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“Can I be your second? Pleeeaaase?” Friedrich begged with shining eyes.
Arne did not need long to decide. There was only one alternative – and he was unwilling to owe Matthias a gargantuan favor in addition to giving him a prime opportunity to meddle with things.
“Of course,” Arne grinned. “Make sure to annoy Maximilian as much as you can.”
Ludwig had named the Altendorf prince as his second, and sending Friedrich – the son of a mere count – to negotiate with the third son of the Emperor on equal terms would be absolutely hilarious.
“Oh, I will,” Friedrich chuckled darkly. Anticipation. Spite.
“Just make it clear that it won’t be a duel to the death. I don’t want to kill the man just because he’s an idiot.” Arne was not particularly worried about the result of the fight – he had seen Ludwig handle a smallsword, and while he was not a total beginner, he wasn’t anywhere near competent. Even Katharina would have a decent chance at beating him.
“Third blood, then?” asked Friedrich with a particularly nasty smile.
“Third blood,” Arne confirmed with a similar expression. Three opportunities to stab the arrogant prick with a real sword sounded delightful. “It’s just a shame that he will never agree to a saber duel.”
“Now that would be great,” his cousin cackled.
Generally speaking, a saber duel to third blood would be less dangerous, with cuts being significantly less lethal than stab wounds. However, deep cuts had a tendency to form scars if the wound was particularly severe. And giving the haughty prince a few permanent reminders of his inferiority… Arne sighed wistfully.
He rose from the bench, stuffing Ludwig’s letter into his pocket.
“If they’re trying to pull something strange, just leave and go to Lord Hartmut,” he advised. “I’ll be busy for a bit, but I’ll try to check in with you between classes.”
“Will do. See you later!” Friedrich waved goodbye and returned his attention to his food.
Once Arne left the refectory, he allowed his jovial facade to crumble away.
Ludwig certainly seemed like a volatile element judging from Katharina’s descriptions, but Maximilian was not the type to act rashly. Something was up. Even if this had been a unilateral decision from the Sonnenstein prince, he could not even begin to fathom the consequences this might bring.
He turned his steps towards the Castellan’s office. Katharina would have to wait for a little longer.
Lord Hartmut was busy with veritable mountains of paperwork and looked up from his desk when Arne entered the room.
“Good timing,” the old warrior greeted him. “I just got word that the Eisenberg girl is up and about again. Duke Albrecht must have sold his soul to the Church for that to happen.”
“I already heard from Friedrich, Uncle. But there is a more pressing matter,” he winced.
The Castellan’s eyes narrowed and he fixed Arne with an inquisitive stare. “Speak, boy.”
“Ludwig von Sonnenstein challenged me to a duel.”
“...Come again?”
“I just got this letter;” Arne said, pulling the object out of his pocket and placing it on the desk.
Hartmut read it over with a bewildered expression, then broke into laughter. “Has the Sonnenstein boy gone mad?”
“It certainly seems that way. He demands satisfaction for an insult I never gave.”
“Stab him a few times, that will shut him up,” the old man suggested. “He brought this upon himself, so any negative consequences for you should be very limited. You might even come out of this in a much better position.”
“That’s what worries me, Uncle. Doesn’t this seem… too convenient?”
“Sometimes, it is better not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” the Castellan said sagely. “Whatever happens, happens. It’s too late to do anything about it, anyway.”
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“...Understood, Uncle. Thank you for your time.”
“Of course, of course. Now, out with you. I’ve got work to do.”
Arne took his letter back and set out for the library, lost in his concerns. When he turned around the familiar broken shelf, he found Katharina, who was giddy with excitement.
“Arnold, you’re finally here! Princess Klara is alive!”
“I’ve heard,” he sighed, a little disappointed to shatter her enthusiasm. “We’ve got a new problem, though.”
She settled down immediately, though her aura was still positively vibrating. “What happened?”
“Ludwig challenged me to a duel.”
“He… actually did that…?” she asked in disbelief.
“He did,” Arne confirmed while sitting down on one of the sinfully soft cushions. “I’m not worried about the fight itself, but I don’t understand how we got to this point.”
“I might be able to shine some light on that,” Katharina offered. “It seems someone has been busy working the rumor mill, and invested all of their credibility into making Ludwig sound like a pathetic coward who shrunk away from you like a beaten dog, back at the soirée.”
“It’s Elenor, isn’t it?” he sighed in realization. There was only one faction with a strong interest in increasing Hohenfels’ standing while also having the social capital to force such an event: Falkenstein. “She and Matthias must have come up with this to salvage the Klara situation.”
“That’s highly probable,” she nodded. “They must have been desperate.”
Arne considered that for a moment. “They made the decision under the assumption that she would die, and planned to match the news of her death with the announcement of a high profile duel. People would obviously be more excited about the latter. It’s essentially our plan from before, but escalated by several orders of magnitude.”
“They really want that conflict between Hohenfels and Sonnenfeld,” she thought out loud. “I mean, we knew that already, but I didn’t realize how far they would be willing to go. Painting the heir of the second-most powerful duchy as a weak coward is far beyond anything I could have accomplished, and even if I could, I would never dare.”
“Understandable, especially since it’s so easy to find out who is responsible in this case,” he mused.
“Exactly. This is essentially a declaration of war, and it turned out to be completely unnecessary thanks to Princess Klara’s recovery. Prince Matthias and Lady Elenor are probably quite angry.”
“Speaking of anger: Prince Maximilian must be fuming by now,” Arne said, placing the letter on the table. “Ludwig named him as his second, and I sincerely doubt he was involved in that decision.”
Instead of taking the letter as he had intended, Katharina scooted around the table to sit right next to him. She gave him a brilliant smile, which did nothing to hide the mischievousness in her aura. ‘She knows exactly what she’s doing,’ he grumbled internally.
“‘I demand satisfaction for this grave insult to my honor’,” she read out loud. “What a– ahem.”
“No need to hold back.”
“What a conceited jerk!” she half-shouted in indignation. “He’s the one who butted into a conversation he had no place in!”
“...Indeed,” Arne agreed, wisely deciding not to mention who had butted into that particular conversation first.
Katharina leaned back, ‘accidentally’ brushing his arm in the process. “What are you planning to do about this?”
“I already sent Friedrich to discuss the terms with Maximilian,” he grinned.
“Oh, he’s already doing well enough for that?” Surprise. Doubt.
“He’d already be out training if I hadn’t explicitly told him not to,” Arne sighed. “He’s up to the task.”
She mulled that over for a bit, a sliver of amazement mixing into her aura. “Consider me impressed. Most people would need months of recuperation after experiencing such wounds.”
“Most people would die of a single stab from Klara,” he corrected. “Most nobles would die from half of what he took.”
“That’s fair,” she nodded, conceding the point. “Still, why your cousin? Wouldn’t Prince Matthias have been a much more sensible choice?”
“Friedrich practically begged me for the opportunity, while Matthias would consider it a huge favor. Also, imagine Maximilian’s face during the negotiations,” he laughed.
Katharina’s aura radiated malicious delight as she began to snicker along.
When they calmed down, Arne brought the conversation back to the most pressing topic. “What would you say is the worst case scenario for us here?”
The smile left her expression as she began to consider the potential ramifications. “Aside from the unlikely case of you losing the duel? You might be seen as a bully if you torment Prince Ludwig too much. But even that might gain you favor in the northern regions.”
“I’ll win as cleanly as possible,” he lied. The amused skepticism in her aura told him that she knew.
“Please, feel free to take your time with it,” she giggled vindictively.
He made a show of pretending to think about it. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely, who am I to decline?”
She hummed in contentment, briefly leaning against his shoulder. ‘She’s really going all out, huh?’ he thought, amused by her desperate attempts at suppressing her embarrassment after skirting the limits of propriety. Once again, he felt immensely grateful for the gift that granted him some form of defense against her flirtations. He didn’t even want to imagine how easily she would have wrapped him around her finger otherwise.
‘Lord Hartmut was right. Ambitious women are dangerous.’
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