Although the middle of the journey had been a struggle, by the end, weak as she felt, she had grown increasingly numb to the pains of travel. It helped that the mood among the camp had grown merry with the novelties they had picked up as the richer members of the “militia”.

She had her own reasons to be content with the trip too, pleased to have seen the terrain in person and taken ample notes and sketches. It was not easy terrain; however, the eventual campaign would take her over the Alps in friendly territory.

Her father had found interest in the Ancient Romans for his own reasons, ones she did not know. Her reasons, of course, she knew well. It was no coincidence that people referred to that vast, sprawling empire by the name of a single city.

A city that happened to be at the intersection of many of her interests.

At present, she admired the city which could so reliably produce armies as large as any of its neighbours—several armies of such size. These armies, far from home, yet always fed. She had for long thought that the scale mentioned in those old works took poetic liberties, that perhaps those large numbers were dramatic metaphors.

However, truths began to crystallise in her idle thoughts, all those interests of hers not perhaps as disparate as she once believed. Similarities that only seemed so different because of the scale.

She considered, for example, the resemblance of the awe of a knight in heavy armour to the old soldiers of Rome. She considered how it would look if, instead of numbering in the tens or hundreds, the ownership of land split up to support thousands—if not more—of such knights. She considered how important the towns and cities would be, places where endless hammering put out the armour for these lesser-knights. And she considered how important roads would be when, to feed such an army, an endless train of baggage would need to follow behind—and how important it was for Rome to be by the coast, that a boat could carry mountains of grain to wherever it was sorely needed.

Of course, an army of such knights would soon be out of place. While the crossbows had stagnated, limited in their deadliness, the battlefields of Europe increasingly stank with the stench of gunpowder. She would have liked to have seen what the Ancient Romans made of such an invention; alas, she could only know that, eventually, they would have ground out the answers to all questions.

Unfortunately for her, she did not have millions of willing men nor the revenue to support such an endeavour. So she hoped to instead cultivate the kinds of men with an intuitive grasp of this changing landscape and provide them with officers capable of getting men from one place to another with supplies and equipment.

Until such a time arose, though, she had every intention of avoiding costly confrontations. If a battle could not be won with thundering cannons, then it was not a battlefield for her men.

Still, she had hope. Although that hope was not the main reason for where she found herself now, it did linger—as hope tended to.

“Lady Augstadt, it is my pleasure.”

Her curtsy belied her state, still as elegant and graceful as ever. She then took a seat with that same elegance. “Your Royal Highness, please, the pleasure is surely mine.”

“How could I as a guest not find pleasure in such accommodation? It has yet to be a year since that little conversation, yet My Lady has earnestly built a wonderful place for practising all things equestrian.”

“Sir is too kind. That is, I truly did already have plans for such an endeavour and I merely wished to pique Sir’s interest in this place. Now that I have succeeded, it is clearly my pleasure for Sir’s presence, however fleeting, that I may boast of it.”

Prince Friedrich’s laughter fell gently in the lounge. Although not an overly impressive room, for what was alike to a country house, it had a suitable prestige with the beautiful landscapes on the walls, elaborate rugs on the floor, and such detailed furniture, polished and neatly upholstered.

On top of that, it had a rustic charm. Without wallpaper, the wooden walls showed true and the ceiling was broken up by beams—rather than neat lumber, thick branches only stripped of bark. Along with a cornucopia of leafy plants arranged around the room’s edges and a fire pit in the room’s centre rather than at the edge, there was a natural feel to the place, a sense of being out in the woods rather than inside a building.

However, inside a building they were, both sat at a smaller table by the window with a drink: tea for her, a coffee with brandy for him. Not alone, of course, as her knight chaperoned from the other side of a crackling fire, kept company by one of the prince’s retainers.

Still, if she and the Prince so wished, that company need not hear their words. Pleasantries drifted between them as their sips slowly emptied their drinks.

“I trust My Lady found her trip… productive,” he said, not quite a question.

She answered it nonetheless. “Yes. If Sir is interested, I have quite the number of sketches that may be of interest.”

“Sketches?” he said lightly. “I remember My Lady mentioning she hoped to bring some trade back.”

Although her expression didn’t change, the slight tilt of her head turned her smile demure and her gaze filtered through her eyelashes to meet his. “Sir certainly has a thorough memory for one of little importance such as myself.”

“Rare is the person of little importance and that is certainly true for My Lady,” he said, his perpetual smile broadening to emphasise his sincerity.

Only for her expression to fall. “That is, I am the rare case of someone who is of little importance?” she asked, her voice oh so fragile, eyes suddenly watery.

His stomach dropped, a sudden panic urging him to speak. “No, no, of course not—if anything, My Lady is the rare case of someone rather interesting, that I cannot help but remember everything she says.”

As if it had all been in his head, the next moment her expression returned to how it was before, full of composure and a hint of ambiguity. “If someone else happened to hear Sir say that, they may well think Sir has certain… ambitions.”

Realising he had been pulled into a trap—no, that he had both set up the trap and willingly walked into it—he couldn’t help but admire her that little more again. It was not that he thought women beneath him, just that, with other women, there was an air of awkwardness, both sides keenly aware of the wall of propriety between them. However, with her, it was instead a line in the sand and one she knew perfectly well, treating it as but another toy for her own amusement as she urged him to overstep.

That did not excuse him entirely, though. His growing enjoyment of her company was one thing and what harm that would bring her reputation another. As it always seemed to be for one of his station, the best choice was to stop the fun before it truly began.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

So he began to put together a way to let her down gently and make clear his position. Only that, she saw fit to speak before he did.

“Of course, I know Sir means nothing by it. As for what Sir mentioned before, to trade requires good roads and good roads are best built with an understanding of the terrain. I have already left a rough map for King Otto to inspect on his return.”

That first part of what she’d said left him in a lurch. There was no insinuation, no look in her eye, yet she spoke as if reciting any old fact.

As if she knew something she shouldn’t.

Although he did not show his vigilance, he watched her oh so closely. “Is that so?”

She carried in as if nothing had changed between them. “Yes, it is so. While I would rather call it punctual than rushed, there is no reason to delay, so I hope to begin sending supplies upon my return. The more road that can be built in these coming years, the better it shall be.”

Again, there was something subtly unnerving about what she had said. There were many innocent reasons she could give for wishing to build the road so swiftly, yet the way it was phrased—like it was a countdown. That there would be a particular point where having built more road would prove beneficial.

If not for already being on guard, he might have missed it, had perhaps missed countless more of her secrets that she so plainly showed. Unlike her wit, he did not enjoy this quite so much. However, that was not to say he disliked it—so long it wasn’t his own secrets she so subtly alluded to.

“I do believe My Lady will manage this task as well as all the others she has before,” he said, punctuated by a only small sip of his drink. It wouldn’t do for him to lend his wits to the brandy at this time.

In reply, she spared him a gentle smile. Disarming and with a hint of sweetness.

Which made the topic she then turned to all the sharper. “If Sir would permit This Lady to speak without interruption for a moment, she would no longer take Sir away from his leisure.”

“I cannot imagine what topic My Lady has that is so solemn and that she thinks I may see fit to interrupt her,” he said lightly.

“Sir may be lacking in imagination, then,” she said lightly back, still with a smile, yet he observed how it failed to reach her eyes, how it made his own smile all the more hollow.

He gave a small gesture. “Go on.”

Not one to break her word, she certainly did not waste any time in getting to the point. “I am of the belief that Sir has an attraction to men which he acts upon. Whether or not that is true, I am not here to debate, for I certainly would not expect Sir to admit such a thing.

“Rather, it is for that reason which I suggest a marriage between us. It is my truth that, regardless of Prince Hector’s actions, I am his wife, thus cannot be with another. To find a husband who would have no desire to be with me is not an easy search.

“If my belief about Sir is correct, then I would have no objections to his actions. So it is that we would both find a marriage that is convenient to our particular situations.”

There she stopped, her teacup coming to her lips as her face showed nothing after making such serious allegations.

Although his face showed nothing either, he felt as if she could see the chill that surrounded him, his blood like icy slush. “So My Lady is here to blackmail me.”

Finally, her expression changed to show half a sneer. “Pray do not slander me so. I have come to trade and I am firm in my belief that a trade is best when both parties come out the better for it. If Sir disagrees with my proposal, then there is no need for more discussion and this shan’t be brought up again. I am not in the habit of making enemies.”

“Yet My Lady would make up rumours, such vile ones at that,” he replied.

Both spoke harsh words with a politeness.

“Sir should not think so little of me,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Regardless, that claim is not for discussion. I will say that Sir need not worry about my sources for I am meticulous in these affairs and the sliver of information each has is far from enough to convince themselves of this, never mind others. I, and I alone, hold this belief and spoke it to none other. Whether or not Sir agrees to my proposal, I shall hereafter consider it false.”

A kind of silence then fell where, while nothing left their lips, their gazes communicated all that needed to not be said. The tiniest flickers, twitches.

In his heart rose the cold fire which begged him to silence her. A manic flame, agitated and wild, full of paranoid rambling. Such an intense feeling, primal as if it came from the same place from wherein all his sins urged him.

However, he had long regarded himself the master of that place.

“Baseless accusations aside, I find it most queer that My Lady would… entertain such a belief. It would not be that My Lady is looking in a mirror rather than through a window?”

Her smirk gave him all the answer he needed, wordlessly chided. “It rather seems to me that certain things should be left to God to judge. After all, there is enough good to do elsewhere.”

He had to admit that, for that, she had certainly proven herself. While the intricacies of a city in a neighbouring country were not of particular interest to him, he had seen the elaborate festivities she had arranged to fund the construction of a school of all things. There was no reason to suspect such a thing was an exception to her usual behaviour. Beyond that, his father had made mention of her reforming the laws, though the details of that, irrelevant to him, had been already forgotten, only a feeling of it being radical remaining.

Of course, his father found many things radical. He had little reference for judicial matters and could only remember an off-handed remark by his father that alluded to merchants and Jews.

This Lady before him—he did not imagine her being led astray by coin. It was possible, he conceded, that she had struggled to adjust after leaving the palace. However, with how she had handled herself since, he doubted she lacked the ability to manage her domain.

Then again, he would have not thought her capable of such blackmail before this conversation.

“My Lady speaks of a trade; however, I fail to see what benefit her suggestion would bring either of us,” he said, if only to make her speak more—to give himself an opening to pry into.

“The benefit is that being unmarried carries with it such awkward questions and nagging and scrutiny. For Sir, I believe it preferable to marry someone closer than King Otto may have in mind.”

She paused a moment, an eyebrow raised as if firm in her belief he understood what she hadn’t said—and he did.

“There is also myself to include in the weighing, that I am willing to provide what expertise Sir would ask for when it comes to managing his land. I know that Sir has preferred to grant his vassals freedom and put trust in capable men provided by King Otto; however, if I may speak frankly, what honour is there in being such a Lord?”

With a sigh, she paused there and took a sip of tea, then continued.

“As for my benefits, there is certainly more of a stigma if I should remain unmarried. To be blunt, it would also be significant if I should wed a prince. On top of that, Sir knows of my interest in trade and so keeping a friendly relationship with King Otto is key….”

Her voice trailed off, gaze fell, and his fell too to where he saw her hands strain as she held her cup.

“It would provide myself some security too, that I need not be so easily bullied once Prince Hector decides he has been patient enough. Who would dare to stand up to the Empire’s heir on behalf of a mere countess? Not that I would expect any aid; however, he would surely think twice before being reckless if it could upset our neighbours.”

Simple, straightforward reasons. And, although he bristled at her frank comment, her assessment of his handling of his affairs was not exactly incorrect either.

“My Lady has certainly given this quite the thought,” he said softly, more padding the silence than speaking.

She did not reply and so his gaze rose once more to meet hers. As if the moment of vulnerability had never happened, she met him with renewed confidence.

“I would not blame Sir, with his upbringing, to think of life as competition. In many ways, it is. However, is it not convincing that, even in distant lands, we find our brethren living together in villages and tribes? God is good and gave us such kindness and compassion that we may find a greater strength together than we ever could alone. If for no other reason, I would ask Sir to consider what good we may accomplish together.”

With her piece said, she finished the last sip of her drink and, as elegantly as ever, rose from her seat.

“If Sir should find my offer compelling, Sir could find reason to visit Augstadt.”

Her knight, seeing her rise, stood up himself and accompanied her out the room. Out in the hallway, he gave a chuckle. “I fear I must owe My Lady an apology. To speak so much with Prince Friedrich, we have been poor company.”

She tittered at his joke. “Please, it could not be so.”

Meanwhile, back in the lounge, the Prince still sat, his cup against his lip as his gaze lingered, not where she had been, but on the window pane. Of all the foolish things she had said, of all the brazen things, she had surely saved the most so for last.

With an ironic smile, he silently whispered, “What we may accomplish together….”