Hidden away in an empty bedroom within the castle, Aisha clapped her hands in rhythm, barking out orders to her dance pupils. Lucius had learned the steps long ago, but thought it prudent to remind himself. His partner was lacking.

Lupa misstepped constantly, throwing her feet wide and sturdy. Her instincts revolted at being led through a dance, at having her weight tossed and spun by Lucius’ whims. Every time she resisted the movement, the boy faltered, the dance careened, and the redhead snarled. “Stop acting like a man!”

The wastelander snapped back, “This is a stupid dance. Why would a man want such a flimsy waif of a woman that flutters in his grasp? Such a woman is worthless!”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Do I need to remind you about my own preferences? Come on, this isn’t a mating ritual for us, it’s for politics.”

The redhead rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be so blunt about it? It’s bad enough you asked me to help you impress other women.”

“Other women like Felicia, whom last I checked you thought of as a friend.”

“If it was just Felicia, I wouldn’t mind. Don’t act like you aren’t trying to dance with the princess.”

Lucius spun his back to the women, walking to get a flagon of water. “That will be a matter for her brother. Her older brother, Fredrich. Gabriel sees me as something like competition, but he’s just the spare. It’s Fredrich I’m worried about. He still hasn’t chosen allegiance between Ashe and Feugard. But…”

Lupa huffed, tying her blouse up tight around her breasts, in the way she was accustomed to. “But, if the airhead asked you, you wouldn’t say no, would you?”

“It’d be quite the faux pas,” Lucius said with a smirk as he toasted his water to the ladies. I hadn’t told the boy at this time, but the chances of her asking him to a dance were minimal. He was still, officially, not even the heir of his own family, less than a count. The difference in their stations prevented anything more than friendship.

There were other ladies I expected to reach out to him.

Someone knocked on the door before Aisha could resume the lesson, then the handle rattled. As Lucius was interposing himself between the doorway and the women, a man said, “Hello, announcing myself if you please. Tis I, your one time traveling companion and possibly your guide to the festival. Once more at your service, Matteo Montisferro.”

The man had cleaned up well in the last year, and put on some muscle. The disparity between him and Lucius remained, but the nobleman had no reason for shame in his brazen yet friendly attitude. Aisha recognized him at once, though her small talk barely kept his attention off Lupa. Eventually, he had to clear his throat, “I’m glad I caught you early enough in the day, Lucius. Preparing for the dance, I see. In truth, I was sent here on behalf of my lovely fiancee to extend an invitation to our table tonight.”

With diplomacy thrust at him unexpectedly, Lucius gave up on the dance practice. He gestured to Lupa and she set about getting herself water and taking a place beside Aisha, where her weapon rested on the open window sill. The boy turned his attention on Matteo. He grinned.

“A welcome invitation. I was hesitant to lay my fate at the feet of the usher.”

Matteo bowed. “Pleased to offer you such salvation. But, of course, if the king calls upon you, it would be your duty to attend. You will not be disappointed in dining with us, though. I assure you upon my honor. There is simply one little matter I must confirm.”

Lucius cocked an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Matteo straightened up and cleared his throat. “Two of the table guests would be my older brother and his wife. You may not realize this, but they are wed in the fashion of the central kingdoms. This has given her a certain set of prejudices and concerns, you understand yes?”

“I’ve been all over the world, Montisferro. I’m well aware that we are the unusual ones along the edge of the world.”

“It’s not quite the polyamory that is the problem, Lucius. If you don’t mind me calling you that of course… The concern is certain rumors that I need to hear from your own mouth are false.”

Lucius crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “And what rumors would those be?”

“It wasn’t actually you that plundered East Cross Abbey was it? That is nothing more than the fog of war, a misdirection spread by enemies, yes?”

“Of course not,” Lucius said, shaking his head as Matteo visibly relaxed.

“Wonderful! Wonderful, it’s just that yous ee, there would be quite the tense situation if you had committed such a blasphemy. You understand don’t you? I just had to hear from you what actually happened. I know my brother would have understood. Even the worst interpretation was that you took supplies from the enemy during wartime!”

Lucius scoffed as Aisha and Lupa gathered their effects. He said, “The abbey was already looted dry when I got there.”

~~~

There is a subtle difference to a holy place when it becomes unhallowed. Most don’t notice it. Lucius only noticed it after it was pointed out to him, but that was because he was distracted by the creeping sense of ambush. The bishop was the one to recognize it at once.

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Only a single day’s march from the city, the escort army had elected to stop at the abbey so that a rider could be sent ahead with the news. Events had to be planned, spectacles to be built. The living angel was returning to her seat of power, alive and well with success of a sort to be shared. They were not under a pressed march to secure military fortifications, the journey was as yet diplomatic.

Even though Lucius knew the ultimate fate would be conflict.

“Shouldn’t there be more people?” Aria asked as she walked up beside Lucius. She traveled along with the doctor and Miss Lynnfield, for she had at this point been completely deprived of her own handmaidens. Not that all of them had been corrupted, but those that were still loyal I had sent back to the Solhart family estate. False memories implanted. The isolation had affected her demeanor less than expected.

“I’ve never been here before, but the problem is the women,” Lucius said, eyes crawling over the network of hamlets that supported the abbey. Field upon field of vegetables spread between the hills and far too many were fallow feedstock for old animals. Those signs pointed to poverty, but the condition of the houses was too good. Roofs were all freshly thatched and wood supplies plentiful.

“Excuse me?” Aria asked, thrusting her face before him. “What is this about women?”

Lucius pushed her aside. “There’s too many of them. I’m counting three women to every man. It looks like a very zealous conscription passed through here. Men who would leave their wives behind? Knowing that an army of foreigners is on its way? That’s wrong.”

“So the problem is the men, then!”

He rolled his eyes. “The lack of them, yes. Now, I suggest you behave and get yourself a proper room or you’re going to be sleeping in a tent again. Or would you rather argue with me about semantics?”

“Don’t tempt me to claim sanctuary here,” Aria said.

He swept his arm around the place. “And who would be here to protect you? I’m going to find whoever is in charge,” he said before heading to the main temple. He found Golden bickering with a priest old and hard of hearing who was refusing him entrance to the private cloyster. The former angel couldn’t prove his identity for the obvious reason that he no longer was an angel. In fact, I would have preferred that he stay in the camp. He was running the risk that somebody might recognize the body he had assumed.

“Are you the Gambling Lion?” a lad of less than ten years asked. He was dressed in the simple garb of an acolyte, either an orphan or a son of one of the clergy.

“What gave that away?” Lucius asked.

He had meant the question to be rhetorical, but the lad answered. “Muscular, blond, never bows his head, acts like the world is going to stab him in the back. She also said you like to stare at women’s breasts but there being no women here I don’t know about that.”

Lucius knelt down and grimaced. He grabbed the boy by the collar and crushed the fabric in his fist. “Now just who is this woman who described me like that?”

The boy paled and stammered. “I don’t know, Mister Gambling Lion Lord Sir. Nobody used her name. Just called her a monster.”

He didn’t hurt the boy, but he didn’t release him either. “She was here to meet with the head priest, I take it?”

The lad’s head bobbled. “That’s who I’m supposed to take you to. He just went with the lady bishop.”

“Next time, make up a lie that flatters the person, kid. You’ll go farther in life,” Lucius said as he released the lad.

“Father says lying’s no good, sir.”

“Ask your father if he would have said what you said, but do that on your own time. Take me to the head priest.”

The man in charge of East Cross Abbey was originally a goldsmith. Decades ago, he found employment gilding the holy texts and immaculate copies of various religious works with the abbey and his secular life transformed into a proper vocation. His skill working with gold came from his stigmata. The effect had many incarnations and his was notably limited, given that it could only help restore the former shape of elemental gold, so it was rather unremarkable for me at the time.

Priest Forgeron was in effect a direct report to Jean, her being the local bishop. When Lucius was shown into the old man’s office, he found the living angel at his desk with her head bowed.

“What did I miss?” Lucius asked.

The priest gave a weak smile. “You must be young Solhart.”

“People keep recognizing me,” he said, but his attention was on Jean. She appeared lost in shock. “Enlighten me?”

She opened her hands and shook her head. “I never would have thought he would do something like this?” She lifted her head and met his questioning gaze. “The Abbey has been stripped bare. Provisions. Men. They even took some of the books from the library. I just can’t believe he–Sorry, Rodrick–would do this. It’s an act of open rebellion. Not even a pretense of defensive war. He skipped the channels. He simply marshaled an army and set out with it like he’s some conquering king.”

The boy had an idea what kind of man would be pitted against him. He chose his words delicately. “This Rodrick, I think I recognize the name.”

“He’s the one I left in charge of the city.”

“Is he a priest?”

Forgeron winced. “He’s a paladin. I imagine you know relatively little of the church structure. Surrounded as we are on all sides by different faiths, it came to be critical that we have certain defenses of a military sort. The Truth-Seekers, and the Shields. Inquisitors and Paladins respectively.”

Jean leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “He’s a good man, but perhaps sitting behind the walls was too much for him. He must think that it’s better to ride out and fight off your countrymen at the border than to let them plunder the fields.”

“If you think he’s doing this at behest of the people… surely you can summon him back as soon as you return to the city?”

The bishop nodded. “I hope so. I want to believe he’s a good man. We come for peace between Jeameux and Vassermark. I don’t understand why he would come south to meet us and then flee west though.”

I could have told them exactly what the man was planning, for it was obvious enough to me. However, I had taken myself away from the war to see to other matters of preparation. My pupil had to deduce it for himself. “Priest, I presume you’ll cooperate?”

“With all that I may,” the old man said. I still wonder how he managed such calm deception. Sometimes the old simply care little for their own lives and may play with them as a skilled gambler plays with someone else’s money.

“I need a map and I need answers. If I’m to understand Rodrick’s actions, I’ll need to understand Jeameaux.”

The old man nodded. “That will be in the library. I imagine you’ll be able to help me with another matter. A trifling thing really. Before the lady bishop arrived, one of your subordinates rode on ahead. He’s lodged himself at the door to the library demanding access to it and making himself quite the nuisance…”

Lucius' grin vanished. “Sacerdote…”