Difference between revisions of "Daybreak:Volume 2 Chapter 3"
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− | ===Chapter 3 - |
+ | ===Chapter 3 - The Oriflamme Princess=== |
+ | Kaede hated teleportation more every time she did it. The feeling of undergoing simultaneous freezing and sublimation, all while being flushed down a whirlpool, simply wasn't something she could acclimate herself to. She confirmed all her body parts while their nerves reconnected. Her thoughts felt immensely grateful that Reynaud took only two jumps on their hundred-kilopace journal to Alis Avern, as Pascal commented that it would have taken him at least four jumps to match the same distance. |
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− | After rejoining the King and the generals at the conference table, Pascal anxiously awaited his opportunity to speak. But one look across the map display changed everything. |
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+ | She was even ready to forgive all the times he had annoyingly called her 'buttercup'. Maybe. |
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− | The long table projected the illusion of three-dimensional terrain map, centered along the length of Weichsel which stretched across the North Sea's southern coast. The scale was zoomed out far enough to show all of Weichsel's immediate neighbors: the Holy Imperium's border provinces loomed in the south, the Lotharin Estuary connected Cross Lake to the sea in the west, while the east was filled by the gray void of the Dead Mountains, leaving a narrow but important coastal trading corridor to the Grand Republic of Samara. |
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+ | ''He's still a pervert.'' Kaede reflected as she kept her distance from Reynaud by staying on Pascal's other side. |
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− | But in addition to landscape, borders, and settlements, the illusory map also displayed every sizable military force within two-hundred kilopaces of Weichsel's borders. Fourteen of the miniature infantry figures carried the Black Dragon banner of Weichsel, either assembled at one of the major rallying points or marching eastward. Ten more held purple standards -- the Holy Imperium's Northern Legions which stood imposingly along the border. To the east was a single army of the Grand Republic, represented by an armored Samaran Battlewagon instead of a soldier; meanwhile troops of Rhin-Lotharingie mobilized for war in the west. |
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+ | Alis Avern was rather unimpressive for a capital. The streets were narrow, the houses were small, and the planning was nonexistent. Even most larger 'avenues' could barely manage two wagons passing side-by-side, and the smaller alleys could fit a handcart at best. Most buildings were wooden with thatched roofs raised two-stories high. The winding roads snaked up and down the hilly terrain with no discernable pattern, while homes were crammed onto sloped hills like stepping stones. |
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− | But the new threat which halted Pascal's prepared words rose in the northwest. |
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+ | It certainly showed that Rhin-Lotharingie was far from a wealthy country. Though if Kaede had to pick one charming quality, it's that the city felt very... organic. The way the streets circled around large trees and giant boulders. It made the place feel less like a city and more like an overgrown town of rural tradition. |
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− | Soldiers carrying the green hydra flag, in the only continental territories still held by the heathens of the north... |
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+ | "Where are you heading?" Pascal asked Reynaud as the three of them walked uphill along a cobblestone street. |
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− | The Greater Jarldom of Skagen was mobilizing for war. |
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+ | "Same place as you -- the palace." Reynaud grinned. "I'm meeting my father there." |
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− | Pascal wondered if the intelligence was accurate, but only for a brief second. The artifact which powered the display was one of Weichsel's greatest assets. Known as the 'Eye of the Dragon', its magical senses reached out from every synchronized border outpost to detect armed forces within range. It even labeled the model troops with numbers, accurate down to half a thousand. |
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+ | "Your father works in Oriflamme Palace?" Pascal raised an eyebrow. |
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− | The young Landgrave was still reformulating his strategic analysis when King Leopold turned to him: |
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+ | "No. He arrived yesterday with King Alistair and Princess Sylviane. Delivered them in person, more like," Reynaud answered with pride. |
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− | "As you can see Pascal, those barbarians just outside your realm are getting uppity." |
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+ | "What? On both hands?" |
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− | "It could be defensive and in response to ours," Pascal commented, more to buy time and information than because he believed in it. |
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+ | "Ha-ha, funny." Reynaud retorted. "Papa is a sky merchant, though these days he acts more as a captain for the King than a trader. The Emperor gave him the title of Chevalier for his services during the War of Imperial Succession. But Father prefers working with King Alistair. They're almost best friends." |
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− | "Unlikely. The Eagles tell me their men are rallying under the call for reconquest -- their opportunity to retake ancient lands they lost to the Imperium centuries ago..." |
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+ | ''Of course they are.'' Kaede thought. She wasn't sure about the others, but that last part was almost certainly a boast. |
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− | The Black Eagles may be known as the Weichsel's royal guards, but their function was not strictly military. In fact, they were chosen more for their capacity to gather information and forge contacts than their martial qualities. Within Weichsel's military structure, they served as the intelligence and counter-espionage branch, coordinating networks of spies for the crown. |
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+ | "Is that the reason why you summoned a baby skywhale familiar? To follow in your father's footsteps?" Pascal asked before he realized that didn't make sense. "But you are a military cadet in the academy." |
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− | "--Besides, this timing doesn't match those of a defensive response," the King gestured towards the green figures on the map. "If they were just wary of our mobilization, they should have started gathering troops last week. But these movements only began this morning. Neithard believes that the loss of our renowned Marshal has emboldened them, especially with our allies already preoccupied in the south. I daresay that he is probably right." |
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+ | "I knew my familiar before I summoned her." Reynaud smirked as though it was finally his turn to tout special privileges. "Priscilla was a baby whale that father's Marianna gave birth to. And speaking of Marianna, she's right there..." |
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− | Pascal's brows furrowed: |
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+ | Through a gap in the buildings, the redhead pointed to the side of the rocky crag that the Oriflamme Palace was built on top of. Sure enough, there was a sperm whale hovering adjacent to one of the outer wall's towers. The beast was even more colossal than its Earth equivalent, and would need a clearing the size of an ice hockey rink to land. It also had tentacle-like appendages extending out from above her jaws like some long mustache, and the huge, block-shaped head glistened with a metallic shine. |
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− | "Is this timing not ''too'' perfect?" |
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+ | However, the most interesting detail was the steel-framed wooden structure strapped beneath the belly. Its size was somewhere between a large bus and a small ferry. Behind it dangled massive cargo nets, although they were mostly empty at the moment, as well as a small platform with two ballistae on each side. The entire design reminded Kaede of a dirigible airship, except with structural supports wrapped around the back of an oversized whale instead. |
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− | "That is also my main concern," the elderly General von Manteuffel pitched in. "Skagen is no monarchy. It is ruled collectively by a handful of petty Jarls. The Abyss will freeze over before they can make their decision in a single day. After everything that has happened in the past few weeks in rapid -- seemingly ''planned'' -- succession, I fear we are merely seeing another step to an unfolding Imperial plot." |
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+ | ''Well, it's not sentient tofu,'' Kaede thought. Her logic still lay bloated with incredulity, but at least it didn't require emergency resuscitation. |
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− | Pascal then turned to meet the King's clear brown gaze: |
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+ | She had read about skywhales after Perceval spoke of Reynaud's familiar. Wild skywhales traveled across the northern skies in tight-knit, highly-protective groups. Adults were too powerful and intelligent to tame, therefore the only skywhales that worked with humans were those summoned as a familiar during early childhood and brought up over the course of two decades. They were easily the strongest beast of burden on Hyperion, but only for the lucky few who had one. |
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− | "I take it your Majesty has already seen my report from the recent assassination attempt on me?" |
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+ | "How do they stay afloat?" Kaede asked, incredulous. |
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− | "Of course," King Leopold's countenance was grim. "Both Wiktor and Neithard have seen it too. Although I hope you understand why I can neither publicly confirm the assassin's identities nor accuse the Imperials. There's no doubt that the two cases are connected, yet we can only say that the Marshal was killed by 'unknown assassins'." |
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+ | She didn't even notice that she had stopped in her tracks and fallen behind. |
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− | Pascal's fists tightened as he heard the response that was entirely too censored by political motivations... |
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+ | "Magic." Pascal replied with a smirk, which attracted an annoyed glance from his familiar. |
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− | It wasn't just. It wasn't even fair. But while nobility respected honor and despised cowardly acts such as assassination, ethics only served politics when it met the interests of state. |
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+ | "Skywhales have three magical traits: levitation flight, steelskin, and flourish." Reynaud was kind enough to explain. "Their size combined with their ability to turn their own skin into armor makes them one of the apex predators of Hyperion." |
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− | He had learned that since an early age. Yet the thirst for vengeance could not be reasoned with. It was an elemental force, an instinct of being human that began to settle in, replacing the grief and sorrow that Kaede helped him suppress. |
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+ | "And flourish?" Kaede puzzled. |
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− | But while retaliatory action was a natural defense mentality meant to ward off future hostility, it often escalated in matters of statecraft. Escalation... was the last thing Weichsel could afford right now. |
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+ | "Those mustache-like tentacles. They can grow them at will to snatch game from the ground and deliver to its mouth." |
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− | In memory of his father, the now orphaned son took a deep breath to keep his darker emotions buried. The Imperium would pay dearly for their sins, but now was not the time. |
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+ | "And what do they eat?" |
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− | "I understand, Your Majesty. At this moment we cannot afford to offend the Pope by implying that he is playing into Emperor Gaudentius' hands, assuming this was not a joint scheme to begin with. Nor can we risk the morale of our own armies by publicly antagonizing the two largest nations of the Western World. With the Pope on his side for the time being, there is no way we can even win propaganda points against the Holy Emperor, especially not on religious grounds." |
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+ | "Fish, mostly. But they also gobble up large land animals, anything from elk to musk ox." Pascal explained this time. "Cattle and reindeer herders treat them like a roaming natural disaster, since it takes an army, and willingness to take massive casualties, to take down a pod of skywhales. For that reason, private skywhales like this one are often commandeered during times of war, to be used as anything from giant battering rams to airborne siege platforms." |
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− | Weichsel's King flashed the briefest grin, a wry yet proud smirk, towards his foremost cavalry general: |
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+ | "So your familiar is going to grow into one of those?" Kaede pointed as she finally caught up with the two young men. |
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− | "I told you he was good." |
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+ | "Well, they don't grow the gondola structure. That has to be built by human hands." Reynaud noted with a grin. "In fact, most gondolas are designed to be detachable, so the skywhales can land them somewhere and then go fishing on their own. The ridiculous amount of food they consume makes their upkeep too expensive otherwise." |
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− | "As the rumors claim, Sire," Neithard von Manteuffel spoke through a dignified mask of neutrality. |
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+ | He then tried to wrap an arm around Kaede after she absentmindedly walked between them. However the Samaran girl slipped from his grasp and spun around to Pascal's other side. |
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− | "Thank you, Your Majesty," Pascal brushed it aside with an inexpressive nod before continuing. "Since the incident, Imperial intentions have been made obvious by the Caliphate's Holy War: they seek to disrupt our willingness and ability to militarily aid Rhin-Lotharingie. If Skagen's actions are indeed an Imperial machination, then they will attack us without any doubt." |
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+ | "Stop that!" She said as she tugged on Pascal's sleeve almost by instinct. |
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− | "But if not, their target could also be Rhin-Lotharingie." |
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+ | "Hands off, Reynaud. Kaede is my familiar. Summon your own girl." Pascal added before the cadet relented. |
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− | It was an almost throwaway comment from General Wiktor von Falkenhausen, but it also outlined the elephant in the room that everyone avoided to mention. With the Emperor of Rhin-Lotharingie excommunicated by papal disapproval during this critical moment, Weichsel was given a legitimate reason -- perhaps even a warning, as some would argue -- to stay out of the war. |
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+ | ''Why does it always take another man to say it before they'll take it seriously?'' Kaede thought. |
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− | ...If the King so desired. |
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+ | "Sheesh, stingy!" The redhead complained in an exaggerated tone. Yet he kept smiling and continued as though nothing had happened. "I'm not ''entirely'' sure how my familiar is connected to my future yet. My goal is to become an Oriflamme Armiger -- since I clearly failed to summon a phoenix myself -- and there's only a hundred-forty-four of those positions, ''at best'', throughout the entirety of Rhin-Lotharingie. Being good at combat helps but it's often not enough. It's why I learned to be a Wayfarer as well. Every Paladin needs one of those, and I have dual expertise in conjuration and alchemy!" |
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− | "What could they possibly gain from that?" Princess Sylviane shook her head as she pointed towards the blue figures in the display. "Rhin-Lotharingie's northern armies were mobilized late and have yet to be dispatched south. Between them and the powerful fortifications guarding the Lotharin Estuary, Skagen could hardly occupy two counties at best. If their aim was Rhin-Lotharingie, it would be better for them to wait a few more weeks before baring their fangs." |
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+ | "Why only a hundred-forty-four?" Kaede asked as her curiosity replaced her earlier distaste. |
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− | It wasn't her best argument, but persuading Weichsel to join a war when they would be attacked anyway was easier than asking the King to support a nation about to be flanked by two fronts. |
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+ | "There are only twelve sacred phoenixes so, at best, you might have twelve Paladins at any time," Reynaud added. "And it's tradition that each Paladin takes no more than twelve armigers as their personal retinue." |
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− | Politically speaking, it was in Weichsel's favor to help their ally resist imperial advances. But at the moment, short-term worries over the military situation weighed far more on everyone's mind than long-term benefits. |
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+ | ''Don't tell me the Lotharins built an entire national myth around the limitation that there are only twelve birds?'' Kaede thought. |
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− | After all, nobody wanted to join a lost cause. |
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+ | She could just imagine how awkward it'd be if one of them had a baby. ''Sorry Sir, we must now change everything to thirteen.'' |
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− | Pascal saw this as his perfect opportunity to speak: |
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+ | "I read that the Oriflamme Paladins are chosen by the twelve phoenixes of Rhin-Lotharingie to serve as the nation's guardians. What else is special about them?" Kaede inquired further. |
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− | "As it stands, are they not the ones foolishly handing us an opportunity, Your Majesty?" |
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+ | The response came back with the excitement of a starry-eyed fanboy zealously worshiping his heroes: |
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− | General von Manteuffel almost smirked -- a slight upward twitch of his lips that was barely noticeable. But everyone else sent back probing stares that demanded explanations. |
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+ | "Only that they're some of the best spellswords across Hyperion, both in prowess and sheer ''style''. When duty calls, they form a union with their phoenix familiars, and look absolutely kickass in their halo of golden blue-white flames." Reynaud even gestured as though he held his dual kukris while he explained. "They glide through the air on burning wings and hurl blue fire that melts through plated steel... any knight of Hyperion who claims that they aren't envious of the Oriflammes in some way is outright lying." |
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− | "Our mobilization is nearly complete," Pascal pointed out on the map. "But Skagen's have only just began, not to mention only half their forces are situated on the continent. If we strike first and hit hard, we could smash apart the bulk of their armies on this side before they could rally them together." |
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+ | Kaede wondered just how much resemblance they bore to Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, or perhaps more appropriately, the Twelve Peers of Charlemagne. The translation magic did match their name up with 'Oriflamme', the golden flame battle standard once carried by the Kings of France until it was lost at Agincourt. |
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− | "In case you forgot, Landgrave -- it's winter right now." |
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+ | "There are currently only ten Paladins though." Reynald continued in his buoyant enthusiasm as he began to list his heroes. "There's the sworn Paladin Trio: Gervais, Laurent, and Edgard. Duke Gaston the 'Pristine Lord' and his mistress, Cosette the 'Tide Breaker'. Sylviane the 'Cerulean Princess' and her father, Emperor Geoffroi the Great. Alistair the 'Hound King' and the crusader, Edith-Estellise the 'Polar Cross'. And last as well as most recent..." |
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− | Cool turquoise met crossed scarlet as Pascal leveled his eyes against General von Falkenhausen's objection. The young Captain always had less qualms than most when it came to standing up against superior officers. The dhampir's seeming youth only further undermined an entire century of seniority. |
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+ | Reynaud then paused as he struggled to conjure the last name. |
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− | "Which is why I do not propose taking on a full campaign," Pascal declared. "We leave the infantry and logistics units behind; travel light with only the aristocratic cavalry corps. Magic will shield our limited numbers against snow and winter attrition. There will be no assaults, only skirmishes and raids. With the enemy still scattered in penny packets, we will have more than sufficient firepower to engage and destroy them as our superior maneuverability allows." |
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+ | "Vivienne. She had yet to fight her first battle so most do not know her." Pascal filled in as he continued in his stride, which forced Kaede to scurry along at his side. "It is not all sword-and-sorcery either. The Paladins also make some of Rhin-Lotharingie's best commanders and mages. In fact, Vivienne is a young concordist: a bard who uses rare fae magic. Furthermore, only Oriflamme Paladins -- their character proven by the phoenixes' choice -- may inherit the throne. Therefore the phoenixes always select at least one individual from the royal line of succession. As you can imagine, Sylviane's appointment is more political than purely martial." |
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− | "Preemptive strikes during a de facto state of war without an official declaration -- where have I heard this before?" |
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+ | ''Wait, did he say 'fae magic'?'' Kaede thought. She was about to ask when Reynaud spoke out first. |
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− | A hint of mild amusement was all it took to make the King's expression break into a hopeful smile as he looked to his generals. |
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+ | "How is it that you always manage to pick the most hopelessly realistic thing to say? Way to ruin my romantic childhood dreams of knights-in-burning-armor." |
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− | "Like father, like son," General von Falkenhausen shrugged before flashing a charming grin: "I'm sure the Princess remembers as well?" |
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+ | "I ''practice''," Pascal replied sarcastically. "Romanticism has no place in my army, or any army..." |
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− | "Fondly," Sylviane's response went deadpan even as she tried not to be too sarcastic. |
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+ | "''Your'' army?" Reynaud cut in. "Think the King of Weichsel might care to hear this?" |
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− | It was almost ironic, as the Princess had met Pascal after being captured during one of those marauding raids. Now her fiancée was proposing something similar once again. |
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+ | "The King is the one who kept comparing me and father when he ''personally'' knighted me. Mark my words: I will become Marshal, be it in Weichsel or in Rhin-Lotharingie. It is just a matter of time..." |
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− | Yet despite the opportunity, Pascal's image remained solemn. Still under the spotlight and without the mood to joke, he swiftly went on to clarify: |
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+ | "Aren't you--" |
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− | "Except this time it will require not just the Knights Phantom, but all three cavalry branches. Investment is higher, and so are the risks. But I believe Weichsel's proud nobility will rise to the challenge and deliver Skagen a swift knockout blow." |
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+ | Pascal then trampled over Reynaud's interjection by the sheer weight of his stern voice: |
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− | His recommendation remained a professional one, but its motivations had already become more personal than he would ever admit. This was his chance to crush the Imperium's ambitions in the north, and there was no way he would settle for anything less. |
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+ | "But as to the point: we already have enough necessary wars, Reynaud. There is no need for unnecessary ones because some foreign idiot believes it is 'noble' for them to launch one." |
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− | "Neithard, what do you think?" King Leopold asked his senior cavalry commander. |
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+ | "I wholeheartedly agree with that," Kaede added with a firm nod. Philosophers might disagree over how 'necessary' any war was. But as a historian, she couldn't be more proud of Pascal's attitude towards his profession. |
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− | "Militarily speaking, this is feasible, although primary objectives must be met before the arrival of their remaining forces from Fimbulmark Isle, which leaves us a time window of no more than three weeks." |
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+ | "Yes yes, I agree too. It isn't as if the last war hasn't impacted my family. But come on, knights-in-''burning''-armor!" |
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− | General von Manteuffel gazed unerringly at the map display as his experienced tactical mind quickly weaved an operational plan. |
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+ | Reynaud gestured wildly as he accentuated his final words. Then, as Pascal gave no response and Kaede almost giggled, he tossed in rather hypothetically: |
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− | "We would have to split the cavalry corps into three echelons, based on how quickly units arrive at the Nordkreuz borders. The cavalry of Nordkreuz, Kostradan, and Altmark, reinforced by the ''Phantom Gale'' whom I sent forth two days ago, could form the first echelon by tomorrow. They would begin with a counter-clockwise sweep of the Skagen coastline from the southeast, and work inwards with the other echelons as they become available. This should presumably allow us to hit enough targets of opportunity to make the operation decisive. But..." |
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+ | "Besides, I thought real generals only felt at home on the battlefield?" |
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− | The elderly knight then turned towards his King as worry accentuated the countless winkles that already permeated his weathered appearance. |
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+ | "'Real generals' also do not enjoy seeing their men get killed," Pascal countered harshly. "There are other ways to simulate a battlefield, whether over a beer casket or under a projector. Kaede even introduced me to a term from her home realm. It is marvelously simplistic really: they call it 'wargaming'." |
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− | "Sire, only the Knights Phantom have the organization and training for something like this. Our regular cavalry units, not to mention the Noble Reiters, are neither built for independent operations nor prepared for deep operations without support. Furthermore, the Writ of Universal Conscript may grant our General Staff the de jure capacity to rearrange feudal forces at will, but we have always kept individual lords' armies in the same battlefield before -- they certainly would not be happy about this." |
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+ | The three of them finally arrived at the citadel's front gates. They marched across the drawbridge and over a rocky ravine before stopping at the gatehouse. Several guardsmen wearing chainmail armor and blue tabards approached them from inside. |
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− | "Not to mention that without any contingencies, three individually launched and independently operating echelons will be hard pressed to support each other in time should anything wrong happen," Chief-of-Staff von Falkenhausen warned. "I'm sure we all hope for the flawless maneuvers the Landgrave envisions, but unforeseen circumstances could bring disaster not only to the battlefield, but also provoke a major political backlash." |
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+ | Stepping forth, Pascal produced a tightly bound scroll from his enchanted pockets before handing it to the officer in charge: |
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− | A flare of annoyance spiked through Pascal from the not-too-subtle reminder of his inexperience. It was especially grating because it was completely true. Compared to either general, Pascal was a complete novice, lacking the decades of battle-hardened experience. |
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+ | "I am Captain Sir Pascal Kay Lennart von Moltewitz, Landgrave of Nordkreuz. These two are my retainers. I am here to see the Emperor at the behest of Crown Princess Sylviane, my fiancée." |
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− | It was why he had been anxious to graduate and lead his own command. |
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+ | Reynaud shot him an evil glare from the side before stepping forward as well. "I'm Reynaud Moreau, son of Sir Claude Moreau, captain of the skywhale parked just outside. My father was the one who brought King Alistair and Princess Sylviane to the palace yesterday. He summoned me to the castle at the behest of the Emperor for... well I don't really know." The redhead finished with a shrug before handing over a scroll of his own. |
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− | But then, Wiktor von Falkenhausen was a renowned logistician, the type of commander who preferred to 'manage' an army instead of 'leading' it. To him, successful wars were carefully orchestrated maneuvers made according to timetables. He was an exhaustive planner for all possible scenarios, which undoubted included an all-out invasion of the Skagen peninsula... except not under the current circumstances. |
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+ | The officer was meticulous. He first scanned both scrolls with magic, and then did the same thing to all three of them. |
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− | A war during the harsh northern winter and its frequent blizzards was full of uncertainties. Pascal had no doubts that going 'by the book' would call for a defensive war until Spring, when Weichsel forces could march against a Skagen army exhausted by the winter campaign. It was far less risky, and infinitely wiser to the older military minds of the room. |
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+ | "She's a familiar?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he finished examining Kaede. |
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− | ...Which was exactly why he couldn't afford to back down now. |
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+ | "Yes. She is ''my'' familiar." Pascal answered with evident pride. |
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− | The young Landgrave took another deep breath and locked onto the King's gaze with nothing held back: |
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+ | "Must be a Weichsen thing," the officer shook his head in disbelief. "Your aura signatures confirm and there are no signs of deceptive illusion or alchemy." He then bowed slightly in courtesy. "Welcome to the Oriflamme Citadel, Your Grace." |
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− | "Your Majesty, our main army is ill-suited to engage Skagen forces in a field battle before the Spring thaw. But the war in the south will not wait for us. Once they stop the Caliphate's initial momentum, Rhin-Lotharingie's mountain defenses will hold through the winter..." |
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+ | "Thank you," Pascal nodded curtly before continuing on into the outermost castle courtyard. Reynaud waited until he received his scroll back before catching up. |
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− | Pascal never questioned IF the Lotharin forces could stop the Caliphate's advance. Such a loss of faith in their allies would imply that the Caliphate had already won, the Imperium's plans would succeed, and his father had died for nothing. |
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+ | "Retainer? What am I, your squire?" Reynaud snubbed back as his voice dripped with sarcasm: "would you like your armor polished with that, ''Your Grace''?" |
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− | He would ''never'' accept that. |
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+ | "After the trip here? You can be my stablehand." |
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− | "--But when Spring arrives and the campaign season starts proper, they ''will'' need our support. I believe the Imperium's actions have made it clear that we should aid Rhin-Lotharingie in this fight. For unless we stand together now, we will surely stand alone in the future." |
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+ | "Do you two always have to be this pleasant around one another?" Kaede sighed. |
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− | "I know the idiom well, Pascal," the King's clear brown eyes were patient, but it was nevertheless a gentle reprimand. "And I agree with your concerns, Wiktor. However," he turned back to von Manteuffel, "Neithard, do you believe that your chances of success are worth these risks?" |
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+ | The two men answered almost at once as even their voices clashed against one another: |
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− | As the General scratched his gray mustache, Pascal realized that in his rush to give his proposal, he had ignored one important factor. |
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+ | "Blame the firestarter lord of sarcastic hill..." |
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− | His father's death had left the seat of the highest military command open. While Wiktor von Falkenhausen, as the Marshal's Chief-of-Staff, was temporarily in charge, Neithard von Manteuffel had just as much prestige and seniority as a general. Ultimately, it was up to the King to formally decide who would be his next Marshal. |
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+ | "Not my fault his ass is still glued to the same old arrogant high horse." |
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− | The coming campaign may prove the deciding factor, and Pascal had unwittingly tossed in his vote for the elder Manteuffel. |
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− | From a military perspective, this was a sound choice. Neithard von Manteuffel was a distinguished cavalry commander. Furthermore, he was a proponent of the high-mobility warfare doctrine the late von Moltewitz had advanced. If Pascal ever wanted the 'Pandemonium Doctrine' he had proposed to find acceptance within the military establishment, he would need someone like-minded in command. |
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+ | ... |
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− | However, Neithard was also the leader of the Manteuffel clan, making him a magnate with political power rivaling those of the Chancellor. If he was made Marshal, even the King would have trouble challenging his personal agenda in the future. |
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− | Since the Manteuffels were an ambitious lot, Pascal couldn't help but feel he had just proposed a pact with the devil. |
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+ | The Oriflamme Palace was certainly more impressive than the city outside it. The hexagonal keep was built from blocks of blue granite, some no doubt quarried from the rocky crag it sat on top of. The walls and floors inside were marbled and partially paved with carpets. The hanging chandeliers and landscape art weren't overly extravagant, but they were sufficient for a palace. |
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− | "If you wish a swift and decisive war against Skagen? Yes, Sire. I believe Captain von Moltewitz's proposal has the greatest potential," the general spoke. "As such, I would argue that this is more a political decision than a strictly military one." |
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+ | As two guards led the trio through the halls, Kaede noticed that every landscape painting that stretched along the walls depicted a scene which included a blue-feathered phoenix. She wasn't sure if the artworks told the founding story of Rhin-Lotharingie or paid homage to each of its Oriflamme Paladins. |
||
− | He did not even need to point out that everything also depended on whether or not the King wished to join Rhin-Lotharingie's war. |
||
+ | ''The nationalism is certainly strong here,'' she thought. ''Though perhaps that's not a surprise, given the price they paid for their independence.'' |
||
− | So much weight attached to a single verdict, all piled atop the King's shoulders. |
||
+ | The palace was also fairly empty. They could walk through an entire hallway without meeting a single new guard or servant. |
||
− | Leopold von Drachenlanzen sighed. But even though his tone soon changed for a more imperious role, his expression still held a faint smile as he firmly nodded to his generals: |
||
+ | "Mind if I follow along and meet the Princess?" Reynaud finally broke the silence that had settled between them since entering the palace. |
||
− | "In that case, please begin moving our forces into position and exacting your plans. I will give you my decision by tonight, but clearly preparations cannot wait that long." |
||
+ | "You may come along as my gratitude for your help. But let me make one thing clear," Pascal replied with a warning. "I will not tolerate any of your disrespect towards my fiancée. She is far more sensitive than I am." |
||
− | "As you wish, Sire." |
||
+ | "Ha! As if you have any sensitivity to speak of..." |
||
− | Realizing the importance of the moment, Princess Sylviane parted her lips to speak. But King Leopold swiftly held up his hand. |
||
+ | Reynaud's retort attracted a harsh glare from Pascal. As a result the redhead quickly appended to his answer: |
||
− | "Please, Your Highness," he stated with uncharacteristic formality. "I understand your position perfectly, but at this point I need some time for myself to decide. I believe you and Pascal have not caught up for some time, so please make yourself at home. I hope to give you good news as soon as I can." |
||
+ | "Don't worry you playboy. I have no desire to put my head on a chopping block. She's royalty, the first Oriflamme ''Princess'' too, even if she isn't quite a match for the others on a battlefield," the redhead spoke with awe as he examined yet another painting. "Besides, I know how to treat a proper lady." |
||
− | After a nod of courtesy, the King turned and began striding towards the doors, only to stop midway. |
||
+ | ''Does that mean I'm not a proper lady?'' Kaede thought, annoyed, before another mental voice rushed in to counter: ''What am I thinking? Of course I'm not a lady!'' |
||
− | "Actually..." |
||
+ | The gender issue was still giving her a serious case of identity confusion. Was it more important to be respected in her current form, or was it preferable to not stress such proper male-female courtesy? Kaede had no answer for this, so she pushed it aside to focus on the bigger picture. |
||
− | The entire room froze as he effortlessly summoned everyone's attention once more. |
||
+ | She also realized that for all of Reynaud's contempt towards proper aristocratic decorum, he seemed surprisingly willing to follow them as long as it brought him into the graces of a beautiful noblewoman. |
||
− | "Pascal, I need to borrow you for one more minute. Follow me." |
||
+ | As the trio and their guards rounded another corner, they saw another group of three coming down the hallway towards them. The newcomers were led by a young lady, followed by two protective bodyguards, one male and one female, both wearing armor. |
||
− | His words did not leave any room for debate, and Pascal gave Kaede and Reynald a quick glance to stay put before following the King out. |
||
+ | The two guardsmen were quick to stiffen their postures, while both Pascal and Reynaud stopped talking and tried to look their best. A glance at Pascal revealed to Kaede that his focus was locked onto the approaching lady's figure, while his eyes shone with a hint of anxiety amidst a sea of fondness and admiration. |
||
+ | "''I do not believe a girl more beautiful than her could exist...''" |
||
− | ... |
||
+ | |||
+ | Those were Pascal's exact words when Kaede first asked about his fiancée. Given that he once courted Ariadne, who epitomized grace and noble elegance, Kaede had always imagined that the Princess would be a gorgeous beauty no less stunning. |
||
+ | |||
+ | However as the approaching lady drew close, Kaede's first thought was that not everything lived up to expectations. |
||
+ | |||
+ | To put it simply: Crown Princess Sylviane seemed almost... average. |
||
+ | |||
+ | That wasn't entirely fair. Sylviane was still pretty by any standard. She was about the same age as Pascal and stood with confidence at a moderate height. Her voluminous, dark-purple hair draped across both of her narrow shoulders. It stopped short of her petite chest in front and reached just beyond her slender waist in the back. Her eyes were large and caring, as they carried the color of wisteria flowers. Below them lay a feminine nose, a pair of small, peachy-pale lips, and fair cheeks that were a hint pudgy. Combined with the blank, composed expression she wore, it gave her an innocent air that went oddly with the royal bearing. |
||
+ | |||
+ | In essence, she was pretty and cute in a rather ordinary way. Sylviane appeared more like the daughter of a backwater baron than the Princess of an Emperor monickered 'the Great'. She certainly lacked the graceful elegance and calming serenity that Ariadne radiated with each step and every smile. |
||
+ | |||
+ | ''Maybe that's rather unfair,'' Kaede thought to herself. Few nobles anywhere could match such competition. |
||
+ | |||
+ | Crowned by a modest silvery-cerulean tiara, the Princess wore what could best be described as a 'battledress' dyed from sky-blue to violet. Soft leather in darker iris padded her shoulders and embraced her waist, which marked the fitting spots for absent armor. Meanwhile a wide skirt below the belts extended outwards in sectioned fabrics. |
||
+ | "Pascal," the Princess spoke with a soft smile as the two betrothed stopped within an arm's reach. |
||
+ | Pascal gave a deep and courteous bow before straightening his back. He gently raised her offered hand and clasped it between his palms. "It is wonderful to see you again, Sylv." |
||
− | Pascal soon found himself in a much smaller sitting room, probably used for one-on-one negotiations. But King Leopold made no motions to sit down as he gestured for a Black Eagle officer to close the door behind them. |
||
+ | Time seemed to stand still as the two betrothed's gazes met in the emotional exchange of a long-overdue greeting. |
||
− | "You know, Karl was never very good at lying, which was part of why I trusted him..." |
||
+ | Meanwhile, the guards who accompanied Pascal's group here saluted and departed. Their departure left Kaede feeling like she was intruding on a private meeting. Only Reynaud's presence, as well as the two armigers flanking the Princess, kept her standing still instead of quietly backing away. The Princess' guards, one male and one female, also examined her and Reynaud with a wary gaze. |
||
− | Clear brown eyes then bore down upon the young lord's gaze with royal intent. |
||
+ | "I'm sorry about what happened." |
||
− | "Pascal, you and Sylviane were betrothed since childhood, and for much of your upbringing you were expected to become the Prince-Consort of Rhin-Lotharingie. So I want to ask, without your Princess or any other lord present: where would you stand if I break this alliance?" |
||
+ | Sylviane's soft words carried a surging torrent of sympathy, so much that Kaede barely caught the touch of remorse hidden deep within. |
||
− | Pascal's eyes swelled with disbelief. He felt his mouth open before he could even help it... |
||
+ | "Thank you." |
||
− | ''He cannot be that stupid!'' |
||
+ | Pascal breathed out a sigh of gratitude, not just sincere but also... humble, without even a trace of his habitual arrogance. Then, Kaede swore that she missed something hidden in their exchange as Pascal probed with a hopeful uncertainty that was most unlike him: |
||
− | But before thoughts of lèse-majesté could transform into words of objection, Pascal suddenly paused in the midst of his gaping expression. There was something off about the King's looks. Rather than one of grim finality or bracing for a negative reaction, Leopold merely awaited a response with patience. |
||
+ | "Does this mean we are back to before?" |
||
− | ''Wait... maybe this is just a test,'' Pascal told himself to calm back down. |
||
+ | The Princess slowly shook her head. |
||
− | His father had warned him repeatedly. Concealing information was one thing, but the family had no talent for lying, especially not against experienced statesmen. |
||
+ | "I doubt that's possible at this point..." |
||
− | It was why they were to become professional soldiers, not power-mongering schemers in internal politics. Pascal might never meet his father's wishes to remain humble, but he could at least be devoted and truthful. |
||
+ | She sent Kaede a quick, almost inquisitive glance. It lasted no more than a mere second, but nevertheless produced a key that clicked with perfect timing in the young Samaran's mind: |
||
− | "Your Majesty, I will not deny that such a decision will be ''extremely'' disappointing to me, and seem quite unwise in the grand scheme..." |
||
+ | ''They had a falling out... because Pascal summoned me...'' |
||
− | Pascal then saluted his liege lord. |
||
+ | "However," Sylviane continued with a forgiving smile, "it was my wrong to simply pull away. We have to work this out... together." |
||
− | "--But I am also the son of Karl August von Moltewitz, the heir to Nordkreuz before the fiancée of the Princess Sylviane. As my father before me, my current duty serves the interests of Weichsel first and foremost." |
||
+ | The young landgrave was about to say something else, when the Princess stopped him with a raised finger: |
||
− | With a certain nod, the King's faint smile returned. |
||
+ | "Not right now. You know the rules: official business first. The Emperor's council is in session. I only ducked out so I could come greet you." |
||
− | Then he asked again: |
||
+ | It was their last word on the subject for the time being. Pascal soon nodded in understanding as he proceeded to follow Sylviane. Yet, to Kaede, this short exchange had reaffirmed her suspicion into a firm, doubtless realization: |
||
− | "Now, for sure. What about after you marry? After you have children? Would Weichsel still be your home country then?" |
||
+ | Pascal truly held Sylviane as a special, irreplaceable figure in his life. His words that the Princess was the most beautiful girl in his life weren't praises or boasts, but a true expression of how his eyes viewed her every step. |
||
− | Pascal's mouth opened to reply, only to freeze midway. |
||
+ | ''But does the Princess feel likewise?'' |
||
− | He had wanted to assure his liege with the truth, yet part of him knew that there was no way he could guarantee his intended words. |
||
+ | In any other circumstance, Kaede would say yes. But Sylviane wasn't just anyone: she was a politician, and her nation was desperately in need of aid from Pascal's home country. |
||
− | After a dozen seconds, all he managed to say was: |
||
+ | However, before the princess took a step, she turned back around and faced Reynaud. |
||
− | "That is unfair, Your Majesty, to seek my promise right now..." |
||
+ | "You must be Reynaud, the son of Captain Moreau." |
||
− | If Leopold had been disappointed, it didn't show. Instead, the King's smile broadened with mild amusement. |
||
+ | "Yes, Your Highness." Reynaud gave a deep and respectful bow of his own. He then kissed the back of the Princess' offered hand with such grace that it astonished Kaede. His demeanor had flipped to the mirror opposite of his usual unruliness. "I am honored Your Highness knows me by name." |
||
− | "I suppose it is." |
||
+ | "Pascal wrote of you in the report he forwarded to me and my father," said Sylviane. "You have my sincere gratitude for helping save the life of my betrothed." |
||
− | As his monarch turned to glance out the window, Pascal steeled himself to speak once more: |
||
+ | "I would do no less for a comrade and personal friend, Your Highness." |
||
− | "All I can say is, no matter where and when, I will do my best for Weichsel." |
||
+ | ''Okay now you're just outright lying,'' Kaede thought to herself as she tried to keep a straight face at Reynaud's proud grin. |
||
− | The only response was a slow nod. |
||
+ | "It's alright, you don't have to force yourself to speak nicely of him..." Sylviane's smile widened as she almost chuckled. "I have known Pascal since childhood. I know perfectly well that he can be a complete pain at times, especially to those he doesn't understand." |
||
− | Then, a minute later, the King's nostalgic voice rebounded off the walls: |
||
+ | It was Reynaud who failed to cover up his astonishment this time as his own presumptions lay shattered. |
||
− | "You know, for years, I wanted to your father to become a friend. Not just vassal and liege, general and ruler, but someone whom I could trust on a personal basis, and who trusted me..." |
||
+ | "I will not ask for you to be nice to him." The Princess went on in her gentle voice. "But if you could continue to offer him your acquaintance and aid him against our shared foes, then I shall be personally grateful." |
||
− | Leopold sighed as he turned back around. |
||
+ | ''...Though a few bruises when he deserves them are perfectly fine,'' Kaede added in the safety of her own mind. |
||
− | "He never did open up to me. A professional to the end." |
||
+ | Anxieties notwithstanding, Kaede couldn't help appreciate her growing impression of the Princess. Royal politician or not, there was a candid sincerity in the way Sylviane expressed herself. If nothing else, she seemed a reasonable person who could think through others' perspectives: which was far more than Kaede could say for Pascal, or most nobles in general. |
||
− | "My father always believed that some boundaries should not be crossed, Your Majesty." |
||
+ | The fact their opinions of him drew parallels certainly supported Kaede's opinion. |
||
− | "Do you?" the King's brows went up. "Of course, I know from your record that while you technically still respect most authority, you never cared a great deal for their rules. Isn't that right, ''Runelord''?" |
||
+ | "I shall do what I can, Your Highness." Reynaud smoothly laid his right palm flat across the chest and gave another respectful bow. |
||
− | For the first time, Pascal felt abashed at his own nickname from the academy. |
||
+ | "Thank you," Sylviane replied with a courteous nod before turning to one of her armigers, a boyishly pretty young man with a handsome face. "Sir Robert, please escort Sir Reynaud to meet his father." |
||
− | "I believe in ''duty''," he declared. "But I also believe how we meet our duty is our own choice as human beings." |
||
+ | "Yes, Your Highness." |
||
− | His monarch almost snorted. |
||
+ | "Sir...?" Reynaud looked stunned. |
||
− | "Kids..." |
||
+ | "My father will be awarding you the title of Chevalier later today," Sylviane smiled. "In the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I have a council to return to." |
||
− | Pascal would have retorted on instinct, but the King left him no opportunity to speak before moving straight on: |
||
+ | The Princess then turned away and led Pascal down the hall from whence she came. |
||
− | "--But then, perhaps it's good you're not your father. I do hope I can succeed with you where I failed with the Marshal, Pascal. If nothing else, such bonds of trust lasts far longer than duty." |
||
+ | Kaede couldn't help but scowl as she felt ignored. Princess Sylviane never even acknowledged her presence except through a cursory glance, even though she had helped Pascal as much as Reynaud did during the incident at the academy, if not more. Her stomach tied itself in knots as this was not a good sign of future relations with the Princess. |
||
− | It took only a second before Pascal's eyes snapped wide. |
||
+ | ''It's not fair.'' She couldn't help but complain to herself. ''I never chose this body.'' |
||
− | "I would be honored, Your Majesty," he bowed deeply with all the courtesy he could muster. "And thank you." |
||
+ | Nevertheless, she scurried after Pascal with her soft steps. Being found alone in a royal palace was the last thing she wanted to do. |
||
− | The final verdict was by no means absolute. But Leopold Karl-Wilhelm von Drachenlanzen was a decisive King, and he still wished to pursue a long-term relationship with the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie. |
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Latest revision as of 21:34, 27 February 2022
Chapter 3 - The Oriflamme Princess[edit]
Kaede hated teleportation more every time she did it. The feeling of undergoing simultaneous freezing and sublimation, all while being flushed down a whirlpool, simply wasn't something she could acclimate herself to. She confirmed all her body parts while their nerves reconnected. Her thoughts felt immensely grateful that Reynaud took only two jumps on their hundred-kilopace journal to Alis Avern, as Pascal commented that it would have taken him at least four jumps to match the same distance.
She was even ready to forgive all the times he had annoyingly called her 'buttercup'. Maybe.
He's still a pervert. Kaede reflected as she kept her distance from Reynaud by staying on Pascal's other side.
Alis Avern was rather unimpressive for a capital. The streets were narrow, the houses were small, and the planning was nonexistent. Even most larger 'avenues' could barely manage two wagons passing side-by-side, and the smaller alleys could fit a handcart at best. Most buildings were wooden with thatched roofs raised two-stories high. The winding roads snaked up and down the hilly terrain with no discernable pattern, while homes were crammed onto sloped hills like stepping stones.
It certainly showed that Rhin-Lotharingie was far from a wealthy country. Though if Kaede had to pick one charming quality, it's that the city felt very... organic. The way the streets circled around large trees and giant boulders. It made the place feel less like a city and more like an overgrown town of rural tradition.
"Where are you heading?" Pascal asked Reynaud as the three of them walked uphill along a cobblestone street.
"Same place as you -- the palace." Reynaud grinned. "I'm meeting my father there."
"Your father works in Oriflamme Palace?" Pascal raised an eyebrow.
"No. He arrived yesterday with King Alistair and Princess Sylviane. Delivered them in person, more like," Reynaud answered with pride.
"What? On both hands?"
"Ha-ha, funny." Reynaud retorted. "Papa is a sky merchant, though these days he acts more as a captain for the King than a trader. The Emperor gave him the title of Chevalier for his services during the War of Imperial Succession. But Father prefers working with King Alistair. They're almost best friends."
Of course they are. Kaede thought. She wasn't sure about the others, but that last part was almost certainly a boast.
"Is that the reason why you summoned a baby skywhale familiar? To follow in your father's footsteps?" Pascal asked before he realized that didn't make sense. "But you are a military cadet in the academy."
"I knew my familiar before I summoned her." Reynaud smirked as though it was finally his turn to tout special privileges. "Priscilla was a baby whale that father's Marianna gave birth to. And speaking of Marianna, she's right there..."
Through a gap in the buildings, the redhead pointed to the side of the rocky crag that the Oriflamme Palace was built on top of. Sure enough, there was a sperm whale hovering adjacent to one of the outer wall's towers. The beast was even more colossal than its Earth equivalent, and would need a clearing the size of an ice hockey rink to land. It also had tentacle-like appendages extending out from above her jaws like some long mustache, and the huge, block-shaped head glistened with a metallic shine.
However, the most interesting detail was the steel-framed wooden structure strapped beneath the belly. Its size was somewhere between a large bus and a small ferry. Behind it dangled massive cargo nets, although they were mostly empty at the moment, as well as a small platform with two ballistae on each side. The entire design reminded Kaede of a dirigible airship, except with structural supports wrapped around the back of an oversized whale instead.
Well, it's not sentient tofu, Kaede thought. Her logic still lay bloated with incredulity, but at least it didn't require emergency resuscitation.
She had read about skywhales after Perceval spoke of Reynaud's familiar. Wild skywhales traveled across the northern skies in tight-knit, highly-protective groups. Adults were too powerful and intelligent to tame, therefore the only skywhales that worked with humans were those summoned as a familiar during early childhood and brought up over the course of two decades. They were easily the strongest beast of burden on Hyperion, but only for the lucky few who had one.
"How do they stay afloat?" Kaede asked, incredulous.
She didn't even notice that she had stopped in her tracks and fallen behind.
"Magic." Pascal replied with a smirk, which attracted an annoyed glance from his familiar.
"Skywhales have three magical traits: levitation flight, steelskin, and flourish." Reynaud was kind enough to explain. "Their size combined with their ability to turn their own skin into armor makes them one of the apex predators of Hyperion."
"And flourish?" Kaede puzzled.
"Those mustache-like tentacles. They can grow them at will to snatch game from the ground and deliver to its mouth."
"And what do they eat?"
"Fish, mostly. But they also gobble up large land animals, anything from elk to musk ox." Pascal explained this time. "Cattle and reindeer herders treat them like a roaming natural disaster, since it takes an army, and willingness to take massive casualties, to take down a pod of skywhales. For that reason, private skywhales like this one are often commandeered during times of war, to be used as anything from giant battering rams to airborne siege platforms."
"So your familiar is going to grow into one of those?" Kaede pointed as she finally caught up with the two young men.
"Well, they don't grow the gondola structure. That has to be built by human hands." Reynaud noted with a grin. "In fact, most gondolas are designed to be detachable, so the skywhales can land them somewhere and then go fishing on their own. The ridiculous amount of food they consume makes their upkeep too expensive otherwise."
He then tried to wrap an arm around Kaede after she absentmindedly walked between them. However the Samaran girl slipped from his grasp and spun around to Pascal's other side.
"Stop that!" She said as she tugged on Pascal's sleeve almost by instinct.
"Hands off, Reynaud. Kaede is my familiar. Summon your own girl." Pascal added before the cadet relented.
Why does it always take another man to say it before they'll take it seriously? Kaede thought.
"Sheesh, stingy!" The redhead complained in an exaggerated tone. Yet he kept smiling and continued as though nothing had happened. "I'm not entirely sure how my familiar is connected to my future yet. My goal is to become an Oriflamme Armiger -- since I clearly failed to summon a phoenix myself -- and there's only a hundred-forty-four of those positions, at best, throughout the entirety of Rhin-Lotharingie. Being good at combat helps but it's often not enough. It's why I learned to be a Wayfarer as well. Every Paladin needs one of those, and I have dual expertise in conjuration and alchemy!"
"Why only a hundred-forty-four?" Kaede asked as her curiosity replaced her earlier distaste.
"There are only twelve sacred phoenixes so, at best, you might have twelve Paladins at any time," Reynaud added. "And it's tradition that each Paladin takes no more than twelve armigers as their personal retinue."
Don't tell me the Lotharins built an entire national myth around the limitation that there are only twelve birds? Kaede thought.
She could just imagine how awkward it'd be if one of them had a baby. Sorry Sir, we must now change everything to thirteen.
"I read that the Oriflamme Paladins are chosen by the twelve phoenixes of Rhin-Lotharingie to serve as the nation's guardians. What else is special about them?" Kaede inquired further.
The response came back with the excitement of a starry-eyed fanboy zealously worshiping his heroes:
"Only that they're some of the best spellswords across Hyperion, both in prowess and sheer style. When duty calls, they form a union with their phoenix familiars, and look absolutely kickass in their halo of golden blue-white flames." Reynaud even gestured as though he held his dual kukris while he explained. "They glide through the air on burning wings and hurl blue fire that melts through plated steel... any knight of Hyperion who claims that they aren't envious of the Oriflammes in some way is outright lying."
Kaede wondered just how much resemblance they bore to Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, or perhaps more appropriately, the Twelve Peers of Charlemagne. The translation magic did match their name up with 'Oriflamme', the golden flame battle standard once carried by the Kings of France until it was lost at Agincourt.
"There are currently only ten Paladins though." Reynald continued in his buoyant enthusiasm as he began to list his heroes. "There's the sworn Paladin Trio: Gervais, Laurent, and Edgard. Duke Gaston the 'Pristine Lord' and his mistress, Cosette the 'Tide Breaker'. Sylviane the 'Cerulean Princess' and her father, Emperor Geoffroi the Great. Alistair the 'Hound King' and the crusader, Edith-Estellise the 'Polar Cross'. And last as well as most recent..."
Reynaud then paused as he struggled to conjure the last name.
"Vivienne. She had yet to fight her first battle so most do not know her." Pascal filled in as he continued in his stride, which forced Kaede to scurry along at his side. "It is not all sword-and-sorcery either. The Paladins also make some of Rhin-Lotharingie's best commanders and mages. In fact, Vivienne is a young concordist: a bard who uses rare fae magic. Furthermore, only Oriflamme Paladins -- their character proven by the phoenixes' choice -- may inherit the throne. Therefore the phoenixes always select at least one individual from the royal line of succession. As you can imagine, Sylviane's appointment is more political than purely martial."
Wait, did he say 'fae magic'? Kaede thought. She was about to ask when Reynaud spoke out first.
"How is it that you always manage to pick the most hopelessly realistic thing to say? Way to ruin my romantic childhood dreams of knights-in-burning-armor."
"I practice," Pascal replied sarcastically. "Romanticism has no place in my army, or any army..."
"Your army?" Reynaud cut in. "Think the King of Weichsel might care to hear this?"
"The King is the one who kept comparing me and father when he personally knighted me. Mark my words: I will become Marshal, be it in Weichsel or in Rhin-Lotharingie. It is just a matter of time..."
"Aren't you--"
Pascal then trampled over Reynaud's interjection by the sheer weight of his stern voice:
"But as to the point: we already have enough necessary wars, Reynaud. There is no need for unnecessary ones because some foreign idiot believes it is 'noble' for them to launch one."
"I wholeheartedly agree with that," Kaede added with a firm nod. Philosophers might disagree over how 'necessary' any war was. But as a historian, she couldn't be more proud of Pascal's attitude towards his profession.
"Yes yes, I agree too. It isn't as if the last war hasn't impacted my family. But come on, knights-in-burning-armor!"
Reynaud gestured wildly as he accentuated his final words. Then, as Pascal gave no response and Kaede almost giggled, he tossed in rather hypothetically:
"Besides, I thought real generals only felt at home on the battlefield?"
"'Real generals' also do not enjoy seeing their men get killed," Pascal countered harshly. "There are other ways to simulate a battlefield, whether over a beer casket or under a projector. Kaede even introduced me to a term from her home realm. It is marvelously simplistic really: they call it 'wargaming'."
The three of them finally arrived at the citadel's front gates. They marched across the drawbridge and over a rocky ravine before stopping at the gatehouse. Several guardsmen wearing chainmail armor and blue tabards approached them from inside.
Stepping forth, Pascal produced a tightly bound scroll from his enchanted pockets before handing it to the officer in charge:
"I am Captain Sir Pascal Kay Lennart von Moltewitz, Landgrave of Nordkreuz. These two are my retainers. I am here to see the Emperor at the behest of Crown Princess Sylviane, my fiancée."
Reynaud shot him an evil glare from the side before stepping forward as well. "I'm Reynaud Moreau, son of Sir Claude Moreau, captain of the skywhale parked just outside. My father was the one who brought King Alistair and Princess Sylviane to the palace yesterday. He summoned me to the castle at the behest of the Emperor for... well I don't really know." The redhead finished with a shrug before handing over a scroll of his own.
The officer was meticulous. He first scanned both scrolls with magic, and then did the same thing to all three of them.
"She's a familiar?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he finished examining Kaede.
"Yes. She is my familiar." Pascal answered with evident pride.
"Must be a Weichsen thing," the officer shook his head in disbelief. "Your aura signatures confirm and there are no signs of deceptive illusion or alchemy." He then bowed slightly in courtesy. "Welcome to the Oriflamme Citadel, Your Grace."
"Thank you," Pascal nodded curtly before continuing on into the outermost castle courtyard. Reynaud waited until he received his scroll back before catching up.
"Retainer? What am I, your squire?" Reynaud snubbed back as his voice dripped with sarcasm: "would you like your armor polished with that, Your Grace?"
"After the trip here? You can be my stablehand."
"Do you two always have to be this pleasant around one another?" Kaede sighed.
The two men answered almost at once as even their voices clashed against one another:
"Blame the firestarter lord of sarcastic hill..."
"Not my fault his ass is still glued to the same old arrogant high horse."
...
The Oriflamme Palace was certainly more impressive than the city outside it. The hexagonal keep was built from blocks of blue granite, some no doubt quarried from the rocky crag it sat on top of. The walls and floors inside were marbled and partially paved with carpets. The hanging chandeliers and landscape art weren't overly extravagant, but they were sufficient for a palace.
As two guards led the trio through the halls, Kaede noticed that every landscape painting that stretched along the walls depicted a scene which included a blue-feathered phoenix. She wasn't sure if the artworks told the founding story of Rhin-Lotharingie or paid homage to each of its Oriflamme Paladins.
The nationalism is certainly strong here, she thought. Though perhaps that's not a surprise, given the price they paid for their independence.
The palace was also fairly empty. They could walk through an entire hallway without meeting a single new guard or servant.
"Mind if I follow along and meet the Princess?" Reynaud finally broke the silence that had settled between them since entering the palace.
"You may come along as my gratitude for your help. But let me make one thing clear," Pascal replied with a warning. "I will not tolerate any of your disrespect towards my fiancée. She is far more sensitive than I am."
"Ha! As if you have any sensitivity to speak of..."
Reynaud's retort attracted a harsh glare from Pascal. As a result the redhead quickly appended to his answer:
"Don't worry you playboy. I have no desire to put my head on a chopping block. She's royalty, the first Oriflamme Princess too, even if she isn't quite a match for the others on a battlefield," the redhead spoke with awe as he examined yet another painting. "Besides, I know how to treat a proper lady."
Does that mean I'm not a proper lady? Kaede thought, annoyed, before another mental voice rushed in to counter: What am I thinking? Of course I'm not a lady!
The gender issue was still giving her a serious case of identity confusion. Was it more important to be respected in her current form, or was it preferable to not stress such proper male-female courtesy? Kaede had no answer for this, so she pushed it aside to focus on the bigger picture.
She also realized that for all of Reynaud's contempt towards proper aristocratic decorum, he seemed surprisingly willing to follow them as long as it brought him into the graces of a beautiful noblewoman.
As the trio and their guards rounded another corner, they saw another group of three coming down the hallway towards them. The newcomers were led by a young lady, followed by two protective bodyguards, one male and one female, both wearing armor.
The two guardsmen were quick to stiffen their postures, while both Pascal and Reynaud stopped talking and tried to look their best. A glance at Pascal revealed to Kaede that his focus was locked onto the approaching lady's figure, while his eyes shone with a hint of anxiety amidst a sea of fondness and admiration.
"I do not believe a girl more beautiful than her could exist..."
Those were Pascal's exact words when Kaede first asked about his fiancée. Given that he once courted Ariadne, who epitomized grace and noble elegance, Kaede had always imagined that the Princess would be a gorgeous beauty no less stunning.
However as the approaching lady drew close, Kaede's first thought was that not everything lived up to expectations.
To put it simply: Crown Princess Sylviane seemed almost... average.
That wasn't entirely fair. Sylviane was still pretty by any standard. She was about the same age as Pascal and stood with confidence at a moderate height. Her voluminous, dark-purple hair draped across both of her narrow shoulders. It stopped short of her petite chest in front and reached just beyond her slender waist in the back. Her eyes were large and caring, as they carried the color of wisteria flowers. Below them lay a feminine nose, a pair of small, peachy-pale lips, and fair cheeks that were a hint pudgy. Combined with the blank, composed expression she wore, it gave her an innocent air that went oddly with the royal bearing.
In essence, she was pretty and cute in a rather ordinary way. Sylviane appeared more like the daughter of a backwater baron than the Princess of an Emperor monickered 'the Great'. She certainly lacked the graceful elegance and calming serenity that Ariadne radiated with each step and every smile.
Maybe that's rather unfair, Kaede thought to herself. Few nobles anywhere could match such competition.
Crowned by a modest silvery-cerulean tiara, the Princess wore what could best be described as a 'battledress' dyed from sky-blue to violet. Soft leather in darker iris padded her shoulders and embraced her waist, which marked the fitting spots for absent armor. Meanwhile a wide skirt below the belts extended outwards in sectioned fabrics.
"Pascal," the Princess spoke with a soft smile as the two betrothed stopped within an arm's reach.
Pascal gave a deep and courteous bow before straightening his back. He gently raised her offered hand and clasped it between his palms. "It is wonderful to see you again, Sylv."
Time seemed to stand still as the two betrothed's gazes met in the emotional exchange of a long-overdue greeting.
Meanwhile, the guards who accompanied Pascal's group here saluted and departed. Their departure left Kaede feeling like she was intruding on a private meeting. Only Reynaud's presence, as well as the two armigers flanking the Princess, kept her standing still instead of quietly backing away. The Princess' guards, one male and one female, also examined her and Reynaud with a wary gaze.
"I'm sorry about what happened."
Sylviane's soft words carried a surging torrent of sympathy, so much that Kaede barely caught the touch of remorse hidden deep within.
"Thank you."
Pascal breathed out a sigh of gratitude, not just sincere but also... humble, without even a trace of his habitual arrogance. Then, Kaede swore that she missed something hidden in their exchange as Pascal probed with a hopeful uncertainty that was most unlike him:
"Does this mean we are back to before?"
The Princess slowly shook her head.
"I doubt that's possible at this point..."
She sent Kaede a quick, almost inquisitive glance. It lasted no more than a mere second, but nevertheless produced a key that clicked with perfect timing in the young Samaran's mind:
They had a falling out... because Pascal summoned me...
"However," Sylviane continued with a forgiving smile, "it was my wrong to simply pull away. We have to work this out... together."
The young landgrave was about to say something else, when the Princess stopped him with a raised finger:
"Not right now. You know the rules: official business first. The Emperor's council is in session. I only ducked out so I could come greet you."
It was their last word on the subject for the time being. Pascal soon nodded in understanding as he proceeded to follow Sylviane. Yet, to Kaede, this short exchange had reaffirmed her suspicion into a firm, doubtless realization:
Pascal truly held Sylviane as a special, irreplaceable figure in his life. His words that the Princess was the most beautiful girl in his life weren't praises or boasts, but a true expression of how his eyes viewed her every step.
But does the Princess feel likewise?
In any other circumstance, Kaede would say yes. But Sylviane wasn't just anyone: she was a politician, and her nation was desperately in need of aid from Pascal's home country.
However, before the princess took a step, she turned back around and faced Reynaud.
"You must be Reynaud, the son of Captain Moreau."
"Yes, Your Highness." Reynaud gave a deep and respectful bow of his own. He then kissed the back of the Princess' offered hand with such grace that it astonished Kaede. His demeanor had flipped to the mirror opposite of his usual unruliness. "I am honored Your Highness knows me by name."
"Pascal wrote of you in the report he forwarded to me and my father," said Sylviane. "You have my sincere gratitude for helping save the life of my betrothed."
"I would do no less for a comrade and personal friend, Your Highness."
Okay now you're just outright lying, Kaede thought to herself as she tried to keep a straight face at Reynaud's proud grin.
"It's alright, you don't have to force yourself to speak nicely of him..." Sylviane's smile widened as she almost chuckled. "I have known Pascal since childhood. I know perfectly well that he can be a complete pain at times, especially to those he doesn't understand."
It was Reynaud who failed to cover up his astonishment this time as his own presumptions lay shattered.
"I will not ask for you to be nice to him." The Princess went on in her gentle voice. "But if you could continue to offer him your acquaintance and aid him against our shared foes, then I shall be personally grateful."
...Though a few bruises when he deserves them are perfectly fine, Kaede added in the safety of her own mind.
Anxieties notwithstanding, Kaede couldn't help appreciate her growing impression of the Princess. Royal politician or not, there was a candid sincerity in the way Sylviane expressed herself. If nothing else, she seemed a reasonable person who could think through others' perspectives: which was far more than Kaede could say for Pascal, or most nobles in general.
The fact their opinions of him drew parallels certainly supported Kaede's opinion.
"I shall do what I can, Your Highness." Reynaud smoothly laid his right palm flat across the chest and gave another respectful bow.
"Thank you," Sylviane replied with a courteous nod before turning to one of her armigers, a boyishly pretty young man with a handsome face. "Sir Robert, please escort Sir Reynaud to meet his father."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Sir...?" Reynaud looked stunned.
"My father will be awarding you the title of Chevalier later today," Sylviane smiled. "In the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I have a council to return to."
The Princess then turned away and led Pascal down the hall from whence she came.
Kaede couldn't help but scowl as she felt ignored. Princess Sylviane never even acknowledged her presence except through a cursory glance, even though she had helped Pascal as much as Reynaud did during the incident at the academy, if not more. Her stomach tied itself in knots as this was not a good sign of future relations with the Princess.
It's not fair. She couldn't help but complain to herself. I never chose this body.
Nevertheless, she scurried after Pascal with her soft steps. Being found alone in a royal palace was the last thing she wanted to do.
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