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Maximilian von Altendorf was livid. Not only had Ludwig, the colossal fool, squandered a golden opportunity to further inconvenience the East. No, he had also saddled him with this ghastly ordeal – ‘negotiating’ with Lord Arnold’s second. They had met on neutral grounds as the duel code demanded, and were now facing each other across the instructor’s desk in an empty classroom.
His affable facade had long since crumbled under the relentless recalcitrance of Friedrich von Hohenfels-Steinberg, the son of a mere Eastern Count, who was treating him, the son of the Emperor, like a toddler. He barely managed to stay out of the realm of direct insult, but had it been anyone else, Maximilian would have long since demanded satisfaction. He was, however, painfully aware that a duel against the Mudlordling would end in his immediate and humiliating defeat – and he had no intention of sharing Ludwig’s fate.
“As I said before, Your Highness, we can’t do that,” said Friedrich in a sickly sweet voice, pronouncing every word as clearly as he could. “If you insist on fighting only to second blood, we insist on fighting with the saber.”
Maximilian tried and failed to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Fighting to third blood is simply unreasonable. And you know that Prince Ludwig is not an expert with the saber.”
“Perhaps he should have thought about that before issuing the challenge,” the brute said with a condescending smile. The Prince wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment, but he couldn’t exactly say that.
“His honor does not allow him to back down from such a severe insult,” he replied instead, pretending not to notice Friedrich’s quiet chuckle at hearing the word ‘honor’.
“Then his honor will survive being stabbed thrice.”
Maxmilian’s eyelid twitched. “Fine, then. Third blood, with smallswords. A priest shall also be present to administer blessings.”
The insufferable oaf actually scoffed at that. “Sure, sure. As long as you pay for it.”
“Good. The duel shall take place three days from–”
“Tomorrow.”
“Wha–”
“Tomorrow,” Friedrich interrupted again. “Tomorrow morning.”
The Altendorf prince felt his expression twist in anger, but he was beyond the point of giving a damn about it. This forced his hand even more. He would have to call upon contingencies he would rather not make use of, but there was no point in negotiating any further. Hohenfels undoubtedly considered the presence of a cleric a major concession, and insisting on another date would make Ludwig look even more pathetic.
“...So shall it be,” he spat. “The colosseum, nine o’clock.”
“Looking forward to it,” came Friedrich’s reply, accompanied by a savage grin.
Maximilian simply turned around and left the room without another word.
= = = = =
‘Am I doing something wrong?’
Katharina fought down her growing irritation. If she continued like this, she would end up looking like a hussy!
She had thought it easy to build on yesterday’s events. Sure, it had been mortifying when her body suddenly moved on its own, but the effects had been undeniable. But now, Arnold did not react to a single move of hers. He was even actively ignoring her strategically placed hand right next to his! She knew he had noticed, since his eyes were flickering over to it from time to time, but he didn’t take it despite the obvious invitation. It wasn’t shyness, either – there was no sign of nervousness in his expression. If anything, he had the nerve to look amused…
Did he prefer the demure type? In that case, she was in trouble. Switching up her approach now was sure to ring his alarm bells. Also, it really wasn’t her style.
Other than that, there were few possible reasons for his reticence. The first one was simple – he was loyal to another woman. That would be bad, but relatively unlikely.
The second one would spell the end of this particular plan: He might secretly prefer men over women. However, his reaction to the training uniform belied this idea, and so did yesterday’s mood.
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The third and final reason was the most unsettling, and unfortunately the most probable. His eerie intuition might somehow inform him when she was trying and when she wasn’t.
Mother had warned her about highly perceptive men. They would pick up on the tiniest tells that an interaction might not be entirely authentic. Unfortunately, her advice for dealing with them – don’t – was not applicable in this situation.
The only thing speaking against the third reason was that he did take her hand yesterday. But that could just as well have been him getting caught up in the atmosphere. Her despair had, much to her shame, been uncomfortably real after all.
Was it time to stop? Perhaps she should focus entirely on building a professional relationship with him. However, wouldn’t that come across as strange and untrustworthy as well, just like trying to suddenly play the bashful maiden? Worse still, it would be significantly easier for the Prince to drop a business partner compared to a woman he was attracted to.
It would also be a declaration of surrender. And she had lost too many times already. She had a keen sense of power dynamics, and so far it wasn’t looking particularly good for her – she needed a win. And she needed it sooner rather than– “Eep?!”
Katharina hid her reddening face behind her hands after her undignified squeak. He had poked her! In the shoulder!
“What were you thinking about?” he asked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Can you read my mind?” she asked tiredly once her composure returned.
To her surprise, Arnold didn’t take her question as the joke she intended it to be.
“...No, I can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I do, however, have a good instinct for people trying to use me.”
That was bad. Not only did it confirm her fears, it also meant that he was aware of it. What could she do now? She needed time to think.
“Does that happen often?” she asked, trying to buy herself a few moments and regretting it immediately afterwards. ‘Of course it does,’ she chastised herself. ‘He’s the heir of a margrave.’
“There are exactly two people in this world who are always genuine towards me,” he explained. “My sister, and my cousin.”
An indirect way of telling her he knew she wasn’t.
“Actually– there may be three,” he added, looking her in the eye with a wistful smile.
‘Wha– No way. Is he–’
“Princess Klara.”
Katharina’s mind went blank for a moment. A pang of… something made her chest ache.
“She genuinely hates me,” he sighed. Then he tilted his head and fixed her with a sly look. “Is something wrong?”
She suppressed an unreasonable urge to shout at him. “It’s nothing,” she grumbled, scrambling to get her emotions under control.
= = = = =
Arne’s heart raced. That had been way too close.
Somehow, he had managed to distract her – but he really needed to stop being so careless. Katharina’s mind was too quick for him to take her lightly, no matter how fun it was to tease her.
There was even a good chance that it was already too late. She suspected something was wrong, and he had to throw her another breadcrumb in addition to his half-lie about his ‘confirmation’. Any more, and she would connect the dots.
He had to do something about that. Mother would suggest irreparably destroying Katharina’s reputation to neutralize her without spilling aristocratic blood – turning her into a persona non grata in high society. It would be ridiculously easy, thanks to Ludwig’s previous attempt at doing exactly that.
But he couldn’t do that. Not only would it go against his morals, it would also tarnish his honor forever, after she went out of her way to help him both in the library and with Friedrich.
If he distanced himself from her, he would lose the only non-hostile connection he made so far, plus his convenient access to the never-ceasing flow of gossip. On top of that, she might become even more suspicious of him.
That left him with only a single choice: Strengthening ties with her, to the point where she simply couldn’t afford to sell him out should she ever realize just how far his ‘instincts’ went.
It was definitely not because he enjoyed her company, despite her manipulative tendencies. Not at all.
Arne shook himself out of his thoughts and looked to his left, where Katharina was still pouting. When she noticed his gaze, she turned away with a quiet huff.
“I beg your forgiveness, Mylady,” he said dramatically and bowed his head in exaggerated apology.
“Hmph! If you are truly sorry, you know what to do!” she replied in a haughty tone, slightly lifting her hand.
‘I should give her a win,’ he realized. If he kept one-sidedly teasing her, it would only increase her frustration, and along with it, suspicion. He had to keep a careful balance.
So, he took her hand with his own, prompting another huff. She couldn’t hide her equally powerful feelings of embarrassment and triumph from his senses, though.
After a minute of slightly awkward silence, Katharina turned to face him, a minimal blush still visible on her face.
“Are you worried about the duel?” she asked, genuine concern mixing into her chaotic aura.
“Not particularly,” Arne replied truthfully. “Ludwig is not much of a fighter.”
And there was absolutely no way Maximilian would allow the Sonnenfeld prince to humiliate himself in public, so the duel was sure to occur behind closed doors – far from the eyes of curious onlookers and their irritating auras.
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