The true young master of House von Amsterg strides into the private chambers of Yvonne St Clair, who sits quietly on a high backed chair with her eyes closed and seemingly in meditation. The contrast between her tiny body and the size of the chair would look slightly ridiculous, if not for the overwhelming aura of power radiating from the Marshal's body. Nicholas von Amsterg immediately drops to a knee and lowers his head respectfully before announcing his presence.

"By your summons, I have come, Marshal." Nicholas states, "Congratulations on your breakthrough. I can sense your new strength even though you are at rest."

St Clair grimaces at this bit of praise from her apprentice, her gut churning uncomfortably with the sheer volume of blood she had ingested. It was the fastest way the Marshal could raise her strength so that she can support Nicholas in his duel with Tensei and Rose. Obtaining such a huge quantity of blood was a mere inconvenience for St Clair, the danger lay in forcing an increase in her powers at such a rapid speed. St Clair felt that her body was going to shake itself apart due to the almost uncontrollable waves of energy being expelled from her spirit core.

"I have received word from my spies in The City." St Clair begins without preamble, swallowing a bit of vomit welling up from her throat, "The servant of the Tyrant is going to strike again during Tensei's wedding. We must stop him."

"Ah, will you be joining me Marshal?" Nicholas replies after some hesitation, keeping his eyes firmly locked on to the floor.

A gentle chuckle from the woman trapped in a young girl's body, "Nervous, Nicholas? Do you not believe that you can defeat the Tyrant's blackguard?" St Clair stifles a cough and sucks her breath down hard, easing the tremors wracking her body with merciless intensity.

"I believe Marshal." Nicholas grits his teeth, "I will achieve the victory that you seek."

St Clair finally deigns to open her eyes and graces Nicholas's boast with an affectionate smile, hiding the discomfort underneath, "Neither of us are foolish people, so there is no need to make promises to me that you cannot keep. You have improved a great deal Nicholas, but you are no match for the blackguard. I have no intention of sending you to your death."

"I don't understand Marshal." Nicholas looks up in confusion, "Then what do you expect me to do?"

St Clair leans back in her chair, sighing in relief as the pain building in her marrow temporarily subsides as she responds, "The goddess has granted me a vision. She will dispatch champions to assist you in this task. Champions that can match the blackguard's strength."

"I understand." Nicholas nods, his eyes darting worriedly at St Clair's lethargic body, "I will strike the finishing blow while the blackguard is distracted, ending his interference in the work of the goddess."

"No. The blackguard intends to perform a kidnapping at the wedding. I need you to stop this crime." St Clair explains, "Leave the blackguard himself to the goddess's champions."

"A kidnapping?" Nicholas frowns in concentration, "Of whom?"

"I do not know. That piece of information was something my spy could not find out." St Clair admits reluctantly, "But the visions are clear on one thing. If the blackguard succeeds, your rightful inheritance will be placed in grave danger."

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"And the blackguard?" the young master quizzes, "Are the goddess's champions enough to deal with him?"

"The blackguard is the equal of a single champion." St Clair explains, "A pair of champions are more than enough to end his interference."

"I understand Marshal." Nicholas salutes with a hand on his chest, "Leave this task to me."

"I will provide you with the needed troops." St Clair closes her eyes, the pain growing again and murmurs, "Lead them to victory."

"Marshal? Are you alright?" Nicholas asks worriedly, finally having had enough of seeing the woman's increasingly obvious discomfort, "I have never seen you so tired before."

St Clair shakes her head and reassures, "Increasing my power was not easy. I'll be fine after some rest."

Nicholas suddenly slams his head on the ground in an awkward kowtow, and remains in that position, tears running from his eyes. St Clair makes a mildly amused noise as she shifts into a more comfortable position in her chair.

"What's this then?" St Clair laughs, a trickle of blood leaking from the edge of her mouth, "This is so unlike you, Nicholas."

"Marshal, I have caused trouble for you." Nicholas says, trying to keep his voice steady, "You have to participate in the duel only because I am not strong enough. I had always thought that I was powerful, but even now I still cannot catch up with Tensei."

"Mmm? How strange. I never expected you to say something like that." St Clair muses, "Tell me Nicholas, are you doing the best for yourself?"

"Yes! Of course I am!" Nicholas protests, "I am working hard for you Marshal. And for the goddess as well, of course."

A faint smile plays on St Clair's face, "Not for me. For yourself. Are you doing the best for yourself?"

Nicholas stutters for a moment, surprised by the question, "Yes. I suppose?"

"Then that is good enough." St Clair states, "I do not regret my choice to help you Nicholas. So never short change yourself. Do your best so that you can always hold your head up with pride."

"But why Marshal?" Nicholas blurts out, completely baffled, "Why do you support me so much? Its far more than what the goddess requires from you."

"Now that's a question." St Clair opens her eyes again with an embarrassed cough, "I suppose its due to a frustrated instinct on my part."

"Instinct? Frustrated?" Nicholas repeats in an even more befuddled look on his face.

"I'll explain it another time." St Clair dismisses, "Now go and rest, you will need your strength for the upcoming battle."

Nicholas grunts in agreement and begins to get back to his feet. But as he rises, St Clair places a hand on Nicholas's shoulder and bends towards him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Good night Nicholas." St Clair sinks back into her chair, fatigue rolling off her body, "I'll pray for your success and for your safe return home."

"I can't go home." Nicholas mutters unhappily, "Not while father and Rose are so against my presence."

"That place was never your home." St Clair whispers as her consciousness begins to drift away, "A house without love can never become a home."

"Marshal, are you saying that ..." Nicholas probes, but his question is cut off by the drone of snoring, the Marshal having succumbed to her tiredness.

There's a lump in the young heir's throat, the Marshal's words having raked up unhappy memories of the past. The relentless politicking within his family. His father's disappointment in him, first hidden, then openly displayed to the world. Rose's intractable hostility, seeing Tensei as a kind of replacement brother. And finally, his father's act of rigging the duel in favor of an outsider at the expense of Nicholas, the real, actual son. Nicholas might have gotten over his anger at Tensei, but there remained several bitter pills for him to swallow, and nowhere enough water to do it with.

The Marshal was right. He had no home among the von Amstergs. An irreparable rift had opened up between Nicholas and the rest of the House. Even if he won the duel, there would be no warm welcome. His father and Rose would see Nicholas as an interloper, while the rest of the House would view him as their meal ticket, nothing more. Nicholas's thoughts wind their way inexorably towards several uncomfortable conclusions, with only the Marshal's snoring for company.

If Nicholas had no home among his own family, then perhaps its time to find somewhere else far away from them. A place he could call home.

"Sleep well Marshal." Nicholas says as he drapes his blazer over the girl's sleeping form and leaves her chambers.