Early the next morning, I was still getting ready for the day when a messenger knocked on my door. I opened the door rather carefully, half expecting Moses to be waiting on the other side, but it turned out to be a simple, minor functionary from the embassy staff. He presented a note that told me the Lieutenant had changed the time of our meeting from the afternoon to that morning. In fact, I would need to start for his offices right away, if I was to be on time. While I grumbled a bit at Louis’ precipitous decision, I could hardly complain about regaining Damocles more quickly, especially given my ever-growing list of adversaries.

I detained the messenger a moment while I scribbled out a note to Patricia, using a cipher that both of us had agreed on earlier, and were familiar with. Explaining my absence from my quarters and describing my conclusions and encounters of the previous day, I sent the functionary off to locate her quarters, and then set off for the chambers which Louis had apparently set aside for our contest.

No further disruptions prevented me from reaching the chamber; in fact, given the lack of foot traffic in the corridors, I half-suspected that the French were somehow redirecting my various opponents to other areas of the ship. It was a thought that both entertained and worried me, up until I arrived at the place.

It was not what I had expected. The chamber was a circular dome, with a skylight in the top that let in the early morning’s brightening shine. In the embassy’s previous life as a warship, the chamber must have been used for some form of planning or observation, given that a military vessel could ill afford to waste so much space. I could easily picture it full of maps and charts, with some kind of spotter located near the dome-like skylight. As it was, the floor was bare except for a picture of a compass rose, with a handful of folding chairs and some kind of table piled up on one side.

Louis was waiting for me in the center of the room, pacing with a somewhat worried air. He looked up as I entered with a smile, one that utterly failed to reach his eyes. “Baron Krongesetz, how good of you to join me. I hope the change in schedule was not inconvenient?”

I shook my head, eager to recover my weapon. “No, Lieutenant, I was unoccupied.”

“I am glad. After all, you’ve had so many people to speak with lately.” The mild tone of accusation was somewhat out of place from how he had acted before, and I observed him a bit more closely. He was wearing some sort of dueling jacket, with obvious padding to act as a buffer between him and harm. Aside from that, the man still wore his impeccable uniform, but there was something both nervous and agitated about his manner.

“I am…not sure what you mean, Lieutenant.”

He waved a hand in the air as if shooing a fly. “Come now, let us address each other more clearly, Baron. Here, we are free of such artifices.”

I regarded him for a moment and then bowed. “As you wish, Prince Louis.”

When I straightened, I found him glancing to one side of the room, where I noted a large curtain had been hung. It was apparently meant to divide the room into even spaces, giving a modicum of privacy to each side. Now it seemed to have no purpose—or at least it would have if I could not see the edge of a cavalry boot poking out of the bottom.

When I looked back to Louis, I found him regarding me with some seriousness, as if he had realized I had noticed our unannounced visitor. I gave him a simple half smile, my mind whirling as I tried to determine who else was in the room. The most logical intruder was one of Devonshire’s men, but despite how devious I knew he was, I somewhat doubted that he would have been able to bribe or recruit a Prince of France to his cause. Another possibility was that Moses had caught wind of our duel, but if he had, I doubted he would have remained concealed. Even if he had, Louis would have had no reason to go along with his planned ambush.

I was still pondering the issue when Louis nodded to himself. “Well then, on to business.”

He strode quickly over to a nearby barrel, which I realized had been filled with swords. With a single brusque movement, he pulled one free and threw it in my direction. “I trust this one will be to your liking?”

Despite my surprise, I caught the sword easily. I moved it back and forth, testing the weight. The blade seemed functional enough, though it paled in comparison with Damocles, of course. I noted with some relief that the edge of the blade had been dulled considerably; I would likely have struggled to cut butter with the thing, but at least I would leave this chamber with nothing more than bruises to show for my experience. “It seems fine to me, Prince Louis.”

There was a curious amount of suspicion in his eyes, but Louis nodded without comment. He selected his own sword much more carefully, drawing another blade from the barrel after several moments. Without another word, he moved over to stand on the edge of the compass drawn on the floor, taking a position over the letter N. I moved to face him, standing over the letter S, where I could see both him, and anyone who might choose to leave the comfort of their fragile curtained hiding place. There was no sense in turning my back to our visitor, whoever it might be.

Louis studied me for a bit, and then nodded. “Again, I thank you for meeting me like this, Herr Baron. Your task here today is simple.” He gestured to the compass beneath us. “You must either strike me or drive me from the compass. If you succeed, the sword is yours. If not, I must unfortunately keep it for another day, and you can try again tomorrow.”

Sudden horror overtook me. “What? This was not quite what we agreed, Prince Louis.”

He only smiled in return. “I suppose not, but given where we are, I would suggest you not protest too harshly. After all, most men would not give up such a treasure at all. Why should I surrender it to you so easily?”

I fell silent for a moment, trying to find an appropriately politic answer. In the end, I settled for a curt nod, and he continued in an even voice. “We shall have three bouts. If you need rest, only raise your hand and it will be granted, but it will end the bout. If you do not succeed by the third bout, we will have to meet again tomorrow. Is it agreed?”

“Have I any other choice?” I already knew the answer, but it was difficult to not express the spite and resentment I felt.

Prince Louis shook his head, his smile falling away. “No.” He raised his sword, adopting what I recognized as a classic stance. I matched his motion, with far less fluidity and far more hesitation than I liked to admit. We watched one another for a moment, and then he spoke. “En guarde!”

He flew across the room, his sword angled to slash down at me from the right. I moved to block it, only to have my sword meet naught but air. Louis diverted his blade at the last second, forcing me to step sideways to avoid being struck.

Off balance, I attempted to gain distance by backing around the edge of the compass, but the Prince was unrelenting. He followed with an agility and determination that belied his slightly doughy figure, and before long, we were both breathing heavily. I could barely keep his sword from striking me; the few times I attempted to attack nearly ended with counter-strokes which could have taken my head off.

It was clear I was outmatched, and I began to feel a trickle of resentment for him. As I dodged past another quick slash, I was then surprised when his offhand lashed out in a backhanded blow. It caught me square across the cheek, and I staggered back with a ringing in my ears. Before I could recover, his blade battered my side and knocked the wind from me.

As I knelt on the floor, he stalked past me, his blade still flicking back and forth. “That’s one bout, I’m afraid. You’ll have to do better this time, if you want your sword.”

I glared at him, still struggling to regain my breath. “You…can hardly…call that…a fair blow.”

“Fairness is something I’ve found is rarely natural. You must make the world fair, if that is your goal.” He turned back to face me, his sword out to his side. “This is not quite the same as a storybook or a fencing salle. Come at me like you mean it, Herr Baron, or you’ll never reach me.”

The sternness of his voice was so unlike his usual cheery self that I nearly suspected he was an imposter. Yet somehow, that cold rebuke was far more honest, and I inwardly chided myself for not taking him seriously enough before. He might have been helpful, and his manner relaxed, but I was still facing a Prince of France, someone who had fought in the New War alongside his cousin. Louis was not some fop to ignore.

With that in mind, I rose back to my feet and resumed my position. He watched me again, his eyes calculating and unwavering. “En guarde!”

This time, I was prepared for his charge, and as our blades met, I shoved him back. He seemed to stumble for a moment, and my heart leapt as I came forward, swinging at his torso.

My moment of victory vanished when his blade took me in the stomach. I nearly folded up over the practice sword, the breath driven from me a second time by the blow, and I heard him cluck in disappointment as he stepped away. “Even less skill than the first time. I’m surprised you even carry a blade at all.”

I continued to fight to keep breathing, noting with dissatisfaction the way darkness was lingering at the edge of my sight. Desperation was clawing at me now; one day without Damocles was dangerous enough, but if Devonshire moved today, I would need the weapon just to survive.

When I glanced about, I found Louis standing at the E of the compass, directly next to the curtain. He had tilted his head slightly, as if listening for a moment. Then he spoke up. “Perhaps you only need a rest, Baron. Feel free to use one of the chairs there.”

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Grateful despite my frustration, I levered myself off my knees and half-collapsed into the nearest chair. I leaned forward, still aching about the ribs as I forced myself to keep breathing. There had to be some way to turn the fight to my advantage, but I could not for the life of me find one.

Louis watched me for a moment more and then stepped away from the curtain. When he spoke up, his voice was far more elaborately idle and casual than could be genuine. “I had hoped that you would be far more impressive, Baron. Maybe the Coronel could give you some tips later?”

I coughed in surprise and grunted when I saw a bit of blood in my spittle. “Perhaps. I must surely need it.” Then I shook my head. “I doubt she would have time for me, however, and probably not at the current moment.”

“Is that so?” Louis tilted his head to the side. “As I had heard it, she enjoys a rather…intimate…relationship with you, does she not?”

Apparently, the rumors had traveled far more quickly than Coronel Soares had anticipated. I spent a moment to make sure that my voice was neutral and even. “I do not know what you mean, Prince. I only came to know the Coronel when I arrived onboard.”

“And yet she was seen leaving your quarters. Some might believe that you have a closer relationship than might be immediately obvious.”

This time I allowed some fragment of my anger to slip through into my voice. “An entirely baseless claim, Prince, and one I would hope you did not believe. While Coronel Soares has been a rather friendly acquaintance, and that is all she is.” When Louis opened his mouth again, I cut him off with a sharp gesture. “You forget, Prince, that I am engaged to Ms. Bingham. Whatever appearances might suggest, I am as devoted to her, and to her safety, as anyone ever could ever be. You would do well not to question that commitment.”

Louis paused and then he straightened up. “As you say, Baron Krongesetz. I apologize for implying otherwise.” A peculiar light came into his eyes, and he set himself again for a charge. “Well, if you cannot learn better skill, then perhaps you need better motivation.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Better motivation?”

“Indeed.” He smiled. “Imagine, for the moment, that this is not just a test. That it is not just about some sword. Imagine your honor has been called into question. That you face a real opponent, one who opposes your courtship with…whoever it is that you love.”

The insinuation in his voice set my teeth on edge. My pain from the previous bouts was beginning to fade, and my fingers twitched around the handle of the practice sword. It was an increasing struggle to keep my temper in check. “And I suppose that you think such a challenge would put me in a more combative frame of mind?”

“How could it not?” The Frenchman shrugged. “Shall we begin?”

“So be it.” I saluted him with my sword and then readied myself. His insulting behavior was beyond the pale, and while he surpassed me greatly in skill, I was determined to at least cost him substantial effort in the bout.

He paused for another heartbeat, and then he launched himself forward, his blade flashing into position. “En guarde!”

To my surprise, Louis appeared to be moving much slower this time; he was not quite the same blur of motion and violence he had been before. When he slashed at me, my sword met his with a resounding clash. Then, before he could move away or strike again, I stepped forward and shoved against his sword, hard.

Surprise flashed across his face as he staggered backward, his feet skidding on the tiles. I did not bother to hide the feral grin which twisted my lips, and I moved forward in a predatory lunge, hoping to knock him further off balance. To my dismay, he jumped back from my swing, though my practice blade nearly brushed the front of his dueling jacket. It would have only been fair to end our last bout that quickly, given his provocations, but I supposed that was expecting too much.

He stared at me, his sword held loosely across his torso. His breath appeared to be coming quicker now, and his eyes were wider than they had been. I assumed my stance again, ready for his next attack, and his eyes narrowed for a moment. Then he set himself, his blade extended to nearly touch mine.

The next attack was faster, a thrust that would have struck a point directly between my eyes. It still wasn’t fast enough, though, and I knocked it away with a flick of my wrist. His thrust abruptly changed to an attempt to strike me with the pommel, but I caught his swordarm with my free hand. Another shove sent him staggering backward, and his block barely fended off my follow up strike.

I stepped forward, intent on pursuing him and ending things, but he swung wildly at me and regained a measure of distance. He was breathing harder now, and an uncertain look had entered his expression. It was hard not to smile wider. “Are you having trouble, Prince? Perhaps you need to develop greater stamina.”

“Perhaps.” He grimaced and then set himself again. This time, it appeared that the noble Prince was reluctant to attack me. That was disappointing, but it only meant that it was my turn to advance. I did so with a calm, deliberate gait, determined not to let him lure me into overconfidence or haste. To my surprise, he backed away slowly, as if he was buying time for himself to recover.

When he reached the edge of the circle, I took another step forward and watched carefully. With no more room to retreat, he would have to try to circle to the right or the left; either direction might give me an opening to attack if I caught him when his attention was diverted. His eyes flicked back and forth as he watched me advance. His left foot slid out, as if preparing for a lunge in that direction.

Then suddenly he was moving, his sword flashing out toward my face and his body lurching to his right. Surprised, I backed away slightly, catching the desperate blow on my own sword and turning it aside. He continued his rush to the right, clearly hoping to escape contact for a time, but it was a flight I would not allow. I bent low, sweeping my blade back and around with such speed that it momentarily shocked me. Louis responded by stabbing his sword back towards me, a gamble meant to make me retreat. Instead, I leaned to one side, balancing precariously on my feet as I swung at his legs.

The blow caught him midstep, and the Prince of France was suddenly hurtling across the compass in a tangle of limbs. He landed roughly, rolling to a stop well outside the boundaries of the circle. A feeling of satisfaction spread through me; he had earned as much with his taunting accusations, let alone my previous rough treatment. Clearly, he had been tired out by our earlier exchanges, but if his endurance was not up to the task, he should have been aware of it before saying such things.

Then the curtains twitched, and I realized that my battle might not be over. Perhaps the unknown listener would wish to challenge me now, since the Prince would be unlikely to recover soon. I took a step towards the curtains, intending to flush out the intruder hiding behind them. Better to face them now than to allow them to plot and scheme in the dark.

Louis let out an agonized groan, and the feeling of satisfaction evaporated before the realization of what I had just done, like a glittering dewdrop being swept away by the horrible, glaring sun. No matter the circumstances, it was unlikely that the French would take the battering of the heir to the throne so lightly; certainly, the cousin to the Emperor of France would be well placed to take some sort of revenge, even if the rest of the French were more understanding. Whoever was hiding behind the curtains could wait for the moment; besides, it was more than likely just a bodyguard assigned to keep the Prince from harm.

Moving quickly, I extended a hand to the fallen Frenchman, careful to hold my sword far away from him. “I beg your pardon, Prince. I did not mean to strike you so hard.”

“Of course you did; I certainly would have too. Though you might need to learn to watch your strength, Baron.” He took my hand with a grateful expression on his face, though he still muttered under his breath. “Probably even stronger mounted, too. Something to watch for.”

I frowned, and was about to ask him what he meant when he shook his head, as if to clear it. “In any case, you have won your sword back, though I must protest that you only needed to touch me, not knock the stuffing out of me. Quite uncouth of you, sir.”

With a sudden feeling of shame and regret, I bowed low to him. “My apologies, Prince. I have been overeager.”

He eyed me severely, and then sighed. “I’ll be sore for a week now, but you’ll have your sword back. I trust you will act responsibly with it from now on?”

“Upon that you may rely, Prince Louis.” I bowed again, and he snorted and strode over to the curtains. Leaning against the wall was Damocles, still in its sheath. As he picked it up, I frowned. The sword had not been there when we started; had the hidden man been holding it the entire time? Maybe that was the reason for Louis’ accompaniment; if I had been a bit less patient over the whole thing, he could have claimed not to have brought it.

I shrugged those thoughts aside as he handed over the blade. My fingers were desperate to lock around the hilt, but I carefully avoided touching the weapon itself, only wrapping my hands around the sheath. “Thank you, Prince Louis. I hope I have not hurt you too severely.”

He nodded pleasantly. “Nonsense. It is all, as the English say, water under the bridge. You’ll have no hard feelings from me, I assure you.” Then he paused. “I do have another matter to discuss with you, however.”

The comment brought me up short. Dreading another complication, I braced myself. “Yes, Prince Louis?”

“For the duration of your stay aboard the embassy, I must inform you that if you ever get closer than twenty meters to the Emperor, I have instructed his bodyguards to shoot you immediately.” As I stared at him in shock, he offered me a thin smile. “I must have you understand, it is not as though I consider you an actual threat to His Majesty, but an advisor such as myself is often rewarded more for caution than for bravery. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Despite my surprise, I nodded calmly. For a moment, I busied myself with fastening Damocles to my belt, only speaking when I could trust my tongue not to trip over itself due to the surprise running through me. “I do not quite understand, Prince Louis. If this is your way of evening the score—”

“Nothing could be further from my mind, Echtor. After all, I was the one who provoked you.” As if he realized that his calm words did little to reassure me, he smiled. “You must trust me in this, I suppose. It really is better for both your safety and the progress of the peace talks that you avoid, His Majesty. Perhaps in time we can come to a more stable, and less hostile, resolution, but for now, this is the best I can do.”

I nodded again, still feeling rather unhappy at the possibility of being labeled as a threat to the very Emperor I was attempting to help, but such is often the way of the world. Still, a barb of curiosity still stung at me. “May I at least ask why, Prince Louis? I can respect your limitations, but perhaps it would help me to understand why you consider me so abhorrent.”

For a long moment, Louis simply watched me, as if trying to determine whether my question was genuine. Then he shook his head sadly and sighed. “My apologies, Herr Baron, but I cannot say more than I already have. Again, you will have to trust in my judgment and respect my words. Will you do so?”

I was tempted to say no, given that I had done nothing to deserve such suspicions, and that I had accomplished much that should have guaranteed trust in my behavior. It was a hard thing to be seen as a potential assassin, and one that would not even be given the benefit of the doubt in a decisive moment.

All the same, I might have expected such treatment, given that I was friends with a woman who’d nearly killed the Emperor. Combine that with the rough treatment I had just given the man, I supposed he would need to have some sort of revenge, be it justified or not. I nodded shortly, once again cursing my lack of decorum and wisdom. “I will agree to those terms, so long as Ms. Bingham is not included. She is no threat to him, any more than I am, and does not deserve to be threatened in such a manner.”

“Ms. Bingham will be excluded from the orders, then; that is perfectly fine.” Louis studied me for a moment longer, and then, as if on impulse, extended his hand. “A fine bout, Herr Baron. Thank you for showing me what I needed to see.”

Still mystified by this strange treatment, and more than a little resentful, I hesitated for a moment before clasping his hand. I resisted the urge to crush it in my grasp, knowing that polite behavior was more likely to win the day here than petty reactions. “You are welcome, Prince Louis. I hope one day you will be able to tell me more.”

“I do too, Herr Baron.” He sighed, and almost glanced back at the curtains, though he avoided it at the last second. “I do too.”