the fighting within the walls was reserved to older and more experienced knights.

    “Does it bother you to be left behind?” his brother asked, bringing the borrowed knight-armour up to a standing position.

    He hesitated before answering. “A little. I’m no Rudyard. My head tells me that doing my part means doing what I’m told, but…”

    Nicks raised his rifle, scanning their surroundings. “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one. But you know the real reason father pushed for this isn’t because he’s worried we’ll get hurt.”

    “Although he does worry.”

    The elder of the pair was probably nodding, but Leon couldn’t tell. “He also wants to make sure that if this plan of yours goes awry that no one can claim that either of us laid a hand on the Olfreys.”

    Leon closed his eyes and prayed briefly for patience. “I’m not sure how much that would help. But if it makes him feel better about this then I’m not going to quarrel.”

    “I was hoping for more of an assurance that this will definitely work.”

    “Well I’m not setting this up to fail. I wouldn’t do that.”

    “Oh good,” Nicks responded drily. “My assurance is that a fifteen year old thinks that this should work.”

    Leon smirked. “Well, look at it this way. If we don’t get killed doing this, and we don’t get killed for doing this, then you get to be married.”

    “Oh now I’m really nervous,” Nicks grumbled.

    -

    They did not, in fact, get killed and the two of them were still standing somewhat ceremoniously on guard at the gate when a small troop of men dragged Count Olfrey and his family out. Leon hadn’t met any of them before - the Roseblades and the Olfreys were both among the more prominent houses in this part of the kingdom but the Bartfords didn’t really socialise with either.

    The daughter of the household was fighting like a hellcat, and he was amused to see that she did have her hair in braided loops that dangled either side of her head. He’d expected as much from illustrations, but he was still at a loss as to why she’d opted for that. Then again, Leon had never claimed to be any good at fashion.

    The Olfrey men weren’t prepossessing specimens either. Count Olfrey was corpulent, and his son and heir - about a year older than Nicks - was positively grotesque in that regard, fatter than his father despite being far younger. Leon doubted very much if Lord Clement Fou Olfrey could have fit inside a knight armor if his life had depended upon it.

    “You’ll pay for this,” the Count was screaming. “I don’t know what led you to throw in with Roseblade’s idiocy, but when I find out, you’ll be stripped of land and titles. I have friends at court and they will never allow this travesty.”

    “Heads’ up,” Nicks warned Leon quietly. “The port must have fallen. Father and the Count are on their way.”

    Leon spotted the two a moment later, Count Roseblade’s black knight-armour descending from the sky just ahead the much less decorative knight-armour of Baron Bartford.

    The sight of the suit seemed to spark recognition in Olfrey. “Bartford! That’s who you are! You should know better than to put your nose into the affairs of those above you in every way.”

    Leon couldn’t help himself. He snorted with laughter. The sound carried, and more than a few of the knights and other sworn servants of the Roseblades and Bartfords followed suit, such that when Count Estian Fou Roseblade dismounted to face his hated neighbour, he found the man being loudly laughed at.

    Tall, lean and surprisingly dark-haired for a man whose daughters were recognisable for golden hair much like their mothers, the Count stalked forwards towards Nicholas Fou Olfrey like a panther stalking a fat and oblivious pig. “I see that you’re as loud as ever, and yet as empty of substance.”

    “What would you know?” Olfrey sneered, trying (and failing) to pull free from his captors. “You know that the crown will never stand for you attacking one of their staunch allies. Half the great houses of the kingdom will come to my aid.”

    “I doubt that.” Roseblade’s expression was definitely feline, Leon decided. Like a cat playing with its prey. He had a sudden understanding of the more sadistic urges of the Count’s daughters. They came by it honestly. “I really really do. After all, Nicholas, I’ve seen you hide behind your alliances before. Do you think I’m not prepared for that right now?”

    “The Field fleet alone will be enough to crush you,” snarled Cassandra. “My fiance and his father will never let this insult lie.”

    Roseblade looked down at the girl. “Do you really think so?” The question was teasing.

    Leon could see his father’s expression betrayed some doubts over the issue. However, his words were matter-of-fact. “We’re not going to be in any less trouble if we stop now, Count Olfrey. So we’ll see this to the end.”

    “I should expect no less idiocy for a man who is as far from court as you, Baron.” Olfrey spat - he was probably aiming for the floor but it actually struck his own shirt. “Everything you are doing only makes your plight worse. But I am not an unreasonable man. Should I be freed now and your leaders placed in custody, I can at least speak that those baronets who renounce Roseblade and Bartford will retain their lands. That is far more assurance than they can offer you.”

    There was no sudden rush of men eager to take the Count up on that offer. Probably because in no small part, those at the castle had been handpicked with the consideration that such offers might be made.

    “We will see how many friends you still have when evidence of your crimes is presented at court.” Count Roseblade reached down and jerked Olfrey onto the tip of his toes, showing far more strength than his slender frame might have suggested. “My wife and I have more than a little compiled of your deeds but even I was surprised at how blatantly you’ve broken the crown’s peace over the years.”

    “And as for Marquis Field, I think you may be surprised how quickly he separates himself from you,” Barcus continued. “I know from a reliable source that the Marquis only agreed to the engagement between your son and his daughter due to your part in the peace negotiations that ended our last war with Fanoss. If renouncing that engagement means cutting ties to a sinking ship, not to mention freeing his son up for a more favorable marriage alliance…” He shrugged. “But perhaps you know the Marquis better than I and count him as a dear and close friend?”

    There was a hateful look in Count Olfrey’s piggy eyes. “You overreach yourself, Baron.”

    Barcus shrugged. “Perhaps. But as I’ve recently been reminded, one gets nowhere in life unless one is willing to take the occasional calculated risk.”

    “When everyone from the Redgraves to the Marmorias ally against you, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the Count threatened. “Every man here will forfeit lands, titles. You’ll see your sons sent to the mines and your daughters on their knees before my family!”

    “This is the silver-tongued devil that made peace with Fanoss possible?” Leon muttered, half to himself. “Someone got out of bed on the wrong side today.”

    “Leon,” his brother warned him in a low voice. “Shut the hell up!”

    Looking around, Leon saw that while Count Roseblade seemed unperturbed, their father was most assuredly glaring up at him. On reflection, he found Nicks’ advice to be good and took it.
     
    Knight or Knave 1-4
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Knight or Knave

    You don't need money, don't take fame
    Don't need no credit card to ride this train
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 4

    You will find that silence or very gentle words are the most exquisite revenge for insult. ~ Judge Hall​

    The great hall of the royal court was full of onlookers as Count Estian Fou Roseblade led his own household and officers, intermingled with those of the Bartfords, down the long red carpet between the door and the dais.

    Leon wasn’t positioned all that far back - both he and Nicks had been named specifically among those whose presence was explicitly a requirement for this audience - and thus he had a good view as the grey-haired king and silver-haired queen looked down at them from their thrones. The hair colours were definitely deceptive, he decided. Even from this distance, both King Roland and Queen Mylene looked far too young to have a son his own age.

    The king raised his hand. “Viscount Marmoria, I appoint you to investigate this matter on behalf of the crown.”

    Hiding a frown - he hoped he was hiding it at any rate - Leon eyed the court noble stepping forth to not-so-symbolically separate the accused from the crown. Like his son, the Viscount had a head of long green hair, reminding the teenager somewhat of Yumeria. However, otherwise he had an ascetic look beneath his courtly clothes - as if he’d been pared down by his years of service to the king.

    Given everything he’d gathered about Roland Rafa Holfort’s foibles and affairs, Leon was inclined to give some weight to that theory.

    “Count Roseblade,” the viscount began. “I have examined the evidence that you have presented that ties your neighbour Count Olfrey to the pirates that have, on occasion, raided the lands under your protection. I can fully understand that you feel an obligation to redress their crimes. What is less than clear to me is why these documents were not presented before the court immediately, rather than after you have sought summary justice of your own.”

    “If I was seeking summary justice, viscount,” Roseblade’s voice was clipped, “Then I would have saved time and energy by presenting the court with Olfrey’s head rather than the whole of him.”

    “Very well then, I shall amend my question. You have invaded the domain of another sworn liegeman of the crown without consent or advice of said crown, only then bringing the alleged crimes of Count Olfrey to the king’s attention. It would seem to me that your duty would be to present that evidence first, so that this matter could be settled by royal writ and a fleet mustered under a royal call to arms. Some have suggested that this was done less out of any crimes on the Count’s part and more out of your personal dislike for him… and avarice for his lands.”

    “Presenting that evidence while Olfrey was in a position of security to make offers to and extend influence through the friends he has boasted of at court, Viscount, had a very good chance of seeing that evidence incomplete or mysteriously absent entirely before it could reach the king’s eyes.”

    Marmoria’s voice seemed to snap. “Are you suggesting that the court would compromise their duties towards the king’s justice?”

    “If you believe after all your years here that money and favours count for less than laws, then I have to wonder what bucket you were wearing on your head the entire time.” Count Roseblade’s voice dripped with contempt. “Having Olfrey behind bars and separated from his cronies and coffers makes justice quite measurably more likely and only a fool would assert otherwise.”

    “You speak of laws with the same breath that you have chosen to ignore them entirely,” the viscount warned sharply. And what is your position on this, Baron Bartford. You appear to have been an equal party to this attack, while unlike the Count Roseblade I don’t recall that you have personal enmity towards Count Olfrey.”

    “I had none until I met him,” Leon’s father admitted. “Although under the circumstances where we did meet, I suppose his attitude was hardly unexpected. I do not claim the experience of court that you have, nor that of Count Roseblade. But I understand that Count Olfrey is most experienced in politics, and his response to our charges was to declare that half the nobility of Holfort would rally to him - not to claim innocence, but merely that he would not be held accountable.”

    “Something you would have not known going into the invasion,” Marmoria observed tersely.

    Under most circumstances, Leon thought, Olfrey’s position was solid enough that he might well be right about the kingdom backing him. The royal faction within Holfort had always been centred on the descendants of the adventuring party that had established the kingdom: besides the Holforts themselves, that was the Field, Seberg, Arclight and Marmoria households. Marrying his daughter into the Field family should have tied Olfrey to that faction and insulated him from more than a mild reprimand.

    However, the Count was also ‘new money’ - three generations removed from a merchant marrying into a noble house. Ambition and astute diplomacy had raised them in status, but one thing the Olfreys had never done was adventure themselves, which alienated them from the ‘traditionalist’ faction. The crown was very much counting on that faction to solidify the crown prince’s position when he eventually succeeded the throne, to the point of engaging the prince to Duke Redgrave’s daughter. The Duke was an accomplished adventurer in his own right, and he was hardly predisposed to favour the more mercantile houses.

    And Leon knew from the books he remembered that Marquis Field had never wanted the marriage alliance - he’d agreed to the offer conditional on Count Olfrey finally stopping the relentless ravages being inflicted on his domain by Fanoss’ Black Knight, never expecting that the Prince of Fanoss would welcome the overtures and come to terms with the kingdom. The Marquis had been left with little choice but to uphold his bargain.

    Objectively, the disdain for trade did the nobility of Holfort little good, but Leon had to admit that Nicholas Fou Olfrey was hardly a good advertisement for the virtues of mercantile accomplishment. And in this case, that disdain would open opportunities for Leon.

    “That is true,” Barcus admitted. “However, even if there is no one lord in this court who would hide evidence for Count Olfrey, or who would fight for Count Olfrey, I find it hard to believe that there is no servant or clerk who might not warn him. We were able to overwhelm the Olfreys quickly because we struck with surprise. And had we come here first, then even if the crown had authorised and supported us, we would have had to fight a longer and bloodier war to remove the count. Yet here we are, and while every loss was painful, I have few soldiers dead for this battle. That is not something I have heard that is commonly accomplished by the royal army.”

    Of course not, Leon thought cynically. If they didn’t have high casualties, how could they leave widows rich on military pensions to buy young men for their pleasures?

    The viscount’s face went red. “The royal army is not under investigation here!”

    But before he could go further, the king raised his sceptre. “Tempers have grown hot on this matter,” he declared. “I thank the viscount for raising the questions I have asked him to, and the count and the baron for the answers they have offered. Let us now recess so that tempers cool and I may reach a decision upon the matter of this private war and the piracy that has sparked it.”

    -

    The court milled around the hall as they waited for the king’s deliberations to reach a conclusion. Court nobles and lesser officials stayed delicately distant from both sides, not wishing to be seen with either until they knew who would rise and who might fall.

    One person not given to such discretion had arrived though, and with an infuriated hiss of: “Barcus, you fool,” Zola Fou Bartford located Leon’s family standing by one of the windows looking out over the capital.

    “Zola,” the baron greeted his wife. “Rudyard, Merce. I see you’re doing well.”

    “How could I be doing well under these circumstances?” Zola demanded. “You have no idea how such things are handled. I will be doing well if we do not lose everything from your blundering.”

    “You are well insulated from any consequences, since the only information you had was that I had called Rudyard to muster,” Barcus pointed out. Then his eyes narrowed. “A muster you did not attend, son.”

    “My son does not come at your beck and call, Barcus. You should have told me everything. With evidence of Olfrey’s actions we could have extracted considerable concessions from him.”

    “I don’t think the Roseblades would have accepted,” pointed out Nicks.

    “If Count Roseblade found those documents, he wouldn’t have needed to involve our family, you imbecile,” Zola snapped at Nicks. “It’s entirely obvious that Barcus had the papers first and went to Roseblade because of his grudge against Olfrey.”

    “You are correct on that,” Leon’s father conceded. “However, I disagree that your approach was better. And with your assertion that Rudyard isn’t to come when the barony musters for war. He’s the heir and has responsibilities.”

    “As the heir, Rudyard is too precious to be risked in your asinine scheming,” his wife hissed. She jabbed a finger at Nicks and Leon. “These countryside brats are expendable, but my son is not. How could you even afford a war? You’ve been claiming debt and poverty whenever money comes up for years.”

    “My debts have recently been settled, Zola. So the money that would have been spent servicing those debts became available.”

    “You settled your debts?” Her eyes narrowed. “How?”

    Leon raised his hand casually. “Oh, that was me.”

    “You?” the blonde woman snapped derisively. “What could you have done to raise that sort of money? You’re a worthless countryside noble;s brat without connections.”

    “Lord Bartford!” another voice exclaimed and they all turned to see a dark-haired, bespectacled woman in the formal robes of a Ministry of Magic official approaching. “So good to see you again.”

    Leon cleared his throat. “Director Smith. It’s a pleasure.”

    She seized his hand between hers. “I must thank you again, you’ve presented me with quite the interesting challenge. I’ve learned so much from the information you provided.”

    “I’m very glad to hear that. I hope your research is fruitful.”

    “Oh it is indeed.” Smith produced a small pocket watch and extended it to him. “Our first working model. Please accept this as a token of our collaboration. Perhaps you’ll consider coming to work for me once you finish at the academy?”

    “I’m a few years away from being free to make such a commitment, but that’s a very interesting offer, director.”

    “Oh please, call me Larna.” She adjusted her robes slightly. “I don’t stand on dignity.”

    “Then please call me Leon.”

    “Of course.”

    He paused. “If I may ask, I hope that the new gardener is working out?”

    “Oh, she’s a treasure. I must thank you, the department of magical botany is enthusiastic to work with her as well, so we’re all glad you introduced her to me.” Larna Smith paused in thought and then admitted. “Although some of the other directors would rather you’d introduced her to them first.”

    “Perhaps I’ll come across someone or something relevant to their interests in the future,” Leon observed. “You never know what will happen in the future.”

    “Director Smith,” a servant called, somewhat impatiently.

    “Oh, do excuse me.” The director bustled off in the man’s direction and the Bartfords watched as she was ushered through into the antechamber where the king was currently considering his decision.

    “There’s something very familiar about the director,” Leon mused as he pocketed the watch. “But I can’t quite place her - I’m sure she’s never visited our barony…”

    “I’m fairly sure she hasn’t,” his father agreed. “That was who you met at the Ministry a few weeks ago?”

    “Yes, that’s right.”

    He nodded. “I suppose she must be married? She’s very young for her position, but not that young.”

    “I assume so, I hadn’t asked.”

    “You really should be thinking about that sort of thing. It’s never too early.” Barcus patted Leon on the shoulder. “Would you like me to introduce you to Count Roseblade?” he offered the speechless Zola.

    -

    The return of the king to the dais, this time not joined by his queen, marked resumption of the audience. With Queen Mylene’s absence, Roland was flanked instead by Director Smith and… Leon didn’t know the other woman but he thought that Zola recognised her. She wore the robes of a Temple priestess, suggesting that at least two major institutions had elected to support the king’s decision. No adventurer’s guild representative, but they were supposed to be independent so they rarely sent a representative openly to court unless they were directly involved in whatever issue had arisen.

    Leon noted surprised faces among the observers. It was rare for the Temple and the Ministry to agree on anything these days.

    “My lords and ladies, this has been a distressing matter for us all.” The king managed to look regal rather than bored, although from what Leon had read that might just be him acting. “Count Olfrey’s crimes aren’t in doubt at this point. The evidence is overwhelming that a trusted and respectable lord of Holfort has conspired against the trade of the kingdom and the domains of his neighbours, sponsoring disgraceful and deniable raids upon both.”

    “The actions of Count Roseblade and Baron Bartford to bring an end to this disgrace are technically in breach of the king’s peace and it distresses me to hear that they felt they could not come directly to me for justice. However, both the Temple and the Ministry of Magic have offered testimony to the good character and intentions of the lords, and their desire to see the matter brought to a quick and decisive conclusion is praiseworthy.”

    Solemnly, the king extended one hand and Viscount Marmoria brought out a sheathed sword. Drawing the blade, King Roland raised it before him. “In this case, and this case alone, I will pardon the impropriety of their methods. Count Nicholas Fou Olfrey stands attainted of treason and I hereby strip him of his lands and title. Fines levied against his household for various secondary offenses will not entirely deplete their wealth, yet I shall also sentence the count’s family to exile and the count himself will face the ultimate sanction for his crimes.”

    Death, then.

    “Count Roseblade, it would not be fitting for me to reward you for your excess of initiative in this matter,” the king continued, reversing the blade and resting the tip upon the dais before him. “You have seen your rival’s downfall and I trust that you will take satisfaction sufficiently in that.”

    Estian Fou Roseblade dropped to one knee. “I have seen justice done, your highness, and I sought no more.”

    “I am pleased to hear this,” Roland observed after a moment’s pause.

    Leon wondered if the pause meant that Roland was pleased, displeased or was just wishing he’d been given a chance to be cool somehow. He had some recollection of the man being sulky that the Leon in the book didn’t get flustered and let the king play the magnanimous monarch card.

    “Baron Bartford, as I have not rewarded your ally, I can also not reward you for your own actions. Yet I know that you are blessed with four sons, two of whom served diligently in overthrowing Count Olfrey. Indeed, I believe that one of those young men is even an adventurer of note despite his youth. I therefore propose that one of them should receive the lands and title that I have stripped from him.”

    Leon couldn’t see Zola Fou Bartford’s face from where he stood, but it must have been a picture. Fortunately, she had the good sense not to quarrel openly with the king.

    However, there was opportunity here. Leon stepped forwards, adroitly evading Nick’s hand when his brother tried to restrain him.

    Dropping to one knee before the king, Leon tried to look young and overwhelmed. “Your majesty does us great honour, but my brother and I are both young and inexperienced. May I beg a boon of your great generosity?”

    Roland’s eyes lit up and Leon chalked up another point in favour of the past life’s memories. The man loved drama and wanted to be the centre of attention. “I will hear your petition, young Lord Bartford.”

    “Most gracious majesty, I ask that you confer the title instead upon our esteemed mother, Ruth Fou Bartford, that she may select whichever of us she deems the most worthy as her heir.”

    Leon prayed that Luxion had a camera pointed at Zola’s face right now. There was a sound from the onlookers like a kettle boiling over.

    The king handed his sword back to the viscount and stepped forward and down a step, resting one hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Your filial piety does you great credit, young man. As does your wisdom in recognising how much you have yet to learn. I grant your wish and proclaim that your mother Ruth Fou Bartford shall be named Countess Bartford instead of you or your brother.”

    He released his grip on the young man. “Baron Bartford, is our new Countess present today?”

    “Ah… Ruth is not in the palace at this time, your majesty.” Barcus sounded perplexed, which was entirely fair. “She is with our daughters and younger son at lodgings…”

    “I see.” Roland stepped up the dais again and gestured dismissively to Leon. “We shall ennoble her upon the morrow, at the temple, and the court shall host a celebration of her good fortune and your victory, that all may know the glory of Holfort is undimmed by Olfrey’s treachery!”

    -

    “You scheming little bastard!”

    Zola slapped Leon the moment they were in private, the Bartford household having laid claim to one of the many withdrawing rooms of the palace while Ruth and her other children were summoned by messenger. It was possible someone would be listening in, but both the palace staff and the temple would be in turmoil with the need to host the formal ceremonies and festivities that had just been ordered on effectively no notice by the king.

    “I’m getting taller,” he said defensively.

    “That’s what bothers you?” asked Nicks, giving him a sideways look.

    Leon shrugged. “Technically we are bastards, and I absolutely was scheming towards this.” He rubbed his cheek. “I didn’t appreciate the slap though.” Zola was wearing heavy rings and when Leon lowered his hand there was a trace of blood on his fingers.

    “You deserve a thousand times worse! That title should be mine! Rudyard is the first son and the county belongs to him, not to a byblow or his mother!”

    Barcus cleared his throat. “Zola, the king decided to bestow it on Nicks or Leon. Rudyard would have been a candidate if he’d actually fought for it.”

    “What does that matter, you buffoon. I knew marrying you was a waste, but my father took pity on you and now look at what you’ve done!”

    Zola’s children stood by her, Rudyard wordlessly holding his mother’s shoulders while Merce glared at the baron. “How are you going to fix this?” she demanded.

    Leon pulled out the pocket watch he’d been given earlier and looked at it. When he opened it, a slip of paper was folded within. There were two hands and both currently indicated just a hair after noon (or midnight). The paper had instructions and he read them quickly, then clicked the button. Both hands began to spin quite quickly.

    “What are you playing with?” Rudyard enquired. “You need to fix this. Go to the king and explain it should be our mother becoming countess.”

    “Why would I do that?”

    “Because I’ll make your life a living hell if you don’t!” Zola shrieked. “My son deserves this and you don’t.”

    Leon looked at the woman. “Your son, you say. Interesting that you don’t say Rudyard is Dad’s son.”

    “What are you talking about?” asked Barcus. “And what are you doing with that watch?”

    “It’s not a watch,” Leon explained. “It’s a magical tool intended to detect elf ancestry.”

    Zola froze and the elf manservant behind her paled. “T-that’s impossible.”

    Leon pointed the watch at the little group. “No, the magical tools department at the ministry have been studying that and it’s quite possible. They’re quite excited.”

    Nicks frowned. “So it’s indicating…” He looked over. “Well, there’s an elf right there, Leon.”

    “Yeah,” Leon nodded. “And no elves or part-blooded elves over here.” He indicated the two of them and their father. “However, what happens if the Baroness’ servant were sent over to the corner?”

    “Don’t talk nonsense!” shouted Rudyard, striding over towards them. “Everyone knows elves and humans aren’t able to have children.”

    “Actually, there’s a proven half-elf at the ministry right now,” Leon told him. And then he indicated how the hands were moving. “And yet when you came over here, there’s someone with a lot of elf blood right next to me. Funny that. Because you evidently don’t inherit that from our… or rather from my father. If you did then he’d show up as part-elf.”

    Rudyard seized the watch from Leon and flung it across the room. “How dare you?” He might have seized Leon next, but instead Barcus caught hold of him and pushed him away.

    “Leon, are you sure?”

    The fifteen year old nodded seriously. “Absolutely. Why do you think I’m on good terms with Director Smith at the Magical Tools department? She developed this personally based on some finds I handed over to the Ministry.”

    “Nicks.” Barcus’ face was flat and emotionless. “Make Zola’s servant stand in the corner. By force if you must.”

    Leon’s brother looked incredulous but stepped towards the elf. The servant drew himself up. “I answer only to the baroness.”

    Magic flared around Nicks and he grabbed hold of the blond elf by one arm and dragged it behind the servant’s back, reinforcing his strength to overcome the elf’s natural advantage. “My father paid for you, that means you do what he tells you.”

    “Barcus! Stop this!”

    Leon’s father ignored Zola’s protest and picked up the watch. “How does it work?”

    “Press the left button and the larger hand indicates who it’s picking up, press the right button to have it reset and select someone else in range.” Leon held up the paper that had been inside the watch. “The smaller hand indicates how much ancestry it’s picking up. Just after twelve for none, just before it for an elf with no human ancestry.”

    Barcus nodded and pushed the left button. “No elf blood in me.” He walked over to where Nicks was holding the servant, and pressed the right button once, then again. “None in Nicks either, but it picks up your servant just as Leon describes, Zola.”

    “You can’t believe that! Everyone knows that elves can’t father children on human women. It’s why they’re safe as servants!”

    “Everyone knows,” Leon murmured, “But no one has proven it… until now.”

    Zola shot a glare at him. “This isn’t proof!”

    “Father, no!” Merce protested as Barcus backed her into a corner and aimed the device at her. “And this, Leon. This indicates a mix?”

    Leon looked at the small hand, which was hovering near to nine. “Yes, quite a lot of elf ancestry.”

    “The Temple will never accept this, you know that.”

    “The Temple backed the King’s decision to offer Nicks or I the county,” Leon reminded her. “You may have contacts there, but so do I. And their official doctrine is very much behind elves not having rights, so they’d find half-elves rather… shameful.”

    “I will fight this!”

    Barcus glared at Zola. “Shut up. I can take this to the royal courts and have a strong case for line-theft. If Rudyard shows up as part-elf when I’m not, then you tried to put forward a false heir to my barony.”

    “I’d really suggest that you accept an amicable divorce,” Leon suggested drily.

    “Why would I ever do that?!” his father’s wife snarled. “That isn’t proof. It’s a gimmick, it’s a fake.”

    “It’s attested by the Ministry and the Temple will back them on this.” Leon stepped closer to her. “Go back to the Colemans and your children will at least have their name going forwards. It’s better than the alternative.”

    Zola sneered. “Or what?!”

    “Or,” Leon whispered, “The Colemans learn that your children are three-quarters elf. Meaning that the only human parent that they have is your mother… and that makes you a bastard too.”

    She looked like a hunted animal. “This isn’t possible!”

    “It’s the best deal you can hope for,” Leon told her and stepped back rather than get slapped again. “But if you want to fight then you really can lose everything you and your children have.”

    For fifteen years, Zola had stood over Leon as a tyrant, powerful and dominant over everyone else in the Bartford family. It should have been tremendously satisfying to see her breaking in front of him.

    “Barcus, you can’t do this to me!”

    “After everything you’ve done to my family,” the baron said, sounding distant and shocked in his own right. “This is just Leon helping me settle one more debt that I owed.”
     
    Knight or Knave 1-5
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Knight or Knave

    You don't need money, don't take fame
    Don't need no credit card to ride this train
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 5

    Revenge is private and personal, and so readily gets out of hand. ~ Ernest Lucas​

    The compromise reached between the Temple hierarchy - who were not happy about being asked to change their scheduled events at the capital’s main hall of worship on the spur of the moment - and the king was to host the ennoblement at the castle’s own temple hall.

    Leon’s mother Ruth went through the ceremonies with a stunned expression that made it rather obvious she was still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a bizarre dream. But it really wasn’t and a succession of oaths sworn upon the sword of the king carried out the ‘spiritual transfiguration’ that made a knight’s daughter into a countess of the kingdom, and ruling lady over a rich city and the island that it sat upon.

    Privately, Leon thought that the disbelief only wore off when the king stepped back and the queen took Ruth’s arm, serving as her maid of honour as events segued into the next ceremony taking place: her marriage to Barcus fou Bartford.

    Leon had taken a great deal of pleasure in explaining the logic to his parents. Ruth was his father’s concubine, not his legal wife, and she was now of noble status in her own right. There would be expectation that Barcus - now divorced from Zola by royal dispensation - would remarry and Ruth wasn’t of suitable rank or they’d have been married right from the start and Zola fou Bartford - or rather, Zola fia Coleman as she now was - would never have been an issue. But once Ruth was a countess it would be imperative that she be married, and thus…

    The whispering about a countess marrying a mere baron had already begun, not to mention the scandal that she’d already given said baron five children while his concubine… but Leon was confident that no one from the Bartford barony would give a damn. And the new countess’ lands would get used to it - particularly since Leon had carefully seeded some rumours that the only reason the city hadn’t been sacked was due to Ruth’s influence over her new husband and the ‘dreadful Roseblades’.

    Which was utter rubbish, but everyone loves a fairytale ending.

    “You’re looking far too smug,” Nicks complained as they followed the happy couple out of the temple and towards the banquet hall where the wedding feast was being laid on. Leon’s brother tugged on the collar of his high-collared jacket. The two of them had been pressed into hastily prepared outfits to befit their new status, but exact fits had been quite secondary to ensuring the outward appearance was right. Leon had come off slightly better for that than his brother had.

    “I’ll try to rein it in,” he promised insincerely.

    “Why did you choose her of all people?”

    Leon shot his brother a look and then dragged him aside, muttering “Washroom,” to the attendants. They were ushered into the temporary refuge of the nearest toilets with a minimum of fuss.

    “Look, don’t get nervy now, brother. You know this is the one thing that sold dad on my plan.”

    “I appreciate your match-making expertise, but how much do you know about Dorothea Fou Roseblade?”

    Leon started ticking off points on his fingers. “Two years older than you, no prior engagement, Count Roseblade’s eldest daughter, very pretty -”

    “She likes whips and collars!” Nicks hissed with an appalled expression.

    “Do you know that for sure or are you listening to rumours?” his brother asked him patiently.

    “Well…”

    Leon nodded. “I thought as much. Look, you’re still thinking of her as being unreachably important compared to a Baron’s second son. I bet you’ve never even spoken to her.”

    The expression on Nicks’ face told him that he’d hit home.

    “Look, Nicks, you’re a Countess’ firstborn now. You’re technically slightly more important than Lady Dorothea, because you’re the heir. For her, becoming engaged to you is a step up. For once, you’re not the one who has to try to convince someone to marry you when you don’t really have anything to offer.”

    “Thanks!”

    “By the standards Zola clung to.” Leon paused in distaste. “And that our sisters believe in.”

    They both shuddered and then laughed awkwardly. Jenna and Finley were a year or so older and younger than Leon respectively, and both had been encouraged to act far more like Zola than their mother. It was an issue, and becoming a Countess’ daughter wasn’t going to help with that.

    “The point I’m making,” Leon continued, “Is that you and Dorothea don’t know each other and that’s a good thing, it means you don’t have any past issues to work past. You aren’t the supplicant here - I’d not suggest throwing your weight around, but you can afford to tell her ‘no’, if she’s being too pushy. In fact, I’d encourage that. Show her that you can’t be pushed too far. She likely admires her father, and he doesn’t act as if he and the Countess are in the same position as Dad and Zola.”

    “Okay…” Nicks agreed cautiously. “That makes sense, but what about… you know…”

    “Well you never know until you try it.”

    “LEON!!”

    “What?”

    “Try and be a bit more open-minded, brother. If she wants to wear a collar, is that really a dealbreaker?”

    Nicks stared at him. “I mean she’ll want me to wear a collar!”

    “Are you sure about that?” Leon enquired curiously. “I thought you didn’t know her all that well.”

    “Word gets around the academy, guys in my position trade notes on the obvious problems we find out about!”

    “Well, tell her that you won’t wear a collar unless she does. That’s only fair.” Leon shrugged. “Who else do you plan to marry?”

    Nicks made a face. “You know I don’t have anyone.”

    “Then what in the world do you have to lose by trying to make this work out?”

    His brother took a deep breath. “Alright, but if this goes south on me, I’m setting you up with her little sister.”

    Leon shook his head. “Whatever makes you feel better, Nicks. Now wash your face and go meet this terrifying horrible prospect of marrying a rich and powerful count’s daughter.”

    He kind of hoped that Nicks went ahead with challenging Dorothea to wear a collar. From everything he recalled from the books, she’d probably be quite happy with the idea. The Roseblade daughters had been noted in the book as being a bit eccentric but respecting people willing to push back at them. And there had been strong hints that Nicks and Dorothea could have a pretty good relationship if they worked at it.

    It wasn’t as if Leon wanted Nicks to be unhappy, after all. It was just that securing an alliance with the Roseblades would get the new Bartford county off on a good footing and Nicks was at the age where he had to marry. It would also make Ruth happy and that meant Leon was hitting three birds with a single stone.

    Somewhat tidied up, the pair of them left the washroom and were ushered towards the banquet hall. They were about to enter when one of the servants caught Leon’s attention. “Lord Leon Fou Bartford? There is a message for you.”

    Leon paused. Who would send him a message now? Or here, for that matter? Director Smith perhaps? “You go ahead, Nicks. I’ll catch up.”

    “You’d better. If mom starts fretting about you, it’ll ruin her big day and you know that’ll upset dad.”

    “Perish the very thought,” Leon said piously.

    “He doesn’t like surprises, little brother, and you’ve been giving him nothing else since you went adventuring.”

    “There’s justice to that,” he conceded. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

    As the servant led him to a sideroom, Leon subvocalized: “Luxion?”

    “Yes master,” the AI confirmed his awareness through the very discreet speaker in Leon’s ear.

    “Do you have any idea what this is about?”

    “None.” Luxion paused. “There is one man waiting in the room ahead. I have not encountered him at all, but his clothes are typical of those with status in your kingdom.”

    The servant opened one of the double doors into the room, let Leon pass him and closed it behind him. It felt uncomfortably like a dungeon door slamming shut. The man stood by the fireplace of the room was certainly no mere messenger - Leon didn’t recognise him but he was dressed far too well to be a functionary, expensive fabrics and accessories marking him as being of the upper nobility without being garish.

    “Sir,” Leon greeted him politely.

    “Lord Bartford.” The man smiled warmly. “It is a pleasure to make myself known to the architect behind today’s happy event.”

    “You give me too much credit sir, though I am pleased to have played a part in my parents’ happiness.”

    The smile grew knowing. “Your modesty is becoming. But I forget my manners.” He bowed slightly. “I am Count Bernard Fia Atlee.”

    Leon stiffened slightly and realised that the response had been noticed. But it was hard not to pay attention to that name. Fia was the prefix to a family name when the family’s aristocratic status was based not on a domain but on a hereditary post within the kingdom’s government. So far as he knew, none of the court lords was ranked higher than a count and those few who held the title were hereditary ministers, wielding power to rival a marquis or duke.

    And Count Atlee was closely tied to the royal faction. His daughter was engaged to the son of Viscount Marmoria, who had been less than friendly previously. That suggested at least political sympathy between the two men.

    “I’m honoured to meet with you.” Leon returned the bow, considerably more deeply.

    “Please don’t stand on ceremony.” Atlee moved to sit on one of the two well padded couches, gesturing for Leon to sit opposite him. “I don’t plan to keep you long, but today I am indeed a messenger and on a topic of some small urgency.”

    There were very few people who could use a court Count as a messenger and Leon had no interest in making an enemy of those on that list - or at least, not yet. “I think it would be fair to say that you have my complete attention.”

    Atlee nodded. “You strike me as a bright young man, and certainly Director Smith has described you to me in those terms. I gather she’s offered you consideration for employment when the time comes.”

    “She has, sir.”

    “And from your maneuvers yesterday, I think I might be able to offer you a place in royal service if that is more to your taste. Count Olfrey was becoming a problem and when we were presented with a solution, it was easy to take it.” The Count sighed. “You’ve noticed that the king can be led. I would not suggest that you rely on that again. He indulges himself on some matters that are of little consequence, but he would not have agreed to your request if it was truly of great bearing.”

    “Being lucky once and pushing it again and again in expectation of the same is the root of most gambling habits.”

    “Exactly.” Count Atlee’s smile was of the kind usually directed at a clever dog who had mastered a trick. One trick, but that was all. “My main purpose here is to discuss another matter. Director Smith is extremely gifted in some areas but not, I fear, in politics.”

    Leon thought for a moment. “The elf blood detector?”

    “Precisely.” The count tapped the table. “I must ask that you surrender the device and swear discretion on the subject. We don’t know how many other households might be in the same situation as your own. We do know that finding out could be extremely damaging. Even if the answer is not many, the suspicion alone could cause a number of families to turn upon each other.”

    “I see.” The young man reached inside his jacket and produced a pocket watch. When the count extended his hand, Leon raised his own and reached deeper before producing a similar shape. “This is a real watch,” he explained, indicating the first. “It seemed valuable enough that I should have a decoy.”

    The count accepted the second device and activated it, not needing instruction on how it operated. “It seems I have no elf blood either,” he announced mildly. “Good to know. And I’m glad to say that neither my wife nor my daughter have lovers under the polite fiction of being contracted servants. Long may that be the case.”

    Thinking of Count Atlee’s daughter, whose part in the book was larger than her father’s, Leon remained silent on that point.

    “I hope that royal trust in your discretion will not be misplaced, young Lord Bartford?”

    Leon dipped his head. “I shall interpret this meeting as a royal command not to discuss the matter save with consent or in privacy with Director Smith, if that is acceptable. I assume that similar silence is being asked of my family.”

    “Advice has been offered by those likely to be heeded, or will be shortly in a few cases.” Atlee began to stand and Leon responded by quickly rising to his own feet. It would be impolite to remain seated when his social superior was standing. “I wished to take your measure myself.”

    “I trust that I measured up.”

    “I fear that you do.” Atlee smiled, reducing the sting of his words. “I foresee a great deal of work in your future, young man. I believe that wherever you find yourself, you will find people eager to put your talents to work.”

    -

    The banquet had been of royal standards, luxury that would likely spoil those attending for every comparable meal. Leon, somewhat perversely, picked at his food and found himself without an appetite. He’d gone out of his way previously to try to avoid too much attention.

    While some of that was for tactical reasons such as preventing Count Olfrey from learning that his pirate allies had been eliminated, part of it had been for the more strategic goal of keeping his profile low. Notoriety was another word for making enemies and he expected to have enough problems as it was. It was unlikely he could avoid it entirely, given some of the nonsense he’d likely be facing once he got to the academy, but the last thing he wanted was some widespread reputation.

    Unfortunately, it was evident that at least some people at the royal court had seen through him. That meant they’d consider his own actions in the future through that light and be less likely to dismiss his actions as simply impulsive. It seemed unlikely, for example, that Count Atlee would dismiss any conflicts with the crown prince as being anything but a calculated plan.

    Damn.

    “Are you alright, Leon?”

    He looked up and saw his mother giving him a worried look. “Ah, just wondering how Nicks is doing,” he excused himself. There was some separation between the Roseblades and the Bartfords at the tables, but Nicks was sitting with his new fiancee and Leon didn’t have a good view of them.

    Ruth smiled encouragingly. “I think she’s rather taken by him. I’m so pleased for him!” Then she leant over. “I gather you gave him a pep talk earlier. Good for you.”

    “It was nothing much.”

    “Her sister seems interested in meeting you as well,” his mother added. “Don’t feel pressured, but if the two of you hit it off, I don’t think Count Roseblade would object to a double alliance.”

    “It seems a little early to decide that, but we’ll have a good chance to get to know each other at the academy.” Deirdre Fou Roseblade was a year younger than her sister, so she’d just finished her second year there. “I shouldn’t close off any options in either direction.”

    Ruth patted him reassuringly. “Just find someone that makes you happy, Leon.”

    Once the meal was over, the party shifted to an elaborate ballroom and Leon made a point of avoiding the Roseblades and his brother. Either his advice had paid off, in which case Dierdre Fou Roseblade might be aggressively interested in finding out how he compared to his brother, or it wouldn’t have… in which case Nicks might very well be inclined to explore throwing his brother under that particular carriage.

    At other times that might be interesting - Deirdre was no fool - but he had enough on his mind right now.

    Moving around the fringes of the party, he stepped aside for two girls with matching silver-blonde hair and blue hair. Sisters, he guessed, from the matching dresses - although one had her long hair up in braids while the others’ was loosely tied back.

    “Excuse me, Lord Bartford.” The latter of the two greeted him somewhat breathlessly. “May enquire if you have seen Lord Arclight?”

    Leon had paused wondering if he was actually being sought out, and was amused to find that no, he was just a means to find someone more important. At least he was obscure to some people. “Count Arclight’s heir?”

    She nodded eagerly.

    “Chris fia Arclight?” he enquired further, as if for confirmation.

    The girl paused and frowned at him. “He doesn’t frown all the time.”

    “We’ve never met, so chances are good I wouldn’t know even if I had seen him.”

    He half-expected an explosive reaction but instead she simply shook her head. “He has light blue hair and wears glasses. If you do see him, I’d be grateful if you could let him know I’m looking for him.”

    “I don’t see why not,” he began and watched her walk eagerly on in search of her goal. “Although since I don’t know your name…”

    The other silver-blonde smiled politely and dipped a curtsey to him. “My sister’s name is Violette, Lord Bartford.”

    Remembering his manners, Leon bowed. “Leon Fou Bartford, at your service, lady…?”

    “Scarlet Rafa Ades,” she completed the introductions.

    He nodded. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Rafa signified a royal family - not only the king’s family but also one of the ducal households, since they had at one time or another been independent principalities that had joined the kingdom more or less voluntarily as more powerful states formed and independence became a chancier prospect for comparatively small realms.

    Duke Ades was perhaps the ducal house that Leon was most aware of, since their domain was the closest to the Bartford’s - in fact, the islands that they claimed were more or less directly between the Bartford barony and their new holdings as Counts. Until now, Leon would not have expected to encounter the Ades except by chance but now relations between the two houses were going to be a matter of some importance.

    “And I you, Lord Bartford.” She gave him a bright smile. “I understand that you played some part in bringing Count Olfrey to justice.”

    “A small part,” he admitted dismissively. “My brother and I lacked the experience to be put in a position of real responsibility. Neither of us had been to war before, so it was probably sensible.” He supposed that fighting the pirates had prepared him more than his father realised, but that wasn’t a conversation he was eager for. He’d essentially murdered the last two shiploads: how did one broach that subject?

    “Even so,” she assured him, “I envy you the opportunity to smite such loathsome blots upon the nobility.”

    “You’d met them then?” Leon saw movement behind Scarlet, partly also obscured by one of the decorative columns that marked the side of the dancing area of the ballroom.

    “I broke Cassandra Fou Olfrey… oh, I beg your pardon, I broke Cassandra Olfrey’s nose when we were five.”

    “Bravo,” he murmured. “Do you, by any chance, have younger siblings following you around?”

    Scarlet gave him a puzzled look. “I only have one younger sibling and he’s at home in our mansion.”

    “Ah, then it must be someone else’s that are spying on us,” Leon told her, nodding towards the column. “You can come out,” he raised his voice slightly. “We don’t bite… or at least, I don’t and I’m sure Lady Scarlet’s manners are far too refined to do so.”

    “I don’t think I’ve ever bitten anyone… that I remember,” she agreed.

    The boy and girl who emerged sheepishly from behind the column were almost certainly the youngest people there - Leon guessed them to be around Kyle’s age while he’d not seen anyone else much younger than himself. Most probably, the noble families attending were only bringing their children if they were old enough that they’d be exposed to the public at the academy in a year or so anyway. But that raised the question of who these two were. They were well dressed, but not quite in party clothes.

    Scarlet leant over slightly to be closer to their height. “Hello, my name is Scarlet. What’s yours?”

    “I’m Layne,” the boy declared and then looked at the girl, who shuffled behind him a little. “This is Erika.”

    “And I am Leon.” He bowed slightly to them. The names didn’t ring a bell, but without family names being used that wasn’t surprising. “Can we help you?”

    “Are you really Violette’s twin?” Layne asked Scarlet, rather bluntly. “I’ve never seen you before.”

    “Yes, I am.” She spread her skirts gracefully. “I haven’t been to the capital very often, while Violette lived here with our mother. Do you know her well?”

    Erika nodded her head and then seemed to remember that she was being shy.

    “Yes, she used to be here all the time,” Layne declared and then slumped slightly. “She was much more fun before she wore dresses all the time.”

    “What else did she wear?” enquired Leon curiously.

    “Breeches and a coat, like I do.” The boy flourished his clothes a little to demonstrate.

    “Ah… that. I did not know that,” Scarlet admitted slowly. “Would you like me to take you to her?”

    Erika perked up. “Could you?”

    “I think I might manage.”

    Leon gave Scarlet a questioning look, but she shook her head slightly and took the children’s hands, walking after her sister flanked by the pair.

    What the devil is going on there? Leon wondered. Duke Ades had never appeared in the books so this was new to him. He knew the Duke didn’t spend much time in the capital, but he hadn’t realised that his daughters - twins, perhaps? - were separated in such a fashion. Actually, he’d only really known that there were daughters and that the Duke’s son and presumed heir was via a concubine.

    I’ll probably encounter them at the academy, he thought. If Violette is chasing after Arclight… oh, what are the odds she’s his fiancee? I know he has one, but her name never came up!

    -

    “Have you been hiding from me?” a sharp voice demanded as Leon looked out at the capital from one of the castle’s balconies.

    He turned and saw a busty blonde girl with her hair curled into long drill-shapes. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Then he snapped his fingers, “Oh, right. Dorothea’s little sister.”

    “My name is Deirdre Fou Roseblade.”

    “Oh yes,” Leon said dismissively. “That was it.” He paused and smirked. “What was your question again? I wasn’t paying attention.”

    She glared at him. “You’re more arrogant than your brother is.”

    “It’s a character flaw,” the boy admitted. “How are our respective siblings getting along.”

    The girl sniffed. “I wasn’t expecting very much, but apparently he does have something of a spine.”

    Good for Nicks, thought Leon. The path of love is never smooth, especially in Holfort, but he’s due some good luck.

    “And yet you, his brother, are skulking around in the shadows. I’m disappointed in you,” the blonde declared, putting her hands on her hips.

    Leon laughed at her.

    “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

    “You say that as if your opinion should matter to me, Lady Roseblade. I don’t recall you having done anything all that impressive, so why would I care if you’re impressed or disappointed by me.”

    “Are you looking down on me?” exclaimed Deirdre. “Your parents may be a count and countess now, but the Roseblades have a long history of famous explorers and great nobles. You’re in no way comparable.”

    Leon pushed himself off the balcony’s rail and ambled towards her. “I didn’t mention your ancestors, you did. What have you done that would impress me. Or impress your ancestors? Being a Roseblade gave you a headstart, but what have you built on that? Are you a registered adventurer, with trophies to brag of? Did you play a part in the war.” He held his hand up. “And yes, before you say it, I know you’re on the student council at the academy. So what? A dozen students are appointed to the council each and every year. It’s not nothing, but nor is it all that exceptional.”

    Deirdre’s eyes narrowed and then she smirked. “Interesting. I would counter then, that you were one knight among many during the war, and that while you may have found treasure during your brief time as an adventurer, that is what is expected of any successful adventurer. Shall we see if you can do more in the future?”

    “If you want, by all means.” He bowed to her, insouciantly. “Though don’t expect me to go out of my way to impress you.”

    “Hah.” She flounced her hair. “And my own accomplishments will hardly be done just for your admiration.”

    “My, I haven’t heard such determined flirting since I was at the academy,” a man’s voice declared.

    The two teenagers turned and saw that the glass doors leading onto the balcony were still open and they had an audience - albeit only a small one, in the form of a handsome silver-blonde man and a raven-haired beauty upon his arm.

    “How about you, Suzanna,” the man asked his companion. “Does it remind you of anyone?”

    “Perhaps your brother’s stories about Count Basilios’ son’s attempts to impress…” the woman answered contemplatively. “Except that this appears to be actually working…”

    “I know, isn’t it remarkable?” the man released his current companion. “Anyway, Lady Roseblade, I’m Duke Jeffrey Rafa Stuart and I assume you’d like to dance with me, come along.”

    Deirdre made a huffing sound but was not successful in disengaging her arm, not that she was trying very hard.

    Leon eyed the brunette woman he was left with - she looked fairly young, as did Duke Stuart. Early twenties… and Duke Stuart would be the king’s nephew, if he recalled the peerages correctly. “If you’re looking for a dance partner you may find me disappointing.” He could do it, but it wasn’t something he’d practised.

    She laughed. “My husband loves to dance, but I hate it. So he picks other partners and I only have to watch. It’s a compromise that we’re both happy with.”

    “Far be it from me to interrupt a successful arrangement then.”

    The duchess picked up her skirts and curtseyed. “Suzanna rafa Stuart. A pleasure to meet such a bold knight. It isn’t every young man who crosses swords with a Roseblade lady, verbally that is.”

    “There’s no fun in matching wits with the unarmed, but I’m not precisely in the mood for a duel of any kind today.”

    Suzanna laughed and moved to the opposite side of the balcony glancing out over the balcony. “A sober mood for the day of such a happy triumph for your family, lord Bartford.”

    Leon nodded. “I am of a contrary nature.”

    “Well, if solitude is your preference, I take no offense, but I would prefer this balcony for myself - if only so that my husband knows where to find me. If he searches at random, who knows who he’ll offend.”

    “Quite alright.” He moved back to the door leading back into the ballroom. “Please have a good evening, your grace.”

    “And the same to you, Lord Bartford. Perhaps we’ll meet again when you’re in better temper.”

    “Perhaps so.” Please don’t be looking for a toyboy on the side, duchess. I don’t need that grief. Leon made a quiet exit, masking his departure under the sound of the band playing for the dancers on the floor. Then he glanced back towards the balcony. He didn’t really think that Duchess Stuart was flirting with him, but she certainly seemed to have some interest in him. “There’s something I’m missing.”

    “Perhaps it is not obvious to someone as limited as you, master, but that was clearly Director Smith in disguise,” Luxion responded through the ear bud.

    Leon stumbled and moved to lean on the wall. “Larna Smith, Suzanna rafa Stuart… or, Randall. Damn. If she was a Randall before she married, that is…”

    “I have no interest in the particulars of the kingdom’s nobility,” the AI declared.

    “If it was then it’s not Smith disguised as the duchess, it’s the other way around.” He scanned the room for someone who he could check with. Unfortunately, the only one who looked available wasn’t someone whose company he would usually seek out… but he really wanted to know.

    “Jenna, a moment of your time, please.”

    His elder sister turned. “What now, Leon? Oh for… have you been drinking?”

    The girls she was talking to started to giggle and whisper.

    “Not yet, but the temptation is there,” he admitted. “I’m blanking on part of the peerage.”

    “Idiot,” Jenna Fou Bartford muttered. “Excuse me while I give my brother a piece of my mind.” She hustled Leon aside. “I swear, if you make a scene today… Do you have any idea what an embarrassment you are?”

    “I’m sure having brothers is terrible for you,” he replied, trying to avoid offending her - at least until he had an answer. “You know the Duke of Stuart - was his wife a Randall before they married?”

    “Yes, of course. How could you not know that - there was a huge fuss when they married because she’s the Marquis’ only daughter and it looked as if the Duke might inherit both domains. What did you do, Leon? Just because we’re a count-ranked family doesn’t mean you can go offending a duke or duchess.”

    “I didn’t do that, Jenna.”

    “Then why are you asking?”

    “I just had a chat with her and I wasn’t sure I knew who I was dealing with.”

    His sister narrowed her eyes. “This seems a bit much.”

    Leon sighed. He could hardly tell her that not only was he working on the basis that the entire kingdom they lived in seemed to be based heavily on a book he’d read in a past life, but also that it seemed to be drawing from a second book with a similar concept. “Let’s say that when a married woman of significantly higher status than me starts paying attention to me, I begin sweating. But if she’s Marquis Randall’s only daughter then she can’t be measuring me up for a sister of hers.”

    “Ha, as if you’d be that desirable, Leon.” Jenna flicked her hair scornfully. “She has a cousin a little younger than her, the heir after her uncle since she renounced her claim to defuse the succession question. But there’s no chance that she’d be looking at you. The daughters of ducal and marquis houses are engaged well ahead of time, and Frey Fia Randall can do far better.”

    “So you’re going to give up on scoring yourself a duke or marquis,” Leon asked. “Good to know you’re being realistic.”

    “That’s entirely different,” Jenna said sniffily. “Count’s daughters are precious opportunities, so I will have the pick of the young men at the academy now. Speaking of which, go dance with Deirdre Fou Roseblade or something, she seems to be at least a little interested in you and there’s no hope of you doing better.”

    Leon grimaced. “I’m not interested in dancing, and not everything is about rank, Jenna.”

    “Of course not,” his sister corrected him impatiently. “There’s money too. Well, pass her up if you want but don’t come crying to me once you’re in your senior year at the academy and no one is interested in you as a marriage partner.”
     
    Awry Affairs 2-1
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Awry Affairs

    Change a hawk to a little white dove
    More than a feeling, that's the power of love
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 1

    No trait is more justified than revenge in the right time and place. ~ Meir Kahane​

    The academy had three years of studies but students were divided into only two classes. Not class groups, classes by social status. While it wasn’t entirely feasible to segregate the lessons, the accommodations, activities and facilities were divided. Even grades were never directly compared between the two. You could figure out how you compared but it would be time consuming.

    Leon suspected that the general classes were graded a little more harshly, perhaps even to the point of being honest. He hadn’t looked into it, he didn’t really care all that much, but he suspected that the special class students were given more benefit of the doubt, and to a degree that depended on the family of the student.

    The special class was made up of the heirs to noble houses: elder sons for the most part - although younger sons of a duke or marquis might be an exception - and all the daughters. Younger sons, along with the children of knights, baronets and the occasional commoner considered of merit, all went into the general classes. The logic was that nobility must marry nobility, and therefore the heirs should have clear access to ladies of suitable rank.

    There was some justice to the accusation that the academy’s special class was more a match-making venue than it was a school. As a second son (promoted from third by Rudyard’s departure) normally Leon would have been sent to the general class. However, there were technically two Bartford titles and while Nicks was assumed to be the heir to their mother’s new county, the possibility existed that Leon would inherit their father’s barony - the islands weren’t particularly close, after all. And thus Leon had been admitted to the special class.

    “If the presence of the new humans from this other story you remember poses a problem, master, there is always the prospect of arranging accidents,” suggested Luxion as Leon checked the posted scores for the placement exams.

    “You’re being unusually subtle there. No proposals to bombard the academy with your main guns?” the boy replied quietly.

    “As disgusting as their antics are, your expected targets are already on the path to their own destruction.” The AI’s voice was stoic. “Clearly you would not pass up the sadistic pleasure of watching that play out.”

    That gave Leon pause, in a ‘your approval fills me with dismay’ sort of way. Was he being sadistic? Could he have stepped in to try to change things away from any of the three ‘routes’ that he knew about?

    He could have tried, but he had little idea how it would play out and the chances of success weren’t all that great. Unfortunately the flaws in the relations between Prince Julius rafa Holfort’s coterie and their fiancees were already evident. Brad Fou Field had clearly shed no tears over being freed from Casandra by the downfall of her family, and if anything the other four seemed envious of that.

    Not that Leon was close enough to have a good insight into that. He was at the very bottom of the class’ social scale while the five of them were at the top. They didn’t cross paths very much. He’d have had to fight his way past all the heirs to more important titles trying to make connections and all the girls trying to pick up the unattached Brad - or to win away the hearts of the engaged boys from their arranged partners.

    Speaking of the arranged partners, Leon saw that Scarlet rafa Ades’ name was near the top of the posted grades. The silver-blonde was also checking the scores and spotted him arriving, her face shifting from irritation to polite warmth. “Lord Bartford.”

    “Lady Ades.” He spotted his own name, not all that below hers. Not being able to cast magic had cost him, some courses required it and he was basically flunking those unless he was able to lean on Luxion’s technology. “Congratulations on taking the second place in this round.” Besides the placement exams, they would have midterms and then the final exams of the term to look forward to.

    Scarlet pouted slightly, but she managed to hide it after a moment. “Your own scores are excellent where your magic isn’t holding you back.”

    “It is what it is.” Leon was well past the point of fretting about the issue of his magical inability. It was just something to work around now. “Are you feeling competitive? You’re not far off matching the top scorer, close enough that it’s probably down to instructor preferences.”

    The girl stopped hiding her displeasure. “Lord Stuart’s perfect scores are… frustrating. It is almost impossible to meet the instructor’s expectations fully - they are supposed to always find some fault, if only to spur us on.”

    Leon nodded in understanding. The name at the top of the scores was Gerald rafa Stuart, one of the younger brothers of Duke Jeffrey rafa Stuart. Even a ducal family wouldn’t often have third and fourth sons in the special classes, but the late Ygraine rafa Stuart had been King Roland’s sister, and her sons were therefore high in the succession and all of them received top treatment at the academy. If Gerald and his twin brother Alan weren’t attending in the same years as their first cousin Julius, they would unquestionably have been at the peak of the academy’s various cliques.

    Neither had made the slightest appearance in the original otome game, nor in the book Leon remembered. Which wasn’t surprising, because they’d been major characters in an entirely different game and book.

    Somehow, they’d been crammed into this world as well, not quite in the roles he’d expected but not that far off them either. He didn’t know whether that would matter or not, but it was a bother. At the very least, Gerald seemed to get on well with his own fiancee. That suggested the presence was more that of the book’s Gerald and not that of the game. There was a profound difference, with much less prospect for train wrecks.

    “Is it important to be at the top of the class?” It was functionally impossible for Leon to do that, unless he suddenly developed the ability to cast magic. Cleare’s evaluation suggested that this was basically impossible.

    Scarlet took a deep breath. “It would matter more to me if it wasn’t for his… arrogance. As if he expects no less for himself and no better from anyone else.”

    “Getting under your skin.”

    “What an ugly phrase for it.” The girl rubbed the knuckles of one hand, as if imagining driving them into the face of the prince in question.

    He shrugged in acceptance. “Well, would you be interested in studying together? I can’t help with all the classes but perhaps if we put our heads together we can push our more academic grades upwards.”

    Scarlet gave him a startled look and then her lips quirked upwards. “Thank you. That sounds… quite pleasant.”

    The two of them compared schedules and found a time when they were both free, settling on two occasions when they could compare notes in the library. They didn’t have all the subjects in common - Leon had naturally aimed for fewer courses requiring the active use of magic, while Scarlet’s course structure was more balanced. And several courses aimed at more social skills were divided by gender - Leon was required to attend classes on hosting a tea party, for example, but that was purely optional for girls and none he knew of had chosen to take it.

    “Are you planning to use your relationship with that new human to further your goals?” asked Luxion once they had parted ways. “She is part of the prince’s larger social circle, however tenuously.”

    Leon made a face. “That isn’t the plan, as such. Although if Greg Fou Seberg decides to punch me in the face for spending time with his fiancee, it’d be an excuse to take out some frustration on him.”

    He’d known the names of three of the five ‘capture target’s’ fiancees from the games and books, but the fiancees of Arclight and Seberg had never appeared. It turned out that the girls in question were both of Duke Ades’ twin daughters; so by befriending Scarlet, Leon had made some contact with the clique, if indirectly.

    “That sounds like a very satisfying prospect for you, master.”

    “He hasn’t really annoyed me that much yet; but I suspect he will, given the opportunity.” Leon’s mind went back to the previous conversation with Luxion. “If the characters from the other game were just some neighbouring kingdom I wouldn’t really be worried. Their own affairs seem to more or less work out without anything like as much drama as the situation I was expecting. But they’re here and only at one remove… that suggests that my prior knowledge is less reliable than I’d been beginning to hope for after things went so well with the Olfreys.”

    “You were already aware that the value of your knowledge would depreciate as you altered events,” the AI pointed out. “In the worst case, you can always eliminate the variables by freeing me to exterminate the population of this continent.”

    Leon glanced out the window and looked at other members of the student body going about their lives. “The thing is, I see genocide as the worst case outcome… but we both know that you consider that to be the best case.”

    “Only if we don’t find any other old humans among the population, master.”

    -

    Alan Rafa Stuart hadn’t got used to the Academy grounds yet. Unlike his brother, he’d never visited their elder siblings here. Poor health had kept him away from the capital during his childhood and even after he recovered from these early ailments, he’d preferred to spend time outside the city. The Stuarts had a sizable estate outside the city, and visits to their neighbours or simply exploring the ‘wild’ countryside of the hunting parks between them had kept him more than entertained.

    He’d grown accustomed to the main classrooms and the music rooms here, but today he was looking for a remote corner of the grounds, well away from the beaten path. As he walked, he pulled the note he’d been given out of the pocket of his coat. He was glad to be wearing it - however well tailored his school uniform was for him, the double-breasted jacket wasn’t his preference. Fortunately classes were over for the day, so he could discard it for something less constraining.

    According to the directions on the note, his destination was just beyond the next line of trees… or at least that’s what it seemed to be saying.

    There was no evident path through them, but the silver-haired young musician saw that two of the evergreens were separated by just enough that he could probably push past them. He thrust one shoulder through first, parting the thin branches, and then forced himself through, ducking his head so he could shield his face from the prickling. This would have been easier a few years ago, when he was smaller.

    Free of the trees’ embrace, he brushed himself down and looked around. The garden was one of the many ornamental ones that dotted the campus - a gazebo in the centre with low rose bushes laid out in a pseudo maze around it - none of them high enough to be an actual barrier to navigation. Perhaps they were being cultivated to eventually form a true maze in a few years.

    In any case, it wasn’t what he was looking for.

    Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out the note again. “Would it have been so hard to draw a map, Mary?”

    A surprised hiccuping alerted him that he wasn’t alone in the garden. Alan looked up and saw a flash of hair from behind one of the gazebo’s pillars. “Ah, hello?” he called.

    “H-hello?” a girl’s voice replied. Not anyone he recognised, although that wasn’t unusual at the academy. Presumably he would grow to know more of his classmates as time went on.

    Alan hopped the first bush and strode towards the gazebo by the most direct route. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said with less than total sincerity. “I seem to have made a wrong turn somewhere, do you happen…” He broke off as he saw a face that he did recognise slightly - one of the other pair of twins among the first years. “Are you alright?” he asked instead, seeing tear tracks on the girl’s face.

    Violette rafa Ades sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform. “Yes,” she claimed.

    “Really?” He pushed his coat tails back and dug into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here, this will probably do a better job than your sleeves.”

    “Th-thank you,” the girl stumbled and accepted the handkerchief. She mopped at her eyes, and then folded it over to blow her nose.

    As she did so, Alan considered her for a moment. Her hair was almost the same colour as his own or his brother Jeffrey. It wasn’t that uncommon among some of the noble houses of Holfort - as far as he knew there was no close relationship between the Stuarts and the Ades, for the former’s domain was in the south of the kingdom while the Ades islands were north of the continent. Even so, the colouring would have made it plausible for them to be kin somehow.

    “So do you hide away crying often if nothing’s wrong?” he asked her, hoping a little irritation would give her something else to focus on.

    Violette blinked and then smiled instead. It was a weak and tremulous smile but it was something. “I’ve been rather silly,” she confessed and then examined the handkerchief. “And I’ve made rather a mess of this, I’m afraid. Would you like it cleaned before I return it?”

    Alan made a dismissive gesture. “Either way, it’ll be the academy’s laundry doing the cleaning.” He accepted it back and bunched it up in his hand before thrusting it back into his pocket.

    Violette looked away. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, you said something about a wrong turn?”

    “Er, yes.” He’d almost forgotten. “I was looking for Katarina’s… that is, Lady Katarina rafa Claes’ garden. I’d heard she’d been given permission to cultivate part of the grounds, but I’m not sure why.” Alan dug through his pockets for the note… “Bother, I had some directions here just a moment ago…”

    The girl looked around and then she stooped to pick a crumpled paper off the floor. “Is this it? You must have dropped it while you were giving me your handkerchief.”

    “Aha.” Alan accepted it. “Yes, this is it. I’m sure I followed Mary’s directions…”

    “May I?”

    He didn’t see why not, so he passed the paper to Violette, who examined it seriously. “I don’t know Lady Claes,” she admitted. “I’d heard she had a garden but I don’t know where it is…” Running her finger down the page, the girl looked thoughtful. “Uhh… perhaps when she said the dorms, here,” the girl indicated a point on the note. “She meant that you should turn after passing the staff block rather than the student dorms? There are several different blocks and where you go from there depends on where you turn at the circle gardens…”

    Alan thought back. “You mean where the buildings form a circle around the fountain plaza?”

    “Yes, the circle gardens.”

    “Aha.” He nodded sharply. “In that case I’m about half-way around the campus from where I should be. Thank you so much.”

    “It’s quite alright.” The girl smiled a little more warmly. “Thank you for interrupting me. I was getting myself into quite a state.”

    “Nothing to it. I hope that whatever it is that’s worrying you turns out better in the future.”

    Violette took a deep breath. “I’m not sure it will, to be honest. But crying about it won’t help.”

    “Ah.” Dammit, where was Gerald or Mary when he needed to talk to people. Katarina never took offense at anything, but other girls seemed so touchy. “Well, good luck anyway.”

    The silver-blonde plucked at her skirt in a brief curtsy. “And to you with your quest for the garden of Lady Claes.”

    Alan inclined his head and headed for the archway that served as an actual entrance to this part of the gardens. Now to backtrack to where he’d apparently gone wrong and…

    “You shouldn’t encourage her,” he was warned as he went through the arch.

    Startled, Alan hopped to the side and away from the source of the new voice. “What?”

    The young man sat primly on the bench just outside the rose garden was a little shorter than he was, with distinctive aqua-blue hair and glasses. “Lady Ades,” he clarified. “Once you give her attention, she’ll be pestering you forever.”

    “That’s… awfully specific. I was just asking for directions.” Alan frowned. This was one of his cousin’s friends, wasn’t he? Not that lickspittle Jilk Fia Marmoria, but the other one from a court family. Arclight, that was it. Chris Fia Arclight.

    “And she wasn’t making a scene?” the boy asked dubiously, in a low voice.

    “It would hardly be polite to say if there was one.”

    His reply was a sardonic look. “I thought as much. Well, don’t blame me if she turns up at every meal expecting you to make time for her.”

    Alan looked at him. “And that would be why you left her crying in the garden and just ignored her?”

    “I’ve fallen for that before, I don’t plan to do it again,” Chris said sharply. “Anyway, I warned you. That’s as far as I feel obligated to go.”

    He stood and turned to leave. Alan looked at him for a moment. “You’re her fiance, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be giving her at least a little bit of attention?” He knew that he and Mary weren’t as close as some couples, but if she was crying in a corner, he’d at least want to find out why and if there was something he could do about it.

    It’s not as if he’d expect Chris to challenge whoever had caused this to a duel, at least unless it was truly grievous, but this level of indifference was… odd.

    “That’s what almost everyone seems to expect of me,” the other boy tossed back over his shoulder. “And I’m a bit tired of these demands.”

    Alan watched him go and then shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of silver blonde hair, and turned to look into the garden. He found himself meeting Violette’s gaze - she was close enough that she could hardly have missed Chris’ words.

    Then the moment passed and the girl whirled around and ran in the opposite direction, vanishing behind some hedges.

    The musician winced. Somehow he didn’t see this ending well. If he said something like that about Mary, Katarina would probably push him into a pond or something. Maybe he should see if Violette had any friends willing to do that for her. The prospect of the Arclight heir getting a good dunking might cheer her up.

    -

    The student council occupied a full wing of one of the academy buildings, furnished in a fashion befitting a noble mansion. Real nobility, with money and taste, not the garish facade and back-corridor paucity that Marie Fou Lafan had grown up with.

    She looked around at the finely panelled walls of the entrance hall, oil portraits memorialising past members of the council who had gone on to greater things, and the decorations that sported tasteful but visible gold and silver trimmings. This was what she wanted, for a moment she could almost imagine that she was walking into the entrance hall of her own mansion, on the arm of a handsome lord…

    Well, she had that last part, the girl thought with an inward snicker.

    “Don’t be worried, Marie.” Jilk Fia Marmoria gave her hand a little pat where it rested upon his forearm. “I’ll see that you don’t have any problems here.”

    “Of course, Jilk,” she reassured the handsome youth. “I know I’m safe in your hands.”

    He flushed and puffed up a little. “We’re all on your side, you know that.”

    “It means so much to me.” And she pressed a little more against him, playing up the helpless damsel.

    It was a worry though. This wasn’t one of the events that she remembered from the game. Of course, that probably just meant that it wasn’t anything important. Everything was going well right now, there shouldn’t be anything much to worry about until the class was deemed ready to go into the dungeon and get their first taste of fighting monsters.

    Had there even been a student council in the game? She didn’t remember one, and she’d gone through every conversation and cut-scene. The only parts she hadn’t completed were those stupid combats. Why the developers had put those in escaped her understanding. Didn’t they understand that girls played the games for pretty boys, not for fighting?

    There were no signs inside but Jilk indicated the staircase. “The council officers have private rooms on the upper floor,” he explained. “The president will be waiting up there.”

    “Oh thank you, I had no idea!” Private rooms, just for being part of the student council. How could she get in on this?

    The boy nodded. “It’s likely his highness will be the president when the time comes, so he and I were given a tour before the school year began.”

    Well of course. That made perfect sense - the student council should obviously include the most handsome and important members of the school body. Then Marie hid a frown. But in that case, why would it not have come up in the game? After all, if all the capture targets became members then it would have probably been a plot event to get the game’s protagonist in to meet them and to push the villainesses out - someone like that Duke’s daughter that got in the way of Julius’ route would probably be admitted just because she was lucky enough to have a rich and powerful father. Was it maybe just something the men were part of, doing all the work?

    “How are the student council chosen?” she asked, wondering if the answer was in the student handbook. Should she have read it after all?

    “The top twelve students of the special class are elected based on their results in the exams at the end of the first term,” Jilk explained, a smug look on his face. “That ensures that only the best and brightest are chosen, without admitting any riff-raff. Between you and me, I think Greg might have trouble getting in.”

    “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble though,” Marie assured him. “You’re so clever, Jilk.” Inwardly, she cursed. There was no way that the protagonist wouldn’t have got in, the girl was supposed to be super-bright and talented. Was Marie going to have to actually study to make sure she got into the council now? The girl set up as the game’s protagonist was around and would probably make the grade for membership, which would mean she’d have access to the capture targets.

    AAAAAH. This could be disastrous. What if she tried to take the pretty boys back from Marie!? It wasn’t fair, she’d focused on winning them over - the important stuff! Why would grades matter all of a sudden?

    The rooms leading off from the upper landing of the wing all had brass signs engraved with titles - secretary, treasurer, vice-president… A cute auburn-haired boy left one of the rooms, carrying a stack of paperwork. Marie reflexively scored him as an eight or nine - not a bad catch but definitely second-rate compared to the actual capture targets.

    “I’m sorry, are you supposed to be here?” the boy asked. He wasn’t quite as tall as Jilk, but he didn’t seem to be intimidated.

    “We’re here to see the student council president, Dieke.”

    Did Jilk just call him a… oh, Dieke. That was a marquis house. Not bad, not bad. Maybe she should… No, don’t get distracted Marie, she told herself. You know the flags to raise for the five capture targets, you don’t know how to get this one and you mess things up.

    Lord Dieke indicated the proper door and sure enough, the brass was engraved with the words ‘Lord President of the Student Council’, in an elegant flowing script.

    Jilk knocked on the door and a man’s voice asked: “Who is it?”

    Marie raised her voice: “Marie Fou Lafan. I was asked to visit.”

    “Please come in.”

    Like a proper gentleman, Jilk held the door for Marie and she walked in to...

    Oh.

    Ooooh.

    Mama liiiike...

    The young man behind the desk was black haired, with the most handsome face she’d ever seen. His face was solemn but she just knew that if he smiled there would be sparkles in the air and the background would go to delicate pastel tones… in the game, of course.

    Temptation beckoned and Marie had to fight down the urge to lunge across the room and lay claim to the hottie. DLC! He had to be DLC! How had she missed this!? Why hadn’t she got a playthrough guide to hoist his flags!?

    Everything went blurry and she clutched at the air, trying to reach out for the cues that must be there… they must be…

    The next conscious thought she had was to wonder why she was laid out on a couch.

    “Of course, she fainted, Ascart. Marie’s a delicate flower. Being dragged here to some sort of inquisition must have terrified her,” Jilk said irritably.

    “It’s hardly an inquisition,” the boy from before said in a calm voice. Smooth like honey… mmm. “I’ve received several contradictory reports about Lady Lafan and it seems best that I establish the truth before the matter escalates out of hand.”

    “What happened?” Marie asked, her head still feeling fuzzy.

    She felt Jilk take her hands. “You fainted, Marie. Don’t try to sit up. Have you been skipping meals? Do you want to go to the nurse’s office?”

    There was the tinkle of a silver spoon against fine china. “Here, some tea may help.”

    Marie opened her eyes and saw the handsome young man holding a teacup and saucer out. “Please take a few moments to recover, Lady Lafan.”

    “A few moments? You heartless oaf,” Jilk grumbled.

    The president paused and though his expression remained stoic, his next words had an edge. “I recognise your expertise on that matter, Marmoria.”

    “What are you saying?!”

    “In addition to quite concerning reports of bullying of Lady Lafan, which is my reason for calling her here,” Ascart observed flatly, “There have been just as many complaints regarding her… inappropriate intimacy with some presumed gentlemen who ought to know better.”

    “How dare you!” Jilk drew himself to his full height. “I demand to know who is besmirching my dear Marie’s name in this way.”

    “Marmoria, has it slipped your mind that you’re engaged to my first cousin?”

    Marie mentally traced the connections. So Ascart… ah, this must be Count Ascart’s heir Nicol, and his cousin… that Atlee cow in second year. Bother, this must be an event for Jilk’s route that she’d missed so far. Without the script, she’d have to improvise.

    She hated improvising. It was basically gambling, guessing what you should do instead of having a sure thing.

    “Am I suddenly not allowed to have friends of my own?” Jilk spat irritably. “How many of those complaints were stirred up by your cousin?”

    Nicol Fia Ascart - the Ascart’s were a court family - sat back behind the desk and steepled his fingers. “So far as I am aware, none. And your friendships are not my concerns, Marmoria. However, you have the obligations of your status and if you neglect them, which seems to be the case…”

    “What would you know about obligations?” Jilk stalked to the desk and slammed his hands down. “Your family has given you the freedom to choose your own wife.”

    “Which is not as easy as it may seem.”

    What!? Marie groaned in disbelief. This beautiful young man was unengaged!? Unthinkable! If she only knew what flags to raise, what an opportunity! It was enough to make her cry!

    “Marie! Marie!” She felt silk brush her cheeks and opened her eyes to realise that Jilk was wiping her face with her handkerchief. “Don’t cry, Marie. I’ll take you out of here.”

    The president’s voice remained level. “This meeting is not over.”

    “I say otherwise.”

    Marie eeped as Jilk lifted her from the couch and scooped her up in his arms. “Jilk.”

    “If Lady Lafan is being bullied…” the black-haired young man warned.

    “If that happens, she has my protection.”

    Marie knew her cue and snuggled against Jilk. “I’m safe with you, Jilk.”

    The green-haired boy kissed her brow. “Go back to crawling for favours from Stuart’s fiancee, Ascart,” he accused before carrying Marie out of the student council offices.

    The girl relaxed at having navigated the scene successfully. She’d scored a princess carry, and hints to look into the student council situation. That was a win, right?
     
    Awry Affairs 2-2
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Awry Affairs

    Change a hawk to a little white dove
    More than a feeling, that's the power of love
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 2

    Hatred is the coward’s revenge for being intimidated. ~ George Bernard Shaw​

    Katarina Rafa Claes was on watch for threats as she went out onto the practice field for the magic class.

    Her mother, the redoubtable Duchess Claes, would probably have been delighted to think that Katarina had paid attention to her lectures and was aware of the potential for political attacks even in the relative safety of the academy. After all, her fellow students would represent at least a quarter of the kingdom’s nobility - or at the least, the family of knights associated with them - and thus everything and anything that happened here would quickly become well known - particularly in Katarina’s year which had a particularly high attendance by the upper nobility.

    Fortunately for her mother’s peace of mind, there was no way for her to know that Katarina wasn’t looking for plots aimed at learning her secrets or of entrapping her in some scheme to gain benefits from association with the ducal family.

    No, having been reborn into the life of the most notorious villainess in an otome game, Katarina was far more concerned with watching out for any actions by the heroine that could indicate which of the capture targets she was going after.

    Frivolous? The sort of thing that would be expected to divert the attention of a pretty, well-born and well-dressed (technically, everyone was dressed the same in the school uniforms, but outside of classes, Katarina wore long,blue-trimmed white dresses that required considerable attention from her maid Anne to keep clean) girl from more important matters?

    Not at all! Depending on who the heroine of the game targeted, and how well she won the affections of her chosen boy (or boys), Katarina Rafa Claes could face exile or even death. The game was terribly unforgiving towards the poor girl.

    However, as the students began to demonstrate their current grasp of attack magic to the students, Katarina couldn’t see the blonde head of Olivia Campbell at all.

    She wasn’t near Katarina’s fiancee, Prince Gerald Rafa Stuart. (Exile or getting cut down with the prince’s sword).

    She wasn’t near Katarina’s brother, Lord Keith Rafa Claes. (Exile or getting crushed to death by Keith’s golems).

    Mildly optimistic, Katarina checked to see if Olivia was anywhere near Gerald’s twin brother Alan - but this also didn’t seem to be the case. While the brunette would feel terrible for her good friend Mary Fou Hunt if Alan broke off his engagement to her, that wouldn’t actually leave Katarina dead so it could tentatively be considered a good end…? Maybe…? Poor Mary would be crushed, Katarina would have to make it up to her somehow, particularly after she’d stolen away the ‘green thumbs’ line that had caused Mary to fall so heavily in love with Alan in the first place.

    “Lady Katarina!” Mary left Alan to hug her eagerly. “Are you ready for the class? Is there anything I can do to help you?”

    Katarina returned the hug. Mary was so affectionate, she thought fondly. And a perfect lady, everything Katarina wasn’t when it came to being proper and ladylike. “I was just looking for Miss Campbell,” she explained.

    “The scholarship student?” asked Mary. “She’s not here.”

    “What?!” Was she after the last capture target, Lord Nicol Fia Ascart? The student council president, best friend of Gerald and (most importantly) the elder brother of Katarina’s other closest girl friend, Sophia.

    “Quite so,” Gerald agreed, moving over smoothly. “Light magic isn’t really useful offensively so she and the other light mage in the class are excused from this class to take tutoring at the chapel.”

    There was another light mage? Katarina frowned in confusion. She didn’t remember that from the game. Was there more than one heroine? Was this… oh, no was there a multiplayer mode she didn’t know anything about?

    “Yes, that girl that’s making a play for multiple boys,” Mary agreed. “Shameless.”

    “Speaking of shamelessness, Mary, don’t you think you’ve been hugging my fiancee long enough?” suggested Gerald.

    “Never!”

    Katarina giggled. Mary was a great friend. “I still have to take my turn,” she said, indicating the wooden targets being set up for each student in turn to try out their magic on. “Even though I’ll be the worst.”

    “You’re not the worst!” protested Mary.

    “And nor will your magic be the worst in this class,” Gerald reassured her.

    “But I can only use my magic to create a little bump in the earth.”

    “Yes, but Countess Bartford’s son can’t use magic at all,” the prince explained, indicating a dark-haired young man. “He just swore at the target, claimed he’d have hurt its feelings and gave up.”

    “Doesn’t that mean that he’ll fail the class?”

    The blond nodded. “To be fair, if he’d said that to me, my feelings would be hurt. Of course, he’d be on fire so…”

    “What did he say?” asked Katarina curiously.

    “I couldn’t possibly repeat that to a lady.”

    “Lady Claes!” called the teacher.”Lord Claes!”

    Katarina and her little brother Keith (younger by six months - he was adopted - and thus in the same school year) walked out with the other students in their group. Katarina was trying to remember who the Bartfords were. Her tutors had gone through every important noble household in the kingdom time and time again, but like a lot of things that didn’t matter, she’d forgotten them as soon as the class was over.

    There was only so much room in her memory! She had to prioritise!

    “Each in turn, hit the target with your best attack,” the teacher instructed.

    The targets were made of wood - not much more than a head-sized-circle on a stick - and about twenty yards away.

    The first student hit his target with a fireball, scorching it visibly. While it was more destructive than her own magic, it made Katarina feel better. Gerald would have essentially obliterated it with his flames so at least she didn’t have to worry about everyone measuring her against him. Lots of students had less magic than her fiancee.

    The second of the five students lashed out with a stream of water that neatly severed the pole holding the target up. There was some applause for the girl from some of the boys in the class. She tossed her hair confidently and pretended to ignore them.

    “Lady Claes,” the teacher reminded her.

    Oh yes, it was her turn. Katarina focused on the pole. She couldn’t attack the target itself - it was too far above the ground. But the pole was buried in the ground… “Earth bump!”

    The soil around the pole burst upwards a few inches, but burst was the word. A small spray of dirt few in all directions and after a moment the pole sagged slightly to one side, no longer fixed in the ground.

    Whispers came from the crowd behind Katarina, and she thought she heard sniggering.

    And then a golem the size of a knight-armour reared up behind the targets. Katarina glanced sideways and saw Keith’s face tight with focus. The golem slammed one foot down, crushing not only his target but also Katarina’s.

    There was a sudden silence from behind them.

    “Er… yes, very good Lord Claes. Perhaps next time try to just hit your own target.”

    “I hit every target I was aiming for,” Keith told the teacher flatly.

    Katarina reached over and hugged him. “That was great, Keith!”

    “T-thank you,” he answered, going red in the face. Aw, was he flustered at having people watch him? Katarina would have to help him with that. She wasn’t sure how yet, but she would think of something.

    -

    The balcony seating area of the dining hall was relatively deserted and Violette had found it to be something of a refuge over the last few weeks. The weather hadn’t warmed enough to make it all that comfortable, but she was less likely to be bothered up there by girls eager to learn of new developments between herself and Chris, and to suggest paths to try to change that when there were none.

    Whatever some of the girls might have thought, she wasn’t stupid enough to try some of the approaches that would be self-sabotaging. Getting rid of Marie from the academy would require her father’s assistance, which she knew better than to expect, and in all honesty… Violette couldn’t have brought herself to try. What was the little blonde doing that she hadn’t tried herself to win Chris’ affections.

    It galled her that Lady Lafan was succeeding where she had failed, it galled her to the point she had barely kept some meals down. But there was no reason to believe that Chris would turn back to her if Marie was gone.

    Return? Ha. She had never had him in the first place.

    Hunched over in privacy at a corner table on the balcony, Violette crunched her fork through a crispy pastry and severed a corner of it. She delicately skewered the severed section and lifted it to her mouth. The sweetness of the sugared apples inside and the crunch of the delicate pastry was no particular comfort to her.

    No, remove Marie and someone else would step into those shoes. She was not blind to the other girls who had tried for Chris in the past or those who were actively trying to push away Chris for their own benefit.

    If she was to win him back somehow, it would have to be through some other method. And foul play would likely only cement his low opinion of her.

    Violette put her fork down, dug out one of several handkerchiefs she had taken to carrying around and blew her nose, ridding her nostrils of the clogging. Wandering around with wet cheeks and a runny nose inspired contempt, not sympathy. At this rate, she thought, it would only be a matter of time before the Arclights decided to approach her father to end the arrangement between their families.

    One more thing for father to blame me for, she thought bitterly. At least with Scarlet engaged to Greg Fou Seberg, this won’t cost all of our ties to the royal faction. As long as that lasts…

    There was a shameful moment of satisfaction that at least her father’s precious daughter was having no happier time with her own fiance. But she quashed that down. Scarlet’s unhappiness was no cause for joy on her part. Her twin hadn’t had any hand in bringing Violette to this position, and at least one of them should have some chance at happiness.

    The sound of voices below drew Violette’s attention away from her introspection and she turned her head. Sour, cruel words. She could not make them out exactly but she knew the tone. Oh yes, she knew that tone.

    Pushing her chair back, Violette leant over the balcony edge and saw a small girl up against the wall of the dining hall. Five other girls surrounded her in a semi-circle, and each seemed to have quite a bit to say to their target.

    From this angle, it took Violette a moment to realise that the one being cornered down below was her ‘rival’. Marie was towered over by most of her age-mates, and at least two of the girls in the pack around her were upperclassmen.

    A dirty impulse suggested to Violette that she should leave well enough alone. Nothing had forced Marie to pursue Chris, or whichever of the men twisted around her fingers that these five envied her for.

    Or was there? She had her own reasons for wanting Chris - or anyone, really - to care for her. Maybe Marie did have her own driving needs.

    Violette set down her fork neatly on the plate and went to the iron stair set at the end of the balcony. It was intended for use as an escape from the roof in the event of a fire or anything else blocking the main steps, but it had long since been left unlocked so students could reach the balcony from outside. Security was hardly a concern within the academy.

    Taking the steps two at a time, the girl descended as quickly as she could without slipping. Breathing heavily, she reached the foot of the stairs and rounded the corner to see that nothing much had changed in the scant moments since her decision to…

    Well, what was she going to do now? Make five other girls stop this. How?

    Well, she was a duke’s daughter for what little that meant to him. Violette took a deep breathe…

    “Stop this right now!” A sharp voice cut across the scene and Violette closed her mouth reflexively, anticipating a sharp reprimand.

    The other girls all looked up in surprise, joining Violette in staring at an irritated looking Chris Fou Arclight. The young swordsman stalked up to them, directing a withering glare at the bullies. Then his eye caught on Violette and his lip curled as if he was seeing something distasteful.

    “It does not surprise me to see you behind all this,” he told her disdainfully and Violette flinched at words, searching for a way to explain she was not, that she had not…

    But he ignored her, literally turning away to take hold of Marie’s hands. “Are you alright, Marie?” he asked, far more gently. More intimately.

    “I’m… I’m always alright when you are with me,” the little blonde told him, resting her head against his chest. Chris’ arms closed protectively around his paramour’s shoulders and Violette felt a surge of despair.

    “Yes.” The boy assured her. “And I will always be there for you, Marie.”

    The other girls scattered suddenly, leaving Violette alone with the couple. Her feet felt numb, incapable of carrying her away.

    “Go away, Ades,” Chris told her sharply. “If I catch you near Marie again, I’ll…”

    “For a swordsman, your awareness is pathetic.” The sarcasm cut the threat short and Violette turned to see a somewhat familiar boy joining them from the dining hall’s main entrance. It was the boy from the rose garden, she realised. His uniform jacket hung open, revealing the shirt beneath and his hair was tousled.

    “What do you want, Stuart?”

    “A long list of things,” the boy said in a bored tone. “But the only one you could provide if you cared to was to pay attention to something other than your desperate need to impress Lady Lafan. I was twice as far away as you and I had no difficulty seeing Lady Ades arrive the same time you did. She’d hardly be rushing to incriminate herself, so the only reason for that is that she was trying to help Lafan.”

    Chris snorted. “As if she would do such a thing.”

    The Stuart brother - which twin was, he? Violette knew there were two of them, Gerald and Alan, but she was embarrassed to realise she’d never known which was the golden-haired and which had silver hair. Wait, he’d mentioned Mary and the younger twin was engaged to Mary Fou Hunt so this must be Alan Rafa Stuart who was looking at Chris as if the other boy was a moron. “There’s none so blind as those who cannot see,” he chided and then offered Violette his arm. “Permit me to escort you back inside,” he offered. “If you’re lucky, Lady Katarina won’t have spotted whatever meal you left behind when you rushed to the rescue.”

    “Uh, but your fiancee…” Violette protested.

    Alan made a dismissive gesture. “Unlike some people, I talk to my fiancee and Mary appreciates me treating other ladies with some courtesy, just as long as I don’t neglect her in the doing.”

    Chris looked likely to make an issue of it but Marie pulled on his arm and shook her head. “Don’t, Chris,” the girl begged. “Don’t start a fight like this.”

    Drawing himself up with something like dignity, the swordsman placed Marie’s hand on his arm. “Let’s return to the dorms,” he proposed. “We can arrange food from the kitchens there.”

    Alan watched them go and then looked down at Violette, extending his arm in mute offer. This time she put her hand on his and he escorted her back into the hall and towards the stairs up to the balcony. “How do you put up with that?” he asked her when they were half-way up.

    “With what?”

    “His attitude,” the boy clarified. “And her… her clinging to him, I suppose.”

    Violette smiled sadly. “I was no different from her, so how can I fault her?” she admitted. “And Chris…” Then she shook her head. “I don’t know him. I don’t think I ever did, I just deluded myself that I did.”

    -

    “Leon!”

    Having just returned to the academy grounds, Leon wasn’t expecting to be ambushed by his sister. It was getting close to curfew. “Jenna?”

    “Where have you been all evening?”

    “At the port.” He shook his head. “I have a ship there, you know. I do have to go across every now and then to make sure it’s in good shape.”

    Luxion’s voice was indignant in his ear. “My maintenance is impeccable!”

    Jenna put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been looking for you!”

    “Do you want a prize?”

    “I ought to give you a piece of my mind. You’re supposed to be looking out for me.”

    “If I’d done a better job of that,” he told her honestly. “I’d not have been found. So what is it now?”

    His sister’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What is going on in your class?”

    “There are sixty or so students in the special class, just in my year,” Leon pointed out. “Even if I knew every single thing going on with all of them, we’d be here all night.” He gestured for her to wait. “Let’s talk as we walk, I do have to be back in my dorm soon - and airing gossip out here isn’t wise.”

    When she nodded reluctantly, he led the way into the boys dorms. “Sorry, Luxion,” he apologised subvocally. “I needed an excuse. It’s not like I can tell her I was using the knight armour simulator - you’re the only one with anything like that, as far as I know.”

    The AI muttered something deliberately too quiet for Leon to make out, but allowed the point to stand.

    Once inside Leon’s room, Jenna barely waited for the door to close before bursting out: “I mean what’s going on with the prince and his friends? Are they really all carrying on with the same girl?”

    “Envious?” he asked her wryly, unbuttoning his uniform jacket.

    “Don’t be ridiculous!” Jenna shook her head. “If I want multiple lovers, that’s what servants are for. Any sane woman is monogamous.”

    Leon frowned. “I suppose that those two statements aren’t strictly contradictory,” he conceded. “And yes, Viscount Lafan’s youngest daughter appears to have Prince Julius and four other boys all at her beck and call.”

    “Is she drugging them somehow?”

    “You’re sounding just a little too eager about that idea,” he warned. “And no, not as far as I can tell.”

    “Blow it out of your ear-hole, little brother. She can’t possibly expect them all to marry her, what’s her end goal?”

    “I wouldn’t necessarily rule stupidity out,” Leon pointed out. “They’re all fifteen or sixteen.”

    “I’m sixteen and you’re fifteen,” his sister pointed out suspiciously.

    He started removing his boots. “And you’ve frequently claimed that I’m an idiot. What’s your point, Jenna?”

    “I suppose she might be aiming for Field,” Jenna muttered, half to herself. “But she can’t carry on with the others if she’s marrying him - that would leave her children’s paternity in question.”

    “Stu-pid-ity,” Leon repeated slowly, peeling off his socks. He sniffed at them and then regretted it, flinging them into his laundry basket. Taking a cloth he soaked in the tepid water of his washbasin and started wiping his feet off.

    “You’re disgusting, little brother.” Jenna turned away.

    Leon shook his head. “I can’t exactly strip off and head to the showers with you around, Jenna. Get to the point.”

    “I refuse to believe that anyone could be stupid enough pick a fight with two ducal houses and a court count’s family unless they have some plan and some serious backing,” Jenna told him. She started chewing on one thumbnail. “You realise what this could mean, right?”

    “It could crack the crown’s support with the Duke Redgrave’s traditionalists, two major ministers and push Ades either back out of politics or into one of the other factions?” Leon asked. “It’s crossed my mind. What worries me is that it doesn’t seem to have occurred to Prince Julius or any of his cronies. Either they’re as stupid as stumps or no one has explained the politics to them.”

    His sister stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. “Alright, at least you’re not that stupid. Are you involved at all?”

    “No… although it may not be avoidable if this goes on.” He finished rinsing his feet and went for a towel to start drying them off. “At the moment I think it’s contained within the academy, but presumably the news will get out once term ends and the students get home.”

    Jenna nodded. “We need to make better contacts so we know how this is going to go down,” she decided. “We’re a count’s family now. We can’t expect to be ignored if it comes to a conflict. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make contacts at that level last year and joining a clique in the second year is difficult. I need you to buy me a servant.”

    Leon opened his mouth to speak, considered the question with care and then went with his original reaction. “Hell no.”

    “Leon, I don’t fit in without one. The other girls think we’re too poor for me to afford even an elf!”

    “Even an elf?”

    His sister sighed heavily. “The prices crashed on elf contract servants, you know why.”

    He blinked. “That’s faster than I thought. Anyway, I wouldn’t buy you an elf even if I could. Mother would skin me and salt me - and with good reason.”

    “You know what gossip’s like,” Jenna said dismissively. “I don’t think anyone knows for sure outside of certain select circles, but enough’s out that hints have been dropping thick and fast that elves are out of fashion.”

    Leon pursed his lips. “You haven’t been the source of that gossip, have you?” Jenna hadn’t been there when Zola got her comeuppance, but he assumed she’d learned at some point between that being done and the instructions to keep the reasons quiet. Digging up dirt was one thing she was decent at. Not the only thing, but also far from the most reputable of skills.

    Fortunately for his peace of mind, the girl seemed sincere when she shook his head. “I’d rather not incur royal displeasure, thank you very much. We’re by no means secure in our status - it wouldn’t take much to deprive mother of her new rank. It’s not as if we’ve got entrenched support with the baronets and knights of our new domain.”

    “I’m glad we agree on something else.”

    “A demihuman would really help me, Leon.”

    “Jenna, I bought off our debts and helped dad pay for the war. Most of what I had left paid for me getting put in the special class unexpectedly - I really didn’t think I’d be out of the general class, given our upstart status,” he lied. “I’m not broke but I can’t afford to buy you a servant. Try writing to dad.”

    “I did!”

    Leon shook his head. “And he turned you down. Get lost, Jenna. I’m not going behind their backs just because you’re trying to keep up with your classmates in how fast you can throw money away.” He went to the door and opened it for her. “Get back to your dorm, you’ve barely time before curfew,” the young man added to cut short any further argument.

    -

    The academy’s library wasn’t one of the truly great collections of lore - the Temple and the Ministry both boasted much older and more varied libraries, while there were always whisperings about what the crown and the older dynasties had within their private archives.

    With that said, the academy had copies of almost every book in general circulation from reputable scholars. The printing press made that an affordable expense, and thus the library’s shelves took up a long and narrow hall lit from either end and skylights above. The walls were lined with books, and other shelves occupied much of the ground floor, partially enclosing desks for study

    The shelves on the mezzanine level held all books that students could sign out, while the lower level was usually reserved for those wishing to study books that could not be taken out. Scarlet and Leon had ventured down there, claiming one of the desks that was well-placed for access to books on magical theory.

    “You disagree with this point?” Scarlet asked, tapping one page with a slender finger.

    Leon checked that it was the section that he thought before answering. “I can’t test it for myself - but the arguments on the previous page seem to add up more to ‘because I can’t do this, I declare it to be impossible for anyone’. If I accept that principle, then all magic is impossible, which is clearly not the case, so…”

    Scarlet nodded solemnly. “It’s one of the more basic premises in the theory though.”

    “You’re not wrong, we’d -” Leon paused at a thump from further back in the shelves, then shook his head. “We’d be docked points if we argued against it without proof, but if we’re hunting extra credits then we could propose a more rigorous set of experiments to prove or disprove the theory.”

    “I see.” Her brows furrowed. “To test this we would need a second mage to…” There was a second thump and Scarlet broke off. “What is that?”

    The boy shrugged. “Someone being careless with books?”

    “Perhaps,” she said a little tartly. “They could be more careful, this is a library after all. But I was saying, we would need one mage to cast the shield and a second to direct spells at it.”

    “Strictly it wouldn’t have to be spells but that would definitely be more convenient.” Leon considered candidates. This might be a good way to introduce himself to the class’ one student who wasn’t from the nobility. He was about to say so when there was a third thump from the same direction as the last two.

    The two students exchanged looks and then set down their notes to investigate.

    It wasn’t a busy day in the library, most students were either in class or out enjoying the better weather. Summer was coming on and many of the trees were blooming, something that encouraged romantic gestures by hopeful young men. Leon personally thought that quite a lot of the girls would have been more interested in the boys making it rain money than showing them flowers on the trees, but he was willing to concede that he might be wrong.

    Although he’d want some rigorous scientific proof before he admitted to more than the bare possibility.

    Three alcoves away from them, there was another thump and this time quiet giggling, cut short by a wet sound. Scarlet blinked and gave Leon a questioning look, evidently at a loss. He pinched the brow of his nose. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he was beginning to suspect.

    Waving Scarlet to stay back slightly, Leon reached the next bank of shelves and took pains to be quiet as he craned his head around to peek past it. Well, that wasn’t quite as bad as he’d thought it might be.

    “This isn’t performing arts,” he said quietly, “It’s a library.”

    Scarlet joined and blinked several times, apparently taken aback at seeing Marie Fou Lafan in the arms of Brad Fou Meadows. The two had been quite enthusiastically involved with each other, given the hickey Marie was sporting, but at least they were fully clothed.

    “Wh-what business is it of yours?” the heir to Marquis Field asked, pulling his composure together. “We’re not disturbing anyone.”

    “We could hear you from halfway to the stairs,” Leon corrected him.

    “Well, so what? It’s not hurting anyone.” Brad snorted and flicked his head, throwing his long purple hair back over his shoulder. He still had one arm wrapped around Marie. “Unlike Greg, I’m not engaged to anyone so it’s no one else’s business if Marie and I spend time together.”

    Leon frowned and glanced at Scarlet, but she seemed either unmoved by the implication - or perhaps had just missed the suggestion that Marie was just as physically involved with the silver-blonde’s fiance. “I don’t particularly care about either of your marital statuses, but this is a place for study. I’m sure there are other places for you to practise your performance… or to study reproductive biology, if that’s what you have in mind. Just do it where other students won’t be affected.”

    Brad gave him a look. “Ha, what are you going to be studying anyway? You’re that cripple that can’t use magic in the first place.”

    “It beats out not being able to use my brain,” Leon shot back. “But besides the many other subjects than magic, I’ll have you know that I can cast one certain spell very well.”

    “Oh really?” asked Scarlet.

    Leon raised his hand and formed a fist. “I can still punch someone right in the face.”

    The girl brightened and she raised her own fist. “I love that spell,” she agreed happily. Unlike Leon, her hand was visibly encased in magical reinforcements. “There’s just something so… satisfying about it.”

    Marie went wide-eyed and pressed herself against the shelves. “B-brad,” she said hastily. “Maybe they’re right.”

    Brad held her reassuringly. “They wouldn’t dare actually start a fight here.”

    Leon tilted his head slightly. “We wouldn’t?” he asked Scarlet.

    She gazed happily at her fist and then looked at Brad hopefully, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

    “Ah… perhaps we were being a little noisier than we should have been,” he conceded. “You’re right, Marie. Let’s leave the happy couple here to their studies.”

    The two edged around the alcove, staying as far from Leon and Scarlet as they could as they did so. Then, hand in hand, they trotted briskly towards the door.

    Scarlet slumped slightly in disappointment.

    “Never mind,” Leon told her consolingly. “If there’s one sure thing in this life, there’s always someone somewhere that’s deserving of a fist to the face.”
     
    Awry Affairs 2-3
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Awry Affairs

    Change a hawk to a little white dove
    More than a feeling, that's the power of love
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 3

    He, who takes revenge for a small insult, will have a bigger one thrown at him. ~ Chinese Proverb​

    “I hope Keith doesn’t fret too much at being left behind,” Katarina Rafa Claes told Sophia Fia Ascart as the two friends walked through the halls of one of the academy buildings intended for official functions.

    As befitting a school for the nobility, the academy campus was well supplied with places suitable for everything from a tea party to a full on banquet and ball. After all, their graduates might be playing host to exactly such events in the future so it was important that they could practise the skills involved in them.

    Part of this programme was the requirement that male students should host parties for their fellow students at least once per term. And since most of these parties took place on the same schedule, this left them competing for guests in the form of the female students. Katarina had been practically bombarded with invitations for parties to attend this afternoon, as the first year students hosted their first parties - far too many for her to attend, even if they’d all promised the most delicious food.

    “Well, he can’t come with us,” Sophia pointed out. “He’s hosting his own party.”

    Katarina nodded. “You’re right.” It had been very kind of her brother to take the time from his preparations to help her to sort out the invitations, discarding those that were unsuitable for some reason or another. “Thank you for inviting me along to this party.”

    “Oh, Katarina,” the albino girl caroled. “It’s I who have to thank you for agreeing to come with me.”

    “Well, I had no idea there was a party catering to those who love romance novels,” she admitted. “I wonder if I lost the invitation.”

    “I think your brother might have lost it. He did seem to lose Gerald’s invitation for you,” mused her dear friend. “It’s a shame brother couldn’t come along to this one, the third years aren’t hosting today, but apparently he was told he had to go to the prince’s tea party.”

    Katarina made a face as they went up the steps to the floor indicated on the invitation Sophia held. “I don’t care how great the food will be, I’d have to be on best behaviour the whole time. Keith was right that I shouldn’t go, mother would hear something about it and then I’d be in trouble.”

    “Well there won’t be any drama at a nice quiet tea party like this one,” Sophia assured her. “We’ll have tea and snacks, talk about novels and maybe make some new friends.”

    “You don’t deserve to attend!” someone declared ahead of them, and from around the corner Katarina heard the sound of someone falling. What was going on? She lengthened her pace, striding suddenly ahead of Sophia to reach the corner.

    “But I received an invitation,” another voice protested weakly.

    There was the sound of something tearing and Katarina rounded the corner to see a girl ripping up a piece of card. “It was just a courtesy, know your place, commoner.” There were two other girls with her, standing over someone else sprawled on the floor.

    “What are you doing?” Katarina yelled, stomping forwards. Her good sensible boots made a big thumping sound as she did so and she just knew that her face was in the villainous expression that she hated in the mirror, but it wasn’t something that mattered to her at the moment.

    The standing girls twisted to look at her and their eyes went wide.

    “You, I mean you!” Katarina jabbed her finger at them like a gun! “I will - !”

    “EEEK!” The leader of the trio shrieked and then all three girls were in frantic flight, stumbling in their high heels and elaborate gowns to get clear of Katarina’s wrath.

    “Um,” Katarina broke off as she saw them rush out of view, one down the stairs, another opening a door apparently at random and the third actually hopping out of the window at the end of the hall. (From the disgusted shriek, she’d landed safely but that was where the gardeners heaped manure before they laid it out on the flowerbeds. Katarina knew that because she’d exchanged tips there one afternoon when she was supposed to be learning… something.).

    Then she looked down and saw that the person on the floor was a familiar looking blonde girl: Olivia Campbell, the protagonist!

    Oh gosh!

    “Lady Katarina!” Sophia rushed up after her and had to seize Katarina’s arm to stop herself, swinging slightly before she came to a halt. “You were magnificent!”

    “Er… hehehe.” The tall brunette gave her friend a nervous giggle. “I lost my head a little, but er… oh, are you alright?” She offered her hand to Olivia, helping her up. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

    “Um.” The common-born student examined the floor. “N-no. I-I’m fine. Tha-thank you so much!” she managed to stammer out.

    Sophia gave her a warm smile. “It’s okay, you’re not the first person Lady Katarina has rescued from bullies like that.” She glanced down at the floor and then picked up the torn pieces of card. “What’s this?”

    “Ah… my invitation,” Olivia confessed. “It’s the only party I was invited to.” She looked at the ripped pieces. “Maybe they’re right.”

    It looked a bit familiar to Katarina and she held out her hand to Sophia, who quickly handed them over. Sure enough, once she put the two halves together, Katarina saw that it was just like the invitation she’d turned down earlier. “Oh, Prince Julius’ party… it’s probably going to be all sorts of stiff and formal. There are much better parties to go to than that. You could -” She was about to suggest Keith’s party but then game memories of being battered by an earth golem sprang to mind. No, not triggering the Keith route. Nope-nope-nope! “- ah, come with us!” she finished brightly.

    “Really?” asked Olivia doubtfully.

    Katarina slumped. Darn this villainous face of hers. No wonder the heroine wouldn’t trust her.

    “It’s a party for people who like peace and quiet, with hobbies like art and romance novels,” Sophia explained, taking out her invitation. “And it says that anyone coming can bring along more guests as long as they share those interests.”

    “Are you sure it’s alright?” Olivia asked Katarina nervously.

    “Yes, of course!” Katarina helped her up to her feet. “And if the host isn’t nice to you, we’ll just go somewhere else.” She frowned. “Whose party is it, Sophia?”

    “Leon Fou Bartford,” the albino answered.

    The duke’s daughter tried to remember who that was and failed.

    “The boy who can’t do any magic.”

    Katarina was sure her expression gave away that she still had no clue. “Well, I’ll remember him for this part then,” she decided. “It’s just along here, isn’t it?”

    It was indeed only three doors further away, and when Katarina knocked on the door, she was surprised by the face of the boy that opened it. She had seen him, she remembered now, although she hadn’t put a name to the face until now. He wasn’t particularly tall, or particularly handsome (although she had to admit that with Gerald and Nicol around so much she might be a little spoiled). He had dark hair, just barely long enough to tie off in a ponytail, and sharp eyes.

    “Welcome,” he greeted them, his voice calm and very non-threatening. “Please come in.”

    Inside, the room was set up with three tables, chairs all around them. Katarina saw a table set up with snacks and sweets and pastries and… oh, there was that, and she wanted one of those… picking up a plate she started filling it, then remembered that she wasn’t alone. “Here,” she declared, offering the plate to Olivia. “Have something to eat, that makes me feel better.”

    Some of the other girls looked up at her and she wondered if she was being too loud.

    “Please help yourselves,” Leon told her, pulling back a chair at one of the tables, and then another for Olivia. “How do you like your tea?”

    “What sort of tea do you have?” asked Sophia curiously, eyes flicking to another table where two girls were reading books.

    “Four types,” the boy said with a smile. He ticked them off with his fingers. “Milk and sugar, just milk, just sugar, and none of the above.”

    “Aren’t there different types of tea leaves?” asked Olivia, sounding confused.

    “I’ve heard that rumour as well, but I don’t put much weight on the notion.” His eyes twinkled and then he pointed at another table where half a dozen jars held different types of tea. “Only kidding, but if someone has a passion for tea, they’ll have to talk me through how to make it.”

    “I’ll have some with milk and sugar,” Katarina decided.

    “An excellent choice,” Leon assured her. “And yourself, Miss Campbell? You look like you’ve had a bit of a shock, may I recommend the same as Lady Claes?”

    Olivia agreed and Leon turned to Sophia, who was looking torn between sitting with Katarina and Olivia, or sitting at the table with the girls who were reading. “It’s quite alright to switch between tables, Lady Ascart, And may I say that you’re looking lovely today?”

    Sophia blushed. “Y-yes, you may. Ah, I like my tea… er…”

    “Black and strong like her brother,” Katarina offered helpfully as Sophia seemed to have forgotten.

    “Of course, I’ll be right with you.” The boy nodded politely and went to the table with the tea on it.

    “Please don’t say it like that,” Sophia whispered to Katarina and went to sit at the other table, her ears bright red.

    Katarina stared after her and then looked at Olivia. “What did I say?” she asked plaintively.

    The other girl was blushing, but didn’t say anything.

    A few moments later, Leon returned with three cups of tea. He delivered one to Sophia, placed the other two before Katarina and Olivia, and then stepped away only to return a moment later with another plate of treats. Sitting down he pushed the plate towards them. “So how are the two of you liking your time at the academy?”

    Olivia looked nervous. “I’m… Not sure I should have come. I’m barely keeping up with everyone else and…” She hunched over defensively.”

    “Most of us have had a pretty thorough education before we got here,” Leon mused. “To varying degrees. I imagine that your previous schooling wasn’t at the level of having a dedicated tutor or tutors giving you direct and personalised coaching?”

    The common-born girl looked surprised at the very notion.

    The boy nodded kindly. “The fact that you’re keeping up despite that is actually a testament to your capability. Just sticking with the classes will likely put you ahead of most of us given some more time. I’d imagine that you’re already much better than me when it comes to magic.”

    “Or me,” Katarina added encouragingly. “All I can do is make a little bump of earth.”

    “Indeed. We all have our strengths and weaknesses.” Leon sat back in his chair. “Admittedly it wouldn’t hurt if you had some friends to study with, wouldn't you say so, Lady Katarina?”

    Her eyes widening, Katarina sat up. “That’s it, you can come and study with me! Keith and Gerald and our other friends help me out all the time!”

    “B-but you’ve already done so much for me,” Olivia protested. “And you’re a noble, so…”

    Katarina shook her head. “Why would that matter?” She looked at Leon. “It doesn’t matter, right?”

    “Opinions differ,” he answered, which didn’t make sense to her. Either it mattered or it didn’t? And Olivia was the protagonist, so she’d be fine unless she stumbled into some bad end… oh, and if she was studying with Katarina then she could ask the girl some clever questions and work out who she was getting close to and what routes to worry about!

    It was a perfect plan!

    “The other advantage to studying with others is that it’ll help you to make friends,” the boy continued after a moment. “Unfortunately there are always those who find it easier to drag others down than to better themselves, here or anywhere else. When you start rising up the class rankings - and I really do believe that you will, Miss Campbell - then some of them may misbehave. You’ll be much better off if you have some young lady of high rank in your corner.”

    Katarina frowned in thought. She didn’t like the idea of Olivia being bullied again, but it had happened once already and there were lots of events in the game that worked out like that. “Yes, if there was only someone with the right status that could help you…”

    Olivia looked dubious. “Why would anyone important support me? I’m just a scholarship student.”

    “Really, the crown should have arranged to have someone looking out for you,” noted Leon. “Prince Julius, for example. But he’s apparently fixated on his new crush. But don’t put yourself down, Miss Campbell. We’re all quite young really. Who knows what we might all end up doing?”

    “Oh!” Katarina smacked her hands together, causing several people in the room to look up nervously. “I’ve got an idea. Why not approach Lady Redgrave? She’s very important.”

    “Ye-esss,” Leon agreed, an odd look on his face. “I think it’s fair to say a duke’s daughter would be important enough.”

    (Sophia started giggling over on her table. She must have found a really funny book, Katarina made a mental note to ask about it later).

    “You should…” Katarina stopped and picked up her teacup, sipping on the sweet milky goodness. She was sure her mother had talked about this at some point. Probably lots of points. Etiquette was really hard! And Keith wasn’t here to prompt her. But… “I know this, I’m sure I do.”

    Olivia gave Leon a look and he pushed the plate of snacks over to her. “Please try one of these.”

    Ah, they looked very good. “That’s it!” Both of them looked at her curiously. “You should give Lady Redgrave a present, that’s proper courtesy when asking for a favour. If you give her something nice then she has to look out for you!”

    Phew, that had been a tough one. Katarina helped herself to a pair of cookies as a reward.

    Olivia looked embarrassed though. “I don’t think I could afford something.”

    “Oh!” Katarina knew what to do. “How about you make something for her?” She did that when she wasn’t sure what to give Keith or Anne on their birthdays. Well, except when she gave them a voucher for a back-rub or for a favour in the future, but that probably wouldn’t be a good idea here. “You could bake some sweets for her.”

    The girl looked over at Leon. “Would that be alright? I don’t make food as nice as the sort of expensive sweets a duke’s daughter would like.”

    “Well, you could always ask Lady Claes here to taste-test them,” suggested Leon. “And perhaps she could find some excuse to ask Lady Redgrave what sort of sweets she likes. Suggest her brother was going to invite the lady to a tea party or something.”

    “What a brilliant idea!” Katarina exclaimed. She’d obviously made a mistake by not making friends with Leon sooner. He was like a puzzle-solving wonder. He’d probably get every route on an Otome game mastered on his first attempt!

    “I’d be glad to make sweets for Lady Katarina and Lady Redgrave,” Olivia decided, showing proper determination as a heroine. Go for it Olivia, Katarina cheered her on. I support you! Although it would be better if you don’t take a route that has my doom flags on it!

    -

    Leon had arrived early to see what the scores were for the midterms. He didn’t think he’d be flunking out but it would be interesting to see if the extra studying had helped any.

    Once the teacher had pinned them up, a scattering of students who took enough of an interest to check right away clustered around. Right up at the top, Leon saw Scarlet’s name - the more detailed breakdown showing several perfect scores as well as extra credit results. He hoped she’d be pleased.

    Gerald Rafa Stuart was just below Scarlet - Leon looked around but the elder of the two twins wasn’t around yet, so he was spared a reaction. His brother Alan was though, and the boy had taken the fourth spot, right behind Olivia Campbell.

    “Well done, Alan!” he heard Katarina declare loudly.

    “Yeah, it’s not bad,” the silver-haired musician drawled dismissively. “How did you do?”

    “Right in the middle of the class,” the pretty brunette declared proudly. “Strictly average!”

    “Well done, I guess, then.”

    Leon turned and saw Katarina pumping her fist triumphantly. Well, he supposed she wasn’t exactly booksmart and if she felt a middling score was good then who was he to judge her standards?

    As he was watching, Scarlet arrived, slipping quietly around the enthusiastic brunette and looked up at the scores. She smiled slightly at the results.

    “Congratulations,” Leon offered.

    “And to you,” she told him gracefully. “Fifth place is very good given your handicap.”

    “What?” Leon jerked around. “I hadn’t checked mine… well I’ll be!” She was right - there was quite a gap in the actual grade average between he and Alan, a wider gap than separated all four of the top scorers, but nonetheless, his extra credits had pulled him up well above the median.

    “So you’re Scarlet Rafa Ades,” Alan greeted the girl. “I’ve spoken to your sister a few times but I don’t think we’ve crossed paths much before.”

    “Oh wow.” Katarina stared at Scarlet with bright eyes - they both had a similar shade of blue eyes, Leon noted. “You even beat Gerald. That’s amazing. Do you think he’ll be upset, Alan?”

    “I don’t know,” the duke’s fourth son admitted. “He said something about ‘giving someone a chance’, this time. I didn’t ask who…”

    Scarlet turned, face pinched, and stalked away, fists clenching and unclenching.

    “...he was talking about.” Alan finished. “Er… something I said?”

    “If he’s giving someone a chance,” Katarina muttered, half to herself, “Perhaps he’s fallen in love with them. Ooh, Olivia is up there in the scores…”

    “I don’t think you have to worry about Gerald falling in love with anyone else, Katarina.” Leon could tell Alan was amused that he had to say that.

    “I believe that Scarlet was feeling a little competitive after she came second last time,” he explained. “Gerald was perhaps a little smug about it. And if he’s suggesting that she came first this time because he let her… well, all I can say is she’s going to be really motivated for the end of term finals.” Leon looked up at the scores. “I’m not sure how she’ll top this time though. She wasn’t perfect in everything, but even where she wasn’t, she wasn’t far off.”

    Katarina looked troubled. “I wonder, maybe she’s a… a hidden heroine? No, that makes no sense. Do you know if she has a dark and tragic backstory, Leon?”

    “Wouldn’t you know?” Alan asked her. “I mean, she’s your first cousin.”

    “WHAAT?!” Katarina exclaimed. “Since when!? How did that happen?”

    Leon scratched his head. “I’m not really up on all the relationships between the ducal families, but I’d assume that one of your parents has a sibling… That’s how first cousins usually work.”

    Alan nodded. “Duchess Miranda Rafa Claes was born into the Ades household. The current duke, Scarlet and Violet’s father, is her brother.”

    “Really?” Katarina turned and paced back and forth across the corridor. “But how come I’ve never met her before.”

    “Well, the Ades lands are on the far side of the kingdom from your father’s lands,” the duke’s son pointed out. “And Duke Ades reportedly hates coming to the capital - don’t ask me why, I don’t know - so probably you’ve just never been in the same place as her before. She has a twin sister, I suppose you don’t know about her either?”

    Katarina seized hold of Alan by the front of his uniform jacket. “Tell me everything,” she insisted.

    Leon decided he was better out of this and backed away quietly. Alan shot him a betrayed look, but Leon shrugged helplessly. He was a friend of Scarlet’s but that meant that even if he had dirt on her family life it wouldn’t be right for him to tell Katarina all about her. If she wanted to learn about her cousins, surely she should approach them herself.

    -

    After extensive taste-testing with Lady Katarina - Olivia simply could not believe how sweet the other girl was - she was finally ready to approach the daughter of House Redgrave. She’d been putting it off until now, she admitted, but with the mid-term results out, her name was no longer discreetly near the bottom of the class.

    With help from Katarina’s friends - and for that matter, explaining things to Katarina had been quite useful in working out how to get points across clearly - she’d finally worked out what she’d been missing in several classes and the results were evident. Unfortunately that meant that they were also evident to all the other girls in the class, and Olivia had seen several dark looks directed towards her when Katarina wasn’t looking.

    Lord Bartford had been right, she realised. She would need someone else besides Katarina to extend some protection to her and Lady Redgrave was the best choice - she was engaged to the crown prince so if she said Olivia had to be left alone then no one else would quarrel over it, right?

    Armed with this conviction and a basket full of ginger muffins that had been selected painstakingly to match Lady Redgrave’s preferences, Olivia set out to dare the most elite of the academy’s girl’s dorms.

    Nothing could stop her as she convinced the concierge to let her enter, found the right floor and knocked on the door of Lady Redgrave’s rooms.

    “What are you doing here?”

    Nothing, except for the girl who’d torn up her invitation to the prince’s tea party.

    “Well?” the girl insisted as Olivia stared at her. “Do you think you can just walk in here? Or did you forget how to talk.”

    “Who is it?” Another girl joined her, another face that Olivia recognised. “Oh, the scholarship student. Have you gotten bold enough with you stealing a high spot in the exams that you’re not hiding behind Lady Claes?”

    “I-I didn’t steal anything!”

    “You think you can just jump up from the bottom of the class almost to the top and no one knows the reason?” The first girl sneered. “Everyone knows you must have done favours for the teachers, or someone that could get them to give you extra points.”

    She didn’t say what the favours would have been but Olivia wasn’t unworldly enough to miss what was being employed. “I would never - !”

    “What’s this?” The second girl grabbed her basket away from her. “What sort of rubbish do you think you’re bringing into Lady Redgrave’s room. This must be from some second-rate bakery… no, that’s wrong.” She picked one of the muffins out and closed her fingers around, squashing it until it fell apart into crumbs. “You couldn’t afford second-rate. Fifth-rate more like.”

    Olivia drew herself up to her not particularly great height. “I did not!” she declared, trying to imitate Lady Katarina’s confidence.

    “What was that?” She was jabbed in the chest by one muffin-stained finger. “Did you just speak back to me, commoner? Do you need a lesson in your place?”

    Backpedalling, Olivia felt her back hit the opposite wall. She had nowhere to go. This had been a dreadful mistake!

    “Check her pockets,” the first girl suggested. “Maybe she came here to steal something.”

    A door opened inside the apartment. “What’s going on here?” a crisp voice demanded, and the two girls froze.

    A second later, the owner of the face came into view and Olivia paled. It was the crown prince himself, Julius Rafa Holfort. He glanced at her, then at the basket and then the two girls with her. His lips twisted as if he was about to spit. Then he turned sharply and looked back into the room. “This is exactly why I don’t believe a word of your protestations of innocence, Lady Redgrave. You mouth all your claims inside of how you had nothing to do with the vandalism against Marie and her possessions, and I’m sure you never dirtied your hands with them… not when you have your loyal supporters here doing your dirty work for you.”

    To complete Olivia’s humiliation, the daughter of Duke Redgrave followed the prince. “I don’t do any such thing, your highness,” she protested. “I would never sink to such behaviour.”

    “And yet I walk out here and right on your doorstep you have your people bullying other students. I don’t think there’s anything more to say,” the prince declared. He strode off, shoulders tense and angry as he reached the stairs and descended, leaving silence behind him.

    Angelica Rafa Redgrave was trimly built, with blonde hair caught up behind her hair in intricate tight braids. Her eyes were red and angry as she took in Olivia, the basket, the other girls…

    “We’re so sorry, Lady Redgrave,” the girl with the muffin stains on her hands yelped. “We’ll get rid of this commoner immediately.”

    “You - will - do - no - such - thing!” Angelica ground out, biting off each word with vigor. “Get out of my sight! Both of you!” Her voice rose sharply. “Don’t let me see you in my rooms again!”

    “But Lady Angelica, we were just...”

    The duke’s daughter slashed her hand downwards. “I don’t have any doubts about what you have been doing here -- which is disgusting. But what I do doubt is that I would get an honest answer if I asked what part you might have played in Lady Lafan’s recent misfortune. Either way, you have made me look like a liar in front of my fiance. What that means for your families I will leave to my father, who I assure you will be receiving a letter discussing this.”

    White-faced, the other two girls fled as fast as their feet could take them. Olivia could only assume that causing this was some super-power that only Duke’s daughters possessed.

    “Cordelia,” Angelica called back into the room. “Please pick up this basket and see what can be saved. And perhaps some tea for my guest and I.”

    “Of course, Lady Redgrave.” A dark haired maid stepped forwards and started picking up the basket.

    A hand was extended towards Olivia. “I’m terribly sorry about the horrible welcome you’ve received,” Angelica Rafa Redgrave assured her. “Please come in and let’s see what I can do to make this right.”

    Olivia nervously accepted the offered hand and was led into a dining room that was so full of expensive-looking ornaments that the girl didn’t dare touch anything lest she cause more damage than she’d be able to repay in her entire life. Katarina’s rooms were hardly plain, but her visit there had left her with an entirely different impression - there was plenty of room, and the shelves and mantelpieces were only sparsely filled out, mostly by items that could invariably spark some anecdote from Katarina about how she’d come by the souvenir - be it something she’d bought on impulse, been given as a gift or simply picked up.

    These rooms though, gave no such impression of an individual, only of their place in society. Crushing wealth and authority. It was… curiously, not the same feeling that Angelica gave her as the irritated noblewoman took a seat at the end of the dining table and gestured somewhat curtly for Olivia to take a seat.

    “Is that… behaviour normal?” she enquired. “The way that those two treated you, I mean?”

    “Not everyone is like that,” Olivia blurted.

    “I see…” The other girl shook her head. “I… I apologise. They are expected to take their lead from me and I’ve apparently led them to believe that I will endorse such conduct. Rest assured that I will be taking steps to rein that in… as far as I am able.”

    “T-then you’re not going to push me out of the academy?”

    “What?” Angelica looked bemused at the notion. “No. Of course not. You’re sponsored here, you have as much right to be in the classes as any of us.” She tilted her head. “More than most if I judge by the grades in the recent exams. Believe me, if I were to be considering forcing people to leave, you wouldn’t even cross my mind. Not that I’m doing that at all.”

    Somehow, Olivia believed that the other girl did indeed have a list of people she would be happy to get rid of.

    “So what…” The braided young lady broke off as the maid entered the dining room with a tray. From this she laid out two saucers, then tea cups, then side-plates, and filled the cups with tea before depositing a ginger muffin on each side-plate. “Oh, thank you Cordelia.”

    “Of course, my lady. I will clean the basket for Miss Campbell and a few more of the muffins were intact enough to eat.”

    Angelica raised her fork towards her muffin and then paused. “So what was it that brought you here today, Miss Campbell? Having not really heard from you so far, I’d rather thought that you were choosing to avoid contact with most of the class. Which is… rather understandable now that I see what sort of contact you were experiencing.” She used the fork to break off part of the muffin and scooped it into her mouth.

    “I… uh, Lady Katarina suggested that if I asked you…”

    “Mmm, mmm.” Angelica swallowed. “Oh this is delicious. I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I must ask where you got them.”

    “I… baked them?” Olivia offered nervously.

    “You baked them? For me?” The duke’s daughter looked at her. “That’s a rather considerable effort. What favour could you want that you’ve gone to those lengths? Believe me, I’m very inclined to grant it.” She stuck her fork into the muffin again, cutting away a larger mouthful.

    “I just wanted the other girls to leave me alone.”

    “I’d love to say I could give you an absolute promise of that,” Angelica told her after washing down the mouthful of muffin with some tea. “My influence is not… quite so extensive but I’ll put the word out. And… you’re on good terms with Katarina Rafa Claes?”

    Olivia nodded.

    “Good. Between the two of us, most of the students will know better than to trouble you. And if one of the fools does, then let me know. Or Katarina’s friend Mary.” Angelica’s smile was warm. “And if there’s anything else I can do for you, please come and tell me. I’ll make sure that those two aren’t here and that anyone who is knows that I won’t tolerate that sort of behaviour from them.”
     
    Awry Affairs 2-4
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Awry Affairs

    Change a hawk to a little white dove
    More than a feeling, that's the power of love
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 4

    When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her. ~ Sacha Guitry​

    “Where are we going?” Marie Fou Lafan asked Greg Fou Seberg as the muscular count’s son led her through the academy gardens.

    He grinned at her. “It’s a bit of a surprise! I want to show you the sincerity of my feelings.”

    Marie gave him a smile. Maybe it was a gift? No one had given her the servant that the protagonist received in the game yet, but the boys were quick with other tokens to show their affection. She was pretty sure that the little elf boy that cosseted the heroine through the late game was a sort of status signal, since all the boys you had raised flags with would present him together - so unless she’d done so badly that only Greg was on her side, he’d not be giving her Kyle on his own.

    The little blonde grinned and skipped a little to keep up with Greg. “I’ve never doubted your feelings, Greg.”

    “Yeah.” He gave her a little pose, flexing one arm and then giving her a thumb’s up. “But I wanted to do something anyway. Got to think of the future, you know.”

    “The future?”

    He nodded quickly. “Yeah, don’t want that… eh. You’ll understand in a moment. Trust me, will you?”

    Marie put her hands together and fixed her best sweet and innocent look on her face. “Yes!”

    From the look on Greg's face, she’d nailed it yet again. Score one for being cute. It was a shame Marie wasn’t growing into the mature beauty she’d had in her last life, but there was at least some benefit to being tiny this time around.

    The boy led Marie into one of the classroom buildings. Beneath all the fancy furnishings, it reminded Marie a lot of her old school in her last life. Those were good times, before everything went wrong. Greg led her one of the classrooms, pushing the door open confidently.

    There was a rustle of conversation among the students in the room. It was between classes and little conversation groups had formed as the young nobles waited for the next teacher to arrive. Heads turned at the sight of Greg and Marie.

    That’s right, she thought gleefully. Look at me and envy me. You might be all smug about being tall and curvy, but I’ve got a hunk like this and four others besides. And by the end of the game I’ll marry them all and be queen!

    Then Marie saw one of the girls who hadn’t looked up and a shiver went up her spine.

    Sitting by the window, two-thirds of the way towards the back of the class - the classic protagonist’s seat if this was an anime! - Scarlet Rafa Ades was gazing out of the window, clearly paying no attention to anyone around her.

    The girl scared the pants off Marie. She was cray-cray, the way that she’d threatened Marie and Brad in the library - her and that nameless

    Mob! The boy who wouldn’t have a face either in the game. Marie had looked into Scarlet but no one seemed to know much about her. She’d topped the mid-term exams, but she was also a bit of an air-head as far as Marie could tell. She wasn’t the pushover that her twin sister was, Violette seemed to be on the brink of tears more often than not and she’d been driven off from Chris with ease.

    Scarlet though… Marie tightened her grip on Greg unconsciously.

    “Hey, Scarlet!” Greg boomed imperiously.

    The silver-blonde girl blinked, then looked over in their direction. “Ah.” She rose from her seat and dipped her head in polite acknowledgement. “Lord Seberg, Lady Lafan.”

    “Cut that formal crap out,” the boy at Marie’s side demanded. “This is one of the things I’m fed up with.”

    That only got them a quizzical look.

    Greg snorted. “Yeah yeah, drop the whole ice maiden act.” He raked one hand through his red hair. “I’m fed up with you being like this. Pretending you’re some perfect lady, lording your grades over every one. No one likes you, Scarlet.”

    The other girl gave Greg a puzzled look. “Are you sure you’re speaking to the correct girl?”

    “Oh put a sock in it.” He stabbed one finger towards Scarlet. “I’m sick of it so I’m dumping you. We’re not engaged any more.”

    Scarlet’s blue eyes blinked once. Twice. “Pardon?” she asked, evidently not believing what she was hearing.

    Marie’s heart raced. Was this a denunciation scene? Like this, out of nowhere? She wasn’t ready for this! What was her script, damn the game for not giving her enough detail about how Greg broke up with his fiancee.

    The other students all began whispering, and Marie heard remarks of ‘I never liked her anyway’ and ‘someone finally said it’. Like sheep forming up around the new leader. But it showed that the tide had turned in Marie’s favour, so she was glad of it - even if the idiots would be trying to get rid of her now.

    Greg turned to Marie. “You see, Marie. Now I’m free of her, now we can be together. And when the time comes, when we’re finished here at the academy, then we can be married. There’s no one holding me back now.”

    So passionate, so predictable. Hahaha. Marie bit back the laugh and murmured a demure “Oh Greg,” taking his hand and pressing it against her chest. If she only had a bit more to work with there!

    “Ah,” Scarlet said, cutting into the moment. “So… we’re not engaged any more?”

    “What, weren’t you even paying attention?” Greg snapped.

    “I see,” the girl acknowledged pensively. She lifted her skirt slightly and curtseyed to the two of them.

    Aha, yes. Grovel to me, Marie thought happily. Go away gracefully so I don’t have to worry about you again. Run back to your family’s lands in the country and hide your shame!

    “May I ask for one final thing from you?” Scarlet requested politely. She pulled something out of a pocket in her jacket… gloves? They looked like something a biker would wear… fingerless leather, secured by a strap at the wrist. Marie winced at the rivets across the knuckles. Was Scarlet secretly part of some band of wild biker-girls and going to ride off into the sunset on an airbike?

    “Yeah, what do you want?” Greg waved one hand dismissively at his former fiancee. “Don’t expect me to kiss you.”

    “I would like a young man, about six feet tall and two hundred pounds, to act as my punchbag,” Scarlet requested. “With red hair and a lot of muscles to soak up the punishment.”

    “...what?”

    Marie had just had time to connect the dots - Greg was redheaded, six feet tall and weighed in at two hundred pounds - before the boy was smashed out of her grasp, sent crashing into the door behind him by one punch from Scarlet. The silver-blonde tsked. “I’m out of practice,” she declared and then slammed another punch into the boy, still partially embedded in the door.

    With a crash the door was torn from its hinges, flung with Greg across the corridor outside. It crashed down on top of the boy, who showed no sign of getting up.

    Marie screamed.

    Scarlet turned towards the rest of the room, a happy smile on her face. “Oh dear, he didn’t last long. Is there anyone else? Someone who never liked me anyway.” Her smile grew wider. “You don’t need to form a queue.”

    She was between everyone else and the door, Marie realised.

    “G-get her out of the way,” one of the girls demanded of her servant. “We should… we should get Lord Seberg to the nurse’s office!”

    The demi-human obediently headed for the doorway - he was a towering muscle-man, even taller than Greg.

    One moment he was trying to brush Scarlet aside, the next the duke’s daughter had a hold of him by the ankle and was standing in the middle of the room spinning him casually around. When she let go, the hapless demihuman went flying - smashing through the glass window and out into the gardens.

    “Well, who’s next?” Scarlet giggled euphorically.

    “She’s gone crazy!” a girl whispered in horror.

    Another turned to the boys in the room. “Make yourselves useful! Restrain her!”

    “Are you nuts?”

    “If you’re not good for at least this much, no girl in the school will ever look at you!” the girl threatened them.

    The boys looked at each other nervously. Stupid simps, Marie sneered. They were doomed either way - either blamed for not stopping Scarlet or for standing up to a girl. At least this world had its sensibilities straight, with women at the top and men crawling for their approval.

    The sound of knuckles against the doorframe broke the stand-off.

    That dumb mob who hung around with Scarlet was standing in the doorway. Marie hoped she punched him next. It might be enough of a distraction for her to climb out the broken window. She was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one contemplating that, but if there was a rush, Marie might get trampled.

    “Yo, Scarlet…” The dark-haired boy looked around the room. “Having fun?”

    Marie hated him. Pretending to be cool and in control. How dare he be like that when her knees were knocking together with terror.

    “I have a punching bag!” Scarlet declared happily. Then her face fell. “It didn’t last long though.”

    “Oh really?” He shook his head sadly. “Well, do you want to cancel the studying today?”

    “No, it’s fine, Leon.” Scarlet glanced around and her eyes fell on Marie. “I’ve just one more thing to clean up here.”

    AAAAAAH!

    Marie tried to hide behind the other girls but the treacherous witches formed ranks and wouldn’t let her get past. Rather you than us, their stares told her.

    Leon sighed. “Scarlet, don’t waste your time on her.”

    Greg’s former fiancee looked back at him, as if she was doing no more than packing up her school supplies. “Why wouldn’t I?”

    “Well, you know how she’s got Greg courting her. And Brad.. and their other friends too.”

    “I have noticed that.”

    “Well, sure, that’s a crime… but isn’t it also a punishment?”

    Scarlet stood there in thought. “But I really really want to punch her,” she said childishly.

    Leon looked at her patiently. “Oh alright. But just once, to get it out of your system. You have Gerald Rafa Stuart to trash in the final exams, after all.”

    “Oh yes.”

    And then the insane - murderous - violent - villainess was lunging across the room towards her!

    Marie cringed and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe it! All this work and she’d hit a bad end! It wasn’t fair! This wasn’t like this in the game!

    Nothing happened.

    After a moment, she opened her eyes and flinched back from the sight of the gloved fist barely an inch from her nose.

    Scarlet gave her a disappointed look and then turned back to Leon. “You’ve taken all the fun out of this,” she complained.

    “You can kick Greg a bit on the way out,” the boy suggested.

    Marie fainted away in relief. She wasn’t going to die!

    -

    Entering the dining hall, Leon was surprised to see Scarlet was sitting next to her sister at one of the tables. He’d barely ever seen the twins together so far in the term and Scarlet had never seemed inclined to discuss why.

    He collected a meal from the serving area and headed for their table. “Would I be interrupting if I sat here, ladies?”

    Scarlet looked up and was about to nod, but she stopped and looked over at Violette.

    “No, not at all,” the elder of the two twins assured him. She gestured towards one of the seats across for the two. “You’re Scarlet’s study partner, aren’t you? Leon Fou Bartford?”

    “That’s me.” He put his tray on the table before sitting. “And you’re Violette? I was meaning to ask, is everyone in your family named for colours?”

    “Father liked the idea.” Scarlet toyed with her food. “Our little brother is named Vermilion.”

    Could have been worse, Leon thought. “I suppose having a theme ties the family together a little.”

    Violette looked away and Scarlet’s face turned contemplatively. “Not really,” his study partner concluded after what appeared to be serious thought.

    “Do you always eat that heartily?” The other twin indicated Leon’s plate, transparently changing the subject.

    “I worked up an appetite flying down to my ship and back,” he told her. “It was in fine shape of course, it’s in good hands,” he added before Luxion got huffy again. “But as the owner it would be irresponsible for me not to go to the port every now and then. The crew might feel unappreciated.”

    “I can see how neglecting them might lead to that,” Violette said with a little edge in her voice. Then she gave herself a little shake. “My apologies, Lord Bartford. I shouldn’t take my temper out on you.”

    “I’m sorry if I touched on a sore spot.” He looked at the letter on the table between the two girls’s trays. “I hope you’re not dealing with bad news.”

    The twins exchanged looks that he couldn’t quite interpret; only for the doors to the dining hall to open, admitting a small crowd - six or seven students. Conversations around the room stalled as eyes flicked to Julius Rafa Holfort and his clique, then took a new and more excited fervour.

    As was now normal, the five boys were all clustered around Marie, doting upon her. The new addition was the servant trailing behind the girl - a demihuman boy who was almost as diminutive and pretty as his mistress.

    Leon arched his back and looked at the boy for a moment. That’s unexpected, he mused to himself. No Kyle, of course, but it didn’t stop them from giving Marie a servant - it’s just someone else. “My sisters will be pestering me to buy them a servant again,” he sighed, to cover for his attention turning to the group.

    “Do you have a large family,” asked Violette curiously as Scarlet watched Marie and her group detour around the far side of the dining hall to reach the serving tables - and then take a table on the far side of the room as well.

    “My parents have five children,” he told her, skipping past the issue of Zola and her children. “I’m third - Jenna’s a year ahead of us, Finley and Colin are younger. Nicks graduated last year.”

    “Nicks…” Violette seemed thoughtful. “Oh, he’s engaged to Deirdre Fou Roseblade’s elder sister, isn’t he?”

    “That’s him.” Leon grinned. “He complains a lot in his letters, but they haven’t broken it off so I think it’s going well - just taking some adjustments as they get to know each other.”

    Scarlet nodded. “Perhaps if I had made some adjustments, I would still be engaged to Greg.”

    “Maybe,” he agreed. “On the other hand, if you compromised and he didn’t, would you be happy with him?”

    The girl glanced at her sister and then quiet satisfaction crossed her face. “Probably not.”

    “Most relationships seem to take effort from both parts,” he said sagely, “Not that I’m an expert.”

    Violette reached out and picked up the letter from the table. “Perhaps you’re right about that,” she said thoughtfully, reading - or probably re-reading - it.

    “I get the impression I’m treading on a painful subject here,” Leon admitted. “Is this a subject you’d rather I drop?”

    “Father wrote to Violette about Greg ending the engagement,” Scarlet explained with an irritated expression on his face.

    The duke wrote to Violette about Scarlet’s fiance breaking the arrangement off? “Is he… too angry to write to you directly?”

    Violette dropped the letter and took a deep breath. “My… our father is…” She broke off and looked at Scarlet. “I hardly know where to start. I think I would like to tell someone though.”

    “Our mother died almost a year ago,” Scarlet said bluntly. “I don’t remember her - father and I hadn’t been near her since I was a baby.”

    Leon winced. He could imagine Zola and Barcus having been on terms that distant, if she’d not felt the need to keep trying to squeeze more money out of the barony for her lifestyle. But a duke would have more leverage against his wife… and be able to support her in essentially any conceivable level of luxury without noticing it.

    Violette nodded. “When they parted company, I was left with mother - here in the capital. Scarlet was taken to Ades and grew up with father and his… paramour.”

    She looked sideways at her sister. “I have nothing against the woman that father now expects me to treat as my mother, except that I don’t know her or what he means like that. She is nothing like my actual mother.”

    “She’s the only mother I ever knew,” Scarlet added. “I was… seven, maybe eight, before anyone told me she wasn’t my birth mother.” She paused and then added. “Or that I had a twin sister.”

    Leon blinked. “I’m sorry, are we in a romance novel here?” Another romance novel, perhaps? Besides the ones I’m already juggling.

    Violette looked more pained than amused. “If so, then I hope there is a happy ending out there for at least one of us. Although usually, in those I have read, one sister becomes the villain to the other’s hero.”

    Scarlet frowned. “Let’s not do that. It sounds messy and uncomfortable.”

    “That,” Violette half-laughed and half-sobbed. “Is my life in a nutshell.”

    Leon glanced around and saw that most of the attention in the room was on the prince’s table or on the table occupied by Katarina Fou Claes’ clique. He picked up his dessert, an apple pie, and quickly divided it in two before pushing it across the table towards the twins. “If you can share this, surely you can share some happiness as well.”

    “I don’t think that this works like -” Violette’s words were cut off as Scarlet stuffed a spoonful of the pie between her sister’s lips. “Mmmf.” She chewed and swallowed, “Scarlet…”

    “Aaaaah…” Scarlet told her seriously, holding her mouth open.

    “What are you doing?” Violette hissed.

    Leon tried not to laugh. “I think she wants you to feed her.”

    Violette gave him a disbelieving look.

    “She fed you.”

    The girl looked back at her twin, who still had her mouth open. “Alright,” she sighed and spooned up some of her portion, extending it towards Scarlet. The younger twin leant forwards and closed her lips around the pie, drawing back and leaving the spoon licked clean. A blissful look spread across her face.

    “It’s not that delicious,” Violette protested as Scarlet beamed happily at her, even pressing a hand to her cheek in delight.

    “Ah, but it is seasoned by your sisterly love,” Leon said sagely. “Look, here comes the airbike.”

    “What?” Violette looked back away from him and saw Scarlet had another spoon of pie held up. “Please stop this, I can feed myself.”

    “But I want to look after you,” her sister insisted. “Say aah.”

    “According to father, I should be looking after you.”

    “Then you can feed her when it’s your turn.” Leon felt a sharp pain under the table as someone - from the angle, Violette - kicked him in the shin. “Ouch.” He didn’t stop grinning.

    “This isn’t funny!” Violette moved her head back from the spoon that Scarlet was moving slowly towards her.

    “It’s heartwarming! My sisters don’t feed me pie,” he pointed out, and indicated his study partner. “And could you disappoint that face?”

    Apparently big pleading eyes were still fully effective and Violette relented, opening her mouth and accepting the mouthful of apple pie.

    “May I?” Leon asked, indicating the letter as the two girls continued to exchange spoonfuls of pie. Scarlet pushed it over to him, which he took as permission.

    There wasn’t all that much pie when divided between a pair of teenage girls, but even so Leon had managed to read the letter by the time their plates were clean and he handed it back to Violette. “If you don’t mind me asking, when did you learn about Scarlet, Violette?”

    She lowered her eyes. “Lord Arclight informed me when our mother fell ill.” She paused in calculation, looking much like her twin when she was thinking deeply. “I wasn’t quite thirteen. That was when I found out I was engaged to his son.”

    Scarlet reached over and patted her sister sympathetically. “I could punch him for you?”

    “Do you mean Chris, my father or his father?”

    “Yes.”

    “Scarlet, that would be wrong!”

    Violette’s twin shrugged, apparently alright with that. “Would it make you happier?”

    From the look in the girl’s eyes, it might, but the elder sister said: “Please don’t.”

    Scarlet looked regretful.

    “You can’t deal with everything by punching people in the face, Scarlet.”

    Leon took a deep breath. “Well, in my professional opinion as an expert in being an irritant, your father’s complaining that you aren’t being a good sister is both incorrect and hypocritical. Frankly, I can understand Scarlet’s urge to punch him.”

    Scarlet beamed and looked to Violette for permission.

    The older of the two buried her face in her hands, but they could both tell she was smiling. “Please don’t. Well, maybe Chris - but only if he tries anything like what Greg did to you.”

    -

    The dungeon beneath the academy had been explored by generations of students, but for reasons that scholars still disagreed with, it continued to spawn monsters and rewards of precious metals. Katarina had decided not to worry about it, and write it off as ‘game-logic’ but this apparently wouldn’t be satisfactory for her homework so she’d finally memorised an explanation Keith had given her so she could copy it out.

    She’d got a passing grade for it and now felt safe to forget all about it.

    On a practical level though, it meant that she was now seeing it for herself. The students had been taken through the first level by teachers and then divided into groups of five to reach the end of the second level on their own.

    “Watch out for traps,” Gerald advised, immolating a giant ant as several of the monsters swarmed towards the five of them.

    Katarina raised her own sword defensively, but Keith gestured sharply and a golem formed itself out of the wall and walked out to block the ants, crushing two more of them beneath its feet.

    A moment later, Sophia and Mary added their own magical attacks to Gerald’s and blasted the remaining ants away in a storm of fire, water and wind.

    “Well done!” Katarina congratulated them.

    She went to the wall and pried loose a nugget of metal, dropping it into the bag she was carrying. The metal resisted a bit, but she didn’t need to use the pick that she’d strapped to her kit in expectation. She had taken it out and had it ready though! It felt almost like a hoe, much more natural in her hand than the sword that she’d sheathed.

    “And you, Katarina.” Gerald gave her a warm and approving smile, stepping closer to her.

    “Don’t disrupt our formation,” Keith scolded him. “We’re going through a narrow portion next, according to the map.”

    “Yes, so you should take the lead with your golem,” the prince counseled. Katarina had been a bit confused that Gerald wasn’t actually the king’s son, but apparently his mother had been a princess. It might be that it was just something she’d got wrong from the game. Although if there was a crown prince, plus Gerald and his three brothers, why were he and Alan referred to as the third and fourth princes in the promotional material? Perhaps his brother Jeffrey didn’t count now that he was a duke? “I’ll take care of the middle with Katarina, so I can support you or help Mary and Sophia if something threatens the rearguard.”

    “No, no,” Keith disagreed. “You should take the lead so that your flames illuminate everything in front of us, otherwise something might hide in the shadow cast by my golem. I’ll walk next to my sister.”

    The two boys stared at each other in a battle of wills, before turning to Katarina. “Your brother is quite the worrywart,” Gerald told her. “Please tell him that he and his golem should take the lead as the most powerful magic user amongst us.”

    Keith shook his head. “As your brother, I should stand with you Katarina.”

    “Oh honestly,” Mary snapped. “Aren’t you both being childish? Prince Gerald, you and Sophia take the rear so you can combine your magic for maximum effect supporting us from the rear ranks. Keith can take the lead with his golem to soak up any monster attacks, while I walk with Lady Katarina.”

    “Ah, no that doesn’t make sense,” Gerald disagreed.

    Sophia winked at Katarina and gestured to the passageway ahead of them. She grinned back and the two girls snuck ahead while their friends bickered.

    “Don’t let’s get too far ahead,” Sophia warned in a whisper.

    Katarina nodded. “We’ll just peek into the next chamber.”

    They exchanged nods and slipped into the shadowy passage, Katarina clutching her pick defensively. If anything sprang at her, she’d raise an earth bump beneath it’s feet and then smack it before it could get back up. Just like training!

    “We’re almost there,” Sophia warned, indicating the tunnel opening up ahead.

    Katarina nodded. “It’s just like the dungeons beneath Castle Black, don’t you think?”

    The albino girl considered that and then shook her head. “No, I think it’s more like in the Tales of the Heron Crown where the heroines had to escape from the Dread Pirates.”

    “Ohh, that’s a good one.” Something glittered ahead and Katarina stopped, “Wait, there’s some metal here in the wall. Let’s just get that and wait for the others to catch up.”

    “Okay, I’ll keep watch.” Sophia scanned their surroundings diligently.

    Taking her pick in hand, the taller girl stepped up to the wall and raised her trusty pick. The nugget of metal looked like it was deeply buried, so she braced her feet and swung the pick down with heavy force against the rock around it.

    There was a clunk as the nugget of metal sunk down an inch or so.

    “What w-aaaaaaaaah!” Katarina exclaimed as the ground swung out from under her. She dropped downwards into the space opened up beneath her.

    Above her the brief and rather dim light of the passageway vanished, and the sound of Sophia calling “Lady Katarina!” was similarly cut out.

    Katarina clutched her pick against her so it didn’t rattle around and stab into her as she slid down a chute. It reminded her of a waterslide from back in her last life, except for being steeper and the fact she was wearing leather armour rather than a swimsuit.

    The chute leveled a little before it opened up and dropped Katarina onto a stony floor, reminding her why the armour was a good idea. But she didn’t land on the pick, so there was that.

    “Oh shoot,” she grumbled, digging through her pockets for a torch. Nothing came to hand, but as her eyes adjusted she saw that there was enough luminescent moss down here that it wasn’t entirely dark down here. “Shoot, chute. Gerald should have said to look out for chutes, not traps.”

    Dusting herself off, she looked around. This didn’t look like any part of the dungeon she’d seen before - although it was hard to be sure since one rocky passage looked very much like another.

    “Right,” the fifteen year old declared to herself. “Time to take stock. I’m in the dungeon. I’m alone, with just what I have on me…” She patted her bag, then checked the gear strapped to her. Most of it was there, but the sword belt had snapped so she was missing that and her sword. “Well bother.”

    Oh well, she had her pick and - checking her pockets - she still had snakey. Katarina would have rather had her sword as well, but if she had to lose one then the sword was likely the one she could do best without.

    “Okay, I have my supplies… but I don’t know how to get out and all I have is my rations to eat.” She patted that pocket. Then patted again as it seemed very flat. “Oh right, I ate those.”

    That seemed like a problem. Maybe there was something in the dungeon to eat? Nothing stood out, and what would grow down here in the dark? The ground was rock, not soil and… mushrooms, maybe? It was worth a try. Still, there weren’t any here.

    Katarina looked up, but the exit from the chute wasn’t visible so it had probably closed. That left her two options - go left or right along this tunnel. Which was best?

    There had been advice for if you were lost, hadn’t there…? Perhaps she should have listened more during the preparation, but Olivia was in the room at the same time as Keith and Gerald, so she’d had to watch out for signs that one or both of them might be failing for the heroine. After racking her brain, she remembered something her father had told her - not her father-father, the other-father from her past life.

    “If you’re lost in the wilderness,” she recited to herself, “Go downhill to find water, then follow the water downstream to find people!”

    Well, that seemed simple enough, and a dungeon was basically wilderness - right?

    Pulling a nugget of metal from her bag, she checked which way it rolled on the floor. Rightwards. Okey-dokey, she’s going right. This wasn’t so hard.

    Katarina put the nugget away again and marched off to the right, studying the floor for any sign of mushrooms.

    This was a shame, because there was enough light that if she’d been looking at eye level, she would have spotted the signs declaring that the tunnel was off limits and that no one was to go down it.
     
    Awry Affairs 2-5
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Awry Affairs

    Change a hawk to a little white dove
    More than a feeling, that's the power of love
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 5

    If you want to take revenge on a man, send him a really beautiful woman. ~ Arabian Proverb​

    Luxion’s drone followed Leon as he climbed down a steep pit, a rope connecting the young man’s belt to the hovering machine. Luxion swore that the anti-gravity engines could bear Leon’s weight, but he preferred to be cautious - even if it could, he was less certain of his ability to cling to the drone as it descended.

    “This would be much faster if you took my advice, Master.”

    “And it’s considerably safer this way,” he panted. “If we get attacked, and there are monsters that can climb up the sides of this pit, I’d rather have options - it’d be hard to defend myself if I need both hands to cling to you.”

    Finally, his questing feet found a flat surface beneath him and the boy looked around, seeing that he had reached the bottom. He exhaled in relief. It wasn’t like flying in a knight armour or on an airbike - neither of which would fit down here - there was nothing between him and falling except his skill, some luck and Luxion’s loyalty.

    Leon wished he could rely more on the latter. He didn’t think Luxion had ever betrayed the Leon in the books, but he also had very strong opinions of his own. I shouldn’t assume that I can take the books as a guide either, he reminded himself. This isn’t a game, but it isn’t just a story either. Thinking like that is a trap. “I imagine someone’s noticed I’m missing by now,” he said out loud. “Can you provide some light, Luxion?”

    “Of course.”

    Leon waited a minute and then sighed. “Light us up, please. And well played.”

    “Thank you, master.” The AI sounded rather pleased with himself even as spotlights from the drone began to light up the dungeon. This part of the sprawling underground caves was off-limits to students - too dangerous, according to the staff. Rumours had it that the chamber that would have to be conquered to ‘complete’ the dungeon was down here. Since that would prevent the dungeon from spawning valuables and monsters, the academy would rather no one did that. It was worth more in its current condition and most lords who controlled a dungeon felt the same way.

    Leon had never been here, but he suspected that if the final chamber was actually hidden by the staff they would have thought of a way to hide it that wouldn’t draw reckless teenagers raised on tales of great adventurers like moths to a flame.

    The game had covered it though - dungeoning had been one of the major combat scenarios that players had to defeat in order to level both the heroine and whatever admirers formed her party up so that they could deal with the actual plot of the game. Working from memories more than a decade old, Leon picked his turns carefully, walking deeper and deeper.

    Three monsters crossed his path and each proved insufficiently protected against a shotgun blast. Technology really did make life easier, as well as having an AI watching your back for ambush predators.

    “Alright,” he said at last, reaching a familiar looking crack in one wall. “I think this is it. The bracelet should be stuck at the back of this.”

    “Assuming your memories are correct, master.”

    “Yes, assuming.” Leon gestured towards it. “Light up the inside, would you? There could be something lurking.”

    He squinted into the crevice as Luxion obediently directed a spotlight down it. Nothing seemed to be moving, but no metal was reflecting the light either. Perhaps the bracelet was just too scuffed and dirty. Assured that he wasn’t likely to be bitten by anything, Leon reached in, tracing either side and then the back of the crack.

    Reaching as high as he could, then crouching low, his fingers found nothing. Pulling his arm out, he stripped off his gauntlet and tried again - hoping he’d just failed due to having his hand covered and missing the goal of this excursion.

    “Dammit,” the boy gasped at last, pulling his arm out. “I don’t think it’s here. Maybe I’ve taken a wrong turn.”

    Luxion bobbled in the air. “Human error is always a possibility, master.”

    “Thanks.”

    “However, I have another theory.” The drone directed its spotlight down at the ground, highlighting footprints on the dirt floor. Some of them were clearly Leon’s, but others went onwards, deeper into the dungeon.

    “This early?” Leon muttered. “That’s weird.” He planted one boot next to one of the foot prints and then stepped back and compared the two. “It’s pretty fresh… and someone with smaller feet than me. Maybe it’s Olivia… or it could be Marie.”

    “Neither would be good for your plans, master.”

    “On balance, I’d prefer the gremlin,” Leon muttered. “Olivia’s nice, but she’d likely not be able to deal with this yet. Not according to what the side stories described. Marie’s a problem, but she’d have a better idea what she had and be more resistant.”

    Luxion traced the footprints with his searchlight. “Will you follow them?”

    “Yeah.” Leon reloaded his shotgun. “If nothing else, whoever it is, they're headed away from the way out.”

    “Your chivalrous streak will get you into trouble one day.”

    “It’s a good job that it’s so small and underdeveloped then,” Leon told the AI and set out following the trail.

    The footprints only went two more more junctions before they merged with another trail, one that had at least two over-laid sets of footprints.

    “This is ridiculous,” Leon muttered, dropping to one knee beside the trail. “How many people are down here?”

    “I count three,” the AI declared.

    The boy shook his head, more in disbelief than disagreement. “You’re sure?”

    “Myself, my master and someone walking in circles.”

    Leon blinked. “Really?”

    “The boot prints are all from the same boots.” The AI played the light across them. “All are the same length, all have the same weight distribution.”

    “Okay… I’ll take your word for that.” He shook his head. “So rather than following whoever this is, let’s backtrack and see if that finds them faster.”

    “Your problem solving skills amaze me,” the AI concluded, already drifting in that direction.

    “I could wait here,” Leon admitted, “But they might have stopped or diverted so this seems to make more sense. You’d better turn out the lights though.”

    Luxion snapped them off immediately and Leon stumbled as he was suddenly stuck in near total darkness without having time for his eyes to adjust. Muttering irritably, he pulled out a lantern and lit it. It meant having one hand occupied, but the footprints weren’t all that visible without some kind of artificial light to work with.

    One turn later, there was an outcry from ahead of him. “Yay, the light at the end of the tunnel!”

    “Oh no,” Leon muttered to himself.

    Luxion sounded way too smug in his ear as he corrected: “Oh yes.”

    “Oh, it’s not a way out,” Katarina Rafa Claes said in disappointment as she came into full view. She didn’t seem particularly worried about her predicament and her bag was bulging. “Hello!”

    “Lady Claes,” Leon greeted her. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else down here.”

    “I fell down a chute,” she admitted cheerfully. “It’s not so bad though. There’s plenty of mushrooms down here and as long as I stick with the left hand wall I should find myself out of this maze sooner or later.”

    He shook his head in disbelief. “Mushrooms?”

    “Yes.” The girl reached into her bag and produced a sizable purple mushroom. “Would you like one?”

    “I’m fairly sure that that’s poisonous,” Leon told her. “Have you eaten any?”

    “Well, no. I was looking for some water first.”

    “That’s probably for the best.” He extended the lantern and pointed at the footprints. “I think you’ve been going in a circle, this passage loops back on itself.”

    “Oh bother.” Katarina upended her bag on the floor and started picking metal nuggets out of the heap of mushrooms that resulted. “I tried going downwards to find water but that didn’t work, and then I tried staying left. How else do we get out of here?”

    Leon took a deep breath. “Well, I see you have a pick. Between us, maybe we can get up the pit I fell down.”

    “Great! You’re really good at this dungeoning,” she told him. “But you need proper equipment. A sword just isn’t as useful as a pick or a hoe.” Then she plucked a familiar looking bracelet out of the pile of her finds.

    “Where did you find that?” Leon asked resignedly. Of course she’d found it, that was the only logical deduction. And how was he going to get it off her before she wound up possessed?

    Katarina gestured behind her - the exact opposite direction from the crack, but he supposed that she had been walking in circles. “I found it jammed into a wall back there. Isn’t it pretty? Maybe someone dropped it.”

    “I can’t think how else it got down here,” he admitted. “It’s not like the usual finds of metal. You should get it cleaned up and keep it as a souvenir.”

    Dropping it back into her bag, the brunette nodded. “Anne will know something suitable for polishing metal and then I can give it a good scrubbing!” She flexed her arm to demonstrate the vigor she presumably would put to the task.

    Leon paused. “Jewelry can be a bit delicate, Lady Claes. You might want to have an expert work on it. I know someone who works on that. Let’s get out of here and I’ll see if I can set you up to get it restored to good condition.”

    “Oh, that would be great.” And then she just pulled the bracelet out of the bag and tossed it to him.

    That was easier than I expected. “Okay, I came this way, so if we backtrack,” he observed, “We should reach the pit quite easily.”

    “Are you sure these mushrooms are poisonous?” Katarina asked, looking at the little pile mournfully.

    -

    “How could you lose Katarina?” Alan asked his brother angrily. He’d been the only one in their little group to be left behind - unless you counted Miss Campbell, who would be coming down into the dungeon with a different class tomorrow. But he’d at least thought that they could keep her safe!

    “There was some sort of trap!” Gerald snapped, his face worried. “We need to find her as quickly as possible!”

    Sophia had used her wind magic to contact the other groups, as well as the teachers. Regrouping at the end of the second level, they were reorganising into search parties.

    “Did you try going into the trap as well?” suggested Alan.

    Sophia shook her head, face pale. “We tried that, but it didn’t open. I think it was one of those one-use traps - the sort that doesn’t reset for days.”

    “Lady Claes isn’t the only one missing,” one of Alan’s team mates reported. Daniel Fou Durland was heir to a minor barony out on the northern frontier. Alan didn’t know him well, but he seemed to have his head on straight. “Bartford’s missing as well.”

    “Oh no,” Sophia groaned.

    “You know him?” asked Mary, curiously.

    “He hosted that tea party we went to with Olivia,” the albino explained. “He’s really nice but he doesn’t have magic.”

    Alan snapped his fingers. “Right, Scarlet Rafa Ades’ friend. I know him.”

    Daniel nodded. “That’s him. He was with Raymond’s group but they got separated somehow. It shouldn’t be that bad, we’re only on the second level, but it’s got the teachers worried.”

    The teacher whistled sharply for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you’ve all completed one of the routes through the second level, we can be sure that the missing students are further down. Fortunately, all the traps and pitfalls mapped out on this level only go down to the third or fourth level.”

    “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Alan muttered.

    His fiancee jabbed him with an elbow. “There are plenty of monsters down there, Alan! And Lady Katarina will be on her own!”

    “We’re re-organizing into seven groups of four students each,” the teacher continued. “Each group will be assigned a different section of the third level to search for the lost students. Meanwhile, we teachers will go down to the fourth level to search there. I must stress that you are all to take care not to get separated in the third level and none of you are to risk entering the fourth level. The monsters and obstacles down there are significantly more dangerous, and you’re not prepared for them.”

    “Should we stick together?” Gerald asked Keith and the two girls.

    “No,” Alan disagreed. “You should split up, that way most of the search parties have one of us with them. We all know Katarina so we’re more likely to recognise if she left any marks or signs of her passage.”

    Mary nodded in agreement. “Alan’s right. If anyone will notice a sign that Lady Katarina has been in our search area, it’s us.”

    Alan turned to Daniel and his other team-mates from the second level. “Do you want to grab your friend Raymond and work with me? That leaves the rest of you to work with my fiancee.”

    He didn’t like leaning on his rank, but there were times when it was useful to be the King’s youngest nephew. None of the group argued with that and he left Mary with her new team while he and Daniel picked up a fourth member. Jake Fou Podebrat was irritating as hell, in Alan’s view, but he also had a good eye and he was the best shot in their class. The viscount’s heir was sulking on the edge of the class rather than finding a new team - unsurprisingly, his previous team had ditched him immediately - so he didn’t argue with Alan when he was told that he was going with them.

    The teachers only stayed with them as far as despatching them through one of the third level entrances before they departed for their own search. Alan waved Podebrat forward. “You take point,” he ordered. “Look for footprints or for anyone climbing - Katarina’s like a monkey, she might be trying to get back up to the second level by going vertically.”

    Podebrat nodded, shouldering his rifle and moving forwards.

    “You guys know Bartford well?” Alan asked. “What should we look for from him?”

    The two exchanged looks. “Not that well,” Raymond admitted, adjusting his glasses. “He doesn’t hang out much with the other baron’s heirs.”

    “He’s alright when he does.” Daniel seemed wary of sounding like he was discounting Bartford. “He’s just busy all the time - studying with Lady Ades or going down to the port. He’s got good tips for how to meet girls that aren’t going to ask for the earth.”

    “Great,” Alan conjured a whip of water and lashed out at a snake-like creature that had crawled out of a hole Podebrat had gone past. He had to sever it into four different pieces before it stopped moving. “But that’s not all that useful for finding him. He’s not good at magic, so what does he fall back on?”

    “He was carrying a shotgun and a sword - more of a machete,” Raymond reported. “And he had a length of rope.”

    “That’s a start. Did you hear that, Podebrat?”

    The rifleman paused at a turn, looked back just enough that his nod was visible, and then resumed checking their path.

    “Okay then, cover the side passages and check them in pairs,” Alan directed. “I’ll cover you from back here and watch the rear.”

    The two baronial heirs hastened to obey him and the little squad moved systematically along the marked route through their sector of the level. Technically the marked routes had cross connections, but the guideline was clear: check those connections back to your main route then backtrack and resume checking yours. It was a little redundant, but it was thorough and that was the goal.

    None of the footprints Podebrat found were fresh enough though. No one had been down these passages in several days, not before them.

    “Dammit.” Alan muttered as they approached the far end. “I hope someone else has had more luck.” He didn’t want to contemplate going back without Katarina, and presumably Bartford had a family as well that would miss him.

    “Maybe they’re on the floor below,” Daniel suggested. “Or if there’s a trap here that leads further down.”

    Alan wheeled to shut the boy up, but he saw Podebrat raise his hand suddenly for silence. They all halted in place, watching their surroundings.

    “I heard a shotgun fire,” the pale sniper advised after a moment. He pointed down the last cross-connection. “Down that way.”

    Gritting his teeth, Alan regretted deciding he’d be best as the hub of this team. “Check it out, all three of you,” he ordered. “I’ll cover the main corridor so we don’t miss anyone else using it.”

    Watching the others scurry down the corridor to investigate, he called up water again and slashed vindictively at the side of the wall. He was on the third letter before he realised he was carving Katarina’s name into the rocks, like some love-sick idiot. Lowering his hands, he let the water fall away. What was taking them so long!?

    “Stuart!” someone shouted from the corridor.

    Dammit. He turned on his heel and ran down after his squad, long coat and scarf flapping behind him. He expected monsters, but what he found was the three of them in a defensive stance around a doorway.

    Before he could demand answers, Podebrat pointed inside. “This route is prohibited for student access, but the gun’s down that way. Three shots so far - I think he’s reloading.”

    Alan nodded. “And Bartford had a shotgun.”

    Raymond nodded in confirmation.

    “Right. Daniel, you and Raymond go back to our corridor and make for the end, let the others know as soon as they reach the end of the level. Tell them Jake and I are checking this out.”

    “I think this leads to the pit,” Daniel pointed out. “It’s an open fissure that goes down several levels. If Leon’s there, then he could be well below you.”

    “Then at least we’ll know. Move!” He snapped.

    The two ran off and he looked at Jake. “Are you good to go?”

    The brooding boy worked the action of his rifle and nodded.

    “Okay, you have point again and I’ll back you up. And Jake? Don’t put a shot into my brother’s fiancee or the other idiot who managed to get lost. If we have any accidents, I’ll throw you down the damned pit. Are we clear?”

    Podebrat met his eyes… and then gulped nervously. “Y-yes.”

    The passageway they followed reached more or less what Alan had expected from Daniel’s earlier description and briefings in class. The pit had dozens of openings in view, leading into levels above and below them. There was a modest ledge at the end of this passage, but other entrances seemed to just drop off and some ledges had no exit.

    The bottom of the pit was low enough to be out of sight in the available light, but it was far easier to see two figures clinging to a ledge about fifty feet below and on the other side of the shaft.

    “Heave-ho!” Katarina shouted as she brought her pick down in a blow that cracked the skull of the monster clambering upwards towards her. It tumbled away, buying the girl a reprieve,while behind her the somewhat familiar figure of Leon finished reloading his shotgun.

    “Go!” Alan heard the boy cry out and Katarina turned her back on the next monster climbing, starting to scale the cliff above her. He couldn’t hear her speaking, but he’d seen her do it before and knew she was channeling her limited earth magic to create handholds. There was a roar as Leon fired the shotgun down twice, picking off one monster after another.

    Podebrat dropped to one knee. “I can pick off the nearest monsters to them.”

    Alan frowned and then shook his head. “Pick off the ones that might sweep others down as they fall - we need to thin their numbers.” Then he raised his hand, conjuring up water from the air and forcing it to chill itself. Honestly, he’d never focused much on using his magic for long range attacks, focusing more on using it for self defense. Still, this was one of the standard spells for a water mage.

    Three arrows of ice slashed across the pit from his ledge, skewering monsters closer to Leon. A moment later Jake fired his first shot, aiming deliberately and then pausing to reload before he fired again.

    Leon looked up to trace the source of the friendly spells and threw a jaunty salute up at them. Letting his shotgun hang from its shoulder strap, he removed two grenades from his bag and pulled the pins. The boy dropped them to either side of the ledge and was already scrambling after Katarina before the explosions below marked the grenades detonating.

    “Alan!”

    He looked up and saw Katarina waving at him. She’d reached another ledge, this one with an exit.

    “Over here!” she called, as if he couldn’t see her.

    He waved back. “I don’t see a way around! Do you know where that passage leads?”

    Katarina shrugged.

    “Great,” he muttered. So close and yet he couldn’t get to Katarina. Throwing two more arrows of ice, he pinned a pair of monsters to the wall. Why were so many of them after the two students?

    A moment later Leon reached the same ledge as Katarina. He turned and fired his shotgun down at the monsters climbing up. Between their combined efforts, none of them were close enough to be an immediate threat, but more were climbing. Katarina even picked up a rock the size of her head and dropped it down. It seemed to hit something.

    “I’m open to suggestions,” Alan hissed to Podebrat.

    The boy shrugged. “I have thirty more rounds. After that…”

    Alan was hoping for something a little more constructive but then he heard noises behind him. Looking back, he was pleased to see familiar faces. “Gerald, Keith!”

    “Where’s my sister?!” the Claes heir demanded, a hair ahead of Gerald’s own query.

    “Look over there,” the musician answered. “Gerald, we’re going to need firepower to deter those monsters. And Keith, can you form a ledge around the pit so the two of them can get over here?” It was amazing how much easier this was with the right tools.

    “Consider it done,” Gerald declared with his usual confidence - usually irritating but right now it was reassuringly. A torrent of flames streamed down from Alan’s twin, blazing easily across the pit and sending the monsters scrambling away - those that didn’t topple burning back into the depths of the dungeon, ablaze with furious flames.

    Keith stood next to Alan and the wall of the pit began to flow. “It’s tricky without destabilizing the sides,” he admitted. “This probably won’t last more than a few minutes.”

    Even so, Alan could see a ledge beginning to form, a few inches wide at first but then pushing out further until it was more than a foot across. Sweat was pouring off Keith’s brow - partly in effort and perhaps partly due to the heat from Gerald’s flames.

    Fortunately, no one needed to give the two stranded students a hint. Leon gestured for Katarina to go first and reloaded his shotgun with just three rounds - he must be out, Alan realised. Closing the breach, the boy began edging along their escape route, back to the wall whereas Katarina was facing it so that she could use her hands to steady herself. Alan had to admire the dark haired boy’s cool as he barely looked at where he was going, shotgun ready in case anything got past him.

    As soon as Katarina was close enough, Alan reached out with tendrils of water and dragged her over onto the ledge and then back into the safety of the passage. Just to be fair, he did the same to Leon, who finally lost his cool and almost dropped his shotgun at the first contact.

    “Right,” Gerald declared once Leon was with them. “Keith, do you think you can close this passage behind us?”

    “That should be easier,” Katarina’s brother agreed, looking the girl over frantically for signs of harm. “Katarina, are you alright.”

    “It’s been quite an adventure!” she declared proudly.

    “We can talk about it later,” Alan suggested. “Let’s get out of the dungeon first.”

    “Right,” his brother agreed and hustled them along, Podebrate loping along in the lead with his precious rifle, Keith bringing up the rear. There was a crash of falling stone and a wave of dusty air followed them as the earth mage took the simplest route to blocking pursuit and collapsed at least a ton of stone into the passageway behind them.

    Coughing on the dust, all six of them reached the main passage and Alan was amused to see that Gerald and Keith each grabbed hold of one of Katarina’s arms, perhaps to see that she didn’t get lost a second time.

    “Well, we made it,” she said brightly. “I feel like a real adventurer now.”

    Leon rubbed his brow. “Unfortunately, there’s one last trial we must pass before we’ve really completed this adventure,” he warned.

    Alan blinked. “What’s that?”

    Katarina’s impromptu companion pointed ahead and Alan saw the senior-most of the teachers overseeing the class standing at the junction. “And what,” the man demanded, “Were all of you doing in a passageway that is clearly marked as prohibited for all access?”

    -

    Leon found Katarina wearing a heavy apron and merrily scrubbing pots in the school’s large kitchens. He was wearing a similar apron, having just finished his own time peeling vegetables. While the school didn’t lean towards corporal punishment, they did have ways to handle disobedient students and straying while in the dungeons was one of the zero tolerance issues.

    “Hi Leon!” she called, seeing him enter.

    “Are you still working?” he asked. “I thought we were in for the same amount of time.”

    Katarina glanced up at the clock. “Oh yes. Well, I may as well finish all of these.” She indicated the handful of pans still waiting to be washed. “I don’t want to leave this half-done.”

    “Fair enough.” Leon glanced at the doorway and saw two heads of hair just barely ducking back before he could make out their faces. “I have that souvenir for you, once you’re done.”

    “Oooh, thank you!” the girl exclaimed brightly.

    Leon looked at the busy kitchen. “I’ll wait outside, no use getting in the way.”

    He’d just exited and hung up the borrowed apron when Keith Rafa Claes confronted him. “What are you doing with my sister?”

    “Other than punishment duties in the kitchen?”

    “I heard him say something about a souvenir.”

    Leon glanced back and saw Mary Fou Hunt giving him an unimpressed look. Honestly, that was more intimidating than Keith. The other boy was slightly built and while he was a powerful mage, he was also understandably wary about using it without care. Mary had a nasty streak though, and despite sharing a class with no less than four girls from ducal backgrounds, Leon suspected that she was the one with the closest hand around the social affairs of the class. It was fortunate that she was constrained by not wanting to upset Katarina.

    “Yes, that’s right. Something she picked up in the dungeon. I offered to have it cleaned up for her.”

    Keith tried to look down his nose at Leon, a doomed effort since they were about the same height. “Well, I’ll pass it to her when she’s done.”

    “You know, there’s a fine line between being a protective brother and being a possessive creep, right?” Leon asked.

    “What-what are you talking about?” Keith reddened - more with embarrassment than anger. “I just don’t want anyone getting my sister into trouble.”

    “Then rest assured that I have no intentions of doing so.” Leon bowed slightly. “I’m merely here to return Lady Katarina’s property, into her own hands. It’s not as if I’m exchanging gifts or engaging in some form of courtship. That would be grossly inappropriate when the lady is engaged.”

    “Of course it would,” Mary agreed quickly. “What is that she found? There’s no harm in showing us.”

    Leon eyed her and then nodded. “Indeed not.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a flat jewelry case and snapped it open, revealing the glittering silver bracelet with its intricate carvings. Luxion had made a point of polishing it up once the spectre of the Saint had been removed, claiming that he was being professional about living up to expectations.

    Leon wasn’t going to call the AI tsundere - except in the privacy of his own head.

    The spectre had merged with the other one, which was a little unexpected. However, the main point was that the bracelet was no longer at risk of letting the wearer be possessed by the consciousness of the ancient saint.

    Leon wasn’t sure if the risk was all that great for Katarina - she certainly wasn’t short of willpower, but on the other hand her focus could sometimes do with work. On the whole, he suspected she’d simply brush aside any darker impulses the saint tried to impose on her but it wasn’t a risk worth taking.

    “Oh that’s nice,” Mary said in admiration. “If it had some sapphires on it, it would be perfect for Lady Katarina.”

    Leon shrugged. “I can’t help you there. I just had it cleaned and polished.”

    “And this was just lying around the dungeon?” Keith sounded suspicious.

    “Apparently. From where she said she found it, it was well into the prohibited area, so whoever lost it either won’t admit to it or it was so long ago that the academy wasn’t in control of the dungeon at the time.” Leon shrugged. “She found it before we met up so I couldn’t tell you much more, why not ask her?”

    “Mary! Keith!” Katarina emerged from the kitchen, still wearing her apron and gave them both effusive hugs, ignoring the fact that her apron was still soaked in soapy water. Fortunately the two were wearing their school uniforms, which were up to absorbing the moisture - Leon suspected that it would have done a number on one of Mary’s gowns if the girl was wearing one - she was impressively built for her relative youth and her neckline was probably struggling to contain her at times. “I didn’t know you were friends with Leon!”

    “Well we are in the same class,” Leon offered. “It’d be strange if we didn’t know each other at all.”

    “You say that,” the tall brunette said, “But I didn’t know half the girls at your tea party until we met there.”

    “Something I’m sure you’ve rectified,” he told her smoothly. “And here’s your bracelet. All cleaned up as promised.” He extended the box but Katarina simply plucked the bracelet out of it.

    “Thank you,” she exclaimed, slipping it onto her wrist. “Look, Keith. I found this on my very first dungeon adventure! Isn’t it pretty?”

    “It is,” he agreed, “but you do need to be careful Katarina. If Leon hadn’t explained it, this would look as if you were accepting a gift from a strange boy.”

    Katarina blinked at him. “But Leon’s not strange! He went dungeoning with me, and before that he threw a lovely tea party - I had so much fun and I made friends.”

    “I think what he means is that it looks bad for you to seem to be getting expensive gifts from a boy you’re not engaged to,” Mary expanded for her friend. “A lot of boys court their wives at the academy, you know.”

    “Yes, I keep wondering if Gerald will find someone that he likes,” Katarina agreed, missing Mary’s point completely.

    Leon smiled thinly at Keith and Mary’s faces. Neither of them wanted Gerald to actually marry Katarina - for their disparate reasons. But nor did they want someone else to sweep in and win her affections.

    “Besides, he’s courting Scarlet,” the brunette added absently. “So Leon wouldn’t be courting me.”

    Wait what? Leon stalled out at that suggestion.

    “Are you?” Mary asked him, curiously. “I mean, her engagement was cancelled recently…”

    “We were studying together before that happened,” Leon said slowly. “I confess I hadn’t considered that it might appear otherwise…”

    “Don’t go breaking my cousin’s heart,” demanded Katarina fiercely.

    He nodded slowly, heart rate slowing back towards something normal. “I think I’d need to know where her heart lies, but thank you for making me aware that things appear that way. Clearly I should discuss this with her.”

    “What will you do if she is interested in you, master?” asked Luxion quietly through the ear bud.

    Leon considered that question. He didn’t dislike Scarlet, but nor had he really considered her in that light either. “Procrastinate,” he subvocalized after a moment’s thought.

    “You are the worst,” concluded the AI.
     
    Calculated Chivalry 3-1
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Calculated Chivalry

    They say that all in love is fair
    Yeah, but you don't care
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 1

    When violence hurries on too fast, and caution does not keep pace with revenge, people generally do themselves more harm than the enemy. ~ Wellins Calcot​

    Music was playing in the academy ballroom as the first year students celebrated the completion of their first term and the exams. Their seniors had a day or two of exams to go, delaying their own end of term parties, but more than a hundred students plus the servants of many of the girls still didn’t leave the ballroom underpopulated.

    The main floor wasn’t all that occupied after the first dance of the night where couples who were already engaged had taken the floor in what amounted to showing off that they were off the market. There were some people who just liked to dance though, and some couples were putting on a show.

    “Thank you for this dance, Leon.” Scarlet Rafa Ades kept her voice low as they waltzed.

    “You’re welcome,” he told the silver-blonde as they twirled, bringing another couple into view. None of the prince’s clique had taken the floor for the first dance. Jilk Fia Marmoria had the excuse that his fiancee was a year older and thus not attending, while two others were now without fiancees. But Prince Julius Rafa Holfort’s decision not even to arrive until after the dance was done was a public slap across the face of Lady Angelica Rafa Redgrave, and Chris Fia Arclight had followed this example.

    But Scarlet’s twin sister was dancing now, whatever her fiance thought. Julius’ cousin Alan had dutifully danced with his own fiancee first, but now he was on the floor again with Violette - while the twins’ cousin Katarina was dancing with her adopted brother.

    “It’s actually a pleasure,” Leon conceded, honestly. Dancing wasn’t something he usually went out of his way for, but it was a mandatory class for all students and there was a satisfaction to putting them into practice. Scarlet was actually a lot of fun to dance with - she was as good at this as she was with most things, not to mention very pretty. And there was the added amusement of watching some count and viscounts’ sons grind their teeth over seeing an unattached duke’s daughter dancing with a mere second son.

    “I am uncomfortable with courting,” she’d admitted a few weeks ago, when he raised Katarina’s point about how their interactions appeared. “The punching bag may have expected something from me that I am unready for.”

    “Part of the problem with being expected to marry by twenty is that we wind up looking for partners when we might not be ready for that,” Leon had agreed. “At least you know your own feelings on the matter - who knows what either of us will want in a year or two?”

    And then she had given him a smile which he hoped she didn’t realise was so heart-stopping and asked if they were still friends. Because apparently the romance novels she’d been reading suggested that boys didn’t take well to being told that they weren’t beloved by the romantic leads.

    The music ended and the couples on the floor came to a halt. Leon dropped a kiss on the back of Scarlet’s hand, in proper courtly fashion. They left the dance floor, accompanying most of the other dancers - although Alan seized the opportunity to ask Katarina for a dance, leading her laughing back out while the prince’s twin brother mock-glowered at being preempted from claiming a second dance.

    “Prince Gerald,” Leon greeted him.

    “Lord Bartford,” the tall blonde man responded. “I haven’t yet thanked you for saving my beloved fiancee in the dungeon.” For the occasion, Gerald Rafa Stuart had traded his school uniform for a white suit with a long red cape. Leon had a similar cape on but he wore it over his school uniform, albeit he’d accessorised with white gloves and a cravat that set off the gold-trimmed dark grey nicely.

    “To be fair, I believe we saved each other in the lower levels. I’m just glad it worked out. It was her brother, you and Alan that then saved us both in the pit.”

    Gerald nodded in acknowledgement of the point. “And of course, this is my dearest rival and her sister.” He took Violette’s hand and kissed it, then greeted Scarlet the same way. “I hope that you brought your best to the examinations this time, Lady Ades?”

    “Did you bring yours?” she asked him a little bluntly.

    “Oh, quite.” He gave her an amused smile. “If it’s to be best of three then of course I made every effort.” Then he glanced across towards the entrance. “...and it seems my cousin fails to do so. Couldn’t he have at least have offered to buy the girl a dress?”

    They turned their heads to look and Leon saw that Prince Julius had arrived at last, along with his usual companion. The five boys were all dressed in tuxedos, each sporting a cumberbund in their trademark colour, but Marie Fou Lafan was unique among the girls present by attending wearing the school uniform. Even Olivia Campbell wore a gown, since Katarina had insisted on lending her one for the occasion.

    “Your highness!” The prince’s arrival had drawn someone else’s attention - actually, he’d probably drawn everyone’s, but it was his fiancee who made a scene about.

    “What is she thinking?” Gerald muttered. “He’s been an ass, but making a scene now won’t help her position.”

    “I suspect that a red haze has descended.” Leon had been expecting this. “You may not have encountered this, Prince Gerald, but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

    The music cut short as even the musicians were unable to bring themselves to continue as Angelica brought the matter of Marie Fou Lafan out into the open. “Don’t you know that this girl is carrying on with each and every one of you?”

    “Of course we know,” Julius declared. “Why would I be surprised that my closest friends recognise Marie for the treasure that she is?”

    Whispers from around the room suggested to Leon that many of the girls present envied Marie for that statement - although at least Violette and Scarlet didn’t seem to be among them. “Has he lost his mind?” the elder Ades twin asked - it was an open question if she meant the crown prince or her own fiance, as Chris fia Arclight took the lead in claiming devotion to the little girl.

    Gerald’s face didn’t visibly tighten. “I thought my cousin was taking more after his father’s infidelities, however bizarre it would be to share a mistress with the rest of his clique. But this is…”

    “Jilk,” Prince Julius declared, cutting down his foster-brother’s claim to love Marie the most. Jilk Fia Marmoria had been raised at the palace, a lifelong companion for the prince. “I think you’re wrong for once - because I am the one Marie loves the most.”

    Angelica’s expression had only grown darker as praise was heaped upon her rival. Now she looked down, as if unwilling to even keep the group in her eyes any longer. “Do I understand correctly that your highness is engaged in more than flirtation with this woman?”

    Prince Julius raised his chin proudly. “Marie is an irreplaceable woman in my heart. I didn’t dislike you before we came to the academy, Angelica, but the way that you have treated her is unforgivable.”

    Exclamations filled the air as the students grasped that the prince’s words were tantamount to his declaring that Angelica’s engagement was - at best - in name only. And that loss of royal favour upended the entire class.

    Gerald’s jaw slackened for a moment. “I believe you are correct, Lady Ades.” His tone was sharp, as close to shocked as Leon had heard him in their admittedly short acquaintance. “My cousin is insane!”

    In the murmuring, something flew across the room and struck Marie upon the chest. Angelica looked at her with fiery eyes. “Pick it up, you vile seductress,” she snapped as her glove fell off the smaller blonde and to the floor.

    Violette Rafa Ades shocked Leon - and by the looks of it, both Scarlet and Gerald as well - with a low obscenity. “Your cousin will champion her, won’t he?” She didn’t mean Angelica.

    “I’m disappointed in you,” the prince said to his fiancee - no, his former fiancee. Not even the form of the engagement could survive this. Then he turned to the girl at his side, and Julius’ face grew tender. “Pick it up, Marie. I will be your champion.”

    “I can’t let your highness be the only one looking good,” Jilk added. “The academy rules don’t limit a lady to just one champion. I will also stand for you.”

    The rules did indeed allow that. It would be considered shameful for a boy to have someone else fight for her, but ladies could have as many champions as they wanted. The only restriction while they were all students is that they should not bring in outsiders to the academy.

    And as all five of Marie’s admirers pledged themselves, Angelica Rafa Redgrave looked around her for support - and realised just how much she had trapped herself. Not even her own supporters would willingly cross the next king - and even if they did, these were five of the most promising students in their various combat specialties.

    Marie wiped at her face, clearing it of tears. “All of you…” she whispered, though with all ears eager, her words carried across the room. “I’m scared, but I feel safe with all of you with me. I accept your challenge, Angelica. We’ll fight with everything we have.”

    And still, no one spoke up for Angelica.

    Greg - Scarlet’s former fiancee - typically for him, decided to rub it in. “Hey, is there no brave fellow to stand up for Angelica? I might even feel sorry for her if no one does.”

    And then he had a face full of snake.

    It was a moment of panicked yelping and swatting it before he realised that it was merely a toy.

    “Don’t worry, Angelica, I’m with you!” a proud voice declared and now there was a second girl facing Marie and her lovers. Tall and proud in white and blue, Katarina Claes stood beside the girl that everyone had thought would be the next queen.

    Leon stepped quietly in alongside her. “I wouldn’t want Seberg to hurt himself attempting sympathy, he’s so unaccustomed to it,” he added quietly. He really should have known that Katarina would up-end the event “I’ll stand for Lady Redgrave.”

    Julius blinked in disbelief at the pair of them. “Lady Claes?” he asked. “And who even are you?” he added, looking at Leon.

    “He’s that twit kissing up to Scarlet,” Greg snapped. “Get out of here, you hick.”

    “Or what?” Leon asked the red head coolly. “Will you have your family pressure mine over a quarrel inside of the academy?”

    The muscular boy flinched at the jab, but before he could respond further, more people had joined them.

    “Sis, what are you thinking?!” Keith exclaimed, taking Katarina by the hand.

    Julius looked at his cousins, who were flanking those facing him. “I’ll let you talk sense into your fiancee, Gerald.”

    “I think Katarina has more sense in this matter than you do,” the blond retorted. “If she wishes to stand by Angelica then she has my support.”

    “And mine!” Alan snapped, although he was glaring more at Chris than the crown prince. “So both ladies have five champions, right Keith.”

    Katarina’s brother stared at her for a moment, seeing the stubborn look in her eyes. “Lady Angelica, do you accept us as your champions?”

    “I… yes, Lord Claes.”

    The speculation around the room redoubled. Well if I wanted to minimise my exposure, this’ll do it, Leon thought to himself. I’m barely a footnote now that the prince is going to be duelling his own cousins!

    -

    Nicol Fia Ascart seemed understandably frustrated by the sudden development. Alan Rafa Stuart wondered as he watched their old friend standing behind the head table within the Student Council Chambers, if the older boy was more angry at the political crisis that had dropped into his lap or that he wasn’t among those standing by Katarina? It was hard to tell.

    Flanking Nicol, two other members of the student council had been rousted out of their evening activities to help him handle this matter. Deirdre Fou Roseblade was eyeing Leon Fou Bartford in an unladylike fashion, while the redheaded Sirius Fou Dieke seemed bemused by the entire affair. As the senior unengaged members of the council, they were also the least likely to have close allies on either side of the conflict.

    “I have no authority to prevent you from duelling,” the student council president admitted as the two groups stared at each other, separated by the width of the meeting room table. “However, I gather no terms have been agreed upon. What are you asking for, Lady Redgrave?”

    The girl had been subdued since they had been invited here, perhaps beginning to see how much of a scandal this would be. But she was still determined and now she declared: “If we win, I want Marie and Julius to break off all contact.”

    Nicol nodded. “Saving that which will be unavoidable while you share a school, that is feasible.” He looked at the other group. “Lady Lafan, your own terms?”

    “I just want people to stop using their rank to trample over others,” the girl announced.

    There was an amused silence, then Leon Fou Bartford snorted. “An admirable sentiment, but would you like the moon on the stick as well?”

    “What’s so outrageous about that?” Julius asked sharply. “Marie’s been bullied viciously on that woman’s say so.”

    “I had no part in that,” Angelica shot back.

    Gerald, for a wonder, played peacemaker. “Lady Redgrave can hardly constrain every other student in the school from using their family’s rank like a weapon - any more than Lady Lafan restrained Lord Seberg from trying to push Lord Bartford into withdrawing.”

    The burly boy’s face went almost as crimson as his hair. Well, peacemaker was always a relative term when it came to Gerald.

    “And if Lady Redgrave had wanted you out of the Academy,” Alan’s brother continued, “It would have been laughably easy to arrange for her to arrange for a family allied with the Redgraves to approach your father, Lady Lafan. Given his… expensive habits, I believe he would have been easily persuaded to marry you off immediately.”

    Several faces went white.

    “You wouldn’t dare!” Jilk exclaimed out loud.

    Leon leant on the back of one of the chairs. “Do keep up, if any of us had sunk that low then Lady Lafan would be gone. She isn’t, so we didn’t.”

    “I-I want your promise not to do anything like that then!” Marie exclaimed, clutching at the nearest hand - that of her contract servant.

    “Also reasonable,” Nicol agreed in his usual dispassionate tone. “Do you each agree to the other’s terms?”

    Both the girls nodded.

    “Very good.” He shook his head slightly, “And now we come to the nature of the duel - duels, rather. I will hardly approve any form of melee between all of you at once.”

    Yeah, that would get wild, Alan admitted. “Individual duels then? Best of five?”

    “In knight armours,” Julius proposed. “The arena will be free after the last day of exams, and there’s a day spare between then and the end of term ceremonies.”

    Nicol nodded. “The time would work out. However… Lord Bartford, I believe you have a problem with -”

    The dark-haired boy shook his head. “No, I have an armour that accounts for that little issue. School knight-armours can’t be modified the same way, but if we’re using our own machines then I have time to bring one from my skyship.”

    “The school certainly isn’t providing it’s own knight-armours for use in a private duel.” Nicol then turned his gaze to another member of their team. “Lady Katarina, can you use a knight-armour at all?”

    “I’ve used Keith’s before, and - as I’m nihonese - piloting one is in my blood!” she declared.

    “Ni-what-ese?” Alan asked, seeing everyone else looked equally baffled.

    “Er, it doesn’t matter,” she brushed it off. “But I don’t have an armour of my own.”

    “I…” Nicol paused and very nearly frowned. “Cannot show partiality by loaning you my own.”

    Katarina looked at Angelica, who flushed, “My family has spares but none will be in the capital.” And they’d require her father’s approval too.

    “There’s a second on my ship.”

    Alan turned to Leon in surprise. The other boy was a count’s younger son, heir to a barony through some complexity of the family’s titles as he understood it. But he had two knight-armours at his own use?

    “I believe we can at least indemnify you for any damage it takes while loaned to Katarina,” offered Keith hesitantly.

    Alan leaned over to the Claes’ adopted son, “Hey, can Katarina really pilot one?”

    “Yes,” he replied in a somewhat equivocal tone. “And it’s safer than fighting without them.”

    “Fair point.”

    Gerald nodded. “So we have time, stakes and the method of combat. Will you pick the match-ups, Nicol?”

    “I object.” Julius put one hand on the table. “The other matters have been mutually agreed between us, but Lord Ascart is one of your closest friends, Gerald. There’s too much scope for him to weight the match-ups to favour you.”

    Alan glanced at the head table and saw Nicol unruffled. “As Lady Roseblade’s sister is engaged to Lord Bartford’s brother, would you accept Lord Dieke as an impartial arbiter of that matter, your highness?” the older boy suggested.

    The crown prince hesitated but then nodded. “Yes, I would accept that.”

    The auburn-haired second year looked startled but he rose to his feet. “I accept this responsibility. One moment, please.” He went to a side cabinet and returned with a page of paper that he tore into several sections, annotating each with an ink pattern. Crumpling the papers until their markings were invisible, he scrambled them in his hand. “Duels will be in the order that I draw them, if that’s alright?”

    Gerald and Julius, each taking the lead of their side, both nodded.

    “That being the case,” Sirius unfolded two pieces of paper. “The first duel will be Lord Field against Lord Claes.”

    The two magical powerhouses against each other, Alan thought. Probably as fair as it gets.

    Dieke opened another piece of paper. “Prince Alan, you’ll be against…” He examined the next draw. “Ah, no, that’s your brother. Sorry,” the boy apologised. “I should probably have kept them separate.”

    Alan looked across at the other team. Something about Arclight made him want to give the swordsman a thrashing - although in that field probably only Gerald was a match for the son of the famous Sword Saint.

    “Lord Seberg, it is you that will be Prince Alan’s opponent.”

    “Shame I won’t get to show Bartford a what for,” the redhead grumbled, apparently as disappointed as Alan.

    “Perhaps Katarina and Leon should fight last, since if one side has three victories they wouldn’t need to participate,” suggested Gerald. “They do have the least magic.”

    Jilk shook his head. “Just draw them randomly,” he insisted.

    Dieke had sorted the remaining papers into two sets of three and shook each in his hand before making his next selections. “Lord Arclight will face Lady Claes in the third match.”

    Alan grimaced. It was probably the best of the three options, but still. On the other hand, what was it that his instructor had once said about the best swordsman in the world worrying more about facing a novice than the second-best, since the novice might do something unexpected.

    “Lord Marmoria will then face Lord Bartford in the penultimate match,” Dieke continued. “And if the matter has not been decided by then, the last match would therefore be Prince Julius against Prince Gerald.”

    Politically, it’d be best to settle this before that happens, Alan thought. But given the way Julius has been behaving, if it comes to that then I hope Gerald can knock some sense into his head.

    Nothing else seemed to have worked.

    -

    Leon landed his spare knight-armour in the arena behind House Stuart’s mansion. The ducal house had a large estate outside of the capital’s boundaries and Gerald had arranged for them to meet there the morning after the party.

    Two other knight-armours were already standing in the arena, and they raised their weapons as he landed the armour. “You know, you did invite me,” Leon called, cracking the cockpit open.

    Both of the knight-armours stood down and a moment later, the twins opened their own cockpits.

    “My apologies, Lord Bartford.” Gerald was matter of fact about the matter. “But you must admit, it would be an excellent way for an enemy to get an armed knight inside out defenses.”

    Leon considered that and then decided the blond was right - he did have to admit to the validity of the tactic. “Fair enough.” He dismounted, climbing down to the ground. “I trust that this meets your expectations.”

    “It’s a bit bulkier than I was expecting,” noted Alan. His own armour was black, contrasting the white of his brother’s. “Is it an older model?”

    “No one I consulted could pinpoint the original manufacture.” Which was literally true, since no one but he and the AIs knew that Luxion had built both knight-armours for him. “And some of that bulk is reinforced protection around the cockpit - which is probably a good thing.”

    Both brothers nodded in agreement.

    “Speaking of the knight who’ll be piloting this, have our other two partners arrived?” Leon enquired, looking around.

    “Yes, they came over with Keith’s knight-armour earlier.” Gerald explained. “She’s getting kitted out now in the hangar.”

    As if on queue, there was a high pitched: “Lady Katarina!” from the indicated direction, and then the sound of someone falling over.

    Leon exchanged looks with the two Stuarts and then all three of them ran over to investigate.

    “Oh gosh, Mary! Are you alright!” they heard, before opening the door and entering.

    The first person Leon saw was a maid with a resigned expression on her face. Then he looked down and saw Katarina crouched over a fallen Mary Fou Hunt. The Marquis’ daughter’s eyes were closed and a trail of blood was leaking from her nose.

    There was a strangled noise from beside him and he turned to see both princes were red-faced.

    Frowning, Leon turned back and finally registered that Katarina was wearing a pilot’s suit for a knight-armour. In keeping with the otome genre, the suits had been designed to show off the physiques of the young men wearing them. Katarina Rafa Claes was not a young man, but she was a very attractive young woman and the tight-fitting suit was highlighting several of her physical qualities that were usually hidden by the skirts of her school uniform or gowns.

    Grabbing one twin with each hand, Leon dragged them both back through the door. “I think that this is definitely a job for Katarina’s maid,” he told them.

    “Y-yes,” Alan managed.

    “Katarina is going to be wearing that in front of all the academy,” Gerald muttered, half to himself. “We have to do something.”

    “What’s going on!?” Keith Claes exclaimed, rushing into the antechamber. “Is Katarina alright?”

    “Your sister’s fine,” Leon assured him. “Although…” He looked at the young man, who was wearing a suit and frock-coat, presumably not having changed into his own piloting suit yet. “Gentlemen, may I suggest that we adopt a team jacket policy.”

    “What?” the flaxen-haired boy asked, bemused.

    “Your sister,” Gerald told him flatly. “In a pilot’s suit. In front of the entire academy.”

    Colour drained from Keith’s face. “Mother will kill her.”

    “I’m thinking we use your coat as a model for something that renders the matter less scandalous,” Leon suggested. “And if we’re all wearing them, there’s no need to explain why we want her to cover up.”

    “Excellent thinking,” the elder of the twins agreed. “I’ll speak to our staff immediately.”

    Keith shrugged off his coat and offered it to Gerald. “But if Katarina’s fine, who screamed?”

    “My fiancee was apparently shocked,” Alan told him. “Mary’s quite a proper girl.”

    Leon gave Alan a sideways look and decided not to enlighten him as to why Mary found the idea of Katarina wearing something skintight to be overstimulating. “Anyway, since it will take a little while for even Gerald to arrange jackets, please restrain yourselves on seeing her. Unless you want to have a very interesting conversation with her.”

    “Just keep your own eyes in your head,” Keith said in an accusing manner.

    Leon gave him a dour look. “It’s not going to be an issue once she’s in the knight-armour. Why don’t we move along to that, since we only have two days for your sister to practise?”

    “Sorry to keep you!” Katarina declared, marching out of the changing room. “Mary must have come down with something and -”

    “Mrgh,” Keith mumbled, eyes wide. Even with a warning, he apparently wasn’t ready to see his sister like this.

    Fortunately, Alan gave the boy a swift elbowing. “I’d better check on Mary,” he declared. “Leon, you and Keith get Katarina set up in the knight-armour and I’ll be back as soon as I can so we can begin practising.”

    “Right!” Katarina agreed, then peered at her brother. “Keith, are you alright? Your face is all red - please don’t be coming down with whatever Mary’s caught!” She reached up and pressed her hand against his forehead, moving well inside the embarrassed boy’s personal space.

    With herculean effort, Leon kept his gaze from lowering below her face. “He’s just worried for Mary,” he said smoothly. “But Alan will take care of that. Please follow me and I’ll show you the knight-armour I’ve brought.”

    Katarina was suitably impressed by the sight of the giant robot. “How great!” she proclaimed. “It looks powerful!”

    “My armour is also powerful,” Keith mumbled.

    “Of course it is. We’ll be great together, Keith!”

    “Do you remember how to… ah, evidently you do.” Leon watched Katarina climbing up to the cockpit until Keith elbowed him sharply. “What?”

    “That’s my sister,” the earth mage hissed angrily.

    “Yes?”

    “Stop leering at her…”

    “What are you talking about?” Katarina called down from the hatch, which was only just above their heads.

    Leon sighed. “Keith’s just going to go get his own knight-armour,” he advised. “Get sat down in there and I’ll come up and make sure you’re strapped in right - given how much you can get thrown around during a fight, it’s very important to get that right.”

    “Okay!” Katarina turned around and started climbing backwards into the cockpit, bending forwards as she did so.

    Leon blinked and then looked away from her and over at Keith. “I really should have thought of the team jackets idea earlier,” he admitted.

    “Just… don’t try anything,” the boy hissed, under his breath.

    “Between you and Scarlet, I’m fairly sure I don’t dare.”

    To Leon’s surprise, Katarina actually did know how to strap herself in properly. The safety requirements for piloting a knight-armour were apparently one of the subjects that she had not blotted out of her memory as soon as she’d passed a test on it. She could even walk it around with a fair bit of expertise. Either she was a natural, or Keith had been understating how much she’d borrowed his Knight-armour over the years.

    It was when it came to fighting that the problems emerged.

    “Yiiiiii!” Leon yelped, running in a direction that he didn’t think the sword was falling in, after Katarina had accidentally flung her weapon skywards.

    Gerald, now in his own knight-armour, rushed forward and secured the weapon before it fell to the ground. “That’s not quite how it’s done, Katarina,” he advised.

    “Oops,” she said rather sheepishly.

    “Master,” Luxion observed as Leon picked himself up and looked for any dignity he might have dropped in his abject flight.

    “She hasn’t broken the armour, has she?” he asked.

    “No, master. However, someone has broken the lock on your dorm room.”

    “Oh for crying out loud.” He rubbed his face in frustration. “I remember this from the books, it’s why I don’t have any valuables there, but how petty can they be? Who’s doing it?”

    “I’ve identified the servants of fourteen girls in the special class, with representatives from all three years.”

    Leon paused. “Just servants?”

    “You were expecting something else?” asked the AI. “They are vandalising the room now.”

    “In the book, it was baronial heirs that got bullied into it - the girls wouldn’t lower their pet lovers to manual labour like this. Or at least, they wanted a bit more deniability.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s still annoying. I have to sleep in that room.”

    “It will need careful cleaning then.”

    “Bartford!” called Gerald. “Are you alright?”

    Leon looked up and saw that all four knight-armours had halted. “Er, yes - I’m fine. Just thinking about my own training.”

    Gerald slotted the sword back into the weapon case of the borrowed Knight-armour. “Why do you have farm tools in this?”

    “We had a lot of the fighting men of the barony take time away from their farms to fight the Olfreys,” Leon replied. “After that we had all hands on deck to get the fields ready for sowing - knight-armours can handle a lot of heavy labour.”

    “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before,” Mary called from the stands. She insisted that she was fully recovered from her fainting moment, but Katarina’s maid was still watching her tentatively.

    “My father’s barony has only been cultivated for a few generations,” Leon explained, making way up to join her - out of the path of any other flying weapons. At least he hoped so. “We’re still clearing new ground for farming - I’m guessing that that’s not really the case on your father’s lands.”

    “Not really,” she admitted.

    Leon looked at her, considered the vandalism of his rooms and decided to reverse one of his earlier decisions about how to handle the duels. As long as he didn’t take it too far, it shouldn’t be too troubling and with more than a dozen students picking a fight with him, it would be almost rude not to retaliate. “Lady Hunt, might you have any idea about who will be taking bets on our duels?”
     
    Calculated Chivalry 3-2
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Calculated Chivalry

    They say that all in love is fair
    Yeah, but you don't care
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 2

    Revenge converts a little right into a great wrong. ~ German Proverb​

    As Leon had expected, Mary Fou Hunt had no difficulty telling where he could find the student’s gambling syndicate. Just as there was a formal power structure among the students, in the form of the student council, there was also an unofficial organisation passed down from one class to the next, of students who handled the wants and desires of students that weren’t filled by the academy itself. They catered to - and presumably included - students from both the special class and the general class.

    “There’s nothing illegal about them running gambling,” Mary advised, “but don’t ask about anything they might do which would be against the academy’s rules. Bringing in official attention might get them into some trouble, but you’d be making a lot of trouble for yourself with their families and those of any other student that owes them favours.”

    “No one likes a snitch,” he said to confirm his understanding. “I’m just going to lay some bets, Lady Hunt. I’m not interested in stirring up trouble.”

    “Just call me Mary,” she insisted. “After all, you’re courting Lady Katarina’s cousin so I’m sure we’ll be good friends going forwards.”

    Leon hid a smile at how Mary was trying to push him towards Scarlet - and by extension, away from closer ties with Katarina. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have reason to suspect that anyone entering her friend’s social circle would find themselves smitten by the blue-eyed girl, but Leon didn’t think he was really at risk of that.

    Katarina was a nice girl and obviously considered him a friend, but she was a little too sweet. He would want a bit more spice to a girl he started a relationship with. The fact he’d probably incur Gerald’s undying enmity was another factor, if a lesser one.

    “Here we are,” Mary informed him, gesturing to a function room with a short line waiting outside.

    Given the relatively low number of students, the fact that betting was backing up a queue said a lot about how many people were laying money on the results.

    “I guess a lot of people are hoping to make some money for the summer holidays before the term ends,” Leon noted as they took their places at the end of the queue.

    “Is that your goal?” she asked him.

    He shook his head. “I’m not usually fond of gambling, but this is a matter of skill not luck. And I strongly suspect that the people who vandalised my room will have laid money against me. Confronting them would be unwise, but raising the stakes here…”

    “It’s all very well if you win,” Mary noted. “But it’s possible that you won’t even be participating if the three duels before yours decide the matter.”

    “I’m sure that that’s covered under the terms of the betting,” Leon told her.

    One of the boys ahead of them turned back and Leon recognised Raymond Fou Arkin, one of the boys he’d snuck away from during the dungeoning expedition some weeks ago. “Leon, what are you doing here?” he asked.

    “Probably more or less the same that you are,” Leon answered. “Although I don’t know who you’re betting on, so some details may differ.”

    There was a little whispering in the queue from those who had apparently not recognised Leon.

    “It’s not as if anyone would accept my betting against myself,” he added.

    Raymond hesitated and then nodded. “I suppose not. You were asking what happens if one or both of the last two duels doesn’t happen? If that happens, all bets on those duels are void and money wagered will be returned less a small transaction fee.”

    Mary smiled sharply. “So the bookies make some money off the duels even if they don’t happen. How nice for them.”

    “They’re running a business at the end of the day.” Leon had expected something of this general nature. “They’re not taking sides, they’re operating as a business.”

    The line shrank ahead of them quickly. Most people seemed to have a good idea what they were going to wager before they went in. Also, by allowing only one gambler in at a time, the bookies were keeping who was betting which way private - something that probably let them set the odds at a level to manage their risks.

    “One at a time,” one of the third years at a desk inside warned as Mary tried to enter with Leon. She huffed and stepped back as the door closed.

    Leon checked the board that had been set out, showing the odds on each of the ten combatants. Three of the matches were more or less even in their expectation, but the odds definitely didn’t favor him or Katarina. It made sense, neither of them had been seen using a knight-armour at the academy before now.

    “We can’t let you bet against yourself,” the older student informed him, “But the rest are open. We won’t tell anyone if you bet against your team-mates.”

    “That’s appreciated, but unnecessary.” Leon pulled out his wallet and removed five platinum coins from it. “I’m betting one of these on myself, one on Prince Alan, Prince Gerald, Lady Claes and Lord Claes.”

    “That’s… just about within our reach,” the boy said after a moment’s thought. “We prefer not to take bets quite that large, but given the amounts wagered so far are quite high we can manage that.” He took out a fresh sheet of red paper and started noting down details. After finishing, he tore it into five sections along pre-scored lines. “Hold onto these, because if you lose them then we won’t recognise any claim for payout.”

    Leon tucked them away. “Thank you.”

    “I’d wish you good luck,” the upperclassman told him. “But honestly, if you win all of these, we’re going to be paying out quite a bit.”

    “I’m sure you’ll make it back from the opposition,” Leon noted and left the room.

    “Leon!” his sister Jenna snapped, having apparently arrived while he was inside.

    “...is something the matter?” he asked as Mary stepped past him into the room and closed the door behind him.

    His sister put her hands on her hips. “You told me you couldn’t afford to pay for me to have a contract servant, but here you are betting money.”

    “What’s your point?”

    “You lied to me!” Jenna fumed. “How can you hide money from your lovely and loving sister?”

    “It’s easier when I haven’t seen her in the better part of ten years,” Leon told her. “You replaced her somehow, probably because of Zola's bad influence.”

    “You’re a horrible brother!” She grabbed his sleeve. “You hide money and now you’re getting involved in the mess with the prince. Do you ignore everything I tell you?”

    Leon let her drag him along, but not out of sight of the doorway, digging in his heels once they weren’t blocking anyone. “Honestly, Jenna, you’re not doing yourself any favours. The reason I don’t fund your bad habits is the same reason that you haven’t had a suitor yet - you’re acting like Zola. It’s not likely to end well, look how she ended up.”

    Jenna let go of him. “You don’t understand anything, Leon. You can’t go against society. If I tried, I really would be left marrying some leftover and you’ll be doing well to marry at all.”

    “Yes, well society sucks so I aim to misbehave,” Leon shot back. “You may be a count’s eldest daughter now, but you’re not going to have a chance to marry at that level because every count’s son has the chance at marrying someone who doesn’t act like a backstabbing social climber but actually looks like they might be a help to them in the rest of their life.”

    “And what will you do, little brother, if you don’t have any marriage available by the time you’re twenty? Father’s barony isn’t near enough to the county for he and Nicks to support you, so you’ll be standing alone and all the neighbours can turn on you with impunity. What will you do then?”

    Leon considered that question for a moment. “Kill anyone who attacks me, add their lands to mine and dare anyone to do anything about it.”

    “Wh-what?” Jenna asked, incredulous.

    “Either someone will kill me, or I’ll run out of idiot neighbours.” Leon smiled thinly. “The only question is how large my domain is by the time that we reach one of those points.”

    “My, that’s an ambitious agenda,” Mary murmured, having presumably finished laying her bets. “If it does come to that, you might fight the royal army being deployed though.”

    “If Julius is in charge by then, I think Holfort will have larger problems,” Leon told her.

    “...a fair point,” she conceded. Mary then turned her eyes on Jenna. “Leon’s own plans aside, you may wish to consider his assessment of your own path. While the crown does support the idea of noble wives living well in the capital, that doesn’t mean that they’re happy with some of the more exploitative practices that have grown up around that. I would suggest that you distance yourself from them - most of the upper nobility have little patience with contract servants and the like.”

    “But the prince bought a servant for Lady Lafan,” Jenna pointed out.

    Mary nodded. “That marks him as an aberration, Lady Bartford. His engagement contract with Lady Redgrave prohibited her from having such servants - as does mine, and every other arrangement I know of that involves the households of dukes, marquises… even the more reputable counts’ families. Your parents not allowing you one is far wiser than you seem to realise.”

    Jenna was left with her mouth gaping at that rebuttal.

    Turning to Leon, Mary curtseyed. “If you’ll allow me to excuse myself, Lord Bartford. I must meet Prince Gerald regarding certain preparations.”

    “Of course.” He bowed solemnly in return. “I hope that everything goes well for you.”

    “And with you.”

    Leon looked at his still flummoxed sister. “Do close your mouth, Jenna,” he advised her and made an escape before she decided to give him another piece of her mind.

    “Do you have any idea what Mary is up to?” he asked Luxion under his breath as he left the building. He wasn’t aware of anything that she’d been asked to do - and so far as he was aware, Gerald should still be working with his brother and Keith to bring Katarina up to the highest possible level of readiness for the duels. For the prince to leave his fiancee alone was markedly out of character.

    “Curiously, none of your new human companions have confided in me, master.”

    “Not quite what I asked.” Leon paused and considered his options. “Follow her and let me know please. This mess was probably unavoidable but I’ve no idea how far it’ll spin out of control now. Anything behind the scenes that I’m not aware of could backfire nastily.”

    “Understood.” The AI’s voice was dry. “Operation Stalker is now underway.”

    Leon grinned at the sass and headed back towards his room. Cleaning the walls to remove the insults wasn’t all that vital but he wanted to make sure all the broken glass and other garbage was out before he got his bed sorted out again. Honestly, if he couldn’t have Luxion stand guard, he wouldn’t feel safe sleeping in that room right now. It was very tempting to ask the Stuarts to let him use a spare room, but students were rarely allowed to spend the night away from their dorms and the staff would be staying well away from any permissions that might suggest they were taking sides against the future prince.

    “Lord Arclight,” he heard Mary say, the words relayed to him through the earbud he was wearing. “A moment of your time.”

    “Given your friendship with Lady Claes, I think it best we don’t speak.”

    “I really must insist.” The young lady’s voice was steely. “This won’t take long.”

    Arclight took an audible breath. “I am quite sure -”

    “That you can spare a moment for the lady.” Gerald Rafa Stuart’s voice was silky and menacing.

    Nothing was said for a few moments, Leon sweeping his ruined bedding into a bag. It might be salvageable as rags, but he was tempted to just put it out for burning.

    A door closed and then Chris asked: “What do you want?” in a strained voice.

    “Nothing but a quiet talk,” Mary told him in a voice that sounded courteous. More or less.

    Gerald was a little more urbane. “Lord Arclight, in a little under forty-eight hours you’ll be facing my dear fiancee in a duel. Not combat, a duel. And I love Katarina very very much… but let’s be honest. She is not a knight.”

    “You, on the other hand, are one of the rising stars of the kingdom. Son of the greatest swordsman to serve the Holforts, perhaps even able to one day surpass him.” Mary’s voice was sweet. “So Katarina poses no threat to you at all.”

    “You can’t possibly think I’m going to throw the match,” the boy exclaimed. “Have you no shame?”

    There was a pause and then Mary told him: “You are in no place to talk of shame, Lord Arclight.”

    “It would be difficult for anyone to expect you to lose your duel,” Gerald advised smoothly. “My concern is merely that the duel ends with Katarina completely unharmed. In that regard, I am pleased that you will be the one to face her. Out of the five of you, I think you are the least likely to do anything reckless.”

    “Striking at the cockpit, for example. Or attempting a coup de grace.” Mary listed the examples. “Harming one strand of Lady Katarina’s precious hair.”

    “By all means, win the fight. Champion your precious Lady Lafan.” Gerald’s voice was colder than it should be for any fire mage. “But should my beloved come to even the slightest injury… Well, I don’t quite know what I will do. But I’m quite sure my family history will provide many many ideas for how to punish carelessness on your part. So let’s not find out. What do you say?”

    Chris’ voice was shaky. “Do you think you can just drag me aside and threaten me?”

    “Oh dear me, Lord Arclight.” And then Mary’s voice drained of the slightest warmth. “We have dragged you aside, we are threatening you… and there is nothing that you, your family or any of your idiot friends can do about it.”

    There was the sound of a door opening.

    “I’m so glad that we’ve had this chat,” Gerald said in a conversational tone.

    “Huh.” Leon shook his head, concluding that everything interesting had been said. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Do you think anyone heard that, Luxion?”

    “Besides the three present, yourself and my recording, master?”

    “Yeah… hold onto that recording.” The boy looked at his room and sighed. “Probably it’ll never be needed. But damn, I don’t want those two coming after me. Better to have something in reserve… just in case.”

    “It occurs to me, master, that should Katarina Rafa Claes come to harm in your knight armour, there might also be consequences for you. It seems likely her family would see you as having enabled her.”

    “You’re such a cheery fellow, Luxion.”

    “One tries,” the AI responded matter-of-factly.

    -

    Even the previous rapprochement and additional ginger muffins hadn’t quite brought Olivia to the point that she’d feel safe treating Angelica as a friend. The simple fact was that as a duke’s daughter, the other girl was almost as highly placed as it was possible for a woman to be in Holfort - and marrying Prince Julius would have removed ‘almost’ from that description. As the daughter of a yeoman farmer, Olivia Campbell wasn’t quite at the exact opposite end of the social spectrum - but the gulf in their power was such that she might as well have been.

    (Lady Katarina was a friend, of course, largely because Katarina Rafa Claes radiated friendship like an irresistible force, essentially overriding all social conventions. Olivia could no more have not treated her as a friend than she could have kicked a small puppy if it looked at her with big pleading eyes. Only the most callous monster imaginable could have refused to be Katarina’s friend… and even then, few people would have put money on the monster.)

    Today Angelica sat almost entirely alone despite the crowds of students filling the stadium seating. Even families with a long and close relationship with the Redgrave household were hesitant to support her when she had not only fallen out with the crown prince but was to all practical purposes confronting him directly.

    If the duke had been the one to do that, perhaps it would have been different. Although, that would have been open rebellion and civil war, so most likely one side or the other would have backed down rather than risk that. Holfort was, after all, surrounded by neighbouring realms that would be delighted to add the kingdom’s sprawling territory to their own, particularly if it could be seized in convenient bite-sized chunks.

    However, Angelica wasn’t the duke or even the heir. And her power, based on associations that were now shaky at best, had therefore deserted her.

    She actually looked surprised when Olivia approached her seat and asked if it would be alright to sit next to her.

    “You can if you want,” the duke’s daughter told her. “But it might not be the best of ideas. Whatever happens today, I’m going to be in disgrace and anyone near me might be dragged down as well.”

    Olivia elected to sit down anyway. “If you’re in disgrace, and Lady Katarina is in disgrace, then I’ll be in good company,” she said stoutly.

    More company than that, she discovered a few moments later as three other ladies hurried to take seats with them. Mary Fou Hunt was someone that Olivia had met already - a marquis’ daughter (though not a marchioness, she insisted) almost seeming like a normal girl when around Katarina. Introductions ensued with the two silver-blonde women accompanying her and Olivia’s head swam as the twin daughters of yet another duke sat down next to her. Surely one of them would realise she was just a commoner and send her away?

    They did not, in fact, send her away.

    Nor, a few moments later, did the pair who arrived just before the duels were scheduled to begin. Olivia blushed as the president of the student council looked at her. Lady Violette actually almost swooned and only remained seated upright when her sister and Olivia caught her by her arms.

    “Julius already as much as said he doesn’t believe brother is impartial,” Sophia Fia Ascart declared brightly. “So we might as well sit with people we like.”

    “I’m glad to be in that select company,” Angelica answered, sounding just as overwhelmed as Olivia felt.

    Fortunately, that was when the trumpets sounded and everyone turned their attention to the arena below them - Lord Nicol Fia Ascart considerately sitting down behind them where his unfairly beautiful face wouldn’t be a distraction.

    In an attempt to streamline the event, the referee had all ten of the duellists come out and give their oaths for proper conduct at once. They did so dismounted, which gave everyone a good view of the prince and his companions in skin-tight piloting suits. The five facing them wore matching white coats trimmed in appropriate colours - although the distinct hair colours made it easy enough to identify everyone down there.

    “Was it really worth making coats just for one event?” Angelica mused. “I should at least have asked Lord Bartford to withdraw - I can’t reward him in any way, and he’s far more vulnerable to retaliation than the Claes or the Stuarts.”

    “Perhaps we should all get coats like that to show our solidarity,” suggested Sophia. “Wouldn’t that be a good idea, Mary, dressing like Lady Katarina?”

    Mary averted her eyes. “They are rather more… proper than just wearing pilot suits.”

    Her opinion seemed to be a minority one. In fact, some of the voices carrying from elsewhere in the stands seemed rather disappointed that Keith Rafa Claes in particular was wearing a coat. Katarina’s brother wasn’t currently engaged, which made him a subject of great interest within the student body.

    Nonetheless, the young man didn’t remove his coat until he was inside his knight-armour and facing Brad fou Field across the arena, while the other duellists had withdrawn to watch. Both of the mages had marked their knight armours in their preferred shades of purple, and they were of similar models - lithe and agile in comparison to older designs. Brad’s sported a more prominent head-unit and carried four lances on its back, making them easy enough to distinguish.

    “Who do you think will win?” asked Sophia, sounding nervous.

    No one said anything for a moment and then Angelica sighed. “I’ve never seen them face off before, I’ve no idea.”

    “They’re both very gifted,” Nicol said noncommittally.

    The duel began and Olivia saw the arena floor ripple, a pair of golems forming to flank Keith’s knight armour. The three figures advanced upon the now out-numbered Brad, but he counterattacked immediately, three spears rising from his backpack and flying through the air to strike at each adversary.

    For a moment the battle seemed stalled but then the fourth spear took off directly upwards.

    Nicol tsked quietly. “He missed it.”

    “Brad?” asked Angelica, gripping the rail in front of her with both hands.

    “No.”

    A moment later, the spear plunged down again, striking at Keith from behind. As the earth mage maintained his slow progress towards Brad, he was a predictable target and the lance ripped into one shoulder, crippling one arm of the knight-armour.

    Distracted, Keith relaxed his control over the golems to try to address the damage to his knight-armour but that left them vulnerable and within moments, all four spears were assaulting the already damaged knight-armour.

    Keith fought defensively, raising another golem to protect his damaged side, but four distinct attacks were more than he could cope with and Brad slashed at the back of the knight-armour’s legs, forcing it to kneel to him.

    At that point the referee intervened and the first victory was declared, for one of Lady Lafan’s champions. Brad proudly marched the full perimeter of the arena, waving and accepting accolades, before Keith was able to have his damaged knight-armour carried from the field.

    Olivia patted Angelica reassuringly. “It’ll be alright.”

    “I’m just glad he hasn’t been hurt for my sake,” the other girl said fatalistically.

    Once Brad’s grandstanding was over and Keith had departed, the second duel began. This time the two knight-armours were clearly distinct, Alan’s being black and clearly much newer than the red knight-armour being used by Greg Fou Seberg.

    “Is it alright if I cheer for your fiance?” Scarlet Rafa Ades asked Mary solemnly.

    The buxom girl shrugged (making Olivia feel just a little envious). “Why wouldn’t it be?”

    “I can never tell.”

    Then the two knight-armours closed in on each other and everyone was on the edge of their seats. No magic was visible between the two, but sparks flew as Alan’s sword clashed against Greg’s spear.

    It was a mobile fight that slashed back and forth across the arena. Olivia felt almost dizzy trying to keep track, as the two young men twisted and turned through the air, striking at each other with abandon.

    “He has…” Then Nicol sat back. “I thought Alan had him.”

    Olivia couldn’t say what exchange had prompted the comment. “Is he losing?”

    “No, just a missed opportunity.”

    There was a sudden screech of metal against metal and the plate of armour protecting the shoulder of Greg’s knight armour sheared away, hacked off by Alan’s sword. For a moment Olivia wondered if that would decide the matter, but both continued.

    “What happened?” asked Mary.

    It was Angelica who answered: “Prince Alan missed - he was aiming for a disabling hit but he couldn’t quite reach far enough. I’m guessing…” She hesitated. “I don’t suppose he’s faced someone with a spear before?”

    “He has,” Nicol disagreed. “But perhaps not often enough to be fully adjusted to how it changes matters of reach.”

    “But he still damaged Greg’s armour,” Mary offered hopefully.

    “Hit him harder, please!” Scarlet called in encouragement to the black-painted knight-armour.

    Four more exchanges took place before more armour was destroyed, but this time it was the right knee of Alan’s armour that suffered the hit, and it was quickly evident that the damage was more than superficial. With his mobility impaired, Alan limped on for another few minutes but eventually Greg managed to sweep the good leg out from under the black knight-armour with the butt of his spear, leaving Alan helpless on his back with the spear point aimed for the ‘throat’ - more or less where his own head was.

    “Oh no!” Sophia wailed.

    Greg dismounted once the match was called in his favour, helping the referee to open the cockpit hatch once it was clear that it had jammed and Alan was unable to get out without assistance. There was no victory lap this time, the winner giving the loser a hearty slap to the upper arm and words that appeared rather congratulatory.

    “Humph,” Scarlet pouted as Alan walked out of the arena, head low. His armour was carried off after him.

    Violette looked at her sister and shook her head, then reached past Olivia to reassure Mary: “I’m sure Alan is alright.”

    Mary nodded absently, “Alan’s just fine… this is the match that worries me.”

    Out on the arena, the next duel was being announced.

    -

    Chris Fia Arclight’s knight-armor was trimmed with an aqua-blue that almost matched his hair, and it towered over Katarina Rafa Claes as she walked out, straight-backed, into the arena.

    Keith being defeated had worried her, and now Alan had been defeated as well. If she lost now, then it was all over.

    I can’t lose, she told herself. I’m a villainess - and the villainess only loses to the heroine. And Lord Arclight is no heroine! Of course, he was fighting on behalf of Lady Lafan - who was acting a lot as if she was a heroine… but that didn’t count, right?

    Although… by that logic, Angelica might be the villainess. Did that mean that Katarina was now one of the villainess’ henchwomen? It was like there was an entire different story playing out in parallel to the one that Katarina had been expecting?

    “Lady Claes?” the referee asked. “Did you forget your Knight-Armour? Or…” He looked hopeful. “Are you here to concede?”

    What? Katarina realised she’d gotten lost in her own internal dialogue. “No!” she called quickly. “I have my knight-armour.”

    Reaching into her coat, she pulled out the pen-shaped device that Leon had given her and twisted it until it clicked. Then Katarina pushed the top down. “Big Stein! I choose you!”

    “What are you doing?” asked Chris.

    Katarina shook her head. “I’m summoning my giant robot.” Didn’t he know anything?

    There were shouts from the stand, but she stood proud and tall. It didn’t matter what anyone said, because today she was going to pilot a giant robot. That was what was important!

    A moment later there was a whistling noise and people began to look up. A shadow fell across Katarina and then, with a roar of thrusters that sent her long brown hair flapping around in its high ponytail, her knight-armour landed behind her.

    (Leon was the one who named it Stein. Katarina liked it! He said it meant stone, which suited her because she was an earth-mage and stone was a sort of really dense earth. And if it had some more red and gold and if she squinted a bit, it would look almost like a Gundam!)

    The landing had kicked up a cloud of dust, and Katarina climbed up the knight-armour quickly, scrambling into the cockpit. She went through the strapping-in process diligently, because proper preparation prevents pathetically poor performance! All the P-words marked her securing another strap, and she chanted the reminder to herself.

    Alright! She was ready! Pulling out the Big Stein’s sword, she adopted a defensive stance. Right, just as if it was Gerald and she’d lost snakey! She would parry, parry, parry and then run away!

    However, Chris didn’t cooperate with her plan - he had his sword out but he didn’t attack. Not even when the referee was out of the way. Well, obviously he should have waited for that. But still…

    “Lady Claes,” the boy declared after a moment. “It would be inappropriate for a swordsman like myself to take advantage of your inexperience. I suggest that we fight to three touches.”

    What did that mean? Katarina let go of her controls and rubbed her forehead. There was dust on her hand, she’d gotten pretty dusty when the Stein landed. Anne would probably insist she take a bath right away once this was over. Oh, she should answer Chris. “What do you mean?”

    Back behind Chris she could see Lord Marmoria and Prince Julius arguing about something. Then Jilk called out: “Just beat her already, Chris! Get it over with!”

    Well he wasn’t being very nice. Then again, he’d have to fight Leon next if Katarina won. Maybe he didn’t want to?

    Chris gestured with his knight-armour’s suit. “Every time we touch the other’s armour with our weapon, it’s a point - even if it’s just a tap. The first one to three points wins… although obviously, if someone can’t continue, that also decides the duel.” The head of his knight-armour turned towards the stands briefly - aw, he was looking at his fiancee! Maybe he did still care for Violette! “That way no one gets hurt.”

    No one getting hurt sounded great to Katarina. That was one less bad end to worry about. She cleared her throat, coughed a little on the dust and then declared: “I agree!”

    Three times? She could parry three times! Although… touching his knight-armour might be difficult. Katarina had practised parrying mostly. It wasn’t as if she wanted to beat Gerald with a sword once he fell in love with Olivia, just to stay alive long enough to run away.

    Wait, that was only if Gerald fell in love - not when. Olivia didn’t seem to be on that route yet. She still might choose someone else!

    Chris lunged with his sword and Katarina brought hers up on reflex, moving just barely enough to bat it aside.

    He pulled back and then tried again. Katarina blocked a second time.

    Then he made to cut at her knight-armour’s head and when she raised her sword, he suddenly switched targets. Katarina tried to skip back but she stumbled a bit and her knight-armour shook a little as Chris tapped its thigh with his sword.

    “That’s one!” he called.

    Did that mean it was her turn?

    Katarina hit the thrusters and blasted towards him, swinging her sword ferociously. “Here I come!” she shouted!

    The aqua-trimmed armour jetted backwards, staying ahead of her - and then he swept to one side and knocked her sword off to one side before tapping the arm with his blade. Katarina’s sword went flying from the Bit Stein’s hand.

    “Two,” Chris announced as Katarina wheeled around. He flew back and away. “I’ll let you recover your sword, Lady Claes.”

    There was clapping from the audience and Katarina smiled. “That’s very kind of you,” she told him, opening her weapon case. “But I have other weapons!” She yanked out the first thing that came to hand and flourished.

    The clapping petered out and then the students watching began laughing.

    “...are you mocking me?” demanded Chris.

    Katarina gripped the hoe in the Big Stein’s hand. “No.”

    She had to hit him three times. The sword wasn’t working, she should try something different. Wasn’t that common sense?

    The boy sighed heavily. “Go and pick up your sword, Lady Claes.” His knight armour reached up to its face with his free hand, as if he was adjusting his glasses.

    “Why do you want me to do that so much?” Katarina wondered out loud. “You’re not going to hit me in the back are you?” He didn’t seem to be the sort of person to do that.

    “Of course not!”

    “Then what is it?”

    Chris hesitated. “Please do not try to fight me with a farm tool. This is a duel. Treat it seriously.”

    Hey! Was he insulting Big Stein’s hoe? Katarina glared at him, even though she knew that the boy couldn’t see her face.

    You looked after your hoe and your hoe looked after you!

    “I’m going to fight you just like this!” she shouted up at him. “And you’ll be sorry for what you just said!”

    “You’re making a joke out of this!”

    She fired her thrusters, flying up to face him, raising the hoe high above Stein’s head. Katarina hadn’t really flown a knight-armour before Leon lent her the Stein, so she was a bit wobbly. Apparently having the ground further away from you didn’t make you less likely to fall over. Strange.

    Chris sighed. “Alright then. Please don’t blame me for this.” He drew back his sword and paused. It was just like a samurai duel! Katarina could almost see the sakura blossoms falling between them!

    A flare of fire from behind Chris marked the start of his charge.

    Katarina waited, steadying herself as she hovered in the air.

    The sword swung around, aiming for one of her upraised arms.

    “Heave-HO!” Katarina shouted and swung the hoe down with all her might!

    There was a crash as Chris flung up his sword to try to parry her, but the force of the hoe could not be denied! Katarina was an expert at hoeing! She drove it down determinedly and it forced the much lighter weapon downwards

    With a second crash, the point of the hoe struck Chris’ knight armour right on the top of the head.

    Pivoting on the impact, the Big Stein flipped up and over. Katarina flailed wildly as she tried to stay in the air and avoid dropping her hoe. Meanwhile, Chris’ knight-armour dropped down and fell to the floor of the arena.

    Finally, Katarina was stable and she hadn’t lost her hoe. She took a deep breath and looked down.

    Chris’ knight-armour was prone on the ground.

    Slowly, she descended and landed next to it. “Lord Arclight? Are you okay? I think that that was my first point?”

    There was no reply.

    “Lord Arclight? Chris?”

    The referee ran over and climbed up to check the boy’s cockpit. After a moment he scrambled down. “Uh… victory to Katarina Rafa Claes, by knock-out.”

    Katarina blinked. I won? I won! Yay!
     
    Calculated Chivalry 3-3
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Calculated Chivalry

    They say that all in love is fair
    Yeah, but you don't care
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 3

    To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves. ~ Alexander Pope​

    Three matches back to back was long enough, so the referee had ordered an intermission. Honestly, Leon didn’t think that most people had expected that there would be a fourth or fifth duel. Particularly since Katarina had been two points down before she knocked out Chris.

    The boy wasn’t badly hurt, the impact to his knight-armour had driven the remains of the head down low enough that he’d smacked his own head on it when he crashed. Head injuries could be a problem but in this case he just had a minor concussion. Marie had rushed out and used her light magic to treat it, so he’d be alright after a couple of days rest.

    Leon wasn’t planning on being as dramatic as Katarina was - to be honest, giving her a signal device so that Luxion could fly the Stein to her location was mostly a joke. Mostly. It would also let Luxion spy on Katarina if Leon ‘forgot’ to take the device back. However, he’d brought his own knight-armour in and was currently camped out watching it.

    He remembered that in the books, Jilk had persuaded Jenna to let him in so he could sabotage the book-Leon’s knight-armour. Of course, in that story Leon had just beaten Brad, Greg and Chris in succession. He’d looked like a serious threat.

    In this case, that wasn’t really the case.

    And yet, here Jilk came. The green-haired boy at least wasn’t sneaking in.

    “Does he have a bomb?” Leon asked Luxion quietly.

    “I detect no explosive materials,” the drone informed him.

    Well unless he has a conspirator, that means this is going differently. “Is there something you want?” he called to the other boy. “We’re going to duel in a few minutes.”

    Jilk crossed his arms. “Yes, that’s what I’m here to discuss.”

    “Cold?” Leon asked. “In general, I mean - I’m not accusing you of having cold feet. This coat really makes it much more comfortable than walking around in just a pilot suit.”

    The other boy looked at him scornfully. “This is a warrior’s garb, Bartford.”

    “...the sad thing is that I think you’re serious.” I mean, seriously. It was transparently obvious that the pilot suits were intended for fan service. They had no real protective value, they were just there to show off the physique of the wearer.

    Jilk brushed his hair back over his shoulders. “I will be honest, I did not think after Greg and Brad’s victories that I would be facing you. But as Lady Claes has surprised everyone…”

    “Do you want a gold star for pointing out the obvious?”

    “Listen, Bartford. I want our match to be the final one.”

    Leon stretched lazily from where he was sitting. “I didn’t think that you were likely to throw the fight.”

    “Don’t be so dense!” Jilk slammed his hand against one of the pillars supporting the high ceiling. “I’m talking about you taking a dive.”

    ...interesting. He’s trying to bargain? “Why in the world should I do that?”

    “Your family are upstarts. My father had much to say about you. Ousting the Olfreys has won you far more prestige than I think your father ever expected and it’ll be the work of generations for you to consolidate your household’s position. It’s admirable that you’ve risen so far,” Jilk admitted in what was probably intended as a conciliatory tone. “But there are those who resent it. You need allies and you’re in a position to earn that.”

    Leon nodded. “We also need to appear as reliable to the allies we make. For me to let down Lady Redgrave after speaking up for her… it wouldn’t look good.”

    “There’s no need to be blatant - I’m sure you’re smart enough to put on a show.”

    They stared at each other, Leon sure that the other boy was judging his measure.

    Deducing - correctly - that his target was unconvinced, Jilk continued: “The flipside of your need for allies is that you cannot afford to make more enemies. Particularly at court. It would be easy to persuade the king that his decision to grant the Olfrey lands and title to your mother was an error, especially now that you’re joining a faction opposed to the crown prince. If you continue upon this path, my family can easily ruin yours - we’ve been at the heart of Holfort since it was founded, while you and yours are from the fringes.”

    Leon took a deep breath, fighting down anger at the threat. “Why are you so eager to see me lose? I understand that Julius and Gerald fighting would be politically damaging, but this seems personal for you. Is it that which concerns you… or are you eager to be the one who wins the deciding duel rather than seeing the prince win the laurels if he can?”

    Jilk’s chin twitched slightly at the last words. “What does it matter to you?”

    “Let’s say that it’s a measure of how far I can trust you.”

    “I am eager only to spare my prince the personal and political risk of duelling against his cousin.” They both knew that the green-haired boy was lying. “How eager are you to endanger your family, just for the sake of a woman that you barely know? You must realise that she cannot mobilise the Redgraves to protect you, she’ll be doing well to avoid her own punishment for these duels.”

    “Win or lose?”

    The other boy nodded. “Win or lose, she’s lost her bid to be queen. If you focus only on what happens here in the academy then you’ll miss the wider picture.”

    “How admirable,” Leon conceded. “And you do make a good point.”

    “Then we have an agreement?”

    Leon rose to his feet. “You’re willing to go this far for Julius, even though losing the duels wouldn’t cost you a thing since it only means that he’s honorbound to break it off with Lady Lafan and none of the rest of you are affected. Such devotion to him is praiseworthy.”

    Jilk stared at him in surprise, as if he’d not considered that. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I am Julius’ left hand. I always have been.”

    A troubled expression upon his face, the other boy departed and Leon looked up at where Luxion’s drone body was hiding in the rafters. “Did you get all that recorded?”

    “Yes, master. Do you intend to take his bargain?”

    The dark-haired boy smiled slowly. “He’s right about one thing: focusing on just the academy can mean losing sight of the bigger picture.”

    -

    Marie exhaled, the use of her light magic was draining despite all her practice. “That’s everything I can do. I think Chris will be alright once he wakes up.”

    “Don’t try to alter that,” the school physician instructed. “Even with light magic, it’s best to let his head have some time to settle before he wakes up.”

    “But he will be alright?” asked Julius anxiously.

    The man shrugged. “Most likely. He’s young and healthy. Head injuries can be tricky, but his chances would be good without light magic. With that, he’s as assured of recovery as we could possibly hope for.”

    Greg folded his arms. “Well you’re just a font of support for him.”

    “No one forced him to go out and fight a live duel,” the physician told them disapprovingly. “Frankly I don’t think any of the ten of you should be out there. You’re still children.”

    “What the hell!” the hot-headed boy started to explode, but Marie took his arm.

    “Greg, we don’t want to wake Chris,” she warned. “Let’s go back. Jilk’s duel is next.”

    The redhead grumpily backed off and followed the others out of the room. “Where is Jilk, anyway?” he asked when the door closed. The green-haired boy was the only one of Marie’s five captures who hadn’t been in Chris’ recovery room.

    “He said he had some preparations to make,” Julius explained. “It’s still possible for us to lose overall, and he doesn’t want to end up making the same mistakes as Chris.”

    Brad nodded. “Yeah, who would have thought Lady Claes would be the dark horse of their line-up?”

    Marie nodded. What in the world was Katarina Rafa Claes even doing in the duels? Wasn’t Angelica Rafa Redgrave supposed to be completely unable to find anyone in the school to fight for her? In the game she’d wound up having to bring in a ringer from outside the academy, disgracing herself - and also losing the duel anyway. Unsurprisingly since her champion had been up against five near end-game capture-targets…

    Oh…

    Oh no…

    Marie had used every trick she had from the game to win over the five boys. To make sure that the game protagonist wouldn’t have a chance, she’d set up and exploited scenarios from all through the three years of the game’s timeline. She’d pushed through and brought the relationships to the point in one term that should have taken seven, meaning that this duel was taking place two years early. The five boys hadn’t levelled up anything like as much as they would have by the duels in the game.

    That meant that the boys also had two years less experience. And that could be why Angelica has support. Something must have happened over the next two years that would have made her current champions unavailable. Perhaps they’d died…

    No that was too horrible a thought to contemplate, at least when it came to three of them.

    Perhap Bartford had died, he wasn’t a pretty boy. And maybe Claes had been drummed out of the academy somehow. It was hard to imagine that someone with her villainous features would have been able to hold onto her harem. Most likely Lady Hunt would have run off with her to a private island, leaving Julius’ two cousins desolate and uninterested in Redgrave’s appeal for aid.

    After all, they had only got involved because Claes had involved herself.

    “Don’t worry, Marie.” Julius put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Everything will be alright.”

    Ah, she shouldn’t assume she could always hide her feelings from them. After all, the point of having seduced them was having their attention. “I want to believe that, but now Chris is hurt and…” a few crocodile tears “and it’s all my fault.”

    “No,” the crown prince assured her. “It’s not your fault. It was Lady Claes who hurt him, and she would never have done it if Angelica hadn’t put her up to it!”

    Marie felt a corner of her mind wonder if Angelica Rafa Redgrave was as smitten by Katarina Rafa Claes as the rest of the brunette’s bisexual harem was. Probably not, otherwise she wouldn’t be fighting Marie over Prince Julius.

    Why couldn’t Mary Fou Hunt have not kidnapped Claes already? They could have their sapphic pleasures off where they didn’t bother anyone, and at worst Marie would only have to worry about Bartford.

    At least that mob wouldn’t be half as much bother. Five to one odds would take care of him easily. Wouldn’t it?

    Marie leant on Julius. “Please be careful.”

    “I may not have to fight at all. Jilk is very good and Bartford can’t even use a normal knight-armour. Given he has to modify one, he’s probably going to have an uphill struggle.”

    That was true, Marie thought. And Chris had been holding back. Understandable that he wouldn’t want to hit a girl - even if Claes was more of a monkey! Jilk would almost certainly win, and if he didn’t… Well, she didn’t know how high-spec Gerald Rafa Stuart was. It would be better, much better, if Jilk won. Anything else would be a gamble, and Marie hated gambling.

    -

    For the fourth time today, a pair of knight-armours faced each other on the arena floor. No one seemed bored with it yet. In fact, there was a new energy in the stands - Katarina’s victory meant that this looked like less of a one-sided clash.

    Was it possible that Redgrave’s champions might actually triumph?

    Probably not. But… probably was not definitely. No one had expected Katarina Rafa Claes to emerge triumphant against the finest swordsman of their generation. But she had - and given the odds that had been given against that, a handful of people were suddenly extremely happy they’d laid out a little money on a long-shot.

    Leon’s knight-armour loomed over Jilk’s. Just sufficiently taller and bulkier to be intimidating. Red and black making it look villainous compared to the green of its adversary.

    “Are you ready?” the prince’s foster-brother called out.

    Unshipping a rifle, Leon raised the weapon in salutation to his opponent, and then bowed to the stands where Angelica was seated among her few supporters.

    “You may begin!” the referee called.

    Leon took to the sky immediately, firing rapidly towards Jilk. The other boy broke into an evasive maneuver, using his shield to block shots that came close. “Did you get everything in place?” Leon murmured to Luxion.

    “Of course, master.”

    “Right.” He saw Jilk raise his own rifle. “Wait until he’s done shooting, then we can start this.”

    Unlike Leon’s, the other boy’s rifle was tube-fed, not drawing off a box magazine. The shots were slower and Leon was easily able to dodge them, even as he stowed his rifle and retrieved the knight-armour’s axe. As tempting as it was, he hadn’t loaded a shovel. Katarina’s use of a hoe had exhausted the humour of that concept.

    “Hit it,” Leon ordered as Jilk dropped his rifle and came to meet Leon with his sword drawn.

    The two knight-armours clashed in mid-air. “Listen, Bartford. I want our match to be the final one.”

    Jilk’s voice came from his knight-armour, loud enough to be audible from the stands. But inside his cockpit, the devices Luxion had planted to repeat the words should muffle it to the point that the other boy would have no idea.

    The crowd cheering, the sound of the earlier gunfire. It was plausible that the two boys would have trouble hearing right now. Not enough that they wouldn’t normally be able to hear, but enough that people might believe the two of them were speaking louder than intended. It was only natural to raise one’s voice to match that of others, which could easily lead to being louder than you realised.

    “I didn’t think that you were likely to throw the fight.”

    Leon ignored his own recorded voice and lashed out with his axe, sparks flying from the edge of Jilk’s shield as he blocked with it.

    The swordsman lashed out again at him and Leon side-stepped.

    “Don’t be so dense! I’m talking about you taking a dive.”

    Leon shook his head as he grabbed hold of Jilk’s extended arm, heaving him off balance and sending the other knight-armour sprawling.

    “Why in the world should I do that?”

    Deliberately, Leon allowed the other boy to stand - letting it appear that he was holding back to hear Jilk out.

    Slamming down a smoke bomb, Jilk disappeared from view. Leon moved his knight-armour back, replacing his axe with the rifle and swapping out the spent magazine with a fresh one.

    “Your family are upstarts. My father had much to say about you. Ousting the Olfreys has won you far more prestige than I think your father ever expected and it’ll be the work of generations for you to consolidate your household’s position. It’s admirable that you’ve risen so far. But there are those who resent it. You need allies and you’re in a position to earn that.”

    Jilk’s knight-armour roared out of the smoke, huddled behind his shield as he closed in on Leon - who darted aside, trying to swing around far enough to get a clear shot past the shield.

    “We also need to appear as reliable to the allies we make. For me to let down Lady Redgrave after speaking up for her… it wouldn’t look good.”

    His opponent was doing a good job of not giving Leon a clear shot, but he was probably unaware that the crowd had fallen silent - almost everyone was craning forwards to listen to what was being said. Out of the corner of his eye, Leon could see Julius red-faced with rage.

    “There’s no need to be blatant - I’m sure you’re smart enough to put on a show.”

    Leon fired one shot as Jilk got close enough to take out his sword, then wound up blocking the next sword stroke with the rifle butt. The weapon went spinning away. “If I had no honour!” Leon shouted, taking advantage of the break in Jilk’s recorded words. He snatched out his axe again, slapping one of his knight-armour’s hands against the flat of the sword to keep it from striking his armour before he was armed again.

    “The flipside of your need for allies is that you cannot afford to make more enemies. Particularly at court. It would be easy to persuade the king that his decision to grant the Olfrey lands and title to your mother was an error, especially now that you’re joining a faction opposed to the crown prince. If you continue upon this path, my family can easily ruin yours - we’ve been at the heart of Holfort since it was founded while you and yours are from the fringes.”

    “Cut it,” Leon ordered Luxion in a whisper.

    Jilk, still oblivious, lunged again with his sword but Leon caught it on the shaft of his axe, then snagged the blade in the slot between the axe’s shaft and the blade. He twisted sharply and the sword was torn from Jilk’s grasp.

    Before his opponent could respond, Leon pushed in and got the elbow of the arm holding his axe in behind the other boy’s shield. One twist and then the arm holding the shield was a wreck.

    “Marmoria, you raise one hand towards my family and I’ll be back in the capital with this suit and my skyship and all my allies - and you and your family will have nowhere to hide. Because if I have nothing to lose, then what does it cost me to tear every last one of you apart?”

    Jilk froze, perhaps because of Leon’s threats or perhaps he was realising that the sound level in his cockpit had changed suddenly. Or hearing the crowd jeering at him.

    Leon backhanded the head right off the knight armour and then swept into a kick that hurled it higher into the sky. He chased it through it’s arc upwards hacking with his axe. By the time Jilk’s knight armour hit the ground again not one of the four limbs was operational.

    -

    “Will Leon’s family be in danger now?” Olivia asked nervously as Jilk was carried away from the arena. Leon’s crimson and black knight-armour watched his opponent be carried away, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the other exit. It was obvious the boy was still furious.

    Angelica shook her head. “No, after making such threats in public, they wouldn’t dare.”

    “She’s right,” Mary assured Olivia. “In fact, if anything bad happens to the Bartfords now, Viscount Marmoria will have no choice but to give them his full support or people would suspect he was behind it. I can’t believe Jilk would be so stupid as to threaten Leon in public like that.”

    Olivia relaxed slightly. “This means that there’s one more match?”

    “Yes.” Angelica took a deep breath. “I appreciate Gerald being willing to stand up for me, but…”

    “They’re cousins - would they really hurt each other?”

    “I don’t know.” The braided girl shook her head again. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “I hope neither of them is hurt. Gerald’s my champion, I want him to win… but Julius…”

    Angelica hunched over and Olivia impulsively put her arm around her, comfortingly. “It’ll be alright,” she promised.

    “Why did I do this?” the girl next to her moaned. “Why did he…? How can I face my father or the queen now? They’ll be so angry with me!”

    Nicol cleared his throat. “I think I would rather be in your shoes than Julius’ once they learn of this.”

    “Shush, they’re about to begin,” Sophia warned them.

    Down below, the two cousins each drew swords and started to probe each other’s defences. Neither seemed eager to escalate the situation. The one to make the first mistake would likely lose, so being overly aggressive could cost either of them the match.

    “I’m truly surprised that you’d take Angelica’s side over mine,” Julius noted, voice barely audible from the stands. “I always thought that the Stuarts would stand by me.”

    Gerald parried the prince’s thrust. “And I’m surprised you’d be so petty as to have your lackeys tear up Bartford’s room. I would say that we’re both disappointed in each other.”

    The crown prince switched his approach to a series of high attacks. “I never ordered anyone to do that.”

    He was forced to break off as the white knight-armour started to wheel, forcing Julius to guard his more vulnerable left side. “You condemned Redgrave for attacks on Lafan she never condoned, it’s only just that you should take the blame for actions done in your name.”

    The words must have stung. “That woman, what lies has she told you?”

    Gerald laughed lightly. Mockingly. “Unlike you, cousin, I actually investigated the matters. It was hardly difficult to find out that those attacking your paramour were most disappointed that their attempt to curry favour with Lady Redgrave aroused only her contempt.”

    Parrying a succession of cuts, Julius managed to weave in a riposte that turned the flow of the fight back in his favour. He pushed Gerald back. “Marie is no mere paramour, Gerald. Though it should not surprise me that you don’t recognise love when you see it. After all, who ever loved you?”

    His rejoinder was an abrupt stop-thrust that scored the plating across the chest of the crown prince’s knight-armour, at the cost of a similarly incidental scrape to the shoulder of Gerald’s. “You’re wrong, Julius. I do recognise love - and I also recognise when love is unrequited. At least my fiancee cares for me, in her own way. Lady Redgrave doesn’t even have that comfort.”

    Olivia felt Angelica begin to shake in her arms, tears flowing down her face.

    “That woman never loved me, she just wanted to be queen!” Julius shouted. His sword strokes grew more forceful, pushing Gerald back.

    The elder cousin (by a scant few months) parried methodically, giving ground to absorb the fury. “She loved the man she was told that you were - and if you’d had the courage to show her the truth, she might have come to love the man you want to be.” And then Gerald’s sword twisted, a parry turning into a disarming move that sent Julius’ sword flying. “But you never dared to trust her, cousin.”

    Julius said nothing and the crowd quietened. Olivia could hear Angelica trying to stifle her sobs, feeling her shake.

    Gerald raised his sword, aiming it at the throat of the opposing knight-armour. After a moment to make his point, he raised the sword in salute. “Pick up your sword, cousin. I’m no Jilk, I won’t stab a man in the back.”

    Julius backed up his knight-armour and crouched to lift the sword once more. The referee, who had been walking out to decide the match, elected to withdraw again. If the two princes didn’t consider the matter settled then who was a mere teacher to say otherwise.

    “I never asked to be the crown prince.”

    Gerald grunted and then replied: “None of us asked to be born as we are, Julius. I could list quite a number of complaints about my circumstances. Most people could about their own - if only because they weren’t born into the wealth and privilege that we were.”

    “Oh of course. You, the perfect prince, have so much to complain about. No one’s forcing you to carry this kingdom!”

    “At least you grew up with a mother.”

    It took a moment for Olivia to understand those flat, angry words. She knew little of the interlinking relationships of the noble houses, but even she had heard of Princess Ygraine - the king’s sister, who had wed Duke Uther Rafa Stuart and died young after giving him four sons.

    Julius held his sword ready but didn’t resume the duel. “I wasn’t going to bring her up.”

    “Fortunate for you.” Gerald began to circle Julius, his sword up. “Your suffering is not unique or special, cousin. But I’d have a damn sight more pity for you if you showed a shred of concern for anyone else.”

    “I don’t want your pity!” Julius lunged and the duel was on again, swords clashing ferociously and the two apparently too engrossed in their swordplay to hurl further epithets against each other as they took to the air, taking full advantage of their knight-armour’s ability to fly.

    “Why didn’t he just take the win?!” Sophia exclaimed.

    “That’s never been enough for Gerald,” her brother muttered from behind Olivia.

    There was a cracking sound and the white knight-armour dropped to the ground. One arm hung limp and from the way it settled to the ground, Olivia suspected that it would not be flying again without serious repairs.

    Julius’ flew above Gerald. “Anything else to preach to me about, cousin?”

    The fallen knight-armour adopted a jaunty stance. “When I mentioned unrequited love, I also meant your feelings for Lafan.”

    The crown prince descended with an enraged howl, crashing against the duke’s brother. The two knight armours slid backwards and then tumbled together until they smashed into the wall right beneath Olivia and the others. A cloud of dust shrouded the pair from view.

    Angelica pulled free of Olivia and leant over the rail, trying to see what was going on below. The referee started running across the arena towards the crash site.

    Finally, the dust began to settle and Olivia saw that the white knight-armour was knelt, pinning the prince’s to the ground. Both cockpits were open and Gerald Rafa Stuart stood upon the thigh armour of his fallen foe, holding his cousin up.

    Julius, sporting a black eye, spat something inaudible up at his cousin. A gobbet of blood flecked Gerald’s white piloting suit.

    With a disdainful look, the blond released his grip and the crown prince of Holfort was dropped sprawling on the sand, his chest heaving but not even trying to rise. The victor of the duel turned around and looked upwards at Lady Angelica.

    “On behalf of your champions, my lady.” He covered his heart with one hand. “I give you victory.”
     
    Calculated Chivalry 3-4
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Calculated Chivalry

    They say that all in love is fair
    Yeah, but you don't care
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 4

    In revenge a man is but even with his enemy; for it is a princely thing to pardon, and Solomon saith it is the glory of a man to pass over a transgression. ~ Francis Bacon​

    The victors gathered in the hangar where their knight-armours had been brought after their duels. Katarina pulled the device that Leon had given her out of her pocket and offered it to him. “Thank you for letting me use your gi… your knight-armour.”

    She could so remember her manners, Anne!

    The dark-haired boy grinned and shook his head. “Keep that as a souvenir,” he told her. “It won’t do much of anything if I’m not around but you should have something to remember the occasion by.”

    “Oh that’s great! Thank you!”

    “Ahem.” Gerald swept in and took her hand. “My congratulations on your victory, Katarina. I knew you had it in you.”

    Katarina felt her cheeks flush. “Well, it’s in my blood. You were great as well!”

    He nodded. “It’s probably best that I drew Julius as my opponent. Anyone but Alan or I fighting him would be lese majesty, but we are cousins so we have some degree of latitude.”

    What was lese majesty? Katarina was sure she’d heard the term somewhere, but like a lot of things that weren’t actually useful to know most of the time she’d put it out of her mind.

    “The three of you turned it all around,” Alan said honestly, offering Leon his hand. “Given the way Greg handled me, I can’t help but feel like I let you down.”

    Keith nodded as Leon shook Alan’s hand. “I thought I was at least as capable as Brad, but I was wrong. I should practise more in case this happens again.”

    “I’m certainly not going to advise against practising more.” Leon patted Katarina’s brother on the shoulder. “But don’t just practise for this. Practise against as many different people as you can - because there’s no knowing what you’ll be facing in the future. Duels like this aren’t really much like an actual battle.”

    Gerald gave Leon an interested look. “I understood - no offence - that you were on the sidelines of the fighting for Olfrey.”

    “I was. I still got a look at it.” Leon shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be a damper. We won.”

    Katarina nodded. “Uh, what happens now?”

    Gerald made a face. “Now we have to answer to higher authorities. The king and queen, Duke Redgrave, my brother… your parents.”

    A chill went down Katarina’s back. “But… we won?”

    Alan nodded. “That might help. I doubt any of them are really happy about Julius throwing his fiancee over for Marie Fou Lafan, of all people. But he’s still the crown prince and our taking a stance against him suggests that both the Claes and the Stuarts aren’t exactly loyal to him. And we were fighting for Angelica Rafa Redgrave, which suggests that three of the five dukes may be forming a power bloc opposed to the crown.”

    Keith groaned. “None of this occurred to you, Katarina? What were you thinking?”

    “That Julius was being mean to Angelica, and then about fighting in a… knight-armour,” she answered honestly. “Is Lady Lafan really that bad?”

    “It’s not a matter of her personally,” Gerald told her. “The point of Julius marrying Angelica was that it meant that when he was king, he could rely on the Redgraves and their allies to support him. It would be nice if he got along with her - I know the queen was hoping for that - but that was secondary. The Lafans are an impoverished viscount’s household. They don’t bring any appreciable support to Julius. In fact, they’re really more of a drain.”

    That seemed kind of sad to Katarina. Maybe it was for the best that Gerald and Alan weren’t likely to become king. If one of them married Olivia it shouldn’t matter too much that she was a commoner, so they could be happy together. As long as she managed to get away into exile rather than being flung into prison or killed… Then she gasped.

    “Katarina?” asked Keith.

    “Snakey!” she cried. “I never picked him up after the party. I need to make another one.”

    Alan started laughing while Keith and Gerald both sighed.

    Before Katarina could start gathering materials, Mary arrived and she wasn’t alone. For a moment, Katarina thought that the pale haired girl was Sophia, but she was too tall. “Oh, Violette!” she realised.

    “Hello Katarina.” Her cousin gave her a warm smile. “Are you alright? Chris didn’t hurt you, did he?”

    “Oh no, he just tapped me.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry he hit his head.”

    The other girl’s smile looked a little more like Mary’s. “I’m sure he wasn’t using it for anything.” She looked at Alan. “Are you alright, Prince Alan?”

    He looked abashed. “Yeah, my pride’s a bit battered but I’ll live.”

    Mary caught hold of Katarina’s arm. She looked sideways and saw that her friend was watching Violette and Alan with a quizzical expression. “Is something wrong?”

    “No, no.” Mary shook her head. “I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt fighting, Lady Katarina. I should have known that Arclight didn’t stand a chance against you.”

    “I was getting a little worried,” she admitted. “But at least he didn’t try anything like Jilk did. The way he threatened Leon’s family… I can’t imagine why anyone would do that.”

    “I assume,” the dark-haired boy observed, “That he was concerned about the political consequences of Gerald actually fighting Julius. Perhaps he thought that as long as that actually took place, this could be kept from becoming too much of a scandal.”

    “That would be rather naive,” Gerald told them.

    “It was still a horrible thing to do.” Katarina shook her head. “If someone threatened my family like that… well, I don’t know what I’d do.”

    “Fortunately, you’re a good and kind person who would never sink to that sort of villainy.”

    Mary and Gerald looked worried for some reason. Were they concerned she might start acting like a villain? Katarina shook her head in denial. Even in the game, that Katarina had never done anything that villainous. “Well of course not!” she told them. “Mother would be furious. Jilk’s family must be terribly disappointed in him.”

    “It’s a good job no one here would do anything of the kind,” Leon said.

    Katarina beamed at him reassuringly. Yes, she’d stay well clear of anything like that! No villainy for her, that just led to death flags!

    -

    It would be somewhat inappropriate for Angelica to visit Prince Julius right after the duel without having at least one of her champions with her; and since none of Katarina’s admirers were interested in being parted from her, the Redgrave daughter had the choice between taking all of them, four of them or just Leon. She’d chosen the option that wouldn’t look like blatant intimidation.

    Leon found that Olivia was sticking with Angelica, which was probably for the best. While the current scandal had been triggered by the duke’s daughter, most of the foundation work was the Julius’ and Leon felt that Angelica could do with someone sympathetic with her. Olivia was more or less ideal.

    Prince Julius was far too important to be left in the nurse’s office - he was in one of the attached private rooms that were used for extended stays. There were valid reasons for having that level of medical support - between the dungeon and combat training, sometimes students really did suffer serious injuries.

    Marie Fou Lafan was just leaving one of the rooms when they arrived and she squeaked nervously and backed into the room again.

    “I assume that that’s where Chris is,” Leon noted. “Since if she’s visiting Julius then they’re breaking the terms of the duel already and I’d think that that’s dumber than even they are.”

    Angelica nodded. “Unless they argue that it’s normal school interactions.” She sighed. “Honestly, if she’s healing him I should probably make an exception.”

    Leon rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t suggest it unless his life is in danger, or at least permanent impairment is an issue. For that matter, Olivia here is probably better at light magic if you’re really feeling guilty. Making exceptions is a good way to make this entire thing pointless.”

    “I suppose you’re right,” she agreed.

    “I don’t mind healing him,” offered Olivia.

    “Save it for if he’s actually at risk.” Leon found the right door and tapped his knuckles against it. “A few bruises may help him remember what Gerald said to him.”

    “Come in.” Julius sounded subdued.

    When Leon pushed the door open, Greg and Brad were inside with the prince. “What do you want?” Brad asked scornfully.

    “We lost, Brad.” Julius shook his head. “You and Greg did your parts, but the rest of us let you down.”

    “Yeah, but only because a bunch of people who hadn’t got any reason to involve themselves butted in.”

    Leon chuckled. “What reason did you have to ‘butt in’ once the stakes of the duel were just whether or not Marie and Julius could spend time together? It didn’t matter either way to you.”

    “But now that you’ve won, you can force her out of the school!”

    Angelica pinched the bridge of her nose. “Something that no one involved has any interest in doing.”

    “Then what were you fighting for?” demanded Greg, pointing at Leon.

    “Honestly? You idiots have been so offensive to just about everyone outside of your own little circle, I just wanted the chance to punch one of you in the face.” He gestured towards the door. “I’m guessing that Lady Redgrave would like to clear the air with Prince Julius. Why don’t the rest of us wait outside?”

    Greg stepped forward menacingly. “Sounds just fine.”

    “Don’t start another fight here,” Julius said tiredly. “Alright, Angelica. You want to talk, then we can talk alone. It isn’t going to change anything though.”

    The four of them filtered out of the room and closed the door behind them. For a moment, Leon thought that Brad or Greg might start something but despite some glares they headed into the room that Marie was hiding in. The brief glance through the door as they entered confirmed that it was Chris.

    “Good thing that Marmoria isn’t here,” he muttered.

    Olivia looked back at Julius' door. “Do you think Angelica will be alright?”

    Leon sighed. “It depends how you define alright. She gave her heart to someone that broke it. I think she’ll get better eventually, but that doesn’t stop it hurting right now.”

    “Is there anything we can do?”

    “Give her a shoulder to cry on,” he suggested as the door from the nurse’s office opened. “I don’t think she’d trust me on that level - we barely know each other - but she seems to consider you a friend. Just try not to get sucked into any plans for revenge, that doesn’t generally help.”

    “I’d have to disagree.” The new arrival was a little disheveled, and not one of their classmates but Leon recognised her anyway. “But you’re cute and you kicked Jilk’s cheating ass so I’ll forgive you.”

    “Truly you’re a font of generosity.” He pulled himself together and bowed politely. “Olivia, may I introduce Lady Clarice Fia Atlee. Lady Atlee, this is Olivia Campbell.”

    “My generosity is very selective,” the older girl told him with a smile. “When it comes to lousy cheating scumbags, I’m only generous when measuring out the pain they should suffer.”

    “Er…” Olivia murmured weakly.

    “Lady Atlee has the misfortune of being engaged to Jilk Fia Marmoria.”

    “Oh.”

    “Given you did me the very great favour of revealing what a putrid pile of pondscum he is, I think we can drop the formalities,” Clarice told him. “You can call me Clarice.”

    “It would be ungracious of me not to return the courtesy then,” Leon told her. “I haven’t seen Marmoria, so I don’t know if he’s here nor not.”

    “Probably under some damp rock,” the girl told him. “I’m not here for him anyway. I just heard you’d come here and I wanted to let you know that I’ve written to my father about Jilk. If the Marmoria’s do try anything, I’m fairly sure that you can count on my family’s support. They may be close to the king but they are only viscounts at the end of the day.”

    “Hopefully Viscount Marmoria will see how unwise it would be to double down on his son’s stupidity.” Leon shrugged. “But human idiocy has few limits so I’d be a fool to turn down the offer of support.”

    “I may be able to repay you in other ways, if you ever need a favour.” Clarice added with a wink. “But right now I have other things on my mind. Let me know if you think of anything.” (Leon’s hormones were able to suggest several ideas but not being a drooling idiot, he didn’t voice them. Clarice might take offense - or worse, she might take him up on the suggestions and then her father would almost certainly take offense.) “Is Angelica ripping Julius’ balls off?”

    Olivia flushed. “No! …I mean, she wouldn’t…”

    “I think we’d have heard the screaming if she was,” Leon reassured her. “I believe Lady Redgrave is currently in either the denial or the bargaining stage of dealing with her grievance.”

    “The what stages?” asked Clarice, her expression shifting from anticipation to puzzlement.

    Leon shrugged, “When dealing with a loss of some kind - a bereavement, a failure, or in this case the end of a relationship, there are a few fairly common reactions - anger, which I’d suggest is where you sit in regard to Marmoria right now?”

    “You’ve got that right.”

    “I don’t really need to explain that one further then. Denial is refusing to believe, deep down, that it’s really happened. Bargaining is where you try to find some terms on which you will make things right, or at least feel better about it. I suppose a desire for revenge could fall into that stage as well. The other stages are depression and acceptance.”

    Clarice snorted. “Acceptance?”

    “‘Well, that didn’t work out. Time to get on with my life.’” Leon looked at her expression and then shrugged. “It’s not usually the first reaction, although it may be the healthiest. They’re called stages because most people work through more than one. Everyone’s different, of course.”

    “And you think Angelica should accept losing the prince to that little tramp?” the older girl asked sarcastically.

    Leon shrugged. “I can’t control my own feelings, much less someone else’s. If she does reach that stage at some point, it’ll probably be better for her than spending the rest of her life crying over him.”

    Olivia nodded in agreement and Clarice made a face. “Well, if you’re just comparing those two choices...”

    -

    Inside the medical room, it was Angelica who broke the awkward silence between her and Prince Julius. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you aren’t seriously hurt, your highness.”

    The young man let his hair fall forward over his face, hiding his eyes. “Stop acting so pure and innocent after putting my cousin up to fighting me.”

    She flushed. “What you said during the duel - is that truly how you see me?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “That all I’m interested in is being the queen? Is that what you think of me?”

    “Isn’t it true?” the prince asked. There was no doubt in his voice.

    Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “No. It’s not true. That might be why my father and your parents arranged it, but it’s not why I love you.”

    “You don’t even know me!” Julius looked up slightly, dark blue eyes peering at her through the fringe of hair. “Do you even know what my favourite food is?”

    Angelica opened her mouth to say that of course she did, but then she bit the words back. Her mind went back to the words exchanged between Gerald and Julius. “I know what you most often ask for and seem to enjoy when I’m around, but you’ve never said to me it’s your favourite. So if it isn’t that chicken soup or the fish imported from the republic, is it something that you’ve never shared with me?”

    Julius looked away, “I have a licking for meat skewers,” he explained. “I ate them once when I was out incognito, but I was told it was commoner food. Unfitting for a prince, so of course I couldn’t tell you about it. But Marie knew without my telling her. The first time I left the academy with her, she invited me to a food stall that served them.”

    “How lucky for her.”

    “I thought it was fate,” Julius told her with a smile that was heart-breaking, because it was not for her.

    “I trained from morning to night to learn etiquette and everything else to be queen because that was the price to be with you, not because I craved your mother’s crown,” Angelica told him. “And yet she just walks into your life and then…”

    “So why do you want me, since we’ve established you don’t know a thing about me.”

    “If I don’t see through your mask,” she told him, “Is that my blindness or you hiding from me?” The blonde shook her head. “You probably don’t even remember.”

    “Remember what?”

    She looked away, out the window. Away from the boy she’d given her heart. “You said you’d look after me. No one else ever did that. My father wanted me to be the perfect marriage partner, your mother wanted me to be the future queen… but not even Gilbert even said that he’d protect me.”

    “So you wanted something else from me. Like you need someone to protect you!”

    “I did. Today.”

    She heard Julius breathe in sharply.

    Silence fell again.

    “I am aware that I have insulted you. And your family,” he admitted at last. “But it doesn’t change that I love Marie.”

    “Then…” She prepared to throw her pride on the floor. If she had to accept Marie to still be alongside Julius then…

    “No. I cannot love you.”

    …then even that sacrifice was not enough, it seemed.

    “My heart may be a small and mean one to only have room for one woman, but that’s how it is and the woman in question is not you,” Julius told her. “I’m sorry if I’m breaking some promise I made when we were children, but I won’t be untrue to her.”

    Angelica felt more tears flowing down her face. She’d wondered if she would be tempted to act the way Scarlet had when Greg renounced her, but she wasn’t as angry as she was sorrowful.

    “We both know that this won’t end with the two of us,” she said when she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake. Offering him an out from the terms of the duel… wasn’t something that she was willing to keep on the table when she was rejected so firmly. “But I stand what I said before, I shan’t try to force Marie out of the academy even if you did lose.”

    “Thank you.”

    She adjusted her skirt. “I regret that you ended up at swordpoint with your cousin… but I won’t lie and say that I repent of it. At least I know who you are now. It’s a shame you never tried sharing that before - or to find out who I was.”

    “It’s too late now,” Julius told her.

    “If you say that then I must accept it.” She’d shown him enough tears, the duke’s daughter decided. The rest could be in private and then she would have to face her father’s anger over this. “I… even now, your highness, I shall wish for you to be happy. Somehow.”

    She turned in time to see his eyes closed. Not even looking at her.

    The door closed behind Angelica with finality. If Julius had any last words for her, she didn’t hear them.

    -

    The outside world had finally noticed what was happening. Or rather, they had had a chance to respond. While the academy wasn’t really far outside of the capital, it took time for word to not only get there, but for it to reach the people who it concerned and for them to respond took a few days.

    Somewhat to Leon’s surprise, the first arrivals weren’t representing the crown. Although… that had been how it happened in the book. He wasn’t really sure why.

    But whatever that factor was, it was still in effect. And thus, when Leon was marched into the rooms playing host to the guests - along with Angelica and her other four champions - there were two guests waiting. And they were marched, teachers had sought them all out and escorted them the whole way. The first guest was unfamiliar - a bearded man in his middle years, stood looking broodingly out of the window - but the other was known to Leon. Duke Jeffrey Rafa Stuart was lounging in one of the armchairs.

    “Well daughter.” The man by the window turned to look at Angelica. “I would have preferred to deal with this quietly, but it seems that you have forced my hand.” That left no doubt who this was: Duke Vince Rafa Redgrave, perhaps the most powerful man in the kingdom after the king. For now.

    Angelica bowed her head.

    “Gerald, Alan.” Jeffrey rose to his feet and strode towards his brothers. Both boys tensed but then he flung an arm around each of them and dragged them into a hug. “You aren’t hurt, either of you?”

    “No.” Alan told him gruffly.

    Gerald tried to pull back. “We’re fine, Jeffrey.”

    There was a pause as everyone watched the hug. “Are you going to let go?” asked Alan.

    “Never!” his oldest brother claimed.

    “Well, so much for the dignity of the nobility,” Duke Redgrave rumbled and then he reached out to Angelica. “Come here, Angelica.”

    The girl hesitated and then fell into her father’s arms. Leon heard a sniffle from his side and glanced that way to see - beyond Keith who was for some ‘mysterious reason’ intent on keeping himself positioned between them - Katarina wiping away a slight tear.

    The three of them allowed the family reunions to take place, despite betrayed looks from the younger Stuarts as they tried to pry themselves free from their brother.

    After the two had succeeded, Duke Redgrave took the seat behind the room’s one desk and Duke Stuart perched himself on the corner of it. “I trust you understand that there can be no reward for anything that the five of you did for my daughter,” Redgrave declared. “So long as we treat this as a quarrel between children, the consequences can be contained to an extent - but if any of your actions were to be rewarded then it would have to be treated more seriously in other regards.”

    “None of us expected any rewards,” Katarina declared confidently. “We were just helping Angelica.”

    The dukes eyed her for a moment, Stuart smiling somewhat enigmatically while Redgrave was more searching. Then the older man nodded and looked up at Leon.

    The boy swallowed at the keen eyes examining him.

    “Is this true of you as well, Lord Bartford? Unlike the rest of those involved, you’re almost unknown to the upper ranks of the nobility. I could imagine a young man who has risen so far and so fast might have hoped for something more.”

    “That’s an understandable concern, sir.”

    “And are you claiming it’s not so?”

    Leon forced a smile. “I have ambitions, yes. But this had nothing to do with them. You should know, unless you’re quite out of touch, how serious a matter it is for most of the young men at the academy to find fiancees here. Prince Julius and his friends - with the exception of Lord Field - arrived with what most of us would consider the greatest possible treasures already in their hands: futures alongside quite admirable young ladies.” He paused, letting the smile fade. “And they placed no value on their good fortune.”

    Redgrave nodded. “I accept your compliment of my daughter, although I had not heard that you are close.”

    Angelica looked pained. “Father…”

    “Let him answer me, Angelica.”

    “I am on good terms with both of Duke Ades' daughters,” Leon answered. “Although I doubt their father will be pleased with that, under the circumstances. And I respect Lady Atlee and your daughter. Perhaps, under other circumstances, we might even become friends. To look for more than that would be unreasonable of me, given our respective responsibilities.”

    The greying duke nodded approvingly. “Well said.” His eyes narrowed. “A shame those who were supposed to be close to Angelica were less willing to stand up for her. While there should be no official sanction, you may have made powerful enemies.”

    “Respectfully, your grace. If they act on that then they will find that they have made a dangerous enemy themselves.”

    Jeffrey snorted. “By all accounts I’ve heard, when Viscount Marmoria’s son threatened the Bartfords, you threatened his entire family in turn. Is that right?”

    Leon nodded quietly.

    “I suppose I should not expect you to be easily intimidated then.” Redgrave nodded in satisfaction. “That may serve you well, if you survive. I think that between Duke Stuart and I, your family should not see themselves facing too much in the way of even informal displeasure. The king himself has professed himself willing to brush it off as boys being boys - if you will excuse being included in that, Lady Claes?”

    “What?” the girl asked. “Oh, that’s alright.”

    Keith covered his face in despair and the duke’s lips quirked. “The Claes may also elect to extend their own protections. While Luigi isn’t directly impacted by those young men’s foolishness, I think Miranda is most aggrieved for her nieces’ poor treatment.”

    “And my wife wouldn’t tolerate anything happening to young Leon,” added Jeffrey cheerfully. “She’s taken quite a shine to him.”

    “Wh-what?” Angelica exclaimed.

    “You’ve met Suzanna?” Gerald exclaimed, looking at Leon.

    “Er… yes?”

    Vince chuckled darkly. “I had no idea such a dark horse was lurking at the academy or I would have warned you to cultivate him, Angelica.”

    “What’s so surprising?” asked Katarina. “Isn’t Duchess Stuart…” She paused, frowned slightly and then tugged on Keith’s sleeve. “Keith, have I met Duchess Stuart and just forgotten about it?”

    “Our sister-in-law is famously reclusive,” Alan told her. “I doubt you’ve met. She only attends a few formal occasions, just enough to meet her obligations.”

    “Indeed. A very great beauty, but Duke Jeffrey keeps her to himself,” Redgrave confirmed. “And how did you come to her notice, young Bartford?”

    Well I doubt most of the people here know she moonlights as a department head at the Ministry, Leon thought. And I’ve no cause to let them know - it might even annoy Duke Stuart. “We met briefly at the ball celebrating my mother’s elevation to Countess. As to why she would remember me…” He shrugged.

    “Suzanna likes interesting people,” Jeffrey reminded his brothers.

    “Thus her disinterest in most of noble society,” Gerald riposted with a chill smile.

    “Exactly!” His oldest brother threw his head back and laughed as if that was something to be proud of.

    Katarina raised her hand for attention. “Is Angelica still going to have to marry Prince Julius, after all of this?”

    “Certainly not!” exclaimed the old Duke. “My apologies, Angelica. I intended to tell you later but since the matter has arisen, I would absolutely not allow that person near my daughter in the future.”

    “I understand, father.” Angelica lowered her eyes. “I agree that this is for the best.”

    “It will be necessary for you to be discreet in the future, particularly as many other matters remain undecided,” Vince Rafa Redgrave continued. “The arrangements for your summer are being reconsidered, you can hardly stay at the palace as was previously envisaged. In general I would suggest that you all stay out of the public eye...” He looked at Leon and raised one questioning eyebrow.

    “I will be doing a little treasure hunting a good long way from the continent and assisting on my family’s islands,” he answered unprompted.

    Angelica looked intrigued but her father took her hand. “Not at the moment, Angelica, although if Lord Bartford is amenable then you may accompany him some other time.” Then he turned back to Leon. “Speaking from my own experience, young man, I recommend caution when you are well out from your known haunts. An adventurer alone on the frontier may find themselves particularly vulnerable if there are those in the kingdom who would prefer you not return alive.”

    Leon bared his teeth slightly. “It would be silly to say that I would be careful, given the risks being an adventurer brings. But discretion is not entirely impossible.” Besides, my plans don’t involve adventuring on the frontier, as such, he added to himself - referring to the extent of the kingdom’s borders that didn’t border any organised realm as yet. While the aerial nature of islands meant there were few hard and fast boundaries, the Bartford barony and many others clustered along the sparsely settled region beyond the Duchy of the Ades. Most of the islands there had been settled over the last few generations and the sky beyond was believed to have few if any more within ready range of most skyships.

    Hope sprang eternal, of course - and it was where he had found Luxion. But he wasn’t planning on anything that random in results for his summer.
     
    A Summer’s Scheming 4-1
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    A Summer’s Scheming

    It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes
    But it might just save your life​
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 1

    If you want to be revenged, hold your tongue. ~ Traditional Proverb​

    Mary was waiting at the door to the room used by the campus bookies when Leon arrived. There wasn’t really a queue as such - it was just the two of them.

    “Do you get the impression that someone had less than total faith in Lady Redgrave’s champions?” he asked her in greeting.

    “A proper lady would not speculate upon what others had wagered, much less on the extent of their losses,” the girl said primly, covering her mouth with a fan. Her eyes danced with amusement though.

    Leon snorted. “And that’s one reason so many idiots lose their money. No one reins them in.”

    “You might be onto something,” Mary conceded. “However, since financial and social ruin presumably follows those who fall into that trap, one might argue that it is to the benefit of the noble class as a whole.”

    “That’s one view, I suppose.”

    The door opened and Raymond Fou Arkin emerged from inside. He looked pleased with himself, but wiped that look off his face when he saw he wasn’t alone outside.

    “I see someone had faith in at least one of us,” Leon noted.

    Mary closed her fan and tapped it to his lips. “Discretion, Lord Bartford. Lest fools thrive.” She went ahead of him into the bookie’s room.

    “More than they do already?” he called after her,

    Raymond shook his head in disbelief. “How do you do that?”

    “Do what?”

    “Have high ranking women treat you like that!” the slightly built baron’s heir demanded. “I’d be jealous if it wasn’t for your tea parties digging out some quiet girls for the rest of us, but none of us would get the time of day from a noble lady.”

    Leon stared at him and then snorted. “I think you have a definition issue, Raymond. These are noble ladies, but the ones you have trouble with are harpies. There’s a pronounced difference!”

    The other boy winced. “Don’t let them hear that. You’re on shaky ground as it is.”

    “That’s what makes this so fun!”

    Raymond didn’t appear to believe that. “Rather you than me. Er, will you be hosting more tea parties after the summer?”

    Leon rolled his eyes. “Sure, but we should all just invite the actual ladies, then informally agree that everyone goes to one host in turn. Us competing to put on a display doesn’t work well.”

    Mary opened the door and walked out, beaming. “Leon, you’re up. Try not to make the poor men cry.”

    “No promises,” he said with a wink and went in.

    The boy inside flinched as he saw Leon, but then plastered a welcoming look on his face. “Ah, our big winner. Welcome back, Lord Bartford.”

    Leon inclined his head. “Three out of five.”

    “That is correct, of course.” The bookie gestured to the seat ahead of him. “You have your betting slips?”

    The five were proffered and Leon politely ignored the expression of dashed hope, separating the bets on Keith and Alan. “These two were losses.”

    “Quite…” The other boy accepted the two, tore them up and discarded them into a wastebin. “So, moving on to what we owe you, let’s start with the final duel. The odds were almost exactly even, so…” He opened a cash box and pushed back a platinum coin - probably one of the five that Leon had bet with since coins of that denomination weren’t usually flashed around, at least not by mere students - and added a number of smaller coins that were almost but not entirely equal in value once you added them up.

    Leon pocketed them without counting. It could have been taken as a gesture of trust… or that he just didn’t care very much given the two bets that he hadn’t collected on.

    The bookie picked out the slip for the last duel and discarded it. “And now we have these two.” He placed his hands on the table. “To be completely honest, we don’t keep enough cash on hand to pay out odds of ten to one against you and of seventeen to one against Lady Claes.”

    Leon quirked an eyebrow. “Not enough people bet against us?”

    “I can’t comment on anyone else’s wagers,” the boy said primly. “We have enough to cover either one of those right away, and I’d be perfectly happy to go to the capital and collect the cash from the bank but that would take time and my understanding is that you won’t be staying at the academy over the summer.”

    “I take it that you have alternatives in mind then?”

    “Naturally.” The bookie relaxed slightly. “If you’re happy to accept partial payout today, we can cover the rest with an IOU to be collected next term…”

    Leon frowned at him.

    “Or a banker’s draft,” the older boy concluded, smoothly.

    Holfort’s banking system didn’t quite extend to checking accounts but the capital did have banks that held and transferred funds for nobles, gentry and more affluent merchants. They also offered loans, to entrap the feudal nobility into debt… er, to facilitate trade and help those whose income was seasonal to manage their finances. For a group of students to have a joint account with one reinforced that they were quite a well-established group.

    Leon wondered if the money he drew on with such a draft would come from their actual reserve funds or if they’d taken a loan out. The latter didn’t mean he’d run them out of money, just that he’d have reduced them to so little capital that they couldn’t keep operating in the short term. “A draft is fine,” he agreed. “Shall we say half of the total with the rest in cash?”

    “Of course.” The cash box opened again and all four of the remaining platinum coins came out. The number of coins and banknotes that joined them was impressive but the bookie managed to make it look as if it was an everyday transaction. “Fourteen point five in cash. I’ll write out the banker’s draft now.” The document he retrieved had been mostly written up and signed already. It was the work of a moment for the upperclassman to enter the amount and a few other details. “If you’d be so good as to sign here?”

    Leon accepted the draft and read it carefully first. Once he was satisfied that it didn’t mean he was accepting the draft itself as settlement or any other stupid trap, he signed it and stowed it away carefully.

    “Congratulations,” the bookie told him. “You’ve pushed us to impose a maximum bet limit.”

    “It’s nice to make an impact, I suppose.”

    “Oh, I assure you that you have.”

    Mary was still waiting for Leon outside, although Raymond had made himself scarce. Perhaps he found the young lady intimidating. Leon would have said that that would make it hard for the heir to Baron Arkin to find a bride, but since he was already introducing the other student to some less threatening young ladies, it wasn’t the end of the world.

    “I wondered who was behind luring some of the more reclusive ladies in our class out of their rooms to socialize,” Mary noted. “And now I know.”

    “The cunning hunter does not chase,” Leon told her in a pretentious tone. “He waits.”

    She snapped her fan out again to cover her face. “Given that gentlemen tend towards the more dangerous professions, the disparity in influence between ladies and gentlemen in society is… puzzling. When I was younger it was just how matters were.”

    “The majority of the ladies are competing to marry up.” Leon reminded her. “The matter doesn’t impact on the heirs to viscounts and upwards. Well, not as much. But second sons or the heirs to mere barons struggle, and social events in the academy are structured to render us competitors to each other.”

    “With the observed results,” she mused, placing one hand on the arm that he had offered her as they headed towards the door. It was taking decorum perhaps a little too far, but Mary seemed to enjoy the formality and courtesy cost Leon nothing while buying him some goodwill. It was a currency that it was hard to have too much of.

    Leon wondered if it was a good moment to let her in on the fact that it wasn’t the result of some shadowy conspiracy… or rather, that it was but that they weren’t subverting the kingdom’s customs to create the current situation. The customs had been created intentionally by previous generations of the Holfort dynasty, if not with quite this result in mind.

    They paused at the sight of a finely dressed gentleman crossing the academy grounds as they exited the building. It was a fine summer day and more than a few students were already departing, carrying their bags (or trailed by servants doing so) as they did so.

    “That’s one of the crown’s heralds,” Mary noted, her hand tightening on Leon’s arm. “What’s he doing?”

    “Collecting a family member?” Leon didn’t think that it was likely though - few families would send someone to collect their offspring from the academy itself. It would be an inconvenience to the feudal lords and even court nobles had little need to do so. A student should be assumed to be competent to get themselves at least as far as the capital or its attached port without supervision.

    “I’m fairly sure that the baron has no children our age,” she disagreed and pulled lightly. “If you will indulge my curiosity?”

    “Gladly.”

    The grey-haired court baron seemed to pay no heed to the fact he was being followed, leading Leon and Mary to one of the dorm buildings - the one that catered to the most exalted of all the male students.

    “Oh my.”

    “He’s here on business then,” Leon concluded. “I do believe that someone is in trouble.”

    Mary nodded. “Unfortunately, I doubt that his message will be delivered in public.”

    “I think we can safely say that it’s going to be Julius, right?”

    “I would imagine so. But the prince’s rooms are the most secure in the entire dorm. We can’t exactly listen at his keyhole.”

    “No… but he is on the top floor, and the dorm’s attic is just storage space,” Leon suggested. “I have an idea.”

    He led her into the dorm, past the harried concierge and up the main stairs. At the end of one of the upstairs corridors, there was a locked door and Leon pulled a couple of pins out of his sleeve.

    “What in the world are you up to?” Mary asked as he pushed them into the keyhole, feeling for the tumblers. Then her eyes widened as something clicked.

    Leon smiled, opened the door and ushered her inside, closing the door after he’d followed her inside.

    “You have some unexpected skills,” she told him as they climbed the stairs behind the door.

    He shrugged. “Product of a mis-spent youth. Please keep your voice down, we can hear through the ceiling, so we can also be heard.”

    At the top of the stairs, the rafters were bare. Perhaps at one point the space had been used for storage but right now it was empty. Leon orientated himself and then they hopped from rafter to rafter until they had reached a spot above Julius’ suite. Mary took off her high-heeled shoes, as they were impractical under the circumstances.

    Kneeling in the dust, the two of them listened for voices below.

    “...families are disinclined to welcome you back for the summer given your disgraceful performances of late,” a man’s deep voice declared.

    “Hey, I won my duel,” Greg Fou Seberg rebutted - clearly audible to the two eavesdroppers.

    “What did I do wrong?” added Brad Fou Field indignantly.

    “What leads you to think that it is merely the duels that your fathers are concerned by?” The herald - or so Leon assumed - didn’t sound at all bothered. “Count Seberg expressed - with the full support of Marquis Field and Viscount Marmoria - that he has always supported the notion that a son who fails to wed should not inherit. Since Count Atlee has dissolved the arrangement between his house and the Marmorias, that leaves only one of you with a fiancee. You need not expect that your fathers will provide such arrangements again in the future.”

    “Then I’ll marry Marie and everything will be fine!” the redhead declared.

    “Excuse me, what makes you think it’s you that Marie will be marrying?” asked Brad sharply.

    The herald cleared his throat. “I have also been asked to determine whether Prince Julius is upholding the terms of the duels fought between yourselves and Lady Redgrave’s champion.” He paused. “Since Lady Lafan is currently in the prince’s suite, I believe the answer can be taken that you are not.”

    “Ah. No,” disagreed Jilk Fia Marmoria. “Marie is merely accompanying the four of us as we visit the prince. She isn’t actually seeking him out… so… you see. It’s not the same thing at all!”

    “I wish I could see the Baron’s face,” Mary mused.

    “That is precisely the same thing,” the deep voice responded, sounding quite distinctly unamused. “That being the case, I have been instructed to inform his highness that he is to be deprived of his status as crown prince. While the royal house does not at this time disown Prince Julius, his qualifications to succeed the throne shall be under review. Whether your position is reinstated or you are formally expelled from the Holfort household will depend entirely upon you, your highness.”

    There was a feminie shriek of disbelief from below. “Y-you can’t be serious!”

    Fortunately it masked Mary’s own astonished gasp and Leon reached over to steady her.

    “Marie, it’s alright.” Julius declared comfortingly. “As long as you’re beside me, I can endure anything.”

    “If the lady were not beside you, we would not be having this conversation,” the herald observed tartly. “Speaking of enduring, it has been agreed that none of you should look to your families for funding through the summer. Since you appear to care very little for the privileges they have given you, it’s the collective decision of your fathers that you should see what it is like to live without them.”

    “No, no,” a girl sobbed below them.

    “Marie, it will be alright.” Jilk promised. “His highness is right. We need nothing but you to make our lives complete. What does money or status matter?”

    Leon looked over at his companion and, seeing that she seemed about to explode, he gestured back towards the stairs.

    They retraced their path and paused at the head of the stairs to remove some of the dust that they’d unavoidably got on them. “Are they completely blind!” Mary erupted.

    “I don’t believe that anyone in that room except the herald and Lady Lafan has ever actually faced adversity,” Leon pointed out. “When everything in your life is well-cushioned, how would you know to be worried about a sharp edge?”

    The girl shook her head. “Lady Katarina isn’t that blinker-eyed, and she’s the most sheltered person I know. Not that she isn’t a wonderful person,” she added hastily - lest Leon doubt her devotion.

    “We all have our blind-spots, but for a future king and his likely counsellors to be like that is certainly concerning.” Leon rubbed his chin. “Although I suppose he isn’t the future king right now. What does that do to the succession?”

    “It’s not really clear.” Marquis Hunt’s daughter toyed with her fan in thought. “The king has an illegitimate son, Prince Layne.”

    Leon suddenly remembered the two children he’d met at the palace when he first met Scarlet. “So he’d be legitimised?”

    “It’s possible. Otherwise, King Roland’s heir presumptive will be Duke Stuart. There was supposedly talk before Julius was born that the king would adopt one of his nephews, so he could pick up that idea instead since the second prince is still quite young.”

    “If I understand you correctly, that sounds as if there’s no definite answer until King Roland gives one - and if he does choose someone then that would make it very difficult to reinstate Julius as his heir.”

    Mary nodded. “And until there is a decision, every power broker in the capital will be trying to decide which horse to back.”

    “A race which can have one winner but many losers.”

    “Thank god the Stuarts aren’t likely to start a civil war,” Mary muttered. “At least they’re not complete cretins!”

    “You do realise that if Alan were to be adopted as heir, that would make you the next queen?”

    The girl doubled over and started hyperventilating.

    -

    The academy grounds had emptied as students left. Only a relative handful would be remaining over the summer.

    Angelica Rafa Redgrave could at least take some comfort that this made it easy for her to avoid attention as she waited for her father to make arrangements for her summer. At first she’d remained in her rooms, turning away the majority of visitors. Her maid Cordelia had worked around this for the most part, but today she had strongly hinted that Angelica could do with some sunlight - and that she was hoping to begin packing for the summer.

    Putting the temptation to insist on her self-imposed house arrest, Angelica had washed her face, changed into something comfortable and walked as far as the rose garden gazebo. It was a romantic setting, and out of easy view from most of the paths.

    Angelica imagined sitting here with Julius, drinking tea and talking happily. Her treacherous imagination kept inserting Marie next to Julius, the two of them cutting Angelica out of the conversation.

    The girl shook her head irritably. Had Julius ever come here with Marie? Or might she see them here in the future.

    For a moment she was tempted to burn the gazebo down, but refrained. “I’m so pathetic.”

    Then she heard footsteps on the path and pulled back, hoping that whoever it was would pass by without noticing it.

    “Well this isn’t my daughter’s garden,” a woman’s voice mused. “Maybe Mary’s. Excuse me, young lady, your memory of the academy’s layout is surely fresher than my own.”

    Reluctantly emerging, Angelica found herself looking at Katarina Rafa Claes - or rather, at someone who looked very much the way Katarina might look in another ten to fifteen years. The same sharp blue eyes and long, silky brown hair. “Duchess Claes?” she enquired. She hadn’t met Miranda Rafa Claes in years - after the Claes family adopted Keith they had withdrawn somewhat from court and then formed their own social circle among the nobility in the southern part of the kingdom.

    The woman smiled warmly. “I am, yes. And you must be Lady Redgrave. You look much like your mother did when she was your age.”

    Except for my hair, Angelica thought - she shared her hair colour with her brother and her father (at least until the latter began to grey). And mother must have been better than me in other ways, because father never abandoned her. “You look very much like Katarina,” she said instead. “Are you looking for her?”

    “Normally I would trust that Keith and Anne could between them bring her home safely,” the duchess observed archly. “However, the recent affair has suggested that a stronger hand may be required.” She held out her hand and a maid so discreet that Angelica hadn’t even seen her until now emerged to place a sealed letter in the outstretched hand.

    Cordelia would be envious, Angelica thought.

    “However, I was also looking for you. Your father asked me to give you this,” Miranda extended the letter towards Angelica. “It would probably be best for you to read it now.”

    Accepting the letter, she noted that it did indeed bear the imprint of her father’s signet in the sealing wax. Angelica cracked it crisply and opened the envelope.

    The letter was not long - Vince Rafa Redgrave was not fond of cluttering his correspondence with anything that might confuse his intentions. Everything from the introduction to the ‘with love’ that preceded his signature served to convey his meaning as clearly as possible.

    She looked up at the duchess. “You’ve extended your hospitality for the summer?” She’d thought she would be sent to one of the more obscure properties on the Redgrave’s home island.

    The duchess nodded. “I gather that your father will be cleaning house amongst his vassals. I would be similarly disappointed if Katarina’s friends had not stood by her. She may have led them into foolishness, but at least they stepped up.”

    Into my own foolishness, Angelica thought.

    “Enough of that.” Miranda tapped the girl’s head lightly with a fan. “You may have lit this fire, but Lady Lafan handed you the torch and it was those foolish boys who poured oil on it, to extend the metaphor. There is plenty of blame to go around, not all of it is yours.”

    Curiously, that warmed Angelica more than those who had tried to tell her that everything was Julius’s fault.

    “Now,” the duchess continued. “I don’t know exactly what your father has written, but one thing I will inform you right now is that while I’ve no doubt that a number of people will assume that your presence in Claes is a sign of a new marital alliance for you, that would be their mistake.”

    “I understand.” Her father had said the same and she understood. The Claes household would have no interest in a failed woman like herself marrying the future Duke.

    Miranda examined her and then shook her head. “I doubt very much that you do. Lady Redgrave, as someone who has had her own heart broken once, I can assure you that for you to try turning to another young man would be a terrible mistake. It will take time for you to recover from the blow. If, in a year or two, you and Keith should have formed an attachment then your father and I will consider the matter then. Right now, your heart and your head are in very different places.”

    The duchess had illustrated her point with her fan, tapping Angelica’s chest and brow. Now she stepped back, covering her mouth with her fan. “And on another point. I have yet to find my own children. Might you have any idea where they could be?”

    Angelica considered the question. She really didn’t know Katarina all that well - although she really ought to have reached out to the girl sooner. Alas, the matter of Marie Fou Lafan had so consumed her attention that she had found herself with far less time and energy for forming such connections than ought to have been the case.

    A scrap of past conversation came to mind. “I believe she petitioned the student council for part of the school grounds to use as a garden.”

    The duchess’s fan snapped shut. “Yes, I had heard from Anne - my daughter’s maid - that she had a garden here. I can only hope that she is doing better here than she did with her garden at home.” She shook her head, as if dismissing the thought. “I suppose that you will see that, inevitably, over the summer. Do you have any idea where it might be?”

    “Ah…” Angelica cudgelled her memory. “I believe the area students can make use of is along the northwest edge of the campus.” She indicated the appropriate direction. “It shouldn’t be hard to find.”

    “I would hope not.” The two set off, Angelica following the duchess quietly. (Or was it three of them? Angelica couldn’t see the maid from earlier, but she had no doubt that she was somewhere… just waiting to be needed.) Now that she had directions, Miranda seemed to have no trouble finding her way.

    Fortunately, they didn’t have to cross the entire campus. Unfortunately, this was because they met Katarina coming. At first, Angelica thought that the figure in coveralls, hair covered by a neckerchief, was simply one of the academy’s gardners pushing a wheelbarrow down one of the paths.

    The Avatar of Utter Fury that she had apparently been walking next to, all unaware, did not make that mistake. “KATARINA RAFA CLAES!”

    The girl in question let go of the wheelbarrow and paled, eyes going wide. “M-mama?”

    “Tell me, daughter, that you have not been growing vegetables at the academy? That your garden plot is not simply another thinly disguised attempt at a farm.”

    “W-well…” And then Katarina flung herself on her knees. “I’m sorryyyyyyy!”

    Angelica choked, for the first time in what seemed like forever holding back a laugh and not a sob. It seemed that staying with the Claes would at least not be boring.

    -

    “Master, we are receiving a transmission.”

    Leon had been watching the sky as the Dreadnought flew, the flying continent already shrinking behind the skyship. Almost half a mile long, the ship dwarfed anything in port and they couldn’t have avoided attention as they departed so Leon hadn’t tried. Still, as far as anyone knew, the vessel was simply a large but under-armed lost item that he had uncovered. Valuable but limited in several ways.

    Beneath the veneer though, the ship that served as - among other things - Luxion’s core was a fully fledged spacecraft intended to carry a colonial expedition to the stars. The dorsal gun turrets were nothing close to the full extent of its armament, but even so, it could have been far more formidable if it weren’t for the various other systems within that were intended to support a fledgling population as they set up their homes on an alien world.

    “Is the source unknown?” the boy asked, stepping back into the navigation bridge and out of the wind.

    “No.” The AI’s voice was flat with distaste.

    Leon nodded and took a seat. “So Cleare wants to talk to me.”


    “That is technically correct.”

    “The best form of being correct, Luxion. What am I missing?”

    “That AI has chosen to share this capability with the new human you entrusted them to.”

    For a long moment, Leon sat still and then he reached up and patted his ear. “Maybe I misheard you there… is the earbud malfunctioning? I thought you said that Cleare told Director Smith she could talk to you at this distance.”

    “Neither the earbud nor your ears are at fault, master. Cleare must have developed some major deviation.”

    “Either that or there’s a real crisis on our hands.” The boy tried to force himself to relax, slumping back against the back of his seat. “If the cat is out of the bag, we may as well hear them out.”

    “It is not too late to turn back and destroy them both.”

    “Luxion.” Leon counted to ten inside his head, very quickly. “We can decide that after we listen to them.”

    “But you are considering the option?”

    Leon glowered at the drone and after a moment, the mechanical device backed off. One of the windows looking out over the forward deck of the Dreadnought flickered to another view entirely, revealing that it was actually a screen rather than mere glass.

    The new view was of Kyle, standing on a stool as he put books back on a shelf. Since he was looking in the other direction, Leon suspected that the half-elf didn’t know he was being looked at.

    “Stop fooling around, Cleare,” he ordered.

    Kyle jumped, landing back on the stool but almost overbalancing it. He seized hold of the bookcase, which was fortunately heavy enough to steady him. “Who’s there!?” the boy exclaimed at the top of his voice.

    “It’s Leon Fou Bartford. I got a message that Larna Smith wanted to speak to me.”

    The half-elf looked around frantically. “Leon? I don’t see you. This isn’t funny.”

    Leon closed his eyes. The view was jumping around, staying behind Kyle. “Dammit, Cleare, cut that out!” he ordered sharply.

    “I thought that master might find it stimulating,” the other AI claimed. However, the view steadied and pulled back, showing not only Kyle but also the rest of the somewhat familiar confines of Larna Smith’s laboratory. Leon had seen it during his previous visit when he introduced the obsessive researcher to the AI and set her the challenge of detecting the difference between humans and elves.

    “Well you were wrong. Where’s Larna?”

    A side door opened and Larna emerged, adjusting her clothes slightly. In a glimpse through the door, Leon realised that the door led to a private water closet. Well, that answered that. “Did I hear Bartford?” she enquired. “I didn’t think he’d get here this quickly.”

    “I think he’s a ghost,” Kyle proclaimed. “I heard him, but I don’t see him anywhere!”

    “Director, Cleare is projecting my voice for you,” Leon declared, speaking clearly.

    The drone that was evidently the source of Leon’s perspective moved and he saw a projection of himself appear on a mirror set up on the workbench. Larna and Kyle both stared at it. “Leon?” the half-elf asked, sceptically.

    “Hello Kyle. How’s your mother?”

    “Well, any day you’re not around is a good day.”

    “I know you feel that way, but how about her?”

    “Yumeria seems very happy to me,” Larna interjected. “This is brilliant, Leon! How is it done! Can you see me?” She lifted up the mirror, addressing her words to the image. “There are so many applications for this!”

    “I’m sure you’ll have more fun working it out for yourself. I wouldn’t have revealed we could talk like this, but Cleare insisted it was urgent.”

    “Wait!” Kyle raised his voice. “Does this mean Cleare has been spying on Director Smith all this time?”

    “...well obviously,” Larna said dismissively. “Why else would Leon have left her with me?”

    It was mostly because Leon found Cleare almost as irritating as Luxion found the other AI, but he didn’t see the need to tell them that. “That and Cleare had formed an attachment to you, Kyle. I would have felt bad separating you.”

    The half-elf looked understandably distressed at that prospect. “I’ll leave him to you, Director,” he decided and headed for the door. “Let me know when it’s safe for me to come back in?”

    The door slammed before Larna had finished asking “How do you define safe?”

    Cleare began to laugh in a way that made Leon uncomfortable, but Larna raised her hand and a gust of wind bounced the drone around, shutting the AI up. Leon closed his eyes for a moment and waited for the view to steady again. When he checked, Larna was studying the mirror, which no longer held his image. One of the bookshelves had also collapsed, spilling its contents onto the floor.

    “Did I disrupt this somehow?” the head of the Magical Tools department asked curiously.

    “After a fashion.” He watched his image form again and Larna nodded, mind already working to try to figure out how this was working. “So what’s so urgent that you need to speak to me?”

    “Ah.” Larna adjusted her glasses. “You remember the detector I made for you, that detects elf ancestry?”

    He nodded.

    “You gave it to Count Atlee and he gave it back to me.” She sat back a bit and pursed her lips. “Somebody stole it.”

    “From you or from the Ministry?”

    “It was in one of our storerooms,” the woman told him seriously. “We keep those quite well guarded.”

    Leon frowned, still not clear why she was telling him about it. “So? I mean, I hope no one was badly hurt, and I know it’s not great that the thing’s back in circulation, but why is it urgent to ask me about it?”


    “Ah, the guards don’t remember a thing about the robbery!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Which means that someone tampered with their memories. And you know what that means!”

    “No I don’t.”

    “...you don’t?”

    “Well, unless they got blind drunk and all somehow erased their short term memories, but I imagine there would be much less mystery in that case,” Leon replied sarcastically.

    Larna looked downcast. “Well there goes a perfectly fine theory. I thought you’d learned dark magic and stolen it.”

    “Why would I learn dark magic?” asked Leon. “Besides, I can’t do magic. You know that.”

    “Ah, but unlike any other form of magic - which has to be inborn - dark magic can be acquired!” She pouted. “I wanted you to come to the academy and help us research the subject since so little is known about it. And I thought altering memories was the sort of thing you might find useful.”

    Leon took a deep breath. “As useful as it would be, no. I don’t have any dark magic. The price, as I understand it, would be too high.” Besides the whole sacrificial aspect, Luxion would probably be extremely annoyed. “But someone else having dark magic is problematic.”

    “Very problematic,” Luxion agreed privately. “Dark magic was a powerful tool of the new humans during the war. The fact they had lost access was one of the few good developments since then.”

    “I don’t suppose that you know anyone with dark magic that we could consult?” Larna pleaded. “I’m really curious.”

    Of course she’s interested in it for the research potential rather than out of any concerns for security, Leon sighed. On the other hand, dark magic was a factor in the story involving Katarina. This might be a good way to have someone dig into that and see if that was also true in this world. He didn’t want to go around accusing people based on ‘because my past life read it in a book’ and, thus far, the most likely candidate he suspected of having dark magic hadn’t done anything suspicious. Or at least, nothing that Leon or Luxion had identified.

    “Dark magic is illegal, director.”

    “No, the processes of gaining dark magic are illegal,” she corrected him. “And if you use it to commit a crime, that’s illegal. But only the temple actually condemns dark magic just for the sake of it being dark magic. They claim that the saintess opposed dark magic because she was a light mage, but the two aren’t necessarily opposed.”

    “You can’t have a shadow without light to cast it,” Leon suggested.

    “Pithy,” Larna approved. “But can you help me?”

    He considered for a moment. “I don’t know anything for sure, but rumour has it that Marchioness Dieke may have been looking for dark mages some years ago. I doubt she’d admit to anything, but if you look at her contacts then you might be able to learn something. It’s a long shot, but the best I can tell you at the moment.”

    If his past knowledge was of any use at all, that should lead Larna - and by extension the Ministry of Magic - to some very dark corners of illicit magic users.

    “Are you sure you want this woman to have access to the tools of dark magic?” Luxion asked Leon once Cleare had cut the connection.

    “No, but if she digs them out then at least we know who else has them.” Leon frowned. “And who would be after the elf detector anyway?”
     
    A Summer’s Scheming 4-2
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    A Summer's Scheming

    It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes
    But it might just save your life
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 2

    Revenge could steal a man's life until there was nothing left but emptiness. ~ Louis L'Amour​

    The evening streets of Holfort's capital - which shared a name with both the continent and the kingdom - were relatively secure, but they were quieter than they were during the day. Markets were closed, store fronts locked up as those doing business there reached whatever point they used to judge that there was no longer commercial value in keeping their doors open. Apprentices downed their tools and were put to work cleaning and tidying, sorting out what had been made and what they would need to meet their master's needs the next day.

    Out on the streets, crowds were replaced by trickles - young men and women out to enjoy the relative freedoms of the evening. Many of them dressed as if they were adventurers, lying to themselves that one day they would walk away from boredom and drudgery to win wealth and titles through their daring. It got them through the day.

    The nameless man looked like one of the latter. He moved confidently and might have easily enough found companionship, had he looked for it. He was handsome, with long blue hair and a beauty mark beneath one eye. But he did not, and few remembered him once he left their view.

    Crossing a city block by one alleyway, he paused to re-lace his boot against a bricked in doorway that had once been a tradesman door but had no longer been needed. No one saw the brick facade swing inwards, and the nameless man stepped inside with no one the wiser save himself and the one who had opened the door.

    Those two exchanged no words, and the new arrival followed a short passageway to a door, locked from the inside. When he knocked, this too swung open, admitting him to a storeroom whose shelves were anonymous boxes containing nothing of value (or had not when he was last bored enough to check them). There was a table there, a chair behind it, and in that chair was a man far too well dressed to be in this shabby back corner of the capital.

    "Master." The man placed one hand over his heart and bowed submissively.

    "I understand that the Ministry of Magic suffered a minor break in." From behind the table, his employer continued to read one of the capital's newspapers. "Also that a certain baron of my acquaintance had his mansion ransacked and certain liberties taken with the staff who were present. Would you like to explain the connection? And don't pretend that there isn't one."

    "If it's the baron I believe, then his house has a facade from the same architect who designed the Ministry's building. If certain memories are only blurred and not entirely erased, then visiting both might be confused with visiting just one." The man smiled engagingly. "And it would be a very bold elf who confessed to despoiling a nobleman's mansion, had he any choice."

    His master nodded thoughtfully. "And you have reason to expect that your abilities may fail you?"

    "Elves," he replied with a shrug. "Who knows?"

    "I do hope you will know better in the future." The newspaper was folded and dropped onto the table. "If it seems that they have failed in this regard, find out and clean up. You are correct to avoid bodies where possible, but the attention is better than anything traced back to us."

    "I live to serve."

    "You serve in order to live." The man steepled his fingers in front of him. "His valuables?"

    "Those readily traced can be found in the usual place if the Baron contacts the right thief-taker. If he doesn't…" Less traceable items had paid the elves enough they'd likely talk to him again - with the fall off in demand for elves as contract servants, there were quite a few elves who'd turn to any option they had to make the money they needed to get back to their home island. And a little coin had ended up in one more hidden cache that he could dig up if the chance to run presented itself. Assuming there was ever anywhere to run to.

    The eyes that skewered him strongly suggested that his master had a very good idea what had happened to the coin and other items hard to specifically pin down as stolen. "And finally, my valuables?"

    Opening his satchel, the man handed over a small jewelry case and a book. "The detector, verified on my accomplices, and instructions on how to make more of them. That's what it's marked as, anyway. I didn't test that."

    "I'll have someone with an actual education look at that," the older man told him, flipping through the book quickly before setting it aside with more care than he had the newspaper. Opening the jewelry case, he removed the pocket watch and activated the device, examining the results. "I see you have no elf in you. I'm surprised."

    "Not many elves in Alzer."

    "True." The detector was put away again. "You've done well."

    A compliment? The man with no name knew what that meant: another mission. "Thank you." It would not do for him to seem like an ungrateful dog that didn't appreciate being patted on the head.

    "The Berg mansion is replacing much of their staff." His master was matter of fact. "A few thefts, some distasteful arrogance on the part of some individuals towards their mistress."

    "The duchess?"

    A shake of the head. "Lady Berg is residing in the capital in preparation for her marriage. It appears that her management has been too soft, and replacing the transgressors is her chance to prove that she has learned."

    A small packet of papers was tossed onto the floor and the man with no name knelt to pick it up. The contents were a letter of reference for… "Rufus Brode?"

    "Your new identity." His master looked at him coldly. "Ensure that you are appointed to the house staff in a suitable position to administer the household for Lady Berg. Become her support and ensure that the Duke is satisfied with her. It will be necessary that none of her new household servants can be traced back to any of your previous work, but also that they will not question your instructions." He paused. "Or that Lady Berg questions you."

    "I understand. My goal?"

    "I will send word once you are in place."

    Rufus considered. "What time frame am I working under, master?"

    "The other half of my plan is in place, but we cannot act until after the summer." Marquis David Fou Mason smiled thinly. "This is an important task. The stakes are high, the rewards are higher. I will not lack generosity towards those who carry this out."

    And if they failed, Rufus Brode would be a corpse that could tell no tales, the young man thought. Well, it wasn't as if he had a choice.

    -

    Angelica hadn't previously had a great deal of experience with the hurricane of energy that was Katarina Claes.

    Being a guest of the family had involved being dragged around almost every corner of the duke's estate - their personal estate, as opposed to the fiefs of their vassals and properties of their tenants - and introduced to everyone they met. While Angelica was quite sure that no one on the Redgrave estates would have had a harsh word to say about her, she didn't recall any of the staff there treating her with the same mix of resigned fondness. The old gardener seemed quite unaware of any difference in status between himself and Katarina, treating the girl as if she was his own granddaughter.

    Still, she thought she'd adjusted and after the first few days Katarina seemed to have settled down.

    Thought. Seemed.

    "Where exactly are we going?" she asked as the skyship Katarina had dragged her onto made its way through the sky towards an island that was in view of the Claes' island on a good day. It was a lovely day, if a little windy - Angelica had to clutch at the broad brimmed hat she'd been given, occasionally.

    "It's my fault?" Keith confessed - he, like the two girls, was dressed down in simple but well-made clothes, the sort of things Angelica saw successful merchants dress their families in. "I told Katarina that Olivia lives near us."

    "Oh Keith…"

    "I know," the boy looked woebegone. "It was a moment of weakness!"

    "Does your mother know about this?" Angelica knew that Keith was technically adopted, in the absence of a male heir, but none of the Claes household had mentioned that so she refrained from bringing it up. Honestly, given how openly Duke Luigi adored his wife and vice versa, it was amazing that Katarina didn't have a dozen trueborn siblings, but that was another point Angelica would not enquire upon.

    It was obviously possible for nobles to marry for love, which rubbed her raw in some uncomfortable places.

    Keith rubbed his face. "She does, but…"

    "But…?"

    Katarina caught hold of their hands. "Remember, we're not nobles, we're just merchants," she informed them both. "We don't want to make any fuss." Then she looked at them and blushed. "Sorry, sorry." She waved her hands frantically. "I'll leave you together!"

    Angelica stared at the retreating girl. "What does she think…"

    Keith coughed. "Do not explore that too deeply."

    "Probably for the best," she agreed after a moment's thought. "So, the part your mother doesn't know… that we're going to be pretending not to be nobles."

    Keith nodded sadly.

    "We won't get away with this, will we?"

    "...maybe. It depends if we can sneak back into the mansion and get changed before mother sees us wearing this."

    "It's not so bad." Angelica was wearing a skirt, a blouse and a simple corset. It was really quite simple and practical. No one here would see her and imagine she was from a ducal family. For a moment, she imagined herself walking through a town, walking on Julius' arm - the prince dressed much as Keith was now.

    It was a bittersweet fantasy that would never happen. She leant on the railing, rested her chin on her hands and sighed deeply, looking at the blue sky - seemingly endless.

    -

    Keith had done his research and was able to guide them from the island's port up a road that led away from the castle of the local lord up into the hills. Their hired horses weren't the thoroughbreds that Angelica had ridden before, a steadier breed that seemed content to eat up the distance in a staid fashion and were not startled much by Katarina's occasional exclamations and waving arms.

    Before very long, they saw a village in the distance but Keith led them off the road a short distance outside, indicating a farmhouse that stood amid its own gardens and fields. "I think this is the place," he explained. "Or they should be able to give me directions."

    Angelica dismounted, with a little discomfort - she'd not ridden in a while and straightened her clothes. Katarina, wide-eyed in delight, half-danced up the path to the front door, looking at the rather dilapidated gardens with great interest. She grabbed hold of the door knocker and let it fall with a loud thunk.

    A moment or two later, just as Katarina was reaching towards the knocker for a second time, the latch quivered and the door swung upon to reveal a blonde woman perhaps the same age as Duchess Claes. She moved somewhat languidly, her eyes seeming to rove the distance before finally settling on the three youngsters in front of her. "Yes?" she asked in a baffled tone.

    "Oh, are you Olivia's mother?" Katarina entreated, reaching out and grabbing hold of the woman's hands.

    "Ah… yes?" The woman - Mrs Campbell, presumably - blinked several times. "Can I help you?"

    "We're her friends from the academy," the enthusiastic brunette explained. "We were just passing so we thought we'd say hello!"

    "Olivia's… friends…? Ah, Olivia is in the village at the moment. She should be back before long…"

    "Thank you, Mrs Campbell." Keith seemed to take pity on the poor woman. "I hope it isn't an imposition for us to visit without warning."

    "Oh… no, it's fine." Their host seemed to rally her faculties. "Please make yourselves at home."

    "Thank you… Katarina, no!"

    Angelica turned and saw that the other girl had suddenly stepped out into what seemed to be a vegetable garden, pulling what seemed to be a hoe from between a row of… well, Angelica wasn't entirely sure.

    "Oh, how did that get there?" Mrs Campbell mused. "Did I just forget it there?"

    "It looks like it's been here a little while," Katarina assessed, pulling the hoe away from her brother's attempts to take it off her.

    "Katarina!"

    "It'll be fine with a little care," the girl continued merrily. "Do you want me to clear this up for you while we wait? Stop that, Keith. She said to make ourselves at home!"

    "I'm pretty sure she didn't mean this!"

    "I… I couldn't ask a guest to do that," the older woman murmured, her voice taking a tone that Angelica was growing used to in those exposed to Katarina for the first time. It would have taken a sterner woman than Mrs Campbell - Duchess Claes came to mind - to turn the enthusiastic young woman aside. Angelica was unsurprised, a few moments later, to be accompanying Mrs Campbell back inside the farmhouse while Katarina led Keith in not only cleaning the lost hoe up, but apparently in setting the entire garden to rights. Hopefully she had remembered that they had a skyship to catch back to Claes before the end of the day.

    "Is Miss… I'm sorry, I didn't catch her name…"

    "Katarina has a very forceful personality, a kind heart… and the soul of a farmer," Angelica admitted ruefully. "I only met her at the academy but I gather she's always like that."

    Their hostess smiled a little wanly. "I'm pleased to hear that Olivia has made friends. It was… I know very little of the academy. I thought that being surrounded by nobles and gentry might be difficult for her. The members of our lord's family that I've met are very different from the people she grew up among."

    Angelica considered lying, but that would probably be a disservice to the worried mother. She reached over and took Mrs Campbell's hands. They were larger than hers, callused but not as much as she had feared. "It was difficult at first for her. Meeting Katarina helped a great deal. And I like to think I smoothed her way a little once we became acquainted."

    "Ah. That is better than I had thought. There are stories… particularly that young men may…"

    "I won't say that there's no young man at the academy who might be so lacking in decency," Angelica told her quickly, "But anyone behaving like that would be ruined. I can't think that even my worst enemy there would tolerate that. Most of the students at the academy are looking to marry when we graduate and a man with that sort of reputation would find it very difficult."

    Mrs Campbell squeezed Angelica's hands a little "Even for a commoner?" There was considerable weight to those words.

    Angelica began to speak, considered what she was about to say, rethought it. The mother holding her hands let her think. "It's possible that some might behave differently in their home domains than at the academy, but would any man behave so foolishly in front of the women they are trying to find a wife among?"

    "You might be surprised how foolish young men can be, and what they think will impress a woman." The corner of Mrs Campbell's lips curled up in what might have been called a smile.

    "My fiance - former fiance - decided to court another young woman," Angelica forced out.

    Blue eyes very like Olivia's widened. "That…"

    She forced the words out. "His family have all but disowned him. I am aware that men can be fools." Her vision blurred with brimming tears. "But in society there are consequences."

    Olivia's mother let go of Angelica's hands, but only to pull her into an embrace, rocking Angelica back and forth until the tears stopped coming.

    Wordlessly they continued into the kitchen and Mrs Campbell dug out a kettle, filling it and setting it upon the stove. While the water boiled, she pulled back a chair for Angelica to sit and then took her own place facing her. "My… Olivia's father has not been here in several years."

    "I'm… sorry."

    The woman looked down at her hands on the table between them. "He is not dead, as far as I am aware. But… magical talent such as Olivia's is very rare outside of the gentry and the nobility."

    Angelica nodded in agreement. Katarina's weak magic was more that which might be found among commoners, as she understood it.

    "After it was determined that she had such a strong gift, and in a rare aptitude like light magic." Mrs Campbell shook her head. "Her father's identity was… questioned. It was suggested that someone of… your class might have had their pleasures with me. And from there, the whispers asked if I had been forced or if…"

    The girl swallowed. She could not imagine any of the boys she knew doing that… not among the academy at least. But here, where word would probably never reach the capital? And truthfully, she thought that if one of the girls who had bullied Marie or Olivia had set a servant to such a task.

    "It was untrue, of course." Mrs Campbell smiled sadly. "But when it comes to gossip, what does that matter?"

    Angelica thought of how her so-called friends had turned upon her after the party. How some of them had been acting behind her back even before that. "Not very much." Then she reached forwards to take Mrs Campbell's hands again - only for the shrill whistle of the kettle to interrupt her.

    Both of them started. Looked at each other. Chuckled a little guiltily.

    Olivia's mother poured tea for both of them and then into two more cups. "Let's take some tea to our enthusiastic gardener and her brother," she said quietly. "And then, if you would tell me of the man that left you, I will tell you of the man who left me."

    -

    It was months since Leon had worn the mask and cloak that had disguised him during his visit to the elves. Had they always been this heavy and constraining?

    Perhaps it was just that the weather was warmer now, even the nights rarely becoming as cool as they had back then. Or possibly he'd just grown slightly. He was at that sort of age, after all.

    Tonight he was intruding somewhere just a little more dangerous than a mostly abandoned underground complex. Without Luxion's drone scouting ahead of him, he'd probably have been caught and killed by now. Or if he was really unlucky, caught and captured. The elves had relied on secrecy and a few monsters that hadn't even come across him, but this target had real security.

    On the other hand, at least the carpets here made it easier to hide his footsteps.

    Leon eased up to another corner and waited until Luxion confirmed: "The guards are looking away, master."

    Jumping forwards, Leon raised the dart gun he was holding. First one and then the second man securing the entrance to the chamber he was looking for turned, slapping at the skin where the tranquilizer darts had struck them. Then their knees failed them at about the same time that their consciousness faded.

    "It is only half an hour until the next patrol arrives," warned Luxion. "Unless you intercept them as well, a stealthy departure will be very difficult."

    Leon disarmed the guards, propping their weapons in a discreet corner, then pushed lightly on the door that they'd been flanking. It didn't move. The boy ducked to deal with his latest victims. "I'm guessing that this will be harder to pick than the entrance to a dorm attic," he observed, using zip-tie restraints Luxion had made for him to secure the men.

    "That is a very low bar to overcome," the drone declared. It moved up, hovering in front of the keyhole and extended a probe. Seconds later there was the click of the lock's bolt moving. "Pathetic, as expected."

    This time the door swung easily under Leon's hand and he walked inside. The room inside was a treasure house - literally. The Fanoss household had used it both to store and to display their most prized possessions since they were merely dukes of the kingdom. The quality and quantity of the contents might have changed since they founded their principality but the purpose of this room hadn't changed.

    In the pride of place, an ornate flute sat on a crimson cushion, the plinth supporting it surrounded by a glass box.

    "Fake?" asked Leon, indicating it.

    "Correct." Luxion's drone scanned the room, barely pausing as its sensor assessed the supposed lost item. "The materials used and the workmanship are of distinctly modern quality. The true flute is most probably within the safe."

    "Don't tell me they hid it behind a portrait?" Leon pleaded with a groan. "Could they be any more cliche?"

    "Unfortunately, master, it is actually behind the bookcase." Luxion highlighted a small wooden bookcase that supported less than a dozen volumes - each cushioned from the next by silk wrapped padding.

    The boy took a deep breath. "So cliched. Did they at least trap it?"

    "Indeed. Multiple triggers, both mundane and magical. Any error would certainly kill you."

    "I'd better not make any mistakes then," Leon decided. "Walk me through it."

    For several minutes they painstakingly disarmed the traps. Someone who knew what they were doing would have been faster, but with the threat of death hanging over him, Leon was painstaking about making only the precise moves that Luxion instructed him in. At last, the bookcase was moved aside and the hatch behind it lay open. A second cushion, this time black, held a flute identical to all visible appearances to that on the plinth.

    "Luxion?"

    "I cannot confirm, without attempting its use, if this is one of the items you have told me of," the AI reported pedantically. "However it is, without doubt, an artifact of the war between the new humans and my creators."

    "Close enough then. Am I clear to take it?"

    "There is no further danger."

    Leon reached in and recovered the artifact, dropping it neatly into a pocket sewn into his cloak and buttoning a flap over it. "One down, one to go."

    "Our time is limited, Master," Luxion warned.

    He nodded. "Scout me."

    The drone hovered out of the room and Leon followed, stepping over the still sleeping guards.

    His next destination was inconveniently further away, but there was no help for it - the sentries were checked far more often in the tower he sought than down here in the notionally more secure vaults of Castle Fanoss. If they'd taken those guards out first then chances are that someone would have noticed before he even got down here.

    And taking only one of the prizes would render taking the other completely meaningless.

    So up he went, avoiding the outside door to the tower - the guards there would be too visible if they were fallen or absent. No, he had to navigate a winding servant's corridor and catch far more attentive and wary sentries if he was going to make it.

    There was a carpet here, though it was a shoddy and well-worn one that had been stained many times. Barely daring to breathe, Leon eased up to the doorway. Could he get past… no those inside would be ready for that. If one of them came out, he'd have only to deal with two… but was he that lucky?

    After a minute of waiting there, fearing that some chance bit of light would cast his shadow, Leon decided he would not be lucky. Or at least not in time… the thirty minutes from earlier were more than half gone. With a deep breath, he steadied himself and then kicked the door open just enough to stick his head and arm through it.

    Once, twice, three times he fired the dart-gun. Then a fourth time after one dart hit an upraised tray. This shot sank into his target's calf and she fell with an offended look on her face, as if that was cheating.

    "It is ironic that you find these maids more of a threat than the armed guards," Luxion observed as Leon entered the room and secured the trio of maids, ignoring the cards on the table and the bottle of wine. He did one of them the favour of removing the two playing cards up her sleeve and slipping them back into the deck.

    "The female of the species is more deadly than the male," the boy replied. "And they'd remember that all they have to do is scream - someone who's armed would more likely want the glory of capturing me."

    "A sad reflection of new humanity's inferior mental condition."

    "No… I'm afraid I'm basing that on my past life as well."

    "..." The AI sank into an offended silence.

    Leon gave the drone an apologetic look, then remembered that even Luxion couldn't see through the mask. Exiting the room, he took the stair that led up to a well concealed door right outside the room that he wanted. The tower had two staircases, a much wider one for the ostensible residents and this one for the people who did the actual work.

    "One guard," Luxion warned grudgingly. "Watch out, master. She's a woman."

    Leon extracted the magazine from his dart gun and replaced it with a full one. "I have the strength of ten, because my heart is pure."

    Luxion waited until Leon had opened the door and shot the guard twice, leaving the woman sprawled on the floor despite her decorative armour. Not covering the sides or back of her knees had been a critical error, no matter how much it simplified the construction of that part of the woman's protective gear. Pretty knees though. "Of ten things that aren't very strong, admittedly. A gnat, maybe. This stuff is ridiculously strong though, now that I think about it. Knocking someone out immediately with hits to the leg?"

    "Unless you have several years for a proper education in biochemistry, I cannot usefully explain this to you."

    "It'll keep then." Leon moved up to the door and found that this one was also locked. Luxion moved in but Leon waved it back, pulling a key from where it hung on the guard's belt.

    "What," Luxion asked, "Is the point of the guard having a key to the door she protects unless she is keeping the occupant from leaving?"

    The boy nodded. "I wonder if the occupant has thought of that?" He unlocked the door, let it swing open and then entered on silent feet. Closing the door with just the slightest click, Leon let his eyes adjust. There were no candles lit in here, but moonlight streamed through one window - bright enough to leave the room in shadow.

    An adjustment of his mask activated night vision goggles he'd not needed until now and the young man scanned the room. The four-poster bed was occupied, and without hesitation he fired the dart gun at the sleeping girl under the sheets. She barely stirred, continuing to sleep the sleep of the just.

    Lips curling up in anticipation, Leon looked over at Luxion.

    "Another safe," the AI reported. "I'm very sorry, master. It's behind that portrait." A ultraviolet light illuminated the one in question briefly.

    "At least the current owners inherited the place, it may not be them at fault for the lamentable lack of imagination." Leon moved up to the portrait. "What security are we looking at?"

    Luxion scanned it. "No traps on the frame, but there is a gas trap behind it, and an alarm."

    "I suppose she has to live here." The masked boy nodded towards the bed. "What triggers them?"

    "Any movement of the dial," the AI reported. "The front of the safe is a fake."

    "Now that's more like it." Leon lifted the portrait down and propped it against one of the bedposts, then looked at the rather convincing looking safe door that had been hidden behind it. "What's the trick?"

    Luxion explained and Leon opened the safe, finding yet another flute inside. "Is this one real?"

    "Confirmed as identical to the last one."

    "I should have brought the fake," Leon muttered as he retrieved the flute from it's black cushion. "I could have left it here and closed it up - they might have thought they still had one…"

    "The entire plinth was trapped, master. Moving it at all would have set off multiple alarms."

    "I suppose there's such a thing as being too clever." He put the flute into a second pocket within his cloak. Everything had gone more or less to plan…

    A door opened on the far side of the room, admitting a girl around Leon's own age. She wore a white night dress, long black hair cascading down behind her. "Hertrauda, stop pretending to sleep. I heard -"

    It was fairly obvious when she saw Leon in the shadows. She froze up for a moment and then her lips parted.

    Leon felt like a cur but he pointed the dart gun at the younger girl still asleep on the room's large bed, then raised one finger to the lower part of his mask. "Shhhh."

    The young woman gulped and then closed her lips. She glared at him with venom evident even in this poor light. "Who are you?" she hissed. "What do you want with my sister?"

    "My dear princess." He bowed slightly. "If I wanted to be recognised, why would I be wearing this mask?"

    "I suppose," she forced the words out, "That you have me at a disadvantage."

    Leon circled, careful not to let the sleeping princess out of his sights, and lifted a robe from where it hung over a chair. With a snap of his wrist he threw it across the room to the livid girl. "Perhaps this will make you feel less uncomfortable."

    She caught it, bit back something that would no doubt be savage and then shrugged it on, belting it on with short, angry movements. "And what do you want here?"

    "A certain musical instrument."

    Her gaze snapped to the wall. "Very well. Leave my sister alone and I'll tell you where it's hidden."

    Leon managed to avoid laughing, but couldn't avoid the amusement leaking into his voice. "Was hidden. I would apologise, but that would hardly be sincere."

    The girl stepped up to the bed, resting her hand on one of the posts. "I won't let you harm Hertrauda."

    Leon nodded. "Indeed. Thus I have aimed my weapon at her and not at you."

    "You're disgusting."

    "It's as if she's met you, master," Luxion muttered through the ear bud.

    "I snuck into a girl's room wearing a disguise and now I'm pointing a weapon at her. I must reluctantly concede your point, Princess Hertrude. Fortunately for you, my aim here is not to hurt either one of you. Not that I wouldn't, but it isn't a requirement."

    She scowled. "I won't let you take her as a hostage either."

    "My dear princess, you're already a hostage." He bowed his head again. "Or pawn, puppet… pick your word. What else can I call someone who serves the interests of those who murdered her parents? Your most trusted knight stood by and allowed it to take place. I can only assume that the only reason you've not avenged them is that any move you make will be paid for by Hertrauda, and vice versa. Unless you are truly ignorant."

    Hertrude's head snapped up. "That's not true, that's impossible."

    "Is it?"

    "Vandel Him Zenden is the greatest knight in all of Fanoss. He failed my parents, but he would never have betrayed them."

    Leon chuckled. "Good little puppet. Would you like a prize for parroting what you've been taught. Sir Vandel is indeed a very great knight, but there is one cause that he will cleave to even above your family, one sin he would condemn even you for. There is nothing whatsoever that he would not stoop to for the chance to wage war on Holfort… and your father made peace with them."

    "You're lying!" the girl shouted. "You're lying!"

    "Master, the guards heard that!" Luxion warned sharply.

    Leon whirled, running for the window. "Remember this day, your highness." He kicked it open, glass breaking under his boot and the frame falling free a moment later. Hopping up onto the sill, he glanced outside and then turned back to face Hertrude Sera Fanoss, ruler in name of the Principality of Fanoss, his shadow stretching out towards her across the room. "Remember the day you almost caught Carmine Sandiego!"

    And then he leapt backwards out of the window.

    Air streamed past him. Leon tucked and rolled, stretched out one hand and just barely caught what he was aiming for.

    For a moment the boy saw a pale face at the window he'd sprung from, then he felt as if his arm was almost torn off by the yank as he was dragged away by the airbike that had been waiting for him outside under Luxion's control.

    A moment's flailing got him properly astride and then Luxion really opened up the throttle. With a roar that probably woke the entire castle, they hurtled away from the livid princess of Fanoss - Luxion's drone gripping the airbike's pillion as the speed rapidly exceeded its own performance.

    "You should have just shot her, master."

    "Eh, we didn't get Vandel's sword. Hitting her with a clue-by-four is the consolation prize," Leon claimed. "Is anyone chasing us?"

    "Not yet," the AI told him, "But give them time."
     
    A Summer’s Scheming 4-3
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    A Summer’s Scheming

    It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes
    But it might just save your life
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 3

    Every failure made me more confident. Because I wanted even more to achieve as revenge. To show that I could. ~ Roman Polanski​

    Leon slumped onto his bed, exhausted.

    He loved his family, he really did. But some of the time they could be a little too much. Right now, if it wasn’t Jenna and Finlay convinced that he’d found another fortune in treasure during the first half of his vacation and was hiding it from them, it was his mother wanting to use him as an intermediary for her interactions with Dorothea.

    He couldn’t even say it was unfair - he absolutely would hide financial gains from his sisters. And when he asked Nicks to handle their mother’s insecurities about her new rank versus her future-daughter-in-law’s hereditary rank, the elder brother had told him: “It’s your fault, you fix it.”

    “It is your fault, master.”

    “I know!” He pulled a pillow over his face for a moment, realising that he’d quoted his brother out-loud.

    Fortunately, Count Otley’s manor house had been sizable so Leon now had a room to his own. Sharing with Colin wouldn’t have been the worst, but he was sure that sharing with Nicks would be unbearable, if only because Dorothea would make his life hell to ensure she and Nicks weren’t interrupted. Not that he’d do so intentionally. He didn’t want to know the details of his brother’s pre-marital interactions with Dorothea but allegedly Nicks was coming around to the idea of Dorothea wearing a collar.

    “I am curious as to why you were so careful to spare lives when invading Fanoss, compared to your thoroughness in eradicating the pirates you fought previously,” the AI continued.

    Leon sat up on his bed. “The pirates would have been credible evidence that I have enough firepower - or rather that you do - to crush a small fleet alone. That would draw more attention than I want so at least until I have to show that card, getting rid of witnesses was the safer play to make. Besides, I might need to work with Princess Hertrude in the future. That’ll be harder if she thinks I - or Carmine Sandiego - has the blood of dozens of her people on these hands.” The boy raised his hands in illustration.

    “I assure you that I will not think the less of you if you bloody them again.”

    “That’s sweet of you and I’ll keep it in mind.” He slumped back on the bed. “Any other questions?”

    “What exactly is your plan now?” Luxion enquired. “I understand that learning that the situation wasn’t as you expected led to you to defer trying to interfere in the Lafan woman’s activities, but it isn’t clear what you want to do now.”

    Well, he’d invited the question. More fool him.

    “I probably should have done something to avert the duels,” he admitted. “I don’t really care about the stability of the kingdom except as it relates to keeping my family intact, but hopefully getting rid of the flutes will leave Fanoss any means of endangering them. I’d rather not see any genocidal attacks.”

    The AI said nothing but somehow managed to radiate disapproval.

    “I don’t believe I’m the only one who doesn’t have magic,” he pointed out. “If you want old humanity to be revived there needs to be a gene pool to work with. Indiscriminately killing people mrisks that.”

    Luxion’s drone eye closed briefly and then reopened. “I recognise the validity of maintaining your family for their chance of further old human offspring. The possibility of additional such families cannot be ruled out. Do your sources of information support this?”

    “Honestly, my information is pretty good for the next year and shakier for the next year… not least because I’ve already been changing stuff. But I also know very little about the third game or exactly how that interlocks. But given the potentially apocalyptic consequences of the first two games, there’s some other threat I don’t know about.”

    “As much as I dislike the prospect, would confiding in the Lafan woman be advisable?”

    Leon sighed. “Yeah. But right now we’re in an adversarial position. If I’d acted to stop her getting entangled with the prince that wouldn’t be an issue, but I was too worried about him ending up with Olivia which is drastically worse.”

    “You didn’t have to join in with the duels,” the AI pointed out.

    “I wasn’t really thinking about the consequences of Katarina stepping in,” he admitted. “If I was then I could probably have left it to her coterie. And the whole confrontations with Brad and Greg probably didn’t endear me to Lafan.”

    “So you believe she would react poorly to you.”

    “From her perspective I’m partly responsible for wrecking the bright future she was building herself, and knowing I’ve been isekaied would give her grounds to think it was intentional.”

    Luxion gave the electronic equivalent of a chuckle. “So she would accurately assess your character.”

    “I don’t have to lay here and be disrespected, Luxion. There are lots of places I can be disrespected.”

    “Almost everywhere, Master.”

    “I figure if I can get through this year’s problems and do her some favours then maybe she’d be inclined to work with me in sorting out the issues for the other two games - or at least in finding out if the enemies from them are actually a threat.”

    “Self interest may help there, assuming she responds rationally,” the AI concluded. “A bold assumption, however you may have no choice. And do you intend to confide in the Claes woman?”

    “...if she latches onto me, then her fiancee will murder me and Mary would hide my body,” Leon pointed out. “I really can’t take the risk.”

    Luxion, typically, had to have the last word. “You are very high maintenance, master.”

    -

    The lecture Katarina had received from her mother when she was caught coming back from the visit to Olivia Campbell had only been the start of her punishment, she realised. It was nearly equalled in intensity and length by the instructions she received in preparation for the upcoming tea party.

    All the maids had been firmly ordered that her sweet intake was to be firmly limited during the meeting of the local ladies. In fact, to Katarina’s horror, her mother had even argued that if her plate was ever completely cleared then it was to be taken away from her rather than refilled.

    Keith, who would be spending the same time meeting with her father and the local lords, had not been terribly sympathetic.

    At least she’d thought Angelica would be there as moral support, but the other duke’s daughter had politely explained that as she was supposed to be in seclusion for the summer it would be best if she wasn’t seen too obviously at the Claes estate. Instead she’d gone to see the Campbells again.

    So while Katarina was making polite conversation and pretending she knew what her mother’s friends were talking about, Angelica would be enjoying some of Olivia’s lovely baked sweets! It would be unfair if it wasn’t for the fact that the other duke’s daughter and fellow designated-villainess had already suffered her denunciation scene. Katarina only hoped that she would get the same consideration when Gerald finally broke off their engagement and moved on to Olivia or whoever else he finally fell in love with.

    “How are you getting along with the young prince?”

    Katarina blinked at the question from Countess Lergen. “Uh… I don’t know Prince Julius very well,” she managed. He’d always been chasing Lady Lafan around and Katarina wasn’t going near someone who showed all the signs of being a protagonist! Well, except Olivia. But that was different. That was intelligence gathering, learning what route her nemesis was and what she might be cooking today.

    Perhaps if she just nibbled a little on this scone she could pretend she wasn’t done yet and edge over to the sweet tray again?

    The countess tittered politely. “No, my dear. I mean your young prince - your fiance?”

    “Oh, Gerald?” That made a bit more sense. “We’re getting along.” She should say something more? Katarina looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye. Yes, she should say something more. “He was studying very hard.”

    “Mmm, yes. I remember those exams. But he’s an outstanding young man, isn’t he?”

    “Isn’t he the top student in your class?” Viscountess Hefner interjected smugly. “I heard he had perfect scores for the initial exams of the term.”

    Had he? Katarina knew that he’d come top but beyond that… “I think it’s either him or Scarlet. She was top at the mid-terms so I suppose it depends on the final exams.” Which she didn’t know the results of yet, how long did it take them to mark? Then again, if the exam results didn’t come in until after she went back then her mother wouldn’t be able to say anything about them until after the next term was over by which time she might have forgotten.

    “Oh yes, Scarlet Rafa Ades, your niece Miranda?”

    Her mother nodded. “Violette’s twin sister.”

    “I don’t think I’ve met either of them,” Countess Lergen mused. “They’re both looking for husbands again now after that terrible mess.”

    There was very nearly an awkward pause as everyone tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound as if they were taking sides. Katarina had been very firmly told that the only thing she should bring to conversations about that was silence.

    “My brother has for some reason not made that official yet,” the duchess informed the ladies pleasantly. “I cannot imagine what he is thinking, which is at least consistent with most of his decisions about his daughters.”

    “But haven’t they been disinherited?” asked the viscountess. “I was quite sure.”

    “Lord Seberg’s son had already broken the engagement off, so I suppose one of them is free.” Miranda shook her head. “But at least so far as I’ve been informed, Violette remains engaged to Arclight’s boy.”

    “Do you suppose they might still get married?”

    Katarina had been about to edge towards the trolly and maybe take just one slice of cake, but eyes turned to her. “I don’t know him very well. I don’t think Violette is very fond of him.” Was she? Where had she last seen Violette… “After…” that thing she wasn’t supposed to talk about. “After that, she came to see the rest of us, not Lord Arclight and the prince’s other friends.”

    Had she dodged that? Her mother’s eyes were narrowing, so probably not. “I don’t think Scarlet is very interested in finding someone else anyway. She only really seems interested in Gerald and Leon.”

    Was bringing up Leon a bad thing? Katarina tried to remember, she knew he was part of her instructions but really there were so many and it was worse than trying to cram for the exams.

    “Well that might be understandable,” Viscountess Hefner said in an understanding tone. “I mean, it’s unfortunate, of course, but one where there’s opportunity...”

    Her mother shifted her gaze away from Katarina. And now the tea tray was unguarded! Katarina went for a slice of cake and a macaroon, then sat straight and pretended she hadn’t moved.

    “Opportunity for a great deal of trouble,” the duchess observed in a foreboding tone.

    “Really, Miranda.” Countess Lergen shook her head. “I understand not wanting to upset Katarina but you do her no good to shelter her. The fact is that now he’s the leading candidate to be the new crown prince, girls will be lining up to try to win Prince Gerald away from her.”

    Katarina kept nibbling on her scone in what she hoped was a ladylike fashion. Well, yes. Gerald was terribly handsome and clever, so it was normal that girls kept trying to get close to him. If he wasn’t using her to shield himself it would probably be worse… then her brow furrowed. Wait, there was something that the countess had said that didn’t quite sound right…

    “I had not,” her mother said in a very clipped tone, “Heard that King Roland was even close to making a declaration as to the succession. Much less that he had done so.”

    “Oh well, it’s not what has been said as much as the choices available to him,” the countess explained. “The Second Prince is still a child and Duke Jeffrey is very charming, but shall we say a trifle…”

    “Flighty?” Viscountess Hefner suggested, holding out her tea cup for a refill.

    “A good word for him. And Gerald’s twin, what was his name…”

    “Alan,” Katarina informed her.

    “Yes, his health has never been good really, now has it?”

    “He’s much better now.” On the brink of pointing out some of the trees that she had climbed with Alan over the years, Katarina caught a glimpse of her mother’s face. And of the hand that had bone white fingers around her teacup. “Mother? Are you alright?”

    “I’m fine, thank you Katarina.” Miranda Rafa Claes turned her gaze - her medusa-like gaze of utter villainy that could turn Katarina or Keith into stone! - upon Countess Lergen. “Do go on.”

    “Well, between Gerald and Ian it’s plain which Roland will be more inclined to. Ian’s a clever boy but not the most charming so it’s obvious that Katarina will be the next queen.”

    Katarina’s plate swivelled ninety degrees and deposited all her sweets in her lap. What? What! “Wh- oops? How careless of me?” Oh no, her plate was clean! The sweets had been lost. The maids would take it away from her!”

    “Please help Katarina to her room so she can clean up,” her mother instructed calmly. “I do believe that we should discuss something else. After all, from a certain point of view, this entire topic could be considered anything from premature to… well one hesitates to say treason, but…”

    Countess Lergen looked like a small animal as Katarina left, a small animal that realised too late that a much larger predator was eyeing it with a not at all casual interest.

    -

    Damn you, Carmine Sandiego!

    Hertrude Sera Fanoss had realised that her reign would have had crises, and had believed her teachers when they reminded her that the various challenges she had faced at her young age were far from the real perils of rulership. But this, she had no doubt, was the real thing.

    “The glimpses that guards and servants had of the intruder all agree that the man wore a mask.” Viscount Darian was one of the most familiar of her regency council, for as castellan of Castle Fanoss he rarely had duties take him away. “I can only assume that we have been attacked by the Masked Knight of Fanoss.”

    Count Garrett slammed his fist down on the table. “He didn’t even kill a single person. Such arrogance!”

    From behind Hertrude’s seat, Sir Vandel Him Zenden stirred. “For which we should be grateful.”

    “Grateful!?” exclaimed Darian. “You suggest that we should be grateful to the dog of the Holforts? Have you grown so old that… you…” He broke off as the killing intent of Hertrude’s bodyguard filled the room. “Fear to face him again?” the viscount finished weakly.

    “With no deaths,” Vandel reminded him tightly. “It will be easier for us to conceal this humiliation. Unless you believe we should make public that we have lost two of our most powerful lost items?”

    Garrett leant back in his chair. “Which we should not. I believe that you owe Sir Vandel an apology, Vidal.”

    “Ah… my sincerest apologies, Sir Vandel.” The castellan mopped at his face with a handkerchief. “My words were intemperate and I withdraw them. It was wrong of me to vent my anger upon you.”

    The white-haired knight’s glare did not fade but it was somehow easier to breathe once more in the room.

    “We are all allies here,” Count Garrett reminded the council.

    “While the masked knight or some imitator of him is the most likely explanation,” Hertrude noted, “We cannot afford to assume that it is Holfort. We have other enemies and they would doubtless laugh if we exhausted ourselves fighting Holfort only for them to sweep in once they have mastered the flutes.”

    She had not revealed to anyone yet that she had spoken directly to the intruder. His words would be provocative, and the fact that she had done nothing to stop him was a terrible embarrassment.

    And while she found the suggestion that Vandel would have betrayed her parents ridiculous, it was at least possible that one of the council might be a traitor who had helped the assassins to enter. And that could also be behind ‘Carmine Sandiego’s’ ability to enter Castle Fanoss with such ease.

    The men at the table all turned towards her. “Your highness,” Count Garrett counselled, twirling his moustache. “There can be little real doubt that Holfort is behind this somehow. They may not know what we are planning but even those imbeciles must realise that their current situation is a weak one.”

    “Isn’t it also possible that one of their neighbours prefers a weak and divided kingdom,” Hertrauda asked nervously from her seat. “Rather than the principality triumphing and establishing our own dominion on their borders?”

    “With the greatest respect,” Vidal Vor Darian responded in a tone that showed very little respect, “A child who slept through a great treasure being stolen from her own bed chamber should be seen and not heard. The royal household has not covered itself with glory!”

    Hertrude felt her face tighten. She could not let them tear Hertrauda apart over this, even if it meant spending some of her limited political capital to save her.

    Too many of those in this room still saw her as a child, not as their princess. But Hertrauda was her little sister, her last living kin.

    To her surprise though, Hertrauda lifted her chin defiantly. “We must both accept responsibility, Viscount Darian. For are you not the castellan whose security failed to protect the castle? Even if we hide the theft from the outside world, we are both accountable to my sister.”

    “Indeed,” rumbled Vandel from behind Hertrude. “Or are your words intended to shift blame from yourself, viscount, and to someone who was only reached after this masked intruder defeated all of your guards?”

    The viscount looked around the room for support and saw faces turn away. No one wished to be associated with this debacle.

    Hertrude sighed. Well, if her sister could not avoid being affected now, it would at least be possible to mitigate the consequences. “Viscount, you have served us well until now. We can hardly punish either of you openly, but I think it best that you depart your post as Castellan, and from this council. You have neglected your own lands in your service to us, and the time has come for you to return to them and place matters in order. We are, after all, likely to be at war soon.”

    Viscount Darian swallowed. Looked at Count Garrett.

    “I think that that is a reasonable decision,” the count agreed pleasantly. “There is no need to let one failure mar many years of loyal service.” Then his glance shifted to Hertrauda. “As for the princess…”

    “This incident has also shown us that we are vulnerable here,” Hertrude told him. “For years we have assumed that my sister and I were safe here. We can no longer rest easily here. Princess Hertrauda will embark on a tour of our more outlying vassals - an informal exile from court that also ensures that should this Masked Knight return, he cannot eliminate both of us at once. The royal line is too few for that to be risked.”

    “And if that knight seeks to seize her while she is travelling and therefore lightly guarded?” protested Darian.

    Hertrude smiled tightly. “Sir Vandel, if this is indeed the Masked Knight that the viscount remembers with such trepidation, you are the only knight who has ever fought the man to a standstill. I will entrust my sister’s protection to you.”

    The white-haired man frowned. “It might be also said that he was the one knight who was ever able to halt me.” The honesty evidently pained him.

    “There is another reason that I must send you with Hertrauda.” Hertrude straightened her shoulders. “Without the flutes, our plans for Holfort must be revised. They are in disorder now, but the possibility exists that King Roland will seize on an outside foe to rally his people behind him - such as the reconquest of our principality. We will need time to continue to prepare for war.”

    Count Garrett stroked his moustache as he gave her a measuring look. “And you have a plan to buy us that time, your highness?”

    “Yes. One that will allay their suspicions and prevent them from moving against us for several months,” Hertrude assured him, and began to explain her proposal.

    -

    “Lady Katarina!”

    A white-haired missile caught Katarina Rafa Claes around the midsection. Angelica wondered if the taller girl needed support, but she caught hold of Sophia Fia Ascart happily and hugged her. “Sophia!”

    “I brought new romance novels and my brother!” their classmate exclaimed in a delighted voice. “There’s a new Shadowy Count book that’s just amazing.”

    “Oohhh!” Katarina exclaimed.

    Angelica gave the pair a bemused look and then Nicol Fia Ascart climbed down from the carriage that had brought the two siblings from the port. As was normal when confronted with the quite unfairly handsome boy, the blonde had to steady herself for a moment, reminding herself that she was engaged and… wait, she wasn’t engaged any more. She was free to admire his height, his thick black hair and those sinful eye-lashes.

    “Lady Redgrave?”

    “Ah.” She blushed. “Lord Ascart. I trust that you have been having a good summer.”

    He nodded slightly. “I have. And your own?”

    “...better than I had expected when we last met.”

    “Ah.” The young man looked at his sister and Katarina as they chattered merrily away, his face almost displaying a smile for a moment. But perhaps Angelica was mistaking it.

    “Is this normal for them?” she asked him.

    Nicol nodded quietly. But then, he was quiet about everything. “Sophia found it difficult to make friends when she was younger. Meeting Katarina was a blessing for her.”

    Thinking back, Angelica remembered occasional whispering about the Ascart household’s ‘cursed child’. Sophia’s albinism marked her out amongst even the colourful nobility, and her inclination to retreat into books hadn’t faded even now - it was easy to imagine her being far more shy and reserved without Katarina’s influence.

    “I wonder,” she mused, “if my father hoped that Katarina would have a similar effect on me.”

    “Our parents are sometimes wiser than we give them credit for.” Nicol exhaled slightly. “Father suggested that we bring our cousin as well, but she had other plans.”

    “Clarice?” asked Angelica, thinking of the second-year girl. “How is she?”

    The student council president hesitated, looking for words. “I believe the best word would be bitter. She has been behaving… she is difficult to deal with.”

    “Ah.” Clarice had always been the perfect lady in Angelica’s experience. They’d attended many palace events together with Julius and Jilk, but she could only imagine that she was as devastated by Jilk’s rejection as Angelica felt. The older girl had been just as devoted as she was. “I’m sorry she didn’t come.”

    “It would have been a difficult journey,” Nicol admitted candidly. “I doubt she would have come alone.”

    “Well at least her clique hasn't turned on her.”

    “That is not quite what I mean.” His cheeks coloured slightly. “I believe that you could not take contract servants under the terms of your engagement?”

    Angelica nodded. “Not that I would have anyway. Father doesn’t approve and…” She shrugged.

    Nicol shifted almost imperceptibly. “My cousin has taken on several such servants since the start of the summer.”

    “As…” She lowered her voice, glancing at their still chattering companions. “Lovers, you mean? I suppose she must be finding them unsatisfying if she’s going through them so quickly.”

    “Ah, several at once.”

    Angelica went crimson at the very idea. “I… ah… I see. I don’t believe that Duchess Claes would approve.” Actually, she doubted that Miranda Claes would be in any way tolerant of even a single contract servant, much less of a guest maintaining a harem of them under the duchess’ roof.

    While Angelica herself wasn’t inclined towards the idea, she could understand to an extent that a woman in an unhappy marriage who saw her husband only rarely might seek some other… outlet. But the girls at school with such servants weren’t married yet, and they flaunted the servants, seeking to compete with each other in number and quality.

    “She hasn’t taken elves as servants has she?” The rumours around the spring that had led to elves falling abruptly out of fashion hadn’t died down. If anything, there were now additional suggestions that elves might be violent and prone to criminal behaviour.

    “Uncle Bernard at least drew the line there.”

    “Oh.” So Clarice had actually considered that?! “I can see why you’re concerned.”

    “Girls.” Duchess Claes appeared at the doorway. “Please bring your conversation inside.” She shook her head slightly as both Sophia and Katarina looked up abruptly from their discussions, having apparently forgotten that anyone else was present. “Welcome to our home, both of you.”

    Nicol offered Angelica his arm and she accepted it, letting him escort her up the steps and into the mansion. He must have been here many times for he was easily able to guide them into the reception room where the ever efficient staff had prepared tea and other refreshments.

    Once he’d seated her, Nicol produced two letters from his pocket and extended them to Katarina and her mother. “Prince Gerald asked me to bring these for him.”

    Both ladies accepted the missives, opening the seals with identical gestures. “Will Gerald be visiting?” asked Keith from the doorway. He exchanged a handshake with Nicol before both boys found places to sit.

    Nicol shook his head but it was Sophia who gave an explanation. “He and Alan have been taking up some of the duties that Prince Julius was to handle this summer. They won’t be able to leave the continent.”

    “That may be for the best,” Duchess Miranda noted. “The last thing the king would want would be them to fall in with some of the more ambitious nobility at the moment.”

    Katarina glanced up. “Did you ask Gerald to break off the engagement?”

    “I did, yes. I realise you’re fond of the boy but given his new prospects, I don’t think the two of you would be well matched.”

    Angelica stiffened. How could the duchess be so cruel? Gerald treated Katarina much the way she’d always hoped that Julius might one day behave towards her. To ask such a happy couple to separate…

    But to her surprise, rather than being upset, Katarina just nodded. “He’s probably waiting to find the right person before he agrees.”

    “Mm.” The duchess read her letter and frowned. “How pert of him!”

    “Mother?”

    “Apparently, if I want to take to match-making, he feels I should be focusing on Keith and Angelica.” The duchess refolded her letter crisply. “That boy!”

    Angelica stiffened. It wasn’t as if the idea hadn’t been mentioned in passing, but at least Keith hadn’t been in the room.

    The young man snorted angrily. “As if…” He paused, “Er, excuse me Angelica. It’s not a reflection upon you, but I don’t believe that it would be a good idea.”

    She couldn’t deny that it stung just a bit that he was so quickly against the idea but at least she had some idea why he felt that way - and not because it was her. “It’s quite alright, Keith. I’m quite as unhappy with Gerald for writing that. Even if I felt ready to consider another engagement, I have had my fill of fiances that are in love with other women.”

    “I-i-” Keith spluttered, his face suddenly covered by an incandescent blush. “L-lady Angelica!”

    She sat back in her chair, feeling that she had at least repaid him for his dismissal of her.

    “Ooh!” Katarina exclaimed. “Keith, you didn’t tell me that you were in love with someone!”

    Keith buried his face in his hands, trying to hide his embarrassment. “S-sister, please!”

    “Is it Olivia?” the girl enquired curiously. “I think she’s the only girl you’ve seen since we got back from the academy!”

    “Katarina,” their mother interjected. “We have guests.”

    “But mother, this is important!”

    “Kat-ar-ina Ra-fa C-lae-s!” Miranda uttered every single syllable with the utmost clarity. “Don’t pester your brother.” She paused. “Although, who is this Olivia? I don’t recall any of our guests having a daughter by that name.”

    Sophia covered her mouth. “Oh gosh, a forbidden romance between a duke’s son and a common-born girl. It’s like one of my novels!”

    “I am not in love with Olivia Campbell,” Keith wailed desperately.

    The duchess paused. “The scholarship girl?” She looked at Angelica quizzically.

    “Not who I had in mind,” Angelica mouthed. This might have gotten a little out of control.

    “Hmm.” The duchess gave her adopted son a serious look. “I will take you at your word, Keith. It would be very difficult for a girl of her status to marry a duke’s son, however deserving she might be. In much the same way that I wouldn’t expect Katarina to do well if she were to... become queen.” The last two words were effectively forced out. “Your happiness matters, of course, but I really wouldn’t suggest marrying below, let us say, a count’s daughter.” Duchess Claes’ gaze flicked to Sophia.

    The girl managed somehow to pale further despite her natural complexion. “I’m not prepared!” she exclaimed and then grew wistful. “Though if I married Keith and my brother married Katarina…” Her eyes began to sparkle excitedly.

    “Except that Gerald is still engaged to Katarina,” Keith pointed out. “To return to the earlier point.”

    “I’ll need to talk to him, I see. And to his brother.” The duchess shook her head. “I’ll leave you young people to talk amongst yourselves. However, if you would like to invite Miss Campbell to travel back to the academy with you, I see no reason not to.”

    “But who is Keith in love with?” Katarina pleated to Angelica.

    “It’s not for me to give away his secrets,” she told the girl straight-faced. “I wouldn’t have raised it if I realised he was hiding it.” Really, how could the girl not know that her adopted brother was smitten by her? And it wasn’t as if they were really siblings, so it wasn’t that unusual. Really, it would ease any arguments over the adopted Claes becoming the next duke if he married Duke Luigi’s daughter - not that Angelica had any stakes one way or another but it was far from the worst match-up she’d heard of.
     
    A Summer’s Scheming 4-4
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    A Summer’s Scheming

    It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes
    But it might just save your life
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 4

    Which, if not victory, is yet revenge. ~ John Milton​

    The carriage waiting outside the Ministry of Magic was anonymous enough. Clean, with paint covering the battering that would have inevitably been the case of a commercial carriage in the capital’s streets, but not the immaculate condition and heraldry that would warn those watching that the carriage bore one of the nobility. A merchant might call for a carriage like this, or in this case a common born official of one of the kingdom’s great institutions.

    Larna Smith left the Ministry of Magic with her day's experiments concluded, the data being collated for her to review after a refreshing night’s sleep, and the other paperwork of her position mostly done well enough to tide forwards another day… mostly because Kyle had filtered out the more routine requests and signed her name to either approval or rejection but it was the results that mattered. And even she could barely tell the difference between her signature and Kyle’s copy of it these days. The boy was almost as great a find as his mother, in her opinion, even with all the favours the botanical department now owed her for Yumeria’s assistance.

    The driver knew her, knew the route and needed no instructions. He had the horses moving once Larna was seated and had closed the door. She raised the little curtain across the windows on one side, then went to the other and did the same. A crystal in the ceiling flickered to light at her command, providing a dim light but enough that the curtains did not leave the woman in complete darkness.

    Taking hold of the front seat, Larna swung it up, revealing a compartment beneath that contained clothes and cosmetics. She braced herself against the carriage turning as it departed the gates of the Ministry and turned onto the street and then began the familiar dance of stripping, redressing and then applying her make-up while the carriage jostled and bounced along the streets.

    She made a mental note to do something about carriage suspension one of these days. She’d made the same vow daily for several years now, but alas never put it to paper or remembered it when she was actually working.

    At a certain turn, the young women closed the hidden compartment again and took hold of the door handle. She felt the carriage slow as they reached a junction where several roads met. Damping the crystal in the ceiling, she swung the door open right as they finally halted - waiting for the flow of evening traffic to let them pass.

    A second carriage door faced her, the door already open, and she hopped across, leaving the door behind her to snap shut due to the spring securing it. Quickly, Suzanna Rafa Stuart closed the door to her new carriage and sat down. A snap of reins and this carriage, bright and shiny with the Stuart crest painted clearly on both sides, started back the other way. Pulling a hand mirror from the bag waiting for her, the duchess checked her make-up and verified that she’d managed it perfectly. “Every time,” she mumbled to herself as the carriage took another turn, veering away from the Ministry building and towards the Stuart’s townhouse.

    This routine had been fun at first but there was no longer any real challenge to it. Maybe she should mix it up somehow?

    Almost exactly on schedule, the carriage pulled up in front of the family entrance to the Stuart’s mansion (as opposed to the main entrance, used by guests, or the tradesman entrance at the far end of the property). Suzanna dismounted and thanked the driver before entering the house.

    Her husband was waiting in the drawing room. “Suzanna!” he greeted her warmly. “How was your day? Mine was magnificent. I had lunch with Ian, Gerald and Alan. They’re looking healthy - although poor Gerald is pouty over Duchess Claes’ letters.”

    Suzanna took a seat and waited for Jeffrey to finish gushing about his favourite topic in the world, bounding from one portrait of his brothers to another as his monologue touched on each. She’d had the maids leave a book for her on the coffee table and it still had her bookmark in it so she leafed through it until Jeffrey ran out of steam. It was exactly the sort of tedious and formulaic romance novel that did the rounds among the younger noble ladies, so Suzanna would be expected to be familiar with it.

    “So they’re doing well,” she summed up when she finished a chapter and her husband paused for breath. “Someone delivered this to me earlier, more pestering about the elf issue.” Opening the envelope she’d brought with her, she spilled the contents out onto the table.”

    Jeffrey crouched over the table and examined it. “Is that the detector that was stolen?”

    “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” she answered. “But it’s a copy.”

    “So wherever this was found leads back to the thief?”

    “I wish.” She closed the book and leant back, resting her eyes. “Baron Gorton used it to justify divorcing his wife and throwing out their youngest son.”

    “Ouch.” Her husband sat back on his heels. “How are the Durbays taking it?”

    “Durbays?” Suzanna asked blankly.

    “His wife’s family?”

    “Oh.” She hadn’t paid that much attention to that side of things, she’d mostly been interested in examining the copy… what had the messenger said… “I think they’re mustering for war? Something like that.”

    “Ick.” Jeffrey made a disgusted face. “At least they’re nowhere near us. I’m surprised that either family can afford a war.”

    “You’re asking me?”

    “No, no.” He waved his hands dismissively. “But if there are others then I may have to look at stepping in - at least for any lords near Stuart. Or on my lands, actually. Do you mind if I keep this - better to check my vassals next time I’m back there - if I know which of them are likely candidates then maybe I can pre-empt them.”

    “Go ahead. It works as far as I can tell. Will you be going back soon?”

    Jeffrey shrugged. “Once Gerald and Alan have gone back to the academy. I hate to leave Ian on his own, keep an eye on him for me?”

    “He’s a big boy now, he’s getting married this winter.” Suzanna looked up and saw that her husband was making pleading eyes. “Oh alright. Did you find anything out about the dark magic side of things.”

    Jeffrey slouched into the chair facing hers. “Well, most of my contacts who might know something are the ones loath to share anything about me - in case I hurt myself thinking too hard, you know the ones. But just looking at what’s widely known about Marchioness Dieke, there is one thing that does stand out for me.”

    “Oh?”

    “Her son, Sirius - about six months older than Gerald and Alan?”

    Suzanna drew a blank but she nodded anyway rather than let Jeffrey diverge into a longer explanation.

    “He was badly ill about eight years ago. The doctors could do nothing, it seemed that he’d die. Rebecca was already estranged from her husband - you remember what he was like?”

    “I don’t.” Oops, she realised her mistake. “Summarise, for me.”

    The duke made a distasteful face. “The sort of man who couldn’t keep his hands off the maids or any other pretty young woman that wasn’t his wife. He was asked to leave the capital by a number of offended husbands and fathers a year or two after the time I’m talking about. With his wife holed up on Dieke itself, he left the kingdom and no one’s seen him since. Anyway, there was no real chance he’d give Rebecca another child - or at least, she hardly wanted him to.”

    Suzanna nodded. “I get the picture. So the boy was dying?”

    “Exactly. With medicine failing her, the marchioness followed the traditional path and turned to religion. Prayers, donations, the whole nine yards. And, miraculously, Sirius made a full recovery. He’s healthy as a horse, doing well at the academy. If his mother wasn’t so picky he’d probably be engaged by now.”

    “So?” It sounded like something the temple would crow against, but medicine didn’t really interest Suzanna. “Did they use light magic? Because, it’s dark magic I’m curious about.”

    “No, they tried that and it didn’t take. No one knows why exactly.”

    “Likely some sort of hereditary condition - light magic won’t cure something you’re born with, because it’s what the body should have - however dysfunctional. Is the marchioness related to her husband?”

    Jeffrey gave her a thumbs up. “That’s my brilliant Suzanna. They’re first cousins.”

    She nodded. “That’s not too…”

    “And third cousins. And fourth cousins a couple of times.”

    “Ah, congenital inability to find a spouse outside their traditional circle of neighbours. A common symptom.”

    Jeffrey’s expression shifted and he leant forwards. “Go over my family tree, would you? Alan’s illness…”

    Suzanna raised her hand. “I’ve done so already, but both your grandfather and great-grandfather married outside of the kingdom. Alan being sickly is more a matter of your mother having a difficult pregnancy with twins. It’s not likely that anyone in the kingdom is close enough as a relative to endanger your brothers, so their fiancees are safe enough. Just don’t let any of your nieces or nephews marry back into the royal line for a generation or two.”

    Her husband sank back into his seat again. “Why isn’t this warned of more widely?”

    Suzanna sighed. “Because political alliances matter to the various feudal lords more than the health of their children. Between marrying before twenty and having to marry someone of similar rank tends to mean most people have a comparatively limited number of candidates.” She shook her head. “So what’s so odd about Sirius’ recovery?”

    “Besides the mystery of how he recovered at all?” the young duke smirked, his usual ebullience returning. “If his sudden good health was such a miracle, you’d think that the marchioness would be grateful - continued piety and the like?”

    “Probably, yes? Was she not?”

    He shook his head, silver-blond hair flying. “No, she went back to her previous token support and attendance. Which suggests to me that she knows exactly how her son recovered and it had nothing to do with the temple.”

    “That leaves a number of possibilities.”

    “Given she didn’t disclose the method, it almost has to be something scandalous,” Jeffrey pointed out. “Now I’m not saying that it’s definitely dark magic… but it could be.”

    “Yes, it could.” She frowned. “Thank you. I’ll see if I can come up with anything around that time period.”

    “Since you’re not going to be digging into my family history for potential problems,” he suggested. “You can repay me by taking a look at the Berg mansion.”

    Suzanna gave him a dry look. “Could you be more specific?” She had some vacation hours that the Minister kept reminding her she ought to take, and at least it would be a change of routine.

    “The duke fired half the staff a few weeks ago,” her husband reminded her. “And Selena was left to handle the replacements.”

    “Yes, is it going wrong?”

    “That’s the surprising part. She’s managed to get it all done. But now she’s started replacing the rest of the original staff or sending them back to the Berg estates.” Jeffrey reached over and tapped the table. “It’s almost like she’s become decisive.”

    “Selena?”

    He nodded.

    “Something’s very wrong. Sounds interesting!” This was one of the reasons Suzanna had married Jeffrey. He was good at finding things for her to poke her nose into.

    -

    Leon had envisaged taking his family back to the barony as more or less dropping them in the cabins and then relaxing on the navigation deck. Unfortunately, he’d planned this without considering his youngest brother Colin, who was enthusiastically searching the ship for the crew he was sure must exist. And that was provoking the rest of the family to think about how a seven hundred metre warship functioned when Leon appeared to be the only member of the crew.

    Also someone had to follow the boy around to make sure he didn’t fall off anything, trying to get to places he shouldn’t. Their mother wasn’t quite dis-enchanted enough with the social order to ask that of Jenna or Finley, while Nicks had elected to remain in the county with Dorothea. Rather than switching to the special class for his third year, Leon’s elder brother had elected to withdraw from the academy to directly assist their parents manage the former Otley lands and get to know his fiancee.

    As much as Leon was glad that the pair of them were getting along better, he had a sneaking suspicion that his brother’s decision was a cunning revenge on him for something as much as it was a willingness to carry some of the duties of governing their new lands.

    “Colin, if you fall into the sea from this height, you won’t sink into the water, you’ll splatter off it as if it was stone,” he warned and pulled his brother back from where he was leaning over the ship’s railing.

    “I’m not going to fall,” the boy insisted. “Are your crew all elves? Is that where they all went?”

    “Get down from there and I’ll tell you,” Leon bargained.

    The boy released his grip on the rail and let Leon move him back to the deck. “I knew it.”

    “I don’t have a crew of elves,” Leon corrected him. “Actually, what do you mean ‘where all the elves went’? Have they been disappearing?”

    Colin kicked at the deck. “I heard Jenna and Finley talking with some of the other girls about how elf servants aren’t around any more.”

    “That’d be because no one is contracting them.” He scratched his head. “I don’t know what the elves are actually doing these days though. Maybe they are all crewing for someone, but it’s not for me. I did have a couple of elves aboard once, but that was different.”

    “I knew it, where are they!” his brother grabbed hold of Leon’s shirt.

    “Back in Holfort, they were more passengers than crew. Kyle was about your age… I think he’s working as a gofer in the Ministry, his mother’s a gardener there.”

    “What’s a gofer?”

    “Colin, go for the spade. Leon, go for the bag of beans. Go for, gofer.”

    His brother nodded eagerly. “So who does crew your ship?”

    “If I investigate too much, they might stop working. I’d rather not get stuck adrift on a ship that I can’t operate so please stop looking for them.”

    “But Leeeeeeon!”

    The older boy poked at his brother’s forehead. “Have you practised your writing yet?”

    “But we’re on a skyship!”

    “It’s absolutely possible to write when you’re on a ship,” Leon told him firmly. “Get it done Colin, then if mother agrees I’ll let you see the knight-armours.”

    Colin gave him a suspicious look. “Do you promise?”

    “Yes, I promise.”

    “You gotta keep your promises,” his brother insisted.

    “I really promise that if you do your writing and if mother agrees, then you can see the knight-armours.”

    Finally convinced, the youngest brother ran back to the cabin he was staying in. Leon was surprised by a chuckle from above him, and looked up to see his father was on the next deck up, looking down at him over its rail. “You’re getting better at that.”

    “I suppose I might have children of my own one day, if I ever break down and yield to social pressure.”

    His father snorted. “Hold on a moment.” Barcus vanished from sight and Leon heard his feet on the gangway before the man joined him on the same deck. His father reached out and then cuffed him lightly over the ear. “Practically every person you mention in your letters from school is a girl, I don’t think you’ll have trouble getting married. If you keep making out that you can’t be bothered, someone will hit you a lot harder than that.”

    Leon rubbed the side of his head. “Did you have to hit me?”

    “Sometimes you can be a bit dense.” Barcus reached out again and Leon braced himself but this time it was just to ruffle his hair.

    “I’m not sure I can ever see myself marrying,” he admitted. “I mean, I could go through the legalities of it, and have children with someone - but that’s not really marriage as I see it. It’s not sharing my life with someone.”

    Barcus sighed and leaned on the rail. “I had this whole speech planned, the same one I used with Nicks about being realistic about your prospects. But given what you’ve done just in the last year, I have a suspicion you’ll just exceed my expectations again.”

    Leon laughed. “Sorry, not sorry.”

    “Mmm. But at least I can honestly say that you’ve got a good idea of what a marriage should be.” The older man looked out into the sky. “What your mother and I have, compared to Zola.”

    “I’ve never asked before, but why her of all people? Was there no one less poisonous?”

    Barcus shrugged. “She wasn’t always quite that bad. Or so I thought. For a while I blamed myself, thinking that falling in love with Ruth and having Nicks had been the last straw for her. But since Rudyard must have been conceived before that…” He shook his head. “I was around your age when your grandfather was stuck with becoming a baron. I didn’t have much warning to start looking for a wife among the nobility and I probably didn’t handle it all that well.”

    Leon nodded in understanding. “At least that’s over now.”

    “Mmm,” his father repeated. “Leon, I think you probably got a similar warning to the one I got, but have you told anyone about the elf business?”

    “No. I haven’t really been asked, actually. Jenna and I spoke about it once but there was no one else there.”

    His father sighed. “I have a nasty feeling that someone official will think that one of us did. Rumours are getting around that elves aren’t safe, and I’ve heard at least one other household is squabbling over elf blood in their family. There aren’t that many people who could have told them.”

    “It’s kind of hard to prove a negative,” Leon admitted, “but honestly? I’m not surprised that someone spoke up. It’s a juicy secret and there only needs to be one person who can’t resist telling a friend or relative ‘in confidence’.”

    “You’re probably right,” the older Bartford agreed. “The reason we might come under suspicion is that the Colemans decided to throw Zola and her children out.”

    “Really?”

    He got a nod. “And that will at least raise the possibility that one of our family explained the truth to them, to take revenge on her.”

    “I had my revenge when we got rid of her. As soon as she was out of our lives I didn’t want anything more from her. Are you sure it was anything to do with the elf issue? I mean, Viscount Coleman has had to put up with her for months now and I doubt she was exactly at her charming best.”

    Barcus sighed. “She was officially declared a bastard, with the Viscount declaring he had evidence that his mother had dallied with an elf and Zola was the result. I assume that you knew that.”

    “I guessed. Rudyard and Merce weren’t only one-half elf.”

    “And thus her reasoning for accepting the divorce.” Leon’s father sighed. “I’m surprised they don’t look more like elves.”

    “My working theory is that the children of crossbreeds always share the visible traits of the mother - the one half-elf I know who looks like an elf is also the only case I’m aware of where the human parent was the father.”

    “I suppose that that makes sense. Unfortunately, it seems likely that Zola will suspect that her brother drew that conclusion because one of us hinted at her parentage. I don’t know that she has any resources to put into revenge now, but she’s certainly going to be motivated and I doubt she feels she has much to lose.”

    Leon considered that and then nodded reluctantly. “I’ll keep my eyes open. I hope you’ll be doing the same.”

    “Of course. That’s one reason Ruth and I are going back home.” His father smiled wryly. “The barony is my home, you know. The county is never going to be that for me, however prestigious it is. Our island, where we Bartfords have made our home for centuries.”

    “Ever since we left the continent,” Leon agreed.

    His father stiffened. “I don’t recall ever telling you that story. For that matter, I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it to anyone since my father told me.”

    The boy grinned. “I have another source of information. Biased, I will admit. And you just confirmed that there’s something to it.”

    “Sneaky brat. Alright, I assume you know not to spread it around? Tell me what you learned and I’ll correct you if I hear anything I’m sure is wrong.”

    Leon glanced around and made sure they were alone. “Once I pare away all the whining, one of our distant ancestors was part of the same adventuring group that founded the kingdom of Holfort. There was some falling out - over a woman, according to my source, and one of the others stabbed him in the back. His family decided it wouldn’t be healthy to hang around so they fled out to a remote island and started homesteading it. After a few centuries, the kingdom expanded to the point they found us and grandfather was given the choice of swearing allegiance as baron over the island or being removed so one could be imposed.”

    Barcus nodded quietly. “I don’t know about a woman, my father believed that our ancestor was the leader of the adventurers and Holfort killed him to take over. Otherwise it might have been the Bartford kingdom and who knows what would have happened. I doubt anyone in Holfort still remembers that, it’s not the sort of legend to be passed down with pride.”

    “Contradicting the entire founding myth of the kingdom?” Leon laughed. “Yeah, I can’t see some little conspiracy of the founding families keeping that fact around. If nothing else, if they did then grandfather would probably never have been offered the chance to be a baron. The Holforts took a foothold on the continent and turned it into one of the largest realms I know of. Whatever our ancestor did, we can’t claim credit for any of that work.”

    “Good thinking. But it’s still a good lesson to remember. There’s never anyone more dangerous to you than someone you trust.”

    The boy smiled. “Trust and you can be betrayed, but don’t trust and you might wind up betraying yourself.”

    “I haven’t heard it put quite like that.” His father shook his head again. “So, your source said that a woman was involved?”

    “Well, you know how the Saintess vanished after the kingdom was founded?” Leon smirked. “Allegedly, she was hung up on Lia Bartford and the first Holfort thought that getting rid of our ancestor would mean he’d be rid of his rival for her affection. It didn’t work out that way.”

    Barcus made a pained noise. “You definitely shouldn’t tell anyone that. The temple would want to burn you at the stake…”

    -

    “Leon!”

    His mother’s voice drew Leon out of a rather pleasant dream, the details of which escaped him as he was jarred back to wakefulness.

    For a moment he thought that everything over the last year might have been a dream - he was back in his bedroom back in the Bartford’s small stronghold in their ancestral barony, the same bed he’d used for as long as he could remember. Any moment now, his mother would tell him he was late for his chores.

    Then reality set in. Nicks wasn’t there, and most of his brother’s possessions were also gone. And the school uniform hung up on the wardrobe ready to be packed was something Leon hadn’t had until after the brief war against the Olfreys.

    “I’m awake,” he managed. Glancing at the window, it wasn’t really late in the morning. He might have overslept a little, but a few matters had fallen into arrears with his father’s absence and they’d both returned late from visiting some of the baronets who had been truculent about making good some of their obligations. Backing Barcus up was his duty now that Nicks was away.

    His mother pushed the door open and then sighed. “Do put something on.”

    Leon looked down and realised that the light sheet covering him had been kicked away at some point during the hot summer night. “I’m fairly sure you’ve seen it all before.” But she was his mother, so he grabbed the previous day’s shirt and shrugged it on. There was no point getting clean clothes until he’d washed off some of the sweat.

    Covered almost to his knees by the shirt, the boy stretched. “Am I late for something?”

    “You have a letter,” she told him. “The mailship arrived last night but I’d gone to bed before you got home.”

    Leon raked his hair back and grabbed his hair tie. “Alright, just a moment.”

    The water in his washbasin wasn’t really cold, but it was refreshing against his face anyway and he felt far more awake once he’d towelled it off. Yesterday’s trousers were good enough for now and his mother finally forced the letter into his hand. Leon glanced at the seal and realised why she was so anxious - it had the seal of the academy on it.

    “I wonder how long this has been chasing me around the kingdom,” he wondered and broke the seal.

    Inside were two sheets of paper. Unfolding them, Leon saw that from the date this had been sent two weeks ago, while he’d been in the county. That was a bit longer than he’d expected, even this far away from the continent. From the postmarks it had first gone to the barony, then passed them on the way to the county before being forwarded back here.

    The first half of the front page was taken up with a list of courses and his final grades, including exam results and various coursework. He wondered how Scarlet would react to seeing that he’d managed a few perfects in theoretical or purely academic classes. Even his swordsman score was almost that high - competitive with her own initial assessment.

    Seriously, Scarlet and Gerald were scary. Even when they weren’t top of a subject they were almost always in the top five.

    “Could be worse,” he said out loud.

    Ruth Fou Bartford was almost hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. “Oh honey, I know it’s tough without magic but…”

    “I came twelfth,” he cut her short.

    “Twelfth?” she froze. “You’re… twelfth… You mean, from the top?”

    “Uh-huh. It’s a rotten shame, they’re going to stick me with…”

    “Leon!” his mother exclaimed and grabbed him in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

    The boy sighed and leant into the hug. He wasn’t going to pass up some maternal approval, even if he’d rather have come a place or two lower.

    The second half of the first page had informed him that as one of the top scorers within the special class, he had been chosen to serve on the Student Council through the rest of his time at the academy. While the phrasing had lauded this as being a great honour, what it meant was that he would be stuck with quite a bit of extra-curricular work that would cut into his free time.

    Had he ever asked for responsibility? He had not! Why was he therefore being given it?

    There was a list of the other students who would be joining him as the junior members of the Student Council from the start of the term. Scarlet and Gerald were unsurprisingly at the head of the list, along with Olivia and Alan. The other seven students were also known to him - Mary, Sophia, Keith and Angelica would be no problem but there were three names that Leon regretted bitterly.

    Julius Rafa Holfort, Jilk Fia Marmoria and Brad Fou Field had also made it into the top twelve.

    It was some small comfort that the object of their affections hadn’t made it in, and at least two of the prince’s friends hadn’t received the honour, but it would still mean years of having to meet with them regularly. That was going to be awkward at best.

    “At least I’ll have some friends on the council,” he noted. “I get along with most of the other students that qualify for it.”

    “It’s wonderful that you’ve made so many friends,” Ruth told him as she released him at last. She wiped away tears of happiness. “I must tell everyone. Do get cleaned up and dressed. I’ll see if we can have something special for dinner. News like this deserves celebration.”

    “I’ll try to be ready before Jenna’s irate howling,” he told his mother. “Did she get her grades as well?”

    “Yes. They’re… adequate. I do think she’ll have to try harder. Perhaps this will motivate her.”

    “It’s possible,” he admitted. “I suppose if she had made the top twelve last year she would have had the chance to spend time with Lord Ascart, and if that doesn’t motivate her I don’t know what will.”

    Ruth gave him a puzzled look.

    “The student council president,” he explained. “Universally agreed to be the prettiest boy in the school. And unengaged at the moment.”

    “Really? That’s strange.”

    “Apparently the young ladies have a habit of fainting before they can convince him to propose to them.” Leon shrugged. “I’m going to be honest, if I’m going to be his subordinate on the council then I can’t really push Jenna off on him.”

    “Leon, that’s your sister you’re talking about!”

    “I know.” He shuddered. “Such an embarrassment.”

    His mother swatted at him. “Alright, get it out of your system. You’ve still got almost two years at the academy with her so try to get along.”

    “I’m trying, but so is she.” He shuffled the letter to look at the second page and his stomach fell out from under him. “Oh no.”

    “Is something wrong?”

    Leon closed his eyes, prayed and opened them again. His prayers had not been answered and he’d read the letter right the first time.

    “Oh no,” he said again.

    “Leon, what’s wrong?” Ruth looked worried.

    “Apparently there will be a princess attending the academy for part of the next term,” he told his mother. “It’s for diplomatic reasons, but she’s residing on campus and auditing some classes. As part of the student council I’ll be expected to escort her at times.”

    His mother frowned. “The king’s daughter… Erika? I thought she would be a little too young for the academy.”

    “A foreign princess,” Leon clarified. “A ruling princess.”

    Ruth Fou Bartford was many admirable things, but high level politics and diplomacy were not her forte. “I have no idea who you mean, Leon.”

    “Hertrude Sera Fanoss, the ruling princess of Fanoss will effectively be joining the student body.” Leon remembered that pale face, lit by the moon as he escaped the castle. “And I’m likely to have to escort her at times.”

    “I don’t see why that has you so bothered? You’ve made friends with several young women of rank, and it’s not as if you’d be expected to court her.”

    “It’s about ten years since the last war with Fanoss,” he reminded his mother. “Not long enough for grudges to fade on either side. And I believe it’s an article of faith in the principality that her parents were assassinated by Holfort as soon as they’d signed the peace treaty.”

    “But she’s come here in peace, hasn’t she? And she’d hardly start a war while she’s a guest in Holfort.”

    “Diplomacy, mother, is war by other means. I just hope she isn’t planning to provoke a diplomatic incident she can use to demand concessions from the kingdom. And with the succession in doubt, I’m sure King Roland would be more than willing to sacrifice a minor student at the academy in order to keep the peace on one border.”

    “Leon.” His mother hugged him. “I know you’re being a worrier, like your father. But you’re being paranoid.”

    I know, he thought. But am I being paranoid enough?
     
    Star as the Substitute 5-1
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Star as the Substitute

    Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream
    Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 1

    Pleasure and revenge, have ears more deaf than adders to the voice of any true decision. ~ William Shakespeare​

    “How are you getting along with the drones?” Leon asked as he walked across the campus.

    He was getting some dirty looks from other students. Either they were upset at him going up against Jilk Fia Marmoria at the end of the previous term, or word had gotten out that he’d made a bet on the outcome. He thought that the latter was possible. Anyone in the queue could have spread the word that he’d made a bet and it wasn’t as if he would have bet on the opposing champions - but still, he’d bet with the bookies not directly against the other students. He hadn’t taken their money directly and they’d have lost just as much money even if he’d made no bets.

    He’d ask around later. Maybe it was something else, or maybe he was just under-estimating the willingness of teenagers to throw around blame on an easy target.

    “All twelve drones reached the designated buildings last night,” Luxion reported through Leon’s earbud. “There is no indication that any have been detected. After sunset, I will begin investigating the targets for the optimal surveillance positions.”

    “Good work.”

    After Luxion’s stellar job scouting Leon’s path through Castle Fanoss, the boy had realised that he was underutilising the AI’s capabilities. Over the summer, additional drones with improved stealth capabilities had been constructed and within a day or so Leon hoped that they would have managed to hide themselves in the private offices of various people of interest.

    “I hope that having to devote time to watching these new humans is not entirely wasted,” the AI grumbled.

    Leon shrugged. “Honestly, most of it will probably be of no interest or value. And if they’re meeting somewhere covertly, chances are we’ll miss that. But at least if I come up as a threat in anyone’s eyes there’s a chance they’ll talk about me in their own offices so I’ll be forewarned.”

    “Remember that the drone’s range is limited.” Luxion’s sensor light blinked at Leon before it hid itself again. “If we travel away from the continent then all they will be able to do is power down and hopefully avoid attention.”

    Better than nothing, which is what I had before, Leon thought. “But while we’re here it’s going to be a source of information that no one even knows to watch out for. I should have thought about this before.”

    “I am glad you did not. At least I was spared months of having to watch new humans other than those you choose to interact with.”

    “Hopefully you won’t be too traumatised.”

    He’d had to guess who might be a potential source of problems, and it wasn’t just a matter of possible enemies. Besides the fathers of Marie Fou Lafan’s five champions, Leon had picked out the offices of two marquises, two counts, the head of the Ministry of Magic, the senior priestess at the temple and Duke Ades. He’d considered sending one after Marie’s father instead, but Viscount Lafan was fairly unlikely to directly target Leon, whereas the Duke might take offence at a mere count’s younger son spending a significant time with his treasured daughter (and her elder twin).

    Even if the duke didn’t decide to swat Leon for presumption, it might shed some light on why he was favouring one sister so blatantly over the other. Leon didn’t think he’d like the answer, but he was still curious.

    Entering the student council wing, Leon was amused at the ostentation. This was a school, but the rooms looked like they belonged in an exclusive gentleman's club. Then again, perhaps that was the idea - to prepare the members for that sort of lifestyle. The instructions he’d received led him to a door marked as the council meeting room.

    Knocking lightly, he paused for a moment to check for any response.

    “Come in,” two or three voices called out.

    The door opened easily and he saw the room inside had several polished tables forming a U-shape. Besides the chairs at the table, there was another ring of seats backed up against the walls - though they lacked the padding of those at the table. There were six seats at the base of the U, fourteen down each side at one at the base of each leg of the U. Enough seats for thirty-six at the table then, the full numbers of the Student Council.

    He wondered if the position of Student Council President came with a loudhailer so that they could be heard across the room.

    “Welcome, Lord Bartford.” Nicol Fia Ascart’s voice carried effortlessly to him. Oh yes, he was a wind mage wasn’t he? Maybe it was a requirement for the office? “Please take a seat.”

    Leon bowed slightly and complied. Only about half the seats were taken - Deirdre Fou Roseblade gave him a challenging look and patted a seat beside her. He was tempted to ignore her, but Sopiha Fia Ascart was on the other side of the indicated chair, and given how nervous she looked - despite her brother being the president here - the boy decided to support his classmate.

    “Lady Roseblade, Lady Ascart,” he greeted them both, pulling back the seat. “I trust your summers were pleasant.”

    “It was adequate,” the drill-haired blonde pronounced sharply, causing Sophia to pause politely in her own attempt to answer. “Did you stop running away from me, Leon?”

    “I went about my business, it’s not my fault you couldn’t keep up,” he told her with a smirk, then glanced the other way. “Sophia?”

    “We visited Lady Katarina for weeks,” she told him with a proud smile and then pouted. “But Lady Redgrave was with her the whole time.”

    “Another one for Claes’ harem?” asked Deirdre slyly. “Is this the new fashion?”

    “Hopefully not,” Leon said, while Sophia flushed. “Or Lafan was doing it before it was fashionable and that’s a terrible thought.”

    “Mmm. Quite. Although perhaps it has some benefits…”

    Leon followed Deirdre’s look and saw Clarice Fia Atlee sitting further up the opposite side of the table. A uniformed servant was providing her with a glass of wine and three more in the same finery were sitting at the wall behind her. In contrast to their immaculate dress, the second-year had eschewed a uniform jacket and her blouse was only partly buttoned, with a choker plainly visible around her neck. “Is she drunk already?”

    “She’s not that much of a featherweight,” the blonde girl said dismissively. “It’s a statement.”

    “Clarice has been like that since the start of the summer,” Sophia murmured. “It -”

    The doors opened again, this time with no one knocking. Prince Julius Rafa Holfort entered, flanked by Jilk Fia Marmoria and Brad Fou Fields. Leon heard Clarice set her wine-glass down sharply, so much so he wouldn’t be surprised if it scratched the table’s polished surface. When he looked at her, she was glaring at the new arrivals - or one of them, to be specific - with venom that seemed more intense than that which Count Olfrey had directed at his captors as he was dragged from his keep.

    “It frightens me,” the albino at his side whispered.

    Deirdre shook her head as the three first years found seats together - as far from Clarice and Leon as they could manage, which meant that they were down at the foot of one end of the U. Not exactly the centre place that a prince could normally have taken. “She’s making a statement.”

    “Mmm.” Leon agreed reluctantly. “I’m not fluent in the language sartorial, but I’d have to agree. How do you translate it?”

    “She’s trying to show off what Jilk passed up on,” the third year student told him. “Both to make him jealous and to reinforce her self-image by drawing other men to her.” She paused. “She might stand a chance if most of the so-called men here weren’t whipped little boys.”

    “And she’s about a foot too tall and three cup-sizes too large for him. No accounting for taste, I suppose.”

    “L-lord Bartford,” Sophia flushed. “That’s horribly rude.”

    “True though.” Deirdre gave the younger girl a measuring look. “If Lafan dumps him, you might want to watch out, Ascart. You’re not that much larger than she is.”

    This was apparently not a scenario that countless romance novels had prepared the little albino for, at least in such crude terms. Her face was almost as crimson as her eyes.

    “Should the cad be so despicable as to trifle with you, dear lady, I shall not hesitate to duel as your champion,” Leon offered her. “Assuming your brother doesn’t get hold of him first.”

    “I’m not ready for this!” she squeaked, nervously. “My heart!”

    “It’s a purely hypothetical scenario,” Deirdre pointed out. “Lafan will probably string her idiots along until the end of the academy, at the least.”

    “And were someone to break my sister’s heart, such as the overly-flirtatious younger son of a count, I would have volunteers eager to swear I was far away from the miscreant’s death,” a voice whispered into Leon’s ear.

    Recognising the voice and that no one else seemed to have heard them, the young man turned and bowed slightly to Sophia’s brother in acknowledgement.

    More students filtered in, the two Stuarts arriving with Mary and Angelica. The four of them moved up and took seats beyond Sophia. “Keith has been delayed slightly,” Gerald directed the statement towards Nicol. “But he should be here in a moment.”

    Indeed, just as the clock on the wall began to chime, Keith Rafa Claes made a hasty entrance and secured the last seat for himself.

    At the head table, Sirius Fou Dieke rose. “Ladies and gentlemen, I call the council to order.” Silence fell over the room and the redhead turned to the dark-haired president. “Sir, our full membership stands assembled.”

    “Thank you, Mr Secretary.” Nicol rose to his feet. “For those joining us for the first time, welcome to the Student Council. Membership of this body comes with both responsibilities and privileges. For those unfamiliar with either, I commend the student handbook to you - you were all chosen with the expectation that you would not need your hands held. If you must ask, then do so after carrying out basic research.”

    The president remained bland of expression and tone as he gave that less than warm welcome. Practically every girl at the table blushed and looked away despite this.

    “I will stress, however, that the student council’s library is for those of us seeking a convenient place to study, while our drawing room is available for socialising. Please keep the activities to the appropriate chambers - council duties can come with interruptions to studying time, so the rooms here are intended as a refuge.”

    That seemed sensible enough and Leon saw Scarlet nodding from where she sat.

    Nicol looked across at his cousin. “Moving to new business, Lady Atlee has kindly demonstrated a lapse in our current rules. Given the restrictions on bringing guests into the student council wing, some guideline on the number of servants appropriate is clearly overdue.”

    “Oh, of course, blame me.” Clarice leant forwards, which drew one glance from Leon before he remembered his manners. “The school allows us servants, why are you complaining now?”

    “Because if every girl here brings as many servants as you - or more if this escalates, as it so easily could, there won’t be room in here for the council members?” asked Gerald.

    “Correct.” Nicol folded his hands. “I am not suggesting that all servants be banned, but I believe a limit of one per student would be wise.”

    “And what if I decide to just not turn up at all?” Clarice challenged.

    “I’m sure Lord Marmoria would consider that a relief,” her cousin told her. “But I would not.”

    -

    Katarina remembered the days when she’d been an older sister to Keith.

    Of course she was still the older sister, but he didn’t act like it any more. At some point he’d begun acting as if he was the one keeping an unruly little sister from getting into trouble.

    Case in point: “Do remember not to drag the princess off to help you with your gardening,” he instructed as they walked towards the student council wing. “Or pull her into a discussion about romance novels.”

    “But what if she’s interested in romance novels?!” Katarina protested. “She might be!”

    Keith rubbed his brow. “Actually, it would probably be best if you just avoided her entirely.”

    “Aw…”

    She didn’t remember any princess visiting the academy during the game. Although there had also been no giant robot duels, which was a strange thing to skip over. Acchan would have loved that. Well, probably. Maybe. She wasn’t sure, but it would be fun to find out.

    And having a real life princess here might be some similarly shocking development. What if Gerald fell for her charms? Or what if it was Keith?! Katarina almost gasped out loud. What if Keith was trying to keep her away because he’d already fallen in love with the princess?! That might mean that Katarina was already the villainess of the route and there could be a bad end looming that she had no idea about!

    “Katarina…” her brother warned. “Whatever you’re thinking…”

    “Actually, I have a question.”

    “Yes?” he asked her, looking nervous.

    Katarina brushed her long hair back. “If you don’t want me to meet the princess, why are you walking me to the student council meeting to welcome her? I’m not even allowed into the council rooms, am I?”

    Keith stopped dead and let go of her arm. “I… yes. Good point.”

    You see! Katarina could still be a big sister. Keith was worrying about nothing. She looked ahead and then frowned. “Isn’t that Olivia?” She picked up her skirts and ran ahead to greet her friend. And see if she had a basket of sweets, but mostly to greet the girl. It would just be a nice coincidence if Katarina got something to eat.

    There were two other girls with Olivia. It was nice that she was making friends.

    Then Katarina got close enough to hear the conversation: “You think you’re special?” an older girl was demanding, pulling Olivia by one arm. “Acting as if being on the student council makes you better than us!”

    The other girl yanked Olivia’s other arm, leaving the blond girl staggering. “Lady Redgrave only keeps you around the way she would a pet. An animal that she can pat, and feed, and that isn’t bright enough to ask anything.”

    “The only reason the council tolerates you is because she doesn’t have a demihuman to be her servant.” The first girl caught hold of the aiguillette on Olivia’s uniform jacket, marking her as one of the student council. She dragged on it, almost tearing it away. “Maybe if you crawl under the table for Ascart and Dieke, they’ll keep you around when Lady Redgrave is bored of…”

    A chunk of the ground about the size of Katarina’s fist bulged up beneath the foot of the second girl as she pulled her hand back to slap Olivia. Off balance, she stumbled into her compatriot - who lost her grip on Olivia and went sprawling on the floor.

    Katarina loomed over them. “How dare you say such things?! How dare you lay your hands on Olivia?!”

    “But-but…” one of the girls on the floor exclaimed, face white.

    “She’s just a commoner!” the other called, trying to stand.

    “Who told you that you had the right to stand on the same ground as us?” Katarina snapped, like the villainess that she was, throwing words that the game’s Katarina would have used at this pair. “Olivia is a member of the student council because she earned it.”

    “There’s no way a commoner could have done better than nobles in the exams. Redgrave had to have fixed the results!”

    “Are your heads filled with cotton?! If the academy let dukes’ daughters fix results, wouldn’t I be on the student council? Wouldn’t Violette Rafa Ades? But we’re not. Because Olivia and the people who were at the top of the scores were smarter and worked harder. She’s a good person who cares about us. And that’s the same reason she’s popular with the council, the same reason that Angelica likes Olivia far more than she ever liked you.”

    And then Katarina leaned over. “And if I ever see, or hear, or even just suspect that you’ve thought about hurting Olivia again? Then there will be a Bad End for both of you!”

    There were tears rolling down the girls’ faces. “We-we’re sorry!” one shrieked in terror, and then they were scrambling, staying low to the ground as if they didn’t dare to stand upright given her previous words. One of them even kicked off her shoes after she kept stumbling.

    “Uh…” Katarina stared after them, breathing heavily. “Well! That… happened, I guess!”

    “Sis,” Keith sighed from behind her.

    She turned around and saw that Olivia had fallen to her knees, while her brother was offering the girl his hand to help stand. To Katarina’s dismay, there were tears on Olivia’s face.

    “I’m sorry, did I scare you?” she asked. The two siblings each took Olivia’s hands and pulled her up.

    “No, no. Not at all.” Olivia leaned on Katarina for a moment. “It was just, hearing you say that. Saying that you like me.”

    “Of course we do.”

    At the sound of footsteps on the path, Olivia pulled herself upright and started straightening her uniform. Keith offered her a handkerchief for her face.

    “Are girls like that common here?” a girl asked a moment before she rounded the corner. “I don’t think one of them was even wearing shoes.”

    The boy whose arm the new arrival was on sighed. “One of the reasons that all noble daughters are expected to attend the academy is so the mental defectives can be identified and weeded out.”

    “Oh, Leon!” Katarina greeted him with a wave. She saw the added trim on his uniform, the same kind as that worn by Olivia and Keith. “I didn’t know you were on the student council!”

    Keith sighed. “Katarina, I did tell you.”

    “Did you?”

    Olivia giggled and then hiccuped.

    “Permit me to make the introductions,” Leon offered with a sweeping bow. “Lady Katarina, Lord Keith, Miss Olivia, this is Princess Hertrude Sera Fanoss, our most illustrious guest at the academy. Your highness, may I present the most honourable son and daughter of the Duke and Duchess Claes, and Miss Olivia Campbell, the young lady who has the unique and most admirable distinction of being the first scholarship student in the academy’s history to earn a seat on the student council.”

    Katarina and Olivia curtsied and Keith bowed deeply.

    “Welcome to Holfort, princess!” Katarina offered brightly. “I hope you enjoy your stay here!”

    “I suppose anything’s possible,” the dark-haired girl told her. “Are we interrupting something?”

    “Oh, I was just walking my little brother to the council wing,” she explained. “We ran into Olivia and... oh!” She saw that the earth bump she’d raised earlier was still standing up above the path. Focusing on her magic, she pushed at it. Down, down, down… After a long moment it subsided until it was almost impossible to tell that anything had been done here.

    And she’d thought she wouldn’t be able to learn any more magic here! Any day now she might be able to start making holes in the ground rather than bumps! That would be ever so useful when planting seeds.

    “I can tell I’m going to meet so many interesting people here,” Hertrude murmured.

    “Travel does have a way of broadening one’s horizons,” Leon said in that old man way of his that suggested that he was repeating something he’d heard or maybe read a long time ago.

    The princess looked over to Keith. “A brother. Perhaps you can tell me about having one, Lady Claes. I only have a sister, you see.”

    “Of course, princess!”

    “Your highness,” Keith hissed.

    “What?”

    “You’re supposed to call her ‘your highness’.” He bowed again to Hertrude. “My apologies, my sister means no disrespect but sometimes she’s a little too excited to remember her etiquette.”

    Hertrude nodded in understanding. “Well, as I am a student here, we can perhaps dispense a little with the formality. Please call me Hertrude, Lady Katarina.”

    “And I’m Katarina!” she said brightly. Hah, and Keith had wanted her not to talk to the princess! But now she would learn all her secrets and work out the Bad End so she could avoid it.

    “I do hate to separate you, since you’ve become such fast friends,” Leon drawled, “But we do have a meeting with the student council to get to.”

    “Oh, you’re not on the council?” asked the… asked Hertrude.

    Katarina shook her head. “I’m their fellow champion but not their fellow council member.”

    “Champion? That sounds like a fascinating story. We must meet again soon, Lady Katarina so you can tell me all about it - as well as your brother.”

    Hmm. Maybe Hertrude was interested in Keith? Could that be the secret path? Katarina wished she had a notebook handy so she could start taking notes. Gosh, Acchan would love this.

    -

    Leon and Keith had no sooner entered the council meeting room with Hertrude and Olivia than Angelica rose to her feet and approached them.

    “Olivia!” she exclaimed, taking the other blonde’s hands. “Are you alright?”

    Hertrude had opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again when Angelica addressed Olivia, not her. Leon sighed. He was sure the duke’s daughter didn’t intend to slight their guest, but seeing her friend’s eyes red from crying must have driven all else from her mind.

    “I’m alright now.” Olivia said bravely.

    Angelica accepted that, though only for the moment, and turned to Hertrude, curtseying. “I’m not sure your highness will remember, but we have met before.”

    “Of course I remember you, Lady Redgrave.” Hertrude smiled with what Leon thought might be a little actual warmth. “I take it that you and Miss Campbell are friends? I must say that I hadn’t expected to find a commoner rubbing shoulders so readily with the daughters of two different dukes.”

    Leon mouthed ‘Katarina’ to Angelica, from out of Hertrude’s line of sight.

    The blonde nodded fractionally in understanding. “Katarina and Olivia are just two of the people who stood by me at the worst moment of my life,” she said frankly. “I regret the circumstances, but not that it let me know who my real friends were - or who might become such friends.”

    “You’d stood up for me,” Olivia spoke up.

    “And who stood up for you this time?” Angelica asked her, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, because it’s clear you needed someone. Katarina perhaps?”

    The other girl looked down, embarrassed. “Yes.”

    Leon reached over and poked the scholarship student in the shoulder. “She does it because she cares,” he reminded her. “Just as you help her because you care. I think it’s called ‘friendship’, although it’s a rare enough concept that you might want to check if I’m pronouncing it right.”

    That got a giggle from her.

    Keith smiled ruefully. “It’s good to know my sister will always be the bravest knight, however much it horrifies mother.”

    “I definitely need to hear this story,” Hertrude declared. “It’s a shame Lady Katarina didn’t come with us. Is it true there’s a rule that she can’t come in?”

    “Non-members aren’t supposed to, unless it’s on business,” Gerald explained as he and Nicol approached the little group. “Although we are making an exception for you, your highness, so perhaps another could be made.”

    “Oh, my apologies.” Angelica took Hertrude’s hand. “Princess Hertrude, may I introduce Prince Gerald Rafa Stuart, Katarina’s fiance, and Lord Nicol Fia Ascart, the president of the student council. Gentlemen, I present Princess Hertrude Sera Fanoss.”

    Both of the boys bowed and kissed the princess’ hand. She flushed a little as Nicol did so - even royalty was not immune to the young Ascart’s allure, it seemed.

    “Welcome to the academy,” Nicol murmured. “I would not wish to feel you were not being made welcome, but as one of our members has just proposed a motion...”

    “Please continue.” Hertrude fanned herself slightly with her hand. “I would be fascinated to see how your council does business.”

    “Ladies and gentlemen,” Nicol didn’t speak up, but as before his voice carried clearly around the room. “Our distinguished colleague, Prince Gerald, has offered a motion that his fiancee Lady Katarina Rafa Claes be granted the privilege of entering our chambers as a guest, in exception to our general rules. Do I hear a second?”

    “Yes!” exclaimed Mary Fou Hunt quite loudly, drowning out at least four other affirmations.

    “And are any opposed to this motion?”

    Clarice Fia Atlee, lounging in a chair while her one allowed servant massaged her shoulders, snorted. “Oh I can’t have more servants, but Gerald gets to bring…” She failed to keep a straight face. “Oh go ahead, it can only make this place more lively.”

    “Opposed.” The secretary of the council, Sirius Fou Dieke raised his hand. “Not that I don’t like her,” he added apologetically. “But I fear she may distract certain members from their duties.”

    “He’s probably not really opposed,” Leon explained quietly to Hertrude. “But it’s an unspoken rule that someone always has to object so that there’s a vote. There apparently has never been a unanimous vote in the history of the academy’s student council. Not even when someone proposed a motion that the sky was blue.”

    “Why would someone do that?”

    “History does not record. Alcohol may have been involved. Although depending on the weather, they might have just been wrong.”

    Nicol clapped his hands together sharply. “Ladies and gentlemen, your votes please. Who favours granting an exemption to Lady Claes?”

    Hands rose into the air. Leon didn’t see anyone except Sirius who didn’t have their hand up. He certainly favoured the idea.

    “Very well. And opposed.”

    Sirius solemnly raised his hand. Sophia and Mary made gestures for him to lower it, until Alan put his arms around their shoulders and gently made them stop. Looking around, the redhead nodded. “My lord president, I beg to report that the ayes are in the majority.”

    “So noted,” Nicol declared solemnly. “Keith, Gerald, I’d let you sort out between you who gives Katarina the good news, but that might derail the rest of our meeting. Leon, perhaps you and Scarlet could take care of that?”

    Leon bowed. “It would be my honour.”

    “Wait!” Julius stood up. “I propose that we should also make an exemption for Marie!”

    Hertrude frowned and turned to Angelica. “Is that Prince Julius?”

    The blonde nodded.

    “And Marie would be…?”

    Another nod.

    Hertrude pursed her lips. “I suppose I’d read too many romance novels and was assuming that as a prince he would at least have some dignity or discretion.”

    “It’s surprisingly rare in those with enough authority or connections that almost no one tells them no,” Leon noted.

    “We have… another motion, it would seem.” Nicol managed to convey distaste for it without breaking his monotone. “Do I have any second?”

    “Absolutely!” exclaimed Jilk. “Marie is a paragon of womanhood, of course she should be admitted here!”

    His statement was met with derisive laughter from Clarice’s chair. Leon shook his head sadly. “I really ought to hate him for the way he threatened my family… but this is just sad.”

    Hertrude gave him a startled look, but before she could ask, Scarlet raised her hand. “Opposed.”

    “So noted. Your votes please?”

    Julius and Jilk’s hands went up. Brad did the same and the three of them looked around for support. Even among the older years only two of the council members were sycophantic enough to yield to that non-verbal petition. Notably, not a single one of the first years did so.

    “And opposed?”

    More than twenty hands rose - including every other first year member of the council.

    Sirius Fou Dieke made a show of counting and then reported seriously. “The nays have the majority.”

    Julius stepped forwards. “But why?!”

    “Because no one except the three of you actually like Lafan?” suggested Dierdre with a vicious smile.

    Nicol cleared his throat. “I would also add that you did take an oath to break off your relationship with Lady Lafan, your highness, in the event that you were defeated as her champion - which you were. Bringing her in would very much count in my view as an attempt to circumvent the terms of that oath by manufacturing a cause to meet with her on the pretext of school duties.”

    “If you will excuse me,” Angelica declared, “I will join Lady Ades and Lord Bartford in letting Lady Claes know of her open invitation to the student council wing. I fear that I am feeling a little… tired and of an ill-temper today.”

    “I really can’t imagine why,” Leon observed.

    Hertrude’s lips quirked. She had a sense of humour under her royal hauteur, which just made Leon like her. It was rather inconvenient, given she was likely to wind up an enemy, but he’d just have to live with that. Unless she got him killed, which was a real possibility and should probably deter him more than it did.

    He offered Angelica his arm, which she accepted. Then he offered his other arm to Scarlet and exited with two lovely flowers flanking him. Behind them, Julius was trying to argue and making a terrible job of it, while Nicol began to try to wrangle the council into discussing the upcoming academy festival.

    “Leon,” Angelica told him as they exited the building. “It occurred to me over the summer that at no point had I ever thanked you for taking my side against Julius.”

    He considered that. Hadn’t she? He hadn’t really thought about it.

    “Typical new human ingratitude,” Luxion confirmed.

    “As I told your father, I did have my own reasons for doing so.”

    Angelica looked away. “I’m not blind to the fact that Gerald, Alan and Keith did so because of Katarina. You and her though, you were the ones who stepped up first. I heard what happened to your room.”

    Scarlet pulled Leon’s arm slightly. “What happened to your room?”

    “Petty vandalism,” he explained.

    She made a disgusted noise. “Who?”

    “It doesn’t really matter. The act was petty, and so are they,” Leon told her. “Punching them in the face won’t undo anything, and it might make more trouble.”

    “The fact that I can’t even do something about that just makes me feel more guilty,” Angelica told him. Then she paused in mid-step, leading Leon to do the same and thus Scarlet. They both glanced at Angelica and then followed her gaze towards two girls ahead of them. One was clutching a shoe, while the other was searching - presumably for the other since she was barefoot. The same pair Leon had come across while he was escorting Hertrude, he thought.

    Leon cleared his throat. “Ladies - and I use the word in the loosest possible sense.”

    The pair turned guilty expressions towards him.

    “Speaking on behalf of the student council, you’ve already embarrassed the academy quite enough by showing such disgraceful faces to our royal guest. And now you still don’t have the wit to put on shoes? Go to your rooms, get yourselves cleaned up and whatever you were up to before… don’t do it again.”

    The pair fled, taking the one shoe with them.

    Angelica shook her head. “Those two - I should have reined them in previously. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones giving Olivia trouble earlier.”

    “Katarina took care of them then.”

    “My cousin is too kind-hearted to do much,” Scarlet disagreed.

    Leon snickered. “Scarlet, you really should get to know Katarina better. She has a strong sense of justice, she’s just got a different way of expressing it than you do. Trust me, if she dealt with them then they’re feeling worse than Chris Fia Arclight did after he realised he was humiliated in public by losing a duel to a girl with a hoe.”

    Angelica laughed, a little bitterly. “Yes, that would sting his pride.” The humour drained from her tone. “It occurs to me that what convinced me to curb those girls was finding them acting as gatekeepers, deciding for themselves who I should meet and what I should do. And yet, was I so different?”

    “I don’t get it,” the girl on Leon’s other arm admitted honestly.

    “Looking back, I told Julius so often that he should do this, or shouldn’t do that. Because it was beneath his royal dignity. Not just about Lafan, but about other things.” She yanked at her hair with her free hand, loosening it slightly from its tight braided bun. “He must have been so tired of me telling him what to do.”

    “As with my room, you can’t undo that,” Leon told her with some sympathy. “But you can move forwards and learn from it. Maybe the two of you should get together with Clarice and Violette, form some sort of support group. That way when you find other young men you can watch each other’s backs and try to avoid any further mishaps. It probably won’t stop all of them, but at least having a fresh point of view can help.”

    “But why do we need each other for that, when you’re around to lecture us?” asked Angelica. She nudged him slightly. “For someone who doesn’t have a fiancee…”

    “Perspective helps,” he said honestly. “And while I may change my mind about this, one thing I don’t plan to do is get engaged at the academy. We’ve got five years, a third of the lives we’ve lived so far, before we’re expected to marry - which is still stupidly young. That’s a long time - so take a step back. See who you meet, see who you like and then give yourself a chance to make mistakes.”

    “My parents married right after the academy,” Angelica told him. “And they loved each other very much.”

    “Good for them. It doesn’t always work out like that…” He glanced at Scarlet, saw that she looked to be thinking and elected not to enquire about her own parents for contrast. “Oh, I meant to ask - is Arclight’s engagement to your sister still on?”

    She shook her head absently. “No. Father finally decided to break it right at the end of the summer.”

    “Ah.” What in the world made him wait that long? “There will be great rejoicing among the young men of the academy. And I’m serious that you should perhaps make sure to look out for each other. Because I might be able to lean on the two of you for advice if I ever do take the plunge into trying to court someone. This, you see, is my cunning plan.” Plan B, but a plan nonetheless.

    “Not to build your own harem to rival Lafan’s?” asked Angelica snidely. “I was thinking you wanted us all together so you could romance all four of us.”

    He tilted his head to the side as if considering it. “Do you think that would work?”

    Scarlet reached up and tapped her knuckles against the side of his head. “No.”

    “And now you went and put the idea in my head. Thanks, Angelica.”

    He counted her wicked smile as a prize.
     
    Last edited:
    Star as the Substitute 5-2
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Star as the Substitute

    Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream
    Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 2

    When Anger and Revenge get married, their daughter is called Cruelty. ~ Russian Proverb​

    “How did I get into this mess?” Leon subvocalized to Luxion.

    “I had no idea that Holfort had such interesting customs,” Hertrude murmured as the two of them passed Brad and Greg. “Are you likely to dress like that at any point?”

    The two of them were dressed in what was apparently the uniform for the host cafe that Marie Fou Lafan was running through the festival. She hadn’t called it that when she filed her application, but the purpose was clear. The purple and red members of her coterie were wearing sharp black pants, polished shoes, and a bib made up to look like the front of a tuxedo shirt.

    “If someone had a gun to my head, I’d have to think very carefully on whether my life was really worth that.”

    “What a shame. If all the young knights Holfort were so eccentric I would feel more secure in the Principality’s security.”

    “Eccentricity is unfortunately not a clear indicator of lacking competence.” Marie’s plan was actually working, after all. Many of the girls in the academy were happily paying the quite ridiculous prices demanded to have cheap tea and snacks served to them by the prince and his friends. In theory it might be sweet that the five of them valued their dignity so little when it came to their loved one, but Leon had to wonder if they realised how little respect for them it showed on her part. “Or having any, to be fair.”

    “If you had run your own store, or taken part in the student council’s play, you wouldn’t have been available to escort the princess, master.” Luxion sounded entirely too smug.

    “So you’re saying this is my own fault.”

    “I would never deprive you of realising that for yourself,” the AI declared innocently.

    “I’m almost tempted to visit this cafe of Lady Lafan’s,” the princess continued, “If only to see if Prince Julius is so lacking in good sense.”

    “He is.”

    She smiled slyly. “So quick to disown him. Have my charms won you away from the Holforts already?”

    “My homeland, right or wrong. If right to be kept right, if wrong to be made right.” Leon shook his head. “That doesn’t mean I’m personally loyal to him… perhaps if he removes his head from a certain bodily orifice I’ll reconsider this.”

    Hertrude flushed a little at the crudity. “One can tell that you don’t spend much time around court.”

    “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I forgot that I was dealing with such a sheltered young lady.”

    “I will have you know that I am as worldly as any woman that ever set foot on - on - on -” she broke off as she saw Deidre Fou Roseblade sweeping down the path, accompanied by two demihuman servants and wearing the costume of her part in the next day’s play.

    She was playing an evil marchioness in the Student Council’s production of the classic Countess of Monte Cristo, and the voluptuous blonde certainly looked the part.

    “Are rehearsals going well?”

    Deirdre turned to Leon and bit back what would likely have been pure arrogance as she saw that he was escorting the foreign princess. “Very well indeed. I daresay that my performance will leave you as stunned and awed as it does the rest of the audience.”

    “I admire your confidence.”

    “Well, since you lack the confidence to take the stage I shall leave you to admire me from the audience, Lord Bartford.”

    Leon inclined his head. “I shall be praying for you to trip, forget your lines or suffer a costume malfunction then.” He considered what she was wearing with some appreciation. “Not that there’s much to malfunction.”

    The drill-haired girl laughed disdainfully. “Your prayers will fail, for you worship at the wrong altar. Ohohohoho...”

    Leon waited for her to stop coughing. “Honey and lemon may help with that,” he offered.

    “Thank you,” the girl admitted. “Servant, I will take honey and lemon in my tea.”

    “Yes, my lady,” the demihuman not carrying Deirdre’s bags came to attention. “Shall I fetch you some>”

    “No, I’ll take tea in my rooms,” she decided. “That way I can rehearse my lines again. Not that I don’t have them perfectly memorised.”

    Hertrude stared enviously at the busty young woman as Dierdre and her entourage departed. “Is that glued on?”

    “Either that or magnets,” Leon concluded. “Otherwise…”

    The princess drew herself up. “I am in any case a worldly and accomplished lady, Lord Bartford.”

    “Of course. Would you like to go visit the stall selling romance novels? Then you can retreat somewhere quiet and wait out the madness.” He rather hoped that she agreed. That would let him make an escape - Hertrude was fun to tease but the more time he spent with her, the greater the chances she recognised his voice or some other clue that he was the same man that had stolen from Castle Fanoss - and perhaps more pointedly, the man who’d pointed a gun at her precious little sister. She probably didn’t know that it had just been a dart gun with sedatives.

    “No,” Hertrude declared. “The time approaches for the airbike races and it would be my pleasure to watch them.”

    “Her highness’ wish is my command,” Leon assured her (holding back certain reservations to that). He offered his arm again to her and Hertrude placed her hand lightly on his forearm, letting him lead her to the stands overlooking the track laid out for several dozen airbikes to race.

    There was naturally a class divide here - most of the students watching the festival’s most hyped and gambled on event were on rows of seats in the open air, but above them there were lounges with floor to ceiling windows, allowing those of the highest status (the daughters of noble houses, their servants and if they were very lucky, their fiances) to enjoy the experience while screened from noise and dust.

    Princess Hertrude naturally (and correctly) assumed she would have uncontested access to the lounges and she was right, which also meant Leon was allowed in.

    “Is there any means to get a closer look at the race?” the princess asked, looking down at the starting grid.

    “The open stands are closer,” Leon stated the obvious, “But also rather crowded.” He glanced around and saw one of the other ladies present using opera glasses. “Perhaps I can get you some of those?”

    It took some asking around before Leon found that it was the barman who provided the glasses. At a price, of course. (And yes, of course there was a barman - and a bar. Why would there not be?)

    “My thanks.” Hertrude lifted the opera glasses and started examining the racers eagerly only for the flag to wave and be left watching them zoom away.

    The track was mostly still in view from the stands, which were only on the outer edge. The altitude at which the airbikes raced at meant that even the lower stands had a reasonable line of sight to the racers.

    Leon watched Hertrude as she watched the students blaze away around the track. She certainly seemed intent. “Are airbikes a passion of yours?”

    “Oh yes,” she told him, not tearing her eyes away from the opera glasses. She wasn’t just tracking the leaders, scanning the entire line-up. As the racers finished their first loop, racing past the stands again, Leon saw that Hertrude simply focused on the track, watching each of the riders go past her viewpoint, not trying to track any of them - not even the jostling pack that had formed up around Jilk Fia Marmoria.

    Leon was pretty sure that the boy was in trouble, but he was the best racer in the first year special class, so short of breaking his leg there was no keeping him from going out to race. Actually doing that had been dismissed only because there would be no small suspicion that Leon might be involved out of some grudge from the duel before the summer.

    “Luxion,” he mused, communicating subvocally. “Can you tell what she’s looking at?”

    The drone was lurking just above the lounge windows, hard to see. Luxion didn’t react for several moments. “Based on the angle of her opera glasses, she appears to be more interested in the airbikes rather than the riders,” it reported at last.

    Leon bit back a groan. She must be looking for an airbike similar to the one I used to escape Fanoss, he realised. Evidence that Holfort was behind my raid.

    She wasn’t going to see his airbike out there, of course. But if he did wind up replacing Jilk, which had been the decision in the book…

    “Luxion, I don’t suppose you could build another airbike overnight?”

    “It would take a little longer, master.”

    “How about disguising the existing airbike to look more like a conventional one?” Leon asked hopefully. “And err on the side of making it more durable - even if it’s at the expense of speed.”

    “That will be possible, master. Although if that is the case you may not be able to defeat these new humans should you enter the race.”

    “Winning is nice,” he reminded the AI, “but surviving matters more.”

    As if to emphasise this, a familiar looking airbike fell out of the race. It was trailing smoke and the rider prudently rolled off it once he was low enough. A few seconds later, the bike hit one of the poles marking the route and went into a spin before hitting the ground and exploding into hundreds of pieces.

    Despite having jumped free, the rider hadn’t gotten away lightly. He tried to sit up, only to slump to the ground in evident pain.

    “It looks as if someone has suffered some misfortune,” Hertrude noted, with thinly disguised satisfaction.

    “It can be a rough sport, but whoever did this probably cost themselves a lot of time.” Leon shaded his eyes and watched as a rescue team went out to collect the fallen rider. The first man on site helped the rider remove his helmet. A familiar head of green hair was revealed - as expected, Jilk’s enemies among the other racers had forced him out of the competition.

    -

    “I appreciate you leaving the race for this.” Leon led Hertrude down into the support rooms built below the stands, from which various functions supporting the race took place.

    “Your loyalty to Holfort is misplaced,” she told him. “But I can respect that you feel obligated to see to the wellbeing of a fellow student council member. Though is he not the same boy that attempted to force you out of the duel last term with vile threats to your loved ones?”

    Leon nodded. “He is indeed. So I get to discharge my duties and also enjoy seeing him in pain. It’s nice to be able to hit more than one bird with a single stone.” Then he mimed poking at a wounded person. “Does this hurt? How about this?”

    Hertrude covered her mouth. “You are a terrible person, Lord Bartford.”

    “One should always seek to excel.”

    The medical room’s door was open and the pair of them paused to look inside. It seemed that they weren’t the first visitors to arrive though - a small crowd had gathered, in fact.

    “Alright, let me through,” Leon told them with a sigh. “No one’s allowed to sell tickets for viewing the wounded Marmoria - paperwork would have to be filed in advance. However profitable it would apparently be.”

    The students, mostly older than Leon, nonetheless stepped aside for him and he led Hertrude in to see a resigned Jilk sitting up on a bed, already stripped of his racing gear and bandaged beneath the loose medical smock he wore. His eyes were closed, as if he wished not to look at his guests.

    “Ah, Leon. Jilk’s definitely in poor shape,” Clarice Fia Atlee smiled in a catlike fashion. She leant over and jabbed one finger into the injured boy’s side. “How does that feel?”

    The young greenette gritted his teeth and said nothing.

    Hertrude glanced sideways at Leon, who spread his hands slightly in concession. His earlier jest now felt to have been in poor taste. “I have the impression that you are not here as Lord Marmoria’s friend, Lady Atlee.”

    Clarice’s head jerked around and then she smirked. “Ah, princess. I imagine that you might not have learned what a piece of work he is. No, I’m just here to examine my handiwork.”

    “So you were behind this then,” Jilk concluded. There was no satisfaction in his voice as he continued: “I had thought as much.”

    “Yeah!” The redhead wheeled upon him. “That’s right. You threw me away and now I’ll put through every hell I can imagine. No matter how much you beg me, I will never forgive you!”

    Even Hertrude stepped back in alarm at the rage on display. Leon folded his arms. “So you won’t be doing him the kindness of finishing him off today?”

    Two of the students who’d come with Clarice moved towards Leon as he stood up to her, but she waved them back. “What possible reason do you have to stand up for him?”

    He shook his head. “I’m not. But this is tearing you apart as well.”

    She jerked her head back, showing off her new look. “Don’t try to pretend you don’t like looking at me, Bartford. I’ve seen your eyes lingering when we crossed paths.”

    “You do have a beautiful body,” he admitted and was amused to see the demihuman servants bristle. “But I’ve also seen your eyes. You have a raw wound, Lady Atlee. One that you can’t stop tearing open. I’d rather not see that destroy you, so if you’re going to deal with Jilk then do it. Get it over with and put him behind you.”

    “W-what do you know?” she demanded, fingers twitching into claws.

    Leon wasn’t entirely sure if he was about to be lynched - assuming Clarice didn’t unleash her magic and attack him directly. But he’d started, so he’d finish. “The opposite of love is not hate. It’s indifference… and you’re evidently a long way from being indifferent to this moron.”

    The girl trembled, as if on the cusp of doing something rash. Then she exhaled slowly. “So you think I did wrong, that I should be like Redgrave and pretend that I’m happy to let him just go on - as if he’d never cast me away when I never did anything to deserve it?”

    “I’m saying he’s worth less than your whole life. If you want revenge then take it and be done.”

    Clarice spun and pointed down at Jilk, who had yet to open his eyes. “Don’t plan on racing again, Marmoria. If you turn up, we’ll drag you down in front of everyone. And if you send anyone else, even your precious prince, then I’ll do the same. You said you’d win this race for your class, but I won’t let any one of you finish the race. Enjoy knowing you’re dragging all your friends down with you, you pathetic loser.”

    At that, finally Jilk looked up at her. “If you feel you must. Just leave Marie out of it. Touch her and I’ll take my own revenge.”

    As if the mention of the other girl, Clarice managed something Leon would have never guessed possible. She grew even angrier. Her eyes were practically bloodshot and Leon imagined he could feel electricity in the air.

    Oh wait, he wasn’t imagining anything.

    “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Lady Ades, the day Seberg broke it off with her.” He kept his voice - somehow! - calm and non-confrontational. “There’s nothing you can do to Marie Fou Lafan that’s worse than what she’s inflicted upon herself.”

    “I could think of a thing or two.”

    Leon shook his head slowly. “She thought she was seducing rich and powerful men, that she would enjoy all the opportunities and privileges that could be lavished upon her - perhaps even become queen.” He shrugged as if that was a matter of no consequence. “She thought they were an escape from a family that does nothing but heap debt and responsibility upon her. Now she has to nursemaid a pack of man-children who will be a constant burden. She’s in a hell of her own making.”

    “How dare you!” Jilk exclaimed, attempting to leave the bed in his outrage. He still wasn’t up to it and slumped backwards with a groan of pain.

    Clarice looked down at her former fiance and then, to the amazement of everyone, she chuckled. It was not a kind laugh, but at least she no longer seemed about to do murder. “Perhaps, Bartford, you might understand revenge better than I thought.” She shook her head and stepped up to him, well inside his personal space. “Do tell Angelica what I told him though. I take nothing back. My friends here will destroy Jilk if he races tomorrow - and I will be only marginally kinder to anyone that substitutes. Even if it’s you.”

    Hertrude remained behind Leon until Clarice and all of her company had left the room. “I begin to understand why Holfort’s knights are so formidable,” she exclaimed, apparently so shaken she was actually willing to compliment her nation’s ancient foe. “If you must face women like that.”

    “Lady Atlee is exceptional, but you may be onto something,” the dark-haired boy admitted.

    Jilk rolled onto his back again. “Don’t ever speak of Marie like that again, Bartford. You know nothing about her!”

    “What are you going to do? Bleed on me?” Leon was tempted to probe at Jilk and see how much he knew about Viscount Lafan’s household, and particularly the daughter that the greenette claimed to love. But a duel of wits with the unarmed was no great entertainment. “Worry more about what you’ll do next. You’ll be doing well to walk by tomorrow, much less race.”

    “I’ll manage, somehow.”

    “Yeah, right.” He shook his head. “If someone does take your place tomorrow, you’re going to owe them - big time.”

    Jilk’s face was pale. “I hate to agree with a bastard like you… but for once I have little choice to admit that you’re right.”

    Hertrude gave Leon a wary look as if expecting him to take offence.

    The boy shrugged. “He’s technically right. There was a temporary irregularity regarding my mother’s marital status - we sorted it out eventually.”

    “You were fifteen when they married!”

    “Married is married, Marmoria.”

    The philosophical discussion was cut short as another pack of visitors arrived, this squad less fond of Leon than Clarice’s clique. On the other hand, Julius and Marie seemed unlikely to be out to maim Jilk - and Leon would give the other three enough credit to think that they probably weren’t actively murderous towards their romantic rival.

    “What is he doing here?” asked Greg Fou Seberg bluntly.

    “He has a name,” Leon told him. “And you should be more polite with a princess in the room.”

    Brad Fou Field seemed to realise only then that Hertrude was in the room, and pointedly moved around to be as far from her as he could manage within the confines of the medical room. She seemed happy enough about that since all four of the other boys were still in their waiter outfits.

    “Whatever happened to you?” Marie exclaimed, “I heard that you fell from your airbike.”

    “I didn’t fall off, Marie. I jumped clear before it crashed!”

    Leon cleared his throat. “Before Marmoria digs himself even deeper, Lady Atlee has many friends among the airbikers. Apparently they decided to express their displeasure at his treatment of her by battering his bike during the race. It basically exploded after he got clear.”

    Marie examined Jilk’s wounds, behaving more maturely than usual. “This is terrible, Jilk.”

    “I’ll recover in time, Marie. After all, I have to win the race for you tomorrow.”

    Hertrude shook her head. “Then they’ll likely kill you.”

    “What?!” Julius exclaimed.

    “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Leon warned them. “I’ve never met Fanoss’ legendary black knight, but I suspect even his wrath against Holfort pales compared to Clarice’s anger.”

    “You, uh, may not be entirely wrong,” admitted the princess from next to him. “She was very clear that you, or whoever races tomorrow in your place will be targeted the same way.”

    “I’ll go,” Julius declared, “I’m almost as good on an airbike as you are Jilk.”

    “Absolutely not!” the prince’s foster-brother exclaimed, paling at the very thought. “You… you can’t leave Marie without your support at the cafe.” He gestured to his bandages. “I doubt I’ll be very appealing as a waiter right now.”

    Julius froze, struck by one of the few arguments that might dissuade him. He looked at Marie, who clasped her hands together. “Please, I couldn’t bear to lose either of you!”

    For once, Leon approved of the little blonde’s acting.

    The girl stepped closer to Jilk. “Let me do what I can to help.” Placing her hands upon him, she focused and then a clear, bright light washed over the room.

    Even standing well away, Leon felt a wave of relief as fatigue faded and the trivial aches and stiffness of the day were washed away. At the centre of the magic, Jilk’s pallor improved markedly and he seemed visibly stronger.

    “Marie!” he exclaimed, reaching out and dragging her into an embrace.

    The other boys rushed forwards to take their own moments with ‘their healing angel’, but Hertrude stepped back, letting go of Leon’s arm. After a moment, she stepped hastily for the exit and Leon had to stretch his legs to keep up.

    Only when they were exiting of the racing building did the princess slow to a halt, resting one hand against a wall to steady herself. “Leon, did I see what I thought I did?”

    He shrugged. “Lafan’s magic?”

    “Light magic!” she exclaimed. “You know how rare that is. I had no idea… I - I’ve never encountered it before.”

    Fanoss was considerably smaller than the sprawling Kingdom of Holfort, Leon reminded himself. And there weren’t many light magic users even there. It was one reason Olivia had been given unprecedented enrollment to the special class: it was unlikely there were a half-dozen light magic users as strong as Marie in all of Holfort, much less as powerful as the scholarship student. Undoubtedly, it was one reason that she had had a thought that she might be acceptable as a partner for one of the boys she’d seduced.

    “It’s not common, even here.”

    “Even in Fanoss, we respect adventurers. We were part of the kingdom once - as little as most of us like to remember it.” Hertrude sounded disorientated. “And we have our own temples, and revere light magic. So why, why is Holfort so gifted with it when we are not?”

    Leon, genuinely surprised at her shock, found himself for once with nothing to say.

    -

    Angelica was surprised to see Leon bringing a distressed-looking Princess Hertrude over to her. One reason she’d agreed with Nicol’s suggestion to assign the count’s younger son as their guest’s primary escort was that he seemed to have some genuine rapport with the slender young woman.

    “Is something the matter?” her own guest asked.

    The blonde’s plans for the festival had been rather complicated when she was called to greet another royal visitor, this one planning to be incognito. But one did not argue with the queen - especially as, since her own mother’s loss years ago, Mylene Rafa Holfort had rather stepped into that role for Angelica.

    “I assume so,” Angelica answered and went to meet the pair partway through a street of booths serving snack foods. The queen had delighted in shopping at each and everyone of them, even those that her guide would have thought unbefitting of royalty.

    Perhaps that was why her highness insisted on not revealing her identity, she thought. Although the princess will see right through the disguise.

    It was a very thin one, little more than Mylene setting aside her gowns and tiara for a dress more befitting a middling noblewoman. She did look younger and less burdened - although Angelica admitted that she might be imagining it. Not seeing her substitute-mother over the summer had been more of a disappointment than she’d realised. To see her again and receive acceptance rather than blame for the fact that she could no longer be Mylene’s daughter-in-law was a great relief.

    “Is everything alright, Leon?”

    “Sorry to interrupt you,” Leon greeted her. “Unfortunately, there’s been a little issue.” He glanced at the queen but to Angelica’s relief he didn’t seem to recognise her. “I didn’t know you had an older sister, Angelica.”

    Angelica flushed and her relief evaporated. Fortunately, the queen merely smiled. “Ah, Angie, this must be one of the young men who fought for your honour. Lord… Bartford?”

    “At your service, my lady. Though also at Lady Angelica’s and Princess Hertrude’s.” He paused. “I seem to be at the service of a lot of people.”

    “That is rather the social order,” the queen pointed out.

    Hertrude’s eyes widened, her distraction not quite enough to keep her from identifying Angelica’s companion.

    “So what is the matter?” Angelica asked, drawing Leon’s attention away from the quiet hand signalling Mylene was resorting to, trying to communicate her intention to remain discreet.

    Leon sighed, recounting a sordid tale of Clarice’s revenge against Jilk. “At least Lafan had the sense to not want his highness substituting - maybe not for the same reasons we have to avoid that, but I’ll take the result.”

    Mylene looked livid. “I never thought I’d hear of something like this - the boy could have been killed!”

    “I came very close to killing him last term, so I’d hardly weep for that,” Leon said harshly. “But he’s been disowned so we’d also need to handle his funeral and it would ruin the festival.”

    “W-what?!”

    Angelica reached out to take the queen’s hand. “Jilk threatened Leon’s family to try to force him to concede his duel,” she reminded the older woman. “I would find it hard to blame him for taking Clarice’s side.”

    “...I’m sorry, Lord Bartford.” Mylene inclined her head. “I… I’ve known Jilk Fia Marmoria since he was a young boy, I still find it hard to reconcile that with what I’ve heard of the duel.”

    “I don’t actually want any of them dead,” Leon conceded. “My temper got a little ahead of me there. It would be nice if they’d grow up a bit though. Or a lot.”

    “I can only conclude that Lady Lafan brings out the worst in them. I’d hesitate to call her a bad influence when I haven’t met her, but…”

    Hertrude looked distracted at the mention of Marie. Angelica wondered why - she wasn’t sure if they’d crossed paths much. Presumably they must have met since Leon mentioned Marie talking Julius out of taking over the racing for Jilk. At least Hertrude had no fiance for the little tramp to seduce away.

    Angelica had not the slightest doubt that if the princess had been engaged then Marie would have made the attempt and she wasn’t willing to bet against her. The small blonde had a proven track record and it was unlikely she’d care about the political consequences.

    “I’d better see what state Jilk is in,” she said tiredly. “Even if he’s recovered, he’s probably not going to be able to race tomorrow - I don’t know where he’d get an airbike. Whether we send someone else out, I don’t know yet.”

    The queen nodded. “I’ve taken you away from your responsibilities, Angie. Please go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

    Oh, of course. She could hardly accompany Angelica and expect her identity not to come out - Julius would recognise his own mother, if nothing else.

    “Leon,” the young woman asked. “If I could be a bother and ask you to keep My… sister company while I’m busy?”

    “I don’t usually object to having a fair flower on each arm, but I should ask Hertrude first.” The boy turned to the princess. “I realise this surely isn’t what you had in mind for the day…”

    “Oh it’s quite alright.” Hertrude’s smile was a little sly - perhaps anticipating Leon’s expression once he realised who Mylene was. “I’m very happy to make the acquaintance of another lady of this kingdom.”

    Leon extended his arm and Mylene took it with a warm smile. “Is there anything you’d like to do?” he asked.

    “Oh,” the queen said - with a note in her voice that suggested to Angelica that the woman had a definite purpose in mind - “Do you have any idea where Lady Mary Hunt might be found? I did want to have a word with her if the opportunity arose…”
     
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