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Katharina stood atop the gallery encompassing the entrance hall, looking out of the huge windows. Her optimism had quickly worn off, and she felt more concerned with every passing minute.
What was Prince Arnold planning? It was worrying that he had not deigned to inform her of any details, for a multitude of reasons. It meant that she could not help prepare the setting, that she could not help iron out potential flaws in the plan, that everything hinged solely on what she surmised to be an insufficient understanding of Western politics. But most importantly, it meant that he did not trust her yet.
That was entirely unsurprising given the very short time they had been aligned. In fact, it would be a major problem if he did fully trust her already – it would have meant that others could easily find their way into his good graces as well.
So why did it sting so much?
A quick glance across the room towards the opposite end of the gallery confirmed that Lord Leonhardt was still restlessly staring outside as well. The news of Prince Arnold’s impending visit had caused him to immediately jump out of bed much to the dismay of the physicians. Now, he was dressed in a formal cavalry uniform that hid the layered bandages underneath.
Judging from the fact that Prince Ludwig was nowhere to be seen, Katharina assumed that he had not been informed. Which, in turn, meant that today’s events might have caused a significant rift between the Sonnenfeld and Westmark heirs.
She could only hope that it would help whatever plan Arnold had come up with.
A crescendo of murmurs went through the dorm residents who were socializing down in the foyer, some of them pointing outside. Her head snapped back to the window, and not a second too early.
The flickering torches along the walkway revealed a group of eight tall men marching in formation towards Sonnenfeld Hall. The two men in front proudly bore ceremonial standards, the blood-red eagle of Hohenfels swaying in the evening breeze. Behind them strode the Margrave’s son and heir, his usually expressive face stony and focused, his hands clasped behind his back. Then followed Friedrich, and after him four more armed men. They all matched Arnold’s pace step for step. She could hear the synchronized sound of their heavy boots on the pavement even over the nervous clamor in the foyer.
Katharina shivered. She hadn’t known what to expect, but this was beyond her wildest imaginations. How would this blunt display of aggression impact the sensible climate at the academy? There was no way to tell. The consecutive duels still hung over every conversation like heavy afternoon clouds, and opinions had not yet settled. And now, Prince Arnold did this – shaking up everything once more.
‘Thank Christ I haven’t had time to involve myself yet…’
The Hohenfels procession stopped in front of the entrance. Then, everything got much, much worse.
The standard-bearers stepped forward to open the heavy double doors and entered the hall. As the murmurs inside redoubled, they crashed their standards onto the tiled floor. The sound of the steel ends hitting the stone immediately silenced all conversations.
Prince Arnold strode into the foyer like a victorious general into his enemy’s castle. His left hand rested on the hilt of his saber, and with every step he took, the temperature in the hall seemed to fall by several degrees. The fresh scar on his face highlighted his dispassionate expression as his aura slowly spread through the entire room like the inexorable coming of winter.
The young aristocrats down in the foyer shrunk away to the sides of the room, huddling together in nervous silence. Katharina herself could feel cold sweat running down her back.
He stopped in the middle of the hall and fixed his eyes on Lord Leonhardt, who walked down the gallery stairs with measured steps and slowly deployed his own aura, turning the oppressive atmosphere into the calm before a storm.
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The two men offered each other terse nods. Then, Leonhardt gestured towards one of the many side rooms, a lounge reserved for official occasions. They entered the room, and the heavy door fell shut behind them.
Friedrich placed himself in front of the entrance to the lounge, his mien promising a brutal fate for anyone who would dare disturb his future liege. The other men, dressed in Hohenfels’ ceremonial uniform, flanked him and mirrored his expression.
Not a single word had been said the entire time.
The silence lingered for a few more seconds, then the whispering began. It rapidly turned into excited, though perhaps a little panicked, conversation.
Katharina let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Prince Arnold had just dictated their future approach to… everything. From here on out, there was absolutely no hope of ever reconciling with Sonnenfeld and Altengau. This was not a visit – it was a declaration of victory, designed to humiliate Prince Ludwig so deeply that he would never forget or forgive what happened today.
As if on cue, an angry hiss next to her made her flinch.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?!”
The Sonnenstein Prince stared at her with bloodshot eyes, his body shaking with rage. He was out of breath, presumably from hurrying downstairs after being notified of the commotion. A red stain slowly expanded on his shirt where Arnold had stabbed his chest earlier today.
‘Composure is strength.’
“Prince Arnold is visiting Lord Leonhardt, Your Highness,” she said as calmly as she could. “I am not privy to any details, but I believe it has to do with the duel from earlier.”
“Why did you not inform me, you ungrateful wretch?” he spat. “This is my estate!”
Katharina swallowed deeply. This was not going to end well for her, no matter what she said.
The realization of what she had gotten herself into was like a slap to the face. She had known that her future path would be thorny, but she had never considered just how bad it might become.
Arnold had not just burned his own bridge to the West. Katharina, too, had forever lost the option of crawling back to the safe shores of Sonnenfeld. The future Duke would not just dislike her for a childish slight – no, he now hated her by association.
She had to hope that her family would be able to convince House Sonnenstein that it was a unilateral decision by her alone, and disavow her actions. Otherwise, her plans for personal gain might just have doomed Silberthal to isolation and decline.
‘Composure is strength.’
Shifting the blame might divert his immediate fury. “Prince Arnold demanded–”
“Stop calling that mudlord a Prince,” Ludwig growled. “And I don’t care what he wants. This. Is. Mine.” He gestured around the foyer, more blood soaking his shirt. “And it is your duty as a resident of my dorm to inform me of such foolishness.”
One of his aides, the pudgy son of a Baron from the duchy’s heartlands, came running down the stairs and immediately began fretting over the ever-expanding stain on the Prince’s chest. “Your Highness, please–”
“Don’t touch me!” Ludwig hissed, pushing him away forcefully. He collided with the wall, eliciting a pained grunt.
The young man picked himself up and amateurishly hid a wince. “P-Prince Ludwig–”
Ludwig shot him a deadly glare, and he paled. He bowed deeply, turned tail, and scampered off.
The Prince’s ire returned to Katharina. “I’ve heard you’ve even approached Princess Klara, that destitute savage. Do you have no shame? No decency?” he snarled. “To think that we once considered letting you marry into our House.”
‘Composure is strength. Composure is strength. Composure is strength.’
“I will give you one last chance,” he said coldly. “You will immediately cease your ill-begotten attempts at weaseling your way into the East, or so help me God, I will make it my life’s mission to ruin the sad backwater you call home.”
Katharina froze. Her stomach fell into an abyss of terror. The noise of the blood rushing through her ears grew louder and louder.
“Nothing to say, huh?” the Prince sneered. “Pathetic.”
He stared into her eyes, his face a mask of anger and disdain – until it morphed into a cruel smile.
“Now that I think about it, I have a much better idea. You will stay by that barbarian’s side until further notice. Inform me of every action he takes,” he demanded. “And the moment you tell me a single falsehood, I will make good on my promise.”
He whirled around and left, his dark chuckle echoing in Katharina’s mind long after he was out of sight.
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