Chapter 50

Lisa did not fight again. All following matches were held by knights, while she gave advice. Arne didn’t hear anything he hadn’t known before – more aggression, less thinking – but it still ended up the most productive combat lesson he had gotten at the academy so far.

“–she actually shattered the spear,” Friedrich giggled like a little girl, once again retelling the Klara fight while radiating malicious joy. “I just wish she had gone through with the punch.”

“I don’t,” Arne replied wearily. “Imagine the same Eisenberg getting her head caved in by two separate Hohenfels.”

Friedrich snorted. “I don’t see the pro–”

“I know,” Arne interrupted. “And that is the problem.”

His cousin’s mouth snapped shut, and he did not speak for the rest of the way back to Hohenfels Hall. His aura was a mess of conflicting emotions that Arne struggled to parse, a rarity for Friedrich. He did not mind the silence though, it gave him time to think.

And time he desperately needed, because he just could not seem to figure out what happened in that fight. The blunted practice spear would have never hurt Lisa, no matter how much power Klara would have put in. She was a Paladin. That title was not easily given out, and it came with many benefits. Most pertinent, countless blessings layered on top of her natural resilience. Nothing short of artillery could seriously injure her.

And the idea that Elisabeth von Hohenfels was simply prone to panic was ridiculous.

Unfortunately, there was only a single person he could discuss this issue with, and that was the Hohenfels princess in question. Alas, Arne was not particularly willing to do that after their last conversation.

He did have a theory, of course. It was just so outlandish, unlikely, and ruinous to his plans that he refused to dwell on it.

= = = = =

The challenge of training bonded animals was not making them listen to commands. They excelled at that, their intuitive communication with their master providing the necessary understanding. Instead, they tended to listen too well.

Light irritation might become ‘attack’, a glance at a distant person might become ‘chase’, a desire to be somewhere else might send the animal running ahead before its master had made up his own mind.

Raban would need to learn restraint rather than obedience, and the young puppy was still far away from that. Training would be a time-consuming loop of intentionally ‘unintentional’ commands, a reward for holding back, and a mental rebuke for failing to do so. Armed with a basket of cooked pork from the kitchens and a powerful desire to procrastinate, Arne got to work.

Regardless of their… disagreement, he was genuinely grateful for Lisa’s gift. The dog was simple, pleasurable company, a sharp contrast to the bog of scheming young aristocrats.

Arne’s indolent gaze fell on a strange, off-white object in the grass next to the bench and sure enough, Raban ran over to investigate. He sent a sharp feeling of disapproval through their bond, hardening his heart against the dog’s innocent disappointment.

The object turned out to be a piece of chicken bone with a half-inscribed rune on it. Recognizing his own poor handiwork, he discreetly buried it in the dirt. Then he directed his idle curiosity towards a dead branch in the hedges, and the puppy immediately set its eyes on the prize. This time, Raban managed to hold back, and Arne rewarded him with some pork.

“Prince Arnold,” a familiar voice greeted from the garden’s entrance.

“Lady Katharina,” he smiled. “It is good to see you. …Is your nose still not healed?”

“Ah, not quite yet.” Shame. Discomfort.

A touchy subject, then. Better not to dwell on it and ignore the bandages still adorning Katharina’s face.

She made it two steps into the garden before Raban intercepted her, tail wagging.

“Eep?!” she squeaked, then blushed in embarrassment. “That’s… a dog?”

“A gift from my sister. His name is Raban.”

“He is adorable!” Katharina smiled, crouching down to pet the puppy. “I’ve never seen a dog with fur this dark.”

“I’m surprised he lets you pet him,” Arne said with a light frown. “He avoids people. Almost bit the kitchen staff earlier.”

To her credit, Katharina didn’t flinch, though a small measure of alarm passed through her aura beneath the shell she always put up. “I appreciate the warning.”

She sat down on the bench at his invitation, noticeably more distant than the last time they had been here. “Has your… ploy with Princess Charlotte gone well so far?”

Arne sighed. “Thankfully, we only met once more. We played chess. I won, though I suspect it was mostly by luck. She is good at it.”

“I see.” Frustration.

“How are you holding up in Sonnenfeld Hall?”

“Frankly speaking, terrible,” she grumbled. “My new accommodations are difficult to accept. I barely have enough space for my books. Other than that, Prince Ludwig is seething, Lord Leonhardt might as well be a wall based on his willingness to talk, and the vassals are insufferable.”

Raban resisted the urge to chase a sparrow, and Arne rewarded him appropriately.

“Did you hear anything from Klara yet?” he inquired further. “She has made a fool of herself in Elisabeth’s combat lesson today.”

“I heard,” she said, expression neutral, but her aura betraying vindictive pleasure. “I am delighted to hear that she came out of it unscathed.” Disappointment.

Arne couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, I’m sure you are.”

Katharina harrumphed in faux affront that quickly turned into a smile. “Speaking of the Eisenbergs: Lord Heinrich has informed me that Duke Albrecht will send letters patent regarding my new title in short order.”

“Good,” Arne nodded. “They are desperate for connections.”

“And I am happy to provide,” she replied, her smile turning predatory.

“With war looming on the horizon, they are sure to have pressing concerns. Even more so than usual,” Arne mused.

“Might I trouble you to be more specific?”

“Well, as a duchy, they are obligated to respond to the inevitable call to arms,” he explained. “That causes a host of issues for a well-situated region. For Eisengrund, though, it is exacerbated to an untenable degree.”

“Logistics?”

“Logistics,” he confirmed. “That is the most immediate concern. How to get knights and levies to the Western border. Passage will not be an issue given that the matter is of Imperial interest, but the transport itself will pose issues.”

“Food, wagons, horses,” Katharina nodded along.

“Boats,” he added. “Capable of going along the coastline, then up the Ader, then up the Odeck to the port of Wallern. Steamboats. And the Eisenberg steamboats are currently occupied shipping out iron for insultingly low prices.”

“They have to stop their exports to mobilize,” she realized. “Making their troops walk all the way across the Empire would take forever and cost a fortune in supplies, more than the exports would bring in.”

“And every levyman means two hands missing from their mines and smelters.”

“Eisengrund is doomed,” Katharina said, dread in expression and aura.

“Probably not,” Arne shrugged. “The Emperor will want their troops in Francia. He will do what it takes to get them there and keep them fed and equipped. The question becomes what he demands in return.”

“...I will write another letter to my father,” she said reluctantly. “I have not received a reply yet, so I will have to be very careful with my tone.”

“I am still waiting for mine as well,” he sighed. “I’m sure it will contain very specific instructions regarding the Francia situation.”

“I suspect the same,” another familiar voice said from the entrance of the garden, making Arne and Katharina flinch. “I assume you are Young Lady Katharina, yes?”

Raban reacted before either of them could, letting out a low growl. Katharina rose from the bench like it was a hot stove, then curtsied with utmost urgency.

“Lady Paladin Elisabeth. I am honored by–”

“Yes, yes. Glad to meet you. Say, what happened to your face?”

Katharina stumbled over her words in embarrassment and confusion, so Arne stepped in briefly.

“Klara happened.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Lisa said, her aura full of actual compassion. ‘When did she become so soft? …Damn it.’

“I, ahem, it was my own carelessness that got me into the situation, Lady Paladin,” Katharina mumbled. “I asked Princess Klara to spar.”

“To spar? You are a duelist?”

“Nothing as grand, Lady Paladin. I am a novice.”

“There are much better teachers than Princess Klara,” Lisa frowned. “I cannot in good conscience let a young lady suffer such indignities. I expect your attendance at the Hohenfels training grounds tomorrow after vespers.”

“I– ah, thank you?”

“Think nothing of it,” Lisa waved her off. “I am afraid I will have to borrow my brother for a while, though. May I…”

“Please,” Katharina replied hastily, curtsying again. “I shall take my leave. Good afternoon, Prince Arnold, Lady Paladin.” Anxiousness. Confusion. Worry.

With that, she scurried off, only stopping for yet another curtsy at the garden gate.

“...You scared her,” Arne complained.

“Better to get it out of the way.” Amusement.

Lisa took over the free spot on the bench and sighed. “The academy has changed.”

“I couldn’t tell.” At his feet, Raban made a soft grumbling sound.

“Don’t be like that, Arne,” she winced. “I… have been less than charitable in our last conversation. I apologize.”

“...So have I,” he admitted. “I have made light of your achievements. I apologize as well.”

Lisa took a deep breath, aura clenching with discomfort. “There is something I ought to tell you, Arne.”

He sighed, surrendering to the inevitable.

“So, how far along are you?”