Hohenfels – Chapter 51 (Patreon)

“Four months.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Arne leaned back on the bench, letting this new reality wash over him. Lisa was radiating such a complex blend of emotions that he didn’t even know where to start parsing it, so he simply gave up.

“I… This is great,” he finally said, done sorting his own thoughts. “You’re so young. There is a good chance you will manage two or three more.”

“That’s what Mother said, too,” Lisa sighed. “You two are much more alike than you think.”

“Right,” Arne scoffed, then smiled. “I will be an uncle in half a year.”

“You will. And I will be a mother. It’s… a little frightening to think about,” she admitted. Arne felt his eyebrows raise – not once in his life had he heard his sister talk like that.

“Frightening?”

“You’ll understand once you’re married. Or you won’t. Erwin doesn’t get it either,” she chuckled, before her tone turned severe. “There are implications, though.”

Arne’s improving mood dissolved into worry. “Quite a few,” he agreed. “Most importantly, what will the Church do?”

“Revoke my title, probably,” she groaned. “This is exactly what they have been waiting for. Undeniable proof that I am ‘just a woman’, not suited for the battlefield. I am absent for the upcoming campaign, I might be again in the future.” Bitterness.

“Damn it,” he cursed. “That’s horrible timing, then.”

“It really is.” Anger. Regret. Pain.

“On the other hand, it secures Hohenfels for another generation. And Father’s bid for dukedom might still succeed, even without a Paladin’s endorsement.”

“Oh, it will,” Lisa confirmed. “The West has little choice in the matter, and they’re beginning to understand that.”

“That seems a little optimistic compared to my experiences here.”

Lisa snorted in a very unladylike manner. “Just wait a few weeks while the other students receive letters from home. I have it on good authority that there will be… changes.”

“I will be looking forward to those changes, then,” Arne sighed, not fully convinced. He took a deep breath, then broached another topic. “What about the inevitable expedition to Francia? Who will lead it? I assumed you would, but…”

“I know as much as you do, Arne. The news broke after I left Hohenfels Castle.”

“Either Father or Uncle Bernhard, then.”

“Probably Uncle Bernhard. Father will be busy with the Eastern border.”

“Oh?”

“Rumor has it that the Great Khan is on his deathbed.”

Arne froze. “The Khan has dozens of sons and hundreds of grandsons.”

“He has. They will be busy among themselves for a while, I suspect – but not forever.”

That meant either a great boon or horrible trials for Hohenfels. Most likely both, in time.

“We can only send a small contingent to the West, then.”

“We will send an elite contingent to the West, I suspect,” Lisa corrected. “Battle-proven detached cavalry. Invaluable in a conflict that will inevitably turn to chaos.”

“Fast-moving forces capable of intervening where it matters most,” Arne realized. “And taking glory wherever they ride, not bound to inert levied armies.”

“I wish I could be there.” Longing.

Arne did not share the sentiment. Sharing a battlefield with silkling armies would, inevitably, lead to compromise and resulting trouble. No, he longed for the steppes, where Hohenfels doctrine reigned supreme.

“...How likely is it that Father calls me back to the East?”

Lisa laughed out loud. “Don’t bother hoping, little brother. He and Mother are quite pleased with your work here.”

= = = = =

Arne listlessly stabbed at his food. Even Raban did not seem particularly enthusiastic, though that might be owed to the prodigious amount of pork the little dog had consumed over the course of the afternoon. Friedrich had elected to dine at the mess hall. Lumbardian cuisine, again. So, for once, the Hohenfels prince found himself alone with his thoughts – and he had a lot to think about.

Lisa losing her title might very well spell doom for his dreams of advisordom. His plans and assumptions rested on the fact that opposing a Paladin’s ascension to heir apparent was folly, regardless of gender. Unfortunately, the same did not hold true for a former Paladin, especially not one who had her title stripped on account of becoming a mother.

There was still hope, though. If her child was male, Arne would be able to preemptively renounce his claim. Father was still reasonably young; he could remain in office for another thirty or forty years at the very least, at which point his grandson would be considered old enough to take over.

Arne would just have to bide his time and keep a low profile.

= = = = =

“Raban. Raven.” Professor Nowak mused, crouching almost to eye level with the puppy. “An interesting name. Auspicious or portentous? Only time will tell.”

He rose up, an amused twinkle in his eye. “If he begins to talk, consult me posthaste.”

Arne barely resisted rolling his eyes. “I certainly will, Professor. I shall also inform you should he sprout feathers and take off into the skies. Now, let’s get back to the point, please.”

“Yes, yes, Prince Arnold. Weather divination, was it?”

“Indeed. The Vandalic ritual held true, but I would be interested in… a larger scope.”

Nowak nodded in resigned understanding. “Practical military application.”

“...Quite so.”

“I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. Divination is a vague art even when applied to very specific circumstances. Predicting the weather over the course of an entire campaign and a duchy’s worth of land is just not possible.”

Arne had feared as much, but there were more options. “Then, how about reducing the scope instead, for a more detailed picture? A week’s worth of divination for a small region. Rainy days, sunny days, cloudy days.”

“Again, divination is a vague art. You need actionable reports, but you will get a rough impression at best. The wisdom of your average local farmer might be better suited to your needs.”

“That is a shame,” Arne grumbled. “And what about influencing the weather to suit my needs? I distinctly remember sunlight and wind changing during the ritual.”

“Given that you called upon Sunna and Donar, that is to be expected,” Nowak explained. “I have read of great rituals to end harsh winter storms and torrential rains, but there are two major issues. The first one is that you are simply not a peer of the great shamans of eld.”

Arne winced, but he supposed that was only reasonable.

“The second and arguably more important one is that a ritual of that size is anything but subtle.”

‘Ah.’ That would, indeed, pose a problem.

= = = = =

“Oh, it seems we have an unexpected visitor, dear Elenor,” Prince Matthias drawled. Annoyance. Frustration.

“Prince Arnold. I am delighted to see you well,” Young Lady Elenor von Greifenhain-Karstein offered, though her aura closely resembled that of her fiancé.

“Likewise,” Arne replied, plastering on a visibly false smile. “I sure hope I am not interrupting anything.”

“Nothing at all,” Matthias said pleasantly. Venom. “Come, take a seat, Cousin.”

Falkenstein Hall had a very nice garden, well-kept and orderly. Arne could appreciate that, but he found himself preferring the winding hedgerows of Schwarzwald Hall. He sat down at the pavilion table and immediately helped himself to one of the pastries laid out for the pair’s afternoon tea.

“Delicious, truly,” he commented. “Though not quite as delicious as the rumors I have heard about myself.”

“Rumors?” Elenor asked innocently.

“For some reason, my ‘engagement’ to Princess Klara has resurfaced, and I cannot help but find myself curious as to its origin. I assume you feel the same, given the… extent of your involvement in dispersing it before.”

A spike of amusement from Elenor. A spike of annoyance from Matthias.

“What a peculiar timing,” she mused. “Just when your faux courtship with a Tannburg princess is becoming the talk of the academy, and poor Lady Katharina finds herself in a truly unfortunate position.”

“Quite so,” Arne hummed. “It almost seems like some third – or, I suppose, fifth – party is attempting to stir up hostilities between Eisengrund and Schwarzwald.”

“I cannot imagine an organized attempt behind this. Who would dare–”

Arne let his fake smile drop. “Enough of these games. What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same, Cousin,” Matthias growled, while Elenor retreated into an exaggerated pout. “As much as I loathe to admit it, colluding with Schwarzwald was a good idea. Now I hear that Princess Charlotte has invited Princess Klara for tea. That sort of thing bears your shoddy handwriting, Arnold.”

“How could that possibly be a problem, Matthias?” Arne responded in kind. “If Klara disappears from the stage entirely, it weakens the East. You know that.”

“Yes, but Eisengrund needs a careful touch. Something Princess Charlotte understands, and you do not. You have potentially given House Tannburg direct influence over the affairs of House Eisenberg, by clumsily forcing a matter that could have just as easily been handled–”

“–by you?” Arne interrupted, growing increasingly heated. “It appears to me like Falkenstein’s bid for the Imperial Crown has gotten to your head. I am not subordinate to your ambitions.”

“And yet, I am central to yours,” Matthias hissed.

“I can’t deny that. But it goes both ways, which you must be just as painfully aware of as I am.”

“Indeed, which is why I keep putting up with your unreasonable behaviour. To a degree.”

“I imagine you felt the same while managing Klara during the fight against Elisabeth,” Arne said maliciously. “Say, how did that work out for you?”

“What is your point? That you are just as mad as the Mad Princess? Is that really what you want to say?”

“My point is that you–” Arne caught himself before he said something decidedly impolite, “–saddle yourself with responsibilities that are not yours to handle.”

“That is quite rich, coming from you. Particularly in this regard. Who gave you the right to meddle with Eisengrund-Schwarzwald relations?”

“I don’t need the right. Or do you, perchance, claim sovereignty over me?”

Matthias’ mouth opened, then slowly closed again. His next words were carefully measured. “Are you fishing for a duel? If you are, be aware that I am not Ludwig.”

The genuine spike of panic from Elenor snapped Arne out of his spiral of anger. He took a deep breath, and across the table, Matthias did the same.

“This is not the time to feud amongst ourselves,” the Falkenstein prince said reluctantly.

“It is not,” Arne sighed. “In the grand scheme of things, we are each other’s closest allies.”

“Which is why you ought to consult me before unilaterally meddling with ducal relations.”

“And why you ought to consult me before dragging me into duels against Western heirs, and, for the love of all that is holy, stop spreading rumors of my rakishness.”

Elenor giggled, some of her good cheer returning. “You must admit, Prince Arnold – there has rarely been a worthier subject.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

Dramatis Personae

Arnold “Arne” von Hohenfels:Son of the Margrave of Hohenfels.Experiencing emotional whiplash. Lashing out in return.

Elisabeth “Lisa” von Hohenfels:Lady Paladin. Daughter of the Margrave of Hohenfels.‘Emotional whiplash’ is putting it lightly.

Professor Jerzy Nowak:Expert on ancient rituals and All Things Forgotten.Likes dogs.

Matthias von Falkenstein:Son and heir of the Count of Karstberg, a subregion of the Falkenstein territory.Miffed.

Elenor von Greifenhain-Karstein:Daughter of the Count of Karstein, a subregion of the Greifenau territory.Overestimates herself. Underestimates consequences.

Charlotte von Tannburg (mentioned):Daughter of the Duke of Schwarzwald.

Klara von Eisenberg (mentioned):Daughter of the Duke of Eisengrund.

Katharina von Silberthal (mentioned):Daughter of the Imperial Count of Silberthal.

Ludwig von Sonnenstein (mentioned):Son and heir of the Duke of Sonnenfeld.