Chapter Text

Visitors at the Temple

Lady Florencia’s task was simple on its face. Melchior was required to write reports on each of his retainers’ performance at the Royal Academy. He had to include at least one word of criticism for each person but beyond that there were no other requirements. Haldis sent him to his hidden room and instructed him to keep the reports hidden. Florencia should be the only other person to read them.

Actually completing the task was much more difficult. He had many good things to say and didn't want to be overly critical. He worried that reporting bad things, like Isolde's tendency to intimidate or Pepin's struggles to remember where his things were kept, would result in punitive measures. He was more or less happy with his retinue. After their talks at the Academy he felt like he knew them better as well.

His female retainer's hadn't been allowed to perform nightwatch so he didn't get as much of a chance to talk with them frankly. Theodore was also excluded from the list but as his service was conditional, neither boy felt the need to grow too close. Melchior could rely on Theodore and valued his skills. It would be nice to know someone in Kirnberger so he could visit but if they were too close he would be too saddened by their parting.

He began with Theodore’s report since it felt like the easiest. His one obligatory complaint was that he struggled to fight in small spaces. That seemed like a drawback for a guard knight. The rest he would work on over the following days.

In addition to these personal reviews, Melchior needed to collect all the information he could remember about other duchies. Isolde and Flautzeal took notes after his walks, so they had some records to pull from. They sorted the information by how well it was remembered rather than importance since Melchior still wasn't sure what counted as valuable. Isolde assured him she could organize the information by value but he preferred to get feedback from his parents in case they had other standards.

He received a copy of Veremund's research along with the money from selling the skins. Haldis added it to the knotwork box along with his earnings from Losrenger. There were a couple of additional silvers. Apparently, Isolde managed to sell the extra schtappe designs to other archnoble girls. Once they could form the object as depicted, the drawings were returned. Both girls agreed to pay the more expensive price for exclusivity.

“I’ve marked the corners on the backside so we can keep track of which ones were already promised,” she explained. Melchior hadn't even noticed these marks. On a second inspection, they proved to be tiny black boxes with the word “exclusive” written in Isolde's hand next to them. “I plan to use an open box and the word ‘purchased' to indicate designs sold without exclusive agreements.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were selling them?” Melchior asked with his head in his hand. He wasn't embarrassed by their quality, like some of his brooch designs, but it wasn't his intention to turn a profit.

She looked genuinely confused for a moment. “It was not your intention to sell them. I thought you were offering me first choice.”

Melchior forced Haldis to bring the box back and return Isolde's payment. “It was a gift in appreciation for your fine service. You do not need to pay,” he said with an aggressive smile. He kept the drawing at her insistence. “It will be nice to have a record,” he sighed.

“Who did you sell them too?” Flautzeal asked out of honest curiosity.

“A girl from Jossbrenner and Bertilde.” Melchior paled.

“Doesn't that count as commerce?” Flautzeal gasped. Melchior felt himself beginning to shake. He locked eyes with Kolteruze who’d frozen in the middle of his work.

“A small bit of commerce won't be prosecuted. I was fairly low profile. We exchanged a crest-certificate for scholars work in case anyone did want to make a ruckus,” she looked incredibly satisfied with her flouting of the rules until she noticed Melchior's terrified stare. “My lord?”

Kolteruze snapped out of his trance and brought over a wooden board. “What do I write? Should I invite her to tea or just say I’ll send her designs to review?” Melchior asked his attendant.

“She won't have time for tea nor do you want to face her in person. Just say you will add them to her brooch designs,” Kolteruze replied.

Isolde looked back and forth between them. “Please allow me to assist,” she said.

“You sold one to Bertilde. The Second Wife will be vexed to be left out of a second trend,” Kolteruze explained hurriedly.

Isolde considered his words then made a small gasp of realization. “Oh dear. You're right. How did I not see? You showed Lord Bonifiatus that all your retainers have them too. We should report the sale to Jossbrenner as well,” she said with less panic than the boys. She added a line to their information sheet.

“Shouldn't that go under Lord Melchior’s activities?” Flautzeal asked. He pulled over a different sheet.

“Maybe it goes in both places. That Jossbrenner is willing to spend money on such a thing might count as information while the sale would be an activity carried out by retainers,” she mused. They looked over the formatting guide again and again.

Their progress was fairly slow. While Kolteruze ran the wooden board over to the Eastern Building, Flautzeal recommended asking Kazmiar for advice. He was technically still Melchior’s scholar after all and likely knew a fair bit about information gathering.

“You can come to the temple for the Winter coming of age. He will also appreciate our help with the end of year expense reports,” Melchior said. He sighed with relief knowing he wasn't going to offend Brunhilde again.

“It will be better to learn the process sooner rather than later,” Flautzeal replied. Isolde looked a bit ill at the thought but she kept her peace.

The scholars accompanied their lord to the temple the next morning. The knights had successfully argued that they needed to learn the intricacies of guard work there. Dirk was given permission to return along with the other blues and since everyone else seemed to be going, Pepin joined in. Kolteruze found himself following without really knowing why. He was given orders to watch over the delivery of some uniforms, pass along a letter, and inform the temple attendants that they would be coming to the castle for training.

Melchior's Lion-pandabus was loaded up with his things, the uniforms, and Nikolaus. He took to the sky in a cloud of retainers.

Lothar, Kirk, and Sheila were standing in the cold to welcome them.

“I have returned,” Melchior announced as he leapt from within his highbeast. Kirk struggled to contain tears of relief and joy.

“Welcome home, my lord,” he said quietly. Everyone hurried inside to get out of the cold.

With so many nobles about, Lothar asked whether he should summon Melchior's other attendants. During this exchange, Pepin and Kolteruze had already begun helping the scholars out of their coats. Kirk stood beside at a bit of a loss for what to do.

“I don't believe that will be necessary, Lothar. Tell me how the temple has fared. Father promised not to punish anyone. Did you receive my letter?” Melchior asked. He sat down at his table happily. He’d been afraid that his position as High Bishop would be taken away or that he wouldn't get to stay at the temple and could only return for ceremonies but never remain.

“The temple had a normal winter. A few orphans developed colds but they were not serious. The food and wood stores were not depleted.” Lothar felt very tense but did not allow it to show on his face. Pepin watched his body language shift very slightly. “The Archduke has not handed down any punishments. We did not receive a letter.”

Melchior was surprised. He’d sent his note a long time ago. It hadn't been sent back for corrections either.

“Lord Melchior, I was given a letter for your temple servants,” Kolteruze said and presented the folded paper.

“They are attendants, Kolteruze,” Melchior said while accepting the paper. He flipped it open. It was his letter which had been delayed for no apparent reason. Kolteruze blinked several times. He looked at Lothar who smiled and bowed slightly.

Kirk came over to assist since Lothar couldn't prioritize someone else over his master. “Do you require assistance, Lord Kolteruze?” Kolteruze looked at this boy. His manners were perfect. The small amount of work he’d done since their arrival had been good. He was older than Melchior but younger than himself and obviously a commoner.

Kolteruze stepped to the side with Kirk. “Lord Melchior says you are an attendant?”

“That is correct, Lord Kolteruze,” Kirk replied.

“But you are a commoner,”

“That is correct, Lord Kolteruze.”

Kolteruze lowered his voice. “Then how can you be an attendant?”

Kirk felt a bit unsure. As far as he knew, this was a semantic argument. “Answering your question, my lord. We are called attendants but never referred to as servants. The reasons are beyond me to contemplate. The distinction is outside of my understanding,” he said with a bow.

“Please prepare tea, and ask Sheila to prepare for additional lunch guests. As the notice is short, it need not be three courses,” Melchior ordered. He handed Lothar the letter then turned to Kirk. He was going to order Kirk to inform Kazmiar of their business and request a meeting time to discuss their Royal Academy reports but noticed the tense air between his archattedant and his temple apprentice. “Is something the matter?”

“L…” Kirk began then heard Kolteruze speaking and stopped.

“I was asking him a few questions, my lord,” Kolteruze explained.

“He is looking for clarification about the nature of your temple retainers,” Pepin added. Having watched the exchanges and heard the whispering, Pepin foresaw a drawn out misunderstanding. “We are both wondering what you wish for us to do here at the temple.”

“You came to visit with Nikolaus, did you not?” Melchior asked Pepin. That had been his true excuse next to the official reason of wanting to see his new work environment. “I do not require your assistance here. You may be at your leisure until we go to assist Kazmiar.” What counted as leisure in the temple was a mystery to Pepin and Kolteruze. It was just after breakfast. The plans to assist Kazmiar were for after lunch. “Kirk, please alert Nikolaus's attendants that he is welcoming a guest. Then inform Kazmiar of our arrival.”

“Brother Nikolaus's attendant has already been informed. They will come for Lord Pepin when his chambers are ready to receive guests. We thought you would prefer to have your friend here than to place him in a receiving room. I will go and inform the High Priest,” Kirk said and disappeared through the back door after a nod from Melchior.

The knights were off touring with Sigsnyr and Fonsel, the scholars were sorting papers and enjoying tea. Kolteruze found himself with nothing to do. “I admit. I do not know why I am here,” he muttered.

Melchior looked up from the work. “I can call someone to play with you if you like,” he offered. Kolteruze hadn't meant to complain aloud and clasped his hands together awkwardly. At 14, the idea of having someone summoned to mind and amuse him felt childish. He was an apprentice, if there was no work here, he could find some.

“There is no need, Lord Melchior. I will deliver news of your safe arrival to the castle then return after lunch,” Kolteruze said. His observations so far told him that Lothar would move to assist with his mantle, instead the attendant leaned to whisper to Melchior.

It was just loud enough for Kolteruze to hear in the quiet room. “My lord, he is offering to leave out of courtesy as he's become a surprise guest. If you wish to host him, we must do so properly.” Kolteruze was surprised to hear the heart of the matter expressed so concisely and frankly. It was like watching the interaction with Philine all over again. Here in the temple, Lothar obviously held a position if not equal than equivalent to Haldis and Zargerecht. He swapped the folding position of his hands twice. It was obviously a signal but Kolteruze didn't know it.

Melchior reacted immediately. “I apologize from the depths of my heart, Lord Kolteruze. I have neglected you. There is no need to flee to the castle. Please stay,” he said and rose from the table.

“You never need address me with a title, my lord. Even when I am not on duty. If you insist, I will stay,” Kolteruze replied.

Melchior smiled brightly. “Splendid. Would you like to see the plants?” he offered.

Kolteruze did want to see the plants. He was curious about the signals being passed and the attendants but his host had struck directly at his weakness. There was a sudden feeling of intimidation as he was bundled smoothly back into his mantle by Lothar. Having only just returned from the High Priest’s office, Kirk left again. He reappeared quickly in a wool coat, accompanied by a woman who had Isolde's wrap ready before she could say she also wanted to see the hideous little plants.

“They are not hideous, they are wonderful. Kirk has tended them all winter,” Melchior argued. Kirk leaned in and reported that the High Priest was looking forward to their assistance and would visit the castle in three days to assist the apprentices while putting on Melchior's mantle.

It was all done swiftly and perfectly. Kolteruze found himself amazed at the synchronicity between the temple attendants, their lord, and each other.

Dedryck followed behind while Kirk led in front. They took a meandering route through the hallways. Melchior walked slowly and pointed out interesting architectural features. He was very obviously stalling which surprised Kolteruze again. This was even more apparent when their meandering brought them to a room that was quite close to the High Bishop's chambers. It was a very large room with an opening in the roof providing a clear view of the sky. There was no snow and it felt just a little warmer than outside. At the end of a long row of empty planting boxes was a plant shelf with five potted plants.

Hideous wasn't an incorrect assessment. They were alive but that was all that might recommend them. Melchior and the scholars watched Kolteruze examine the plants. Isolde congratulated Kirk on keeping them alive.

“Your most generous acquisition of advice made all the difference, Lady Isolde,” Kirk replied at Melchior's insistence. Kirk clearly knew it would be wrong for him to respond to her directly. He retreated to the side after a bow.

Kolteruze looked back at the plants. “These are the specimens you wanted my assistance with?” he asked.

“I was hoping to grow my collection and fill my chambers. They are here just for the winter.”

“They should remain here. The light and humidity are better. The fire in your room is bad for them,” Kolteruze replied without much thought. He missed Melchior's crestfallen expression as he walked over to the nearest planter. They’d all run out of mana at some point so were filled with white sand. Someone had raked decorative tracks through them at some point. It was kind of pretty, if bizarre. “Do you plan to use these beds as well?”

Melchior looked at the raised rectangle filled with sand. Kolteruze couldn't be implying he should sleep there. “What are they for?” he asked.

“They are for growing plants. Sometimes they have magic circles to create specialized environments or to obviate the need for watering. I’ve only read about them. The ones in the greenhouse aren't magic tools,” Kolteruze explained. He knelt down, touched the side, and sent forward a bit of mana. It drank as much as he would give it but nothing else happened. He frowned.

“It would be fun to fill them but there are so many and they’re full of sand.” Melchior looked around sadly. It would be a huge project and quite expensive.

“I think the sand becomes usable earth with enough mana,” Kolteruze replied. He stopped supplying it after expending about half his reserves. It must take a great deal. Melchior followed his example. He spent a few moments with a look of serious focus. Now that his attention wasn't on the ground, Kolteruze saw a magic circle glow dully on the northern wall. The smell in the air changed. The smallest hint of living matter tickled Kolteruze’s nose before Melchior withdrew his hand. The circle faded.

“I think its working. It just takes a lot,” he observed. Isolde made to add her mana as well but Kolteruze stopped her. Can you touch the circle instead, I’d like to get a better look at it.” The party followed Kolteruze to the wall. Isolde added her mana and the magic circle began to glow. She didn't have much to give compared to the others but it allowed Kolteruze time to examine it. “I see. We have to empower the entire room all at once. It must have been ages since anyone's used this space so we are beginning from scratch.”

Melchior looked around. It seemed like nothing had changed. He’d added a healthy amount of mana along with however much Kolteruze had donated. Was it worth spending so much on his plant collecting whims? “If it is so expensive, perhaps we should let it be,” he suggested.

Kolteruze could still see the circle in his memory. It was complex, invoking several spring goddesses and a couple from other seasons, and unornamented. No one was attempting to hide it with false designs. That was strange in and of itself. What drew him most was the promise of abundant fertile ground. “The returns might prove worthwhile. If you raise the right varieties of faeplant, you could produce an abundance of rejuvenation and healing potions,” Kolteruze said. He watched the possibilities flash through Melchior's eyes.

“We could supply the Knights Order and create our own stockpile for emergencies,” Melchior suggested happily. Isolde and Flautzeal looked around the room. There was a lot of space to grow things.

“Is this the only room of this kind?” Isolde asked. If there was a smaller one they could start with. That would be better.

“There are six, the one outside the bookroom has no beds but the other five do,” Melchior explained. “This is just the closest one to my room.”

“Would you give me leave to experiment? I’d like to see how mana intensive it is after the initial requirement.”

“Sure Kolteruze. Come whenever you like. Even if I’m not here, Lothar or Kirk can help you,” Melchior promised. He led the group back to his room through a different door. Kolteruze was reminded that they’d intentionally taken a detour at Lothar's recommendation.

Back in Melchior's chambers, Sigsnyr and Zipporah were enjoying tea. Fonsel was keeping watch outside. Kirk opened the doors then assisted everyone with removing their coats. Another attendant had been called. He was taller than Lothar but looked a bit younger. His manners were excellent but he clearly didn't perform direct service to Melchior as often as the others.

“We returned to an empty room. If you were going to tour the temple, you might have gone with us,” Sigsnyr said once Kolteruze was expertly placed into a chair.

“It was just to see some plants,” Kolteruze explained.

“Were they weedy and hideous?” Sigsnyr asked. He looked more interested than any noble should be to see ugly flora. Kolteruze nodded cautiously. “Now I am disappointed. I missed seeing the famous ambassadors,” he grumbled.

Kolteruze decided against asking what that meant. He accepted a fantastic cup of tea and thought about the magic circle.

“If you want more mana, you should tell Sigsnyr about your plans,” Isolde said from the table covered in papers. Melchior was busy directing his attendants.

Zipporah chuckled. “Are you inventing a magic tool after all?”

Kolteruze shook his head. He explained the atria and watched Sigsnyr boil over with enthusiasm. “Show me,” he pleaded.

“There will be plenty of time,” Kolteruze said calmly. Melchior came to sit at the smaller table. It was strange to leave the scholars working while he relaxed but this entire experience had been so strange already that he couldn't bring himself to mind. “This tea is wonderful. I think I recognize it from the list of Lady Rozemyne's favorites.”

“Praise from someone as discerning as yourself is high indeed,” Melchior said. He glanced at Sigsnyr who was still vibrating with curiosity. “Are you alright, Sigsnyr?”

“Kolteruze won't show me the magic tool you all found,” he pouted.

“We would have to bundle up all over again,” Melchior sighed. “Kolteruze wants to do extensive testing later. Perhaps you can join him then and bring tools to assist,” he suggested.

“Will you come as well, Zipporah?” Sigsnyr asked.

“If I am free,” she replied. Sigsnyr almost looked happier at her agreement than the prospect of seeing a new magic tool the size of several rooms.

A bell sounded from the door. Melchior ignored it to carry on talking with Zipporah. Kolteruze watched three grey shrine maidens enter with instruments. Two were child sized. They bowed in greeting then moved to the corner of the room. The woman with the adult sized instrument began to play quietly.

“What are the little ones for?” Zipporah asked. The girls carrying them were too large to still be playing them.

Melchior scowled. “They are for practice. Were you all not visiting or should you suddenly become engaged, I would have to carry on my normal schedule.”

The older children shared a mischievous smile. “Do not allow our sudden intrusion to interrupt your day, Lord Melchior,” Kolteruze said with saccharin sweetness.

“We would not dream of arresting your progress,” Zipporah added.

Melchior felt Trude exude pressure from the otherside of the room. He knew Kirk must have explained that all these nobles were Melchior’s retainers here in a semi-official capacity. They would not have brought the other harspiels otherwise. Since they were technically working, they were not an excuse for their master to skip his lessons.

“How could you?” Melchior whispered, drawing restrained giggles. “Since you are willing to accommodate,” he said loudly and with barely concealed contempt. Trude smoothly concluded her song midway through. A second chair was placed across from her and Flautzeal stopped working on the reports.

Flautzeal’s uncle spoke about this teacher like she was a mystical phantom. Melchior’s play would occasionally leap forward during his visits to the temple, he said. Though they’d never met, he spoke fondly of the conversation they were carrying out through their student.

“Flautzeal,” Isolde repeated. His attention was finally drawn back. “We have work to do.”

“I want to listen. I am his harspiel tutor,” he replied in a bit of a daze. She looked over at the lesson beginning. Trude asked Melchior a few questions then had him play a mid-level song. She was also drawn in to observing.

Just as he finished playing a different bell sounded at the door. It was opened to reveal Gerianne in her blue robes with an attendant. Another chair was placed across from Trude and she was similarly tested.

While the scholars watched intently, Kirk brought the Reversi board over to the small table.

“What is this?” Kolteruze asked. Kirk said nothing while Sigsnyr explained the game.

“There's no killing involved so I think you would like it,” the knight concluded. “Plus, you're quite smart, you might actually beat Melchior.”

Kirk failed to fully stifle a giggle. He received a look from both Lothar and Kolteruze. “Is Sigsnyr's assertion funny?” he snapped.

“My sincere apologies, Lord Sigsnyr, Lord Kolteruze. You are right to chastise me,” he said with a bow.

“Why did you laugh. Isn’t Melchior exceptional at most board games?” Sigsnyr questioned. His tone was considerably lighter than Kolteruze’s. He was aware of how close this commoner was to his lord.

“Answering your question, Lord Sigsnyr. Lord Melchior is above average at Karuta, playing cards, and Reversi. I know of no other games.”

“Just above average?” Zipporah said, matching Sigsnyr's attitude. Kirk just nodded politely.

“Are you better than him?” Sigsnyr asked.

Kolteruze felt the hairs on his back stand up as Kirk nodded. It was impossibly presumptuous of an orphan to call himself superior to an Archduke Candidate. “Kolteruze?” Zipporah asked, drawing Sigsnyr’s attention.

“What’s happened?” Sigsnyr asked. He placed down his tea cup and uncrossed his legs as though preparing to face a threat.

“How dare you?” Kolteruze growled. Kirk took a step back in spite of himself then knelt. “You imagine yourself to be superior to your lord?”

“That isn't what he meant, Kolteruze. He just means at this board game,” Sigsnyr tried to reassure him.

“That he should ever follow that phrase with assent is so far above his place he cannot tip his head back far enough to see it,” Kolteruze hissed. The music stopped. “Do you not know your place?”

“He is aware,” Melchior said from across the room. He stood up and walked over. “What is the meaning of this? Did Kirk do something to offend you?” It was a question but it had the bite of an accusation.

“When asked if he is superior to you, he agreed,” Kolteruze said. “That he would presume such a thing means he does not know his place.”

“I asked if he was superior at Reversi,” Sigsnyr clarified.

Melchior looked at Kirk kneeling and shivering. “You may rise,” he said. Kirk stood but continued to avert his eyes. “Kolteruze, this is Kirk. He has been in my service since I became High Bishop. His skills are without flaw. His loyalty is without question.” Kolteruze felt his hackles be replaced by a cold sweat. This was the face and tone Melchior used against bullies. Its appearance marked a time when Gerianne would remind him not to initiate Crushing. “I apologize on his behalf for any offense given.” Melchior placed a hand over his heart and tipped his head alongside his retainer.

“I am but an archnoble. You do not need to apologize to me,” Kolteruze replied quickly. He looked at his lord standing between himself and the boy he’d attempted to correct. This was why people called him strange. It was also why they called him courageous.

“But we have spoiled your tea. I will have Lothar pour you a new cup,” Melchior said. He sent Kirk to switch with Lothar with a smile. Kolteruze watched Kirk take up his new spot while Lothar changed his teacup. It was a gesture hosts used to signify that a topic or incident was over. Melchior returned to his practice without any further elaboration.

Isolde joined their table. She was grinning. “You should not harass Kirk,” she advised.

“I see that now. But you must agree that he was rude,” Kolteruze replied very quietly.

“Lothar can hear you,” she said with a smirk. “Whatever your feelings, this boy takes care of the plants. You will have to work with him.”

Kolteruze glanced at Lothar. The man did not appear to be listening but as someone who’d mastered a similar oblivious look, he knew that wasn't the case. What was strange was that Isolde, of all people, was telling him to be wary of a commoner’s eventual report.

“Work with a commoner?” Kolteruze asked.

“They are my arms and legs,” Sigsnyr said in an impression of some girl. “Those are the words of Lady Rozemyne. She regards commoners as deeply valuable. Lord Melchior has been greatly influenced by her teachings. If you wish to serve him, you will have to elevate your opinion of commoners,” Sigsnyr advised.

“You can also just pretend,” Isolde said. “It is the same.”

“It is not the same,” Zipporah said. She shook her head. “How could we not understand your sentiments, Kolteruze. Society has its order but how can you have so little regard for farmers?”

Kolteruze flinched. He didn't have a low opinion of farmers. He didn't really interact with the farmers so much as the village heads and laynoble overseers. They all showed appropriate deference to the Count and his family. “I appreciate the work of commoners just fine,” he replied.

“Then it should be easy for you to work and train alongside them,” Isolde said. She moved back to her place at the big table and went back to work. Flautzeal continued to watch the lesson while Kolteruze considered the instructions he was told to pass on. Three of these temple attendants were coming to the castle to train as replacements for himself and the other noble attendants in times of emergency. He knew they could not do his job without mana but for anything that did not require mana, they would be above reproach.

As the music lesson came to an end, Flautzeal was compelled by an unknowable force to walk over. He sank into a chair provided by Kirk and found a harspiel in his hands before he could wake up from his daze.

“Flautzeal, this is Trude. She teaches music here at the temple,” Melchior said once his apprentice scholar’s eyes refocused.

“Oh, um, hello. I am Flautzeal. I’ve taken over Melchior’s artistic instruction,” he said. His face filled with warmth under the shrine maiden's gaze.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Flautzeal. Lord Melchior has progressed much under your instruction,” she said.

“Thank you. He spent less time on harspiel this winter owing to his flute practice. I was just beginning to plan for spring. Can you tell me about his practice here at the temple.”

“Of course, Lord Flautzeal.” She explained the practice schedule left from Rozemyne's instruction along with the relative skill of Melchior and his practice partners using terminology Melchior could barely understand. Flautzeal listened with rapt attention. The blush in his cheeks never fading. “Would you like an evaluation?” Trude asked. She smiled at the excited young man.

Flautzeal nodded happily. He began tuning the instrument in his lap immediately. To everyone’s surprise Trude named a fairly simple song. Flautzeal played with his usual precision and care while she listened carefully.

“You attack the second phrase rather than enter with gusto.” She played the notes in question twice in nearly identical ways as far as Melchior could tell. “The music calls for enthusiasm not aggression.”

Melchior wasn't sure whether Flautzeal was elated or devastated as he played the song through over and over and received cryptic advice. “I must relearn this piece from the beginning. I now understand why Father says my playing lacks maturity,” he said sadly.

“Your play is excellent, Lord Flautzeal. I have been harsh with you today because I can see that you wish to go higher. You need not improve anymore to be called a great musician.”

“But I wish to improve,” he said with shining eyes.

She smiled as a mother might. “I understand completely, Lord Flautzeal.”

Kolteruze had not woken up that morning expecting to see a mednoble kneel before a commoner and pledge himself as her disciple. He was beginning to think that Flautzeal just liked to make these kinds of snap judgments. As he continued to absorb the rules and basic strategies of Reversi from Sigsnyr, he tried to understand what strange power made the temple upend the proper way of things.

“Lunch approaches Lord Melchior. A receiving room has been prepared for your retainers,” Lothar said a little before fourth bell.

Melchior looked confused. “I wish to host them in my chambers,” he said.

Lothar smiled an insistent smile. He swapped a look with Kirk who stood by the servants’ exit seemingly ready to leave at a moment's notice.

“I thought that would be the case, however, a larger space would more easily accommodate so many people,” Lothar said. Melchior tried to understand his reasoning. His chambers were fairly large and his retinue were used to eating together. Heating a separate room just for them was also expensive. His thoughts were cut off by a bell sounding at the door.

Melchior seemed to ignore these bells. They were for his attendants mostly. This time his eyes snapped to the door with disbelief. He grew incredibly pale. Sigsnyr also stopped everything and began to force everyone toward Kirk. “We are going to have our lunch. Please enjoy your meal, Lord Melchior,” he said and grabbed Kolteruze by the shoulders.

“What are you doing,” Kolteruze hissed. Only a knight would move people around so roughly.

“It is the Archduke,” he whispered. The opening of the doors could not be delayed any longer. Melchior looked around his room. The papers and Reversi and instruments were still out. His off duty retainers rushed to follow Kirk and Sigsnyr but he had to kneel and await his surprise guest.

“Why didn't you tell me, Lothar,” he squeaked. There were so many things he would have done differently with his morning.

“We were specifically ordered not to inform you,” he whispered.

Melchior felt dizzy. He clutched his sash and tried not to look terrified. The door opened to reveal a smug looking Sylvester and an impassive Karstedt. Melchior took several deep breaths while he waited for the Archduke to approach. He gave his formal greeting then sat down at the table strewn with papers.

Chapter Text

Lunch with the Aub

Once released from kneeling, Lothar gathered the papers quickly and quietly. He’d attempted to ready his lord early to avoid this. But the archduke liked to arrive before their agreed upon times.

“Welcome, Father. I deeply apologize for the mess. I managed to forget about our appointment,” Melchior said.

“How could you forget something you were never told?” Sylvester needled. “You shouldn't take responsibility for the incompetence of your attendants before other nobles.”

Melchior chafed at this implication. “It is as you say, Father. The blame lies with those who give unfair orders.”

Sylvester took a break from smiling cheekily to look scandalized. He reached over and mused Melchior’s hair. “Unfair is it? You woke me up in the worst way possible. Don't complain when I get revenge.”

Melchior endured the destruction of Pepin's hard work with a forced smile. “So this is my punishment. I apologize from the depths of my heart.”

“Don't want to have lunch with me, eh? Too bad. I’m here to try these fruits you risked life and limb for.” As they spoke, Kirk returned alongside Sheila and the serving cart. Sylvester was served on a set of dishes kept at the temple just for him. Lothar made tea while the meal was prepared.

“Oh no, Father. I am delighted to have this time together,” Melchior replied. He was happy to spend time with Sylvester. If only it didn't conflict with the time he wanted to spend with his friends and came with a bit of notice.

Lunch was served. Sheila had been informed of the Archduke’s visit so she was able to present a carefully prepared menu. The Archduke enjoyed sweet and fatty foods so she always served him meaty and breaded things. Today was no exception.

After pressing the milk and oil from parues, Sheila and the chefs dried the pulp and ground some of it into flour. The unground bits were used to bread slabs of bacon which were sliced then served over a bed of roasted vegetables. The combination of pickled and storage crops wasn't as good as summer produce but Sheila was proud to produce something good enough with what she had.

The Archduke often asked about Melchior’s recipes. Unlike Rozemyne, Melchior left all culinary creation to his chefs. He was usually given an explanation of the foods so he could introduce them but Sylvester's insistence on surprise and early arrival prevented that.

“You don't know what this is?” Sylvester pressed.

“I can make a few guesses based on observation but it is a new dish to me,” Melchior replied. It was plenty tasty; perhaps not good enough to request over new innovations, but he would not be upset to have it a few more times. “Let’s see. There are potatoffals, and poms, those were caned over the summer.” He named what he could see and guessed at the preparation methods based on past explanations. Very occasionally he would terrify the chefs by watching them prepare part of a meal so he had some knowledge about cooking.

“Ok, ok. I get it. You don't know. Have your chef come up and explain,” Sylvester said. He was surprised to see a shrine maiden step forward. She also didn't seem to be reciting a prepared script. “This shrine maiden is your chef?” Sylvester asked.

His expression gave Melchior a shiver. “Yes. She prepares all my meals in the temple and oversees the recipe collection. Her skills are first class and you cannot not have her,” he said.

“You would withhold such talent. I think she would do well in the castle’s kitchen,” Sylvester said with an innocent lilt.

Melchior was not taken in. It was generally beyond him to deny his family anything but Sheila had goals and desires he didn't yet understand. Planning her life for her would be wrong. He could always come back and offer later if she wanted to move to the castle. “You want to take my chef, Father?” he asked. The answer was obvious but he needed a moment to consider how to deny the request.

“She would still be your chef. If she moved to the castle, you could have her cooking there and she could teach the other chefs your favorite recipes,” Sylvester explained. He drank more tea and took a few bites of food.

Everything revealed itself to Melchior in that moment. His father wanted new recipes. Those were expensive but Sheila produced new dishes frequently. She was a shrine maiden which made her very inexpensive.

“I do not think we can afford it,” Melchior said as sadly as he could muster. He placed his hand on his cheek. “We would have to compensate her for each new recipe and she creates so many.”

“You plan to charge me for each new dish!” Sylvester barked. “Did Rozemyne teach you that?” he grumbled. Melchior declined to respond. “Fine. She can stay here. Send me some recipes though. I’ll pay one small gold for real novelties and half that for good variations and not a lion more.”

Melchior smiled at Sheila. She could make quite a lot of money since she was so creative. She returned her normal attendant smile and stepped back to prepare dessert.

The Archduke was here to try parues. A whole one was placed on the table for him to inspect while dessert was plated. The first dessert was a simple parue cake as served to the orphans. He seemed unimpressed with the presentation but happy with the taste. Next were small cakes made using the flour and drizzled with a reduction of the juice. It made a thick syrup as sweet as honey that smelled both nutty and fruity at the same time. Finally, the raw fruit was carefully cut and peeled and served with a strong tea. The bitter brew could not overpower the delicate sweetness but served only to enhance the experience.

“This really is good. I can see why you keep it a secret,” Sylvester said.

Melchior shook his head. It was his responsibility to protect the parues and now was the time for battle. “We keep it a secret from the nobility so that the commoners do not starve over the winter,” he began. This was part of Hartmut’s explanation. “They appear after the Lord of Winter is defeated when commoners are approaching the most dire times. Were we to take them all, our population would suffer,” Melchior continued with clasped hands and a fervent expression.

“It doesn't make sense that only commoners get to have something so nice,” Sylvester argued. “We could just buy them. Then they can spend the money on other provisions.

“Money is no good when there is nothing to buy. We have many luxuries and sparkling company to warm our winters but the commoners have very few,” Melchior said. He worked to remember all the explanations. They'd seemed perfectly reasonable when he was told them but the Archduke didn't seem moved. “The oil is used for lights and the pulp for animal feed. They rely on it to survive the winter.”

“They could find something else and besides we wouldn't take all of them,” Sylvester finished his slices with a sad expression.

“When I went gathering, I was able to collect entire trees worth in the time it took others to collect two fruits. The commoners could not compare to our efficiency. They only grow in the commoner woods. Would you have noble’s descend upon them en masse?”

Sylvester had a squinty expression. These simply weren't problems for nobles. Why Melchior insisted that they were good reasons to pass on such an excellent trend was confusing. He’d chosen to carry forward most of Rozemyne's rules without question but he seemed to actually believe in this one. “This is a good product. It's sweet without sugar and has an approachable flavor. Why wouldn't we use it?”

Having listed the many great reasons to leave the trees to the commoners, Melchior was confused by this question. “People will die if we take them all,” he cried.

“I doubt that.”

Melchior was stunned. He hadn't expected to not even be believed. Was this the true price of his excursion: the deaths of Ehrenfest commoners? “Father, can we afford to chance it?” he looked up with red rimmed eyes.

Sylvester sighed. Mass death would not ensue due to a shortage of fruits. But the boy looked so convinced and so horrified by the implications. “You want me to ignore this opportunity and help you keep this treat all to yourself?”

“Of course I will share my portion with you,” Melchior promised. “Hartmut says we just need to avoid wider popularity.”

“Hartmut, eh,” Sylvester clicked. He wanted to show these off. That they were available only in Ehrenfest was a bonus worth exploiting. That only commoners had known about them for so long was annoying. Still, his son was making a passionate entreaty. His claims seemed fantastic but on the chance they were true, mass death should be avoided. “Can you think of a way to allow us to serve this in the castle without endangering the commoners?” he asked. The only solution he could come up with was sending knights to do the harvest well away from the city beyond where commoners could travel in a day assuming they still grew that far out. It would be hard to regulate once more nobles tried to acquire them though.

He observed Melchior think about the question for quite a long time wondering whether he really could come up with something. “If we could find a way to plant them in an orchard or the Nobles’ Forest. They might already grow there even. They appear overnight then die off in the morning sun. They only appear after the Lord of Winter hunt and can't be stored for very long. It wouldn't be surprising for us to have missed them since no one has time to hunt during Winter Socializing,” Melchior mused. Sylvester listened with interest as he verbally explained his entire thought process. “The seeds can be caught so we could experiment. My knights already know about the fruits and will not tell others, I can send them to look for the trees in our woods. With your permission, I can plant one of the seeds I collected in the castle gardens to see if it will sprout. If it does we can collect more seeds and plant those too. Then we could create our own supply of parues,” Melchior concluded.

Sylvester was as amused by the solutions as the steps taken to arrive at them. Rozemyne and his brother seemed to produce answers out of thin air. No adult noble would explain anything so thoroughly either. His lack of an immediate response worried Melchior.

“Until then, you are welcome to visit the temple whenever you wish to enjoy them,” he added.

Sylvester laughed. That was true all the time with or without Melchior’s invitation. “Very well. You can plant them on the temple grounds as a test. You have until next winter to find me a solution if you don't want me to send gathers out to find them,” he said.

Melchior felt cold all over. There was almost no winter left. He would spend most of it at the Academy next year as well. By the next parue season, it would be too late to save them and the people who depended on them. “I will find a way,” he promised more to the people of Ehrenfest than to his father.

“Very good,” Sylvester said.

Having waited for the conversation to finish, Sheila presented a goblet to the Archduke along with smaller tasting cups for Melchior and Karstedt. Melchior frowned at the spoonful of liquid he was given compared to the full cups of the others. “This is a wine fermented from parues,” Sheila explained. Melchior had to taste it but he couldn't really drink it.

He took his taste, then Karstedt took a larger one. It was slightly sweet but mostly bitter and made him feel warm only inside his mouth and throat. It was a struggle not to cough. Once both of them seemed to be fine and Karstedt showed his delight, Sylvester drank from his chalice. A very bright smile spread over his face. There was a lot of alcohol in this wine but it remained sweet and smooth. The fruit had a milky quality which carried over to the wine while its inherent nuttyness created a rich backnote. It left a warmth like a certain woman's lips in his mouth. “Work very hard, Melchior,” he said.

Sheila had mixed feelings about this success. She’d been fermenting in small batches for a couple of years now and was happy it met noble standards but her lord had just argued passionately to sway his father away from the fruits. Sylvester’s look of satisfaction suggested that he would never forget his drive to obtain parues now. She shared a complicated look with Melchior.

Being just a bit rosy cheeked after a large cup, Sylvester leaned back in his chair. “This was a great meal. Now, summon everyone in the temple,” he ordered.

Melchior paled. He turned to Lothar in an obvious panic. “L… Lothar. Go tell Kazmiar to summon the blue priests and their attendants. Sheila, go to the orphanage, inform Sister Streita, and have her send messengers to collect the staff from the kitchens and other areas. Have everyone meet in the chapel. That is the only place big enough,” he ordered. His attendants didn't move.

“That’s a good plan on such short notice,” Sylvester said with a laugh. “It's already been done though.” He laughed even harder at his son's shock. What a worthwhile prank.

They left the High Bishop's chambers with Melchior’s knights. Sylvester had other knights besides Karstedt waiting outside since this was an official visit not a secret trip he’d slipped away for. Melchior walked with all the poise he could muster. It was unnerving to move through complete empty halls. Their echoing of footsteps filled him with increasing anxiety.

In the chapel, the blue clergy stood in a row in front of the assembled gray clergy in front of the shrine. Along one wall, were the unbaptized orphans and a few minders while on the other were all the commoner staff currently working over the winter. This was mostly chefs. There were a few gardeners and caretakers that came in the spring but most other work was done by gray clergy.

Melchior's retainers stood in front of the blues. He wanted to apologize for wrapping them up in yet another lecture. When he moved to join them, Sylvester pulled him back. Once they stood together facing everyone else, the temple denizens and Melchior’s retinue all knelt.

“It has come to my attention that the highest authority in the temple is the High Bishop,” Sylvester began in a serious voice. He’d put away his playful mein from lunch and now stood imposingly before the assembly. “I have come to remind you of a very simple truth. So long as you stand on Ehrenfest soil, no matter what roof shields you, you answer to Aub Ehrenfest.” He let this hang in the air for a few moments. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Aub Ehrenfest,” they replied almost in unison.

“I will now give you a directive. Should any dangers threaten the temple you are to report them immediately to the High Priest himself. Anyone who attempts to interfere with these reports, will be held accountable for the resulting damage or crimes.

“Any threats to the High Bishop, whether external or self imposed, will be reported. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aub Ehrenfest.”

“I expect the security of the temple to endure, uninterrupted, henceforth,” Sylvester concluded then took his exit amid the chorus of affirmations.

Melchior was left alone behind the lecturn. Kazmiar joined him and began explaining the new rules in greater detail. Melchior’s knights were pointed out. Any dangers should be reported to himself or one of them. Whoever they saw first. Lothar and Sister Streita were also acceptable options in cases of extreme haste or in the absence of a greater authority. “The Aub has ordained that we report any and all activities which deviate from the norm. There will be no acceptable excuse for failing to report. If all else fails, you are to run to the Nobles Gate to give a report.” Once everything was communicated, he took the moment to announce that the seasonal disaster drill would be conducted the following Fruitday. He signaled for Melchior to take his leave then released the assembly.

Once back in his room, Melchior sank into his chair and groaned. “Everyone got lectured again.”

“It is much better than the alternatives,” Lothar replied. He stood beside his lord and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your retainer's will be returning shortly,” he reminded.

Melchior sat up straighter. “I have to apologize to everyone. Had I known I would have sent for them after lunch.”

Lothar shook his head. “ My lord, you cannot apologize for the actions of the Archduke. That would imply his actions were incorrect.”

“I see. You're right, Lothar. It is my fault all of this happened. I won't endanger everyone again,” he promised.

“You need not concern yourself with us, my lord,” Lothar replied correctly. He felt warm knowing his lord wished to protect them but it was his job to remind the boy that his concern was better placed elsewhere.

Melchior felt shattered. Everyone was always rejecting his protection. He was beginning to wonder if they were like Raphaela and just didn't see it as worth the cost. He would need to train more so that he could at least physically protect the people he cared about.

A Legacy of Strict Instruction

Training would have to wait. He assembled his retainers and traveled to the High Priest's office. Frietack and Kampfer were preparing for the ceremonies while Melchior’s attendants had been called away to serve his guests. Combined with Kazmiar’s socializing responsibilities taking him away from the temple, there was a lot of work backing up.

Lothar didn't need to coordinate with Kazmiar’s attendants. They'd prepared piles the day before. The older students were given larger stacks while Melchior and Flautzeal were given one stack between them. Fonsel used his superior status to secure the position as guard.

“This system is very well constructed,” Flautzeal observed while Melchior explained the papers and boards. Pepin stared at his intimidating stack while Nikolaus tried to teach him the ways. Kolteruze and Zipporah simply began after a brief explanation.

Melchior was a bit better at keeping still. Having Flautzeal to confer with helped to relieve some antsiness. It was still oppressively quiet, but being surrounded by his friends made it feel more peaceful.

Only those who'd worked before received piles perfectly calibrated to be one and a half bells worth of work. The others had just been given as much as possible as a test. Lothar stood near their table and checked each task as it was completed.

“This is wrong. Begin again,” he would say or, “This is correct. Continue to the next task.” Pepin grew increasingly distraught as his pile never shrank and he was told to repeat the same page over and over. Nikolaus did his best to encourage him but his own work was only accepted half the time. Still, Lothar understood his capabilities so his pile was completed by the end.

With Melchior’s direct help and his experience assisting with family accounts, Flautzeal fared much better. Their extremely careful calculation made them slow but perfectly suited to working together. Zipporah. meanwhile, proved unassailable. Her attitude never dropped from harsh corrections while she basked in the glory of a task well done. She wasn't accustomed to scholar's work but took Sigsnyr’s warnings to heart and had practiced beforehand.

Isolde and Kolteruze were a terrifying team. Having been forged under Lothar's careful watch, Isolde could complete her work both quickly and accurately. She was about as fast as Kazmiar in short bursts and maintained a consistent pace otherwise. Her explanations were thorough and Kolteruze only needed to be told something once. He seemed to see his pile as a challenge rather than a tool to gauge his skill and worked hard to complete it. He scowled every time his page was returned with a short explanation absent of apology or genuflection but Isolde's comments hadn't fallen on deaf ears. Even Kazmiar showed great respect for this gray priest. Lothar's word in this office was law and if earlier events were anything to go by, Kolteruze would find himself on the wrong side of his lord if he complained.

Isolde ended up helping with Kolteruze’s pile but together they finished it. She wore a proud smile as Lothar praised her growth over the school year and said how amazingly she’d taught her comrade. “Your intelligence cannot be overstated, Lord Kolteruze. It often takes people many weeks to grow adapted to this work,” he added. Kolteruze didn't want to blush or grin but he couldn't help himself.

Pepin received consolation from Gerianne and Dedryck. Only mere mortals could understand his pain. “We will practice together,” Gerianne promised. “The Archduke’s office is not as demanding either,” she said.

Melchior treated his retinue to tea and parue cakes as a thank you for their hard work. The children were a bit cramped around his table while Dedryck and Fonsel took turns at the small table as usual. “My own skill is lacking so I greatly appreciate you all being competent in my place,” Melchior declared. “The High Priest's office offers some compensation. Feel free to help whenever you like,” he added quietly.

Isolde frowned. “We are archnobles, we do not need to do basic accounting for a few spare lions,” she said.

Pepin seemed more amenable. “It will take me some time to learn but having my own funds would be nice.”

“You are paid by the duchy, right?” Melchior asked.

“Our pay goes to our house. Most apprentices only receive a fraction as an allowance,” Gerianne explained. “As a shrine maiden, my allowance is donated to the temple then combined with other funds and sent to my chambers. I have more control than most apprentices.” She shot Isolde and Zipporah a smug look. The girls shared knowing glances.

“You make fealty sound very tempting indeed,” Zipporah mused.

“If you join the temple, you don't have to get married either,” Sigsnyr added. He ignored the horrified looks from his fellow archnobles in favor of taking another bite of his cake.

“You don't want to marry?” Gerianne asked since no one else would.

Zipporah blushed a bit in embarrassment. “I only want to delay a bit. I’d like to retire to have kids in my twenties,” she explained.

“If that's what you want, I won't force you to retire,” Melchior promised. “Get married whenever you want.”

“It isn't that simple. These are the expectations of society,” Isolde said. “We have been asked by the Zent to produce children as fast as we can.” Even as she said it she winced along with the other girls.

“It isn't an order,” Kolteruze noted. “It's safer to wait, I've heard.”

“Your husband might not want to wait,” Gerianne said with venom. “He might just do it anyway.”

Melchior felt scandalized. Lothar looked like he wanted to interject but Gerianne didn't elaborate.

“If he dares, let me know. I’m not planning to marry, so my reputation can survive a violent encounter,” Sigsnyr vowed. It was Kolteruze's turn to look shocked.

“I will help you as well,” Melchior said.

Zipporah giggled at their declarations then looked sad. “Thank you. Let us pray it never comes to that,” she said. She waved Melchior aside when he tried to do just that. “I do not mean to actually pray, my lord. But thank you.”

They talked a bit more about the older apprentices' marriage prospects. Isolde shared the exciting news that Kolteruze was a popular figure among the attendants. “Perhaps you should talk more with that cute girl from Frenbeltag,” she encouraged. He blushed and tried to turn the conversation around on her but she was more than happy to talk about the boys she’d been talking to. The list was quite long.

“You are going to start another civil war,” Zipporah cautioned.

“You could marry Kolteruze,” Nikolaus suggested.

“No she can't,” Sigsnyr and Pepin said in unison. “She doesn't have enough mana,” Sigsnyr elaborate.

“They would not be happy,” Pepin said.

Melchior looked back and forth between the red faced attendant and skeptical scholar. Isolde seemed to be considering the question seriously. “Happiness isn't what's important in noble marriages,” she said after some thought. Kolteruze did not comment.

Eventually, Melchior could not compel them to stay any longer. He, Nikolaus, and Gerianne walked his apprentices to the nobles gate and watched them fly away then returned together to Melchior's chambers. Both Dedryck and Fonsel would be staying the night so they began preparing to retire.

“Parues are quite good,” Gerianne noted. “I didn't get to taste them in the orphanage. I was always returned to my room before they were served.”

“Really! I’m glad you were here today,” Melchior said. “If we wish to enjoy them going forward we must think of a way to supply the Noble's Quarter without emptying the commoner woods,” he said.

Kirk brought over the seeds and box of faestones. “What are these!” Nikolaus cried.

“Parue faestones,” Melchior said. He took out the seeds and examined them. Was it as simple as placing them on the ground?

“They're huge and clear but why?” Nikolaus took one and turned it around and around. It glittered like clear ice in the light from the fire.

“They are very beautiful,” Gerianne said.

Melchior had four. He’d promised one to the orphanage so he could simply give one each to Gerianne and Nikolaus. “I can't accept this,” they said.

“I can't use it since it was made and dyed with your mana,” Nikolaus added. “To keep something like this just for looking at would be wrong.”

“Do I have any more parues?” Melchior asked Kirk.

“I think there are four left. There may be one last gathering this year but it will depend on the weather,” he replied. He looked much less tense now that the others were gone.

“I’m sorry, Kirk,” Melchior said suddenly. “I did not expect anyone to treat you poorly.”

“My lord, it is not uncommon for nobles to take issue with attendants. It was my own fault. You need not dwell on it,” Kirk replied stiffly. Lothar watched them quietly.

“I know you have to say that and that you are an excellent attendant. Kolteruze is very exacting but I doubt even he could truly find a flaw. If he is cruel when you go to the castle, do not hesitate to tell me,” Melchior said. Nikolaus and Gerianne looked nervous. They felt sure he would try to fire an archattendant over their treatment of an orphan if it came to that. Once everyone looked plenty worried, Melchior continued the previous conversation. “You can each have a parue. Then you can make one yourself.”

“But they are delicious,” Gerianne replied. She would have to seriously consider whether such a large faestone was more worthwhile than just eating the fruit. “I will help with securing a more regular source,” she promised. Then she might not need to choose.

“We won’t tell the others about the faestones,” Nikolaus promised. That would make it much harder to keep parues hidden. Melchior thanked them for their commitment and began thinking of solutions with Kirk.

The next morning, the Winter Coming of Age was performed perfectly and with Melchior’s own mana. He was beginning to feel that he might not need the support faestones for much longer. After the ceremony he was dressed in clothes for the castle then waited while Lothar helped Kirk and Sheila into their new uniforms. They seemed to be made to the layattendant standard only lacking the ochre neckerchief.

“I’m sure we have some at the castle,” Melchior assured them.

Lothar shook his head. “That is all that distinguishes us from layattendants. We are not allowed to wear the duchy color in the castle.” Melchior was amazed. Though they were his attendants, they weren’t allowed to wear his family’s color. He wondered if his father might give leave if he asked.

There wasn't much luggage for the return journey so he made his high beast only as large as it needed to be to carry everyone. It was strange giving farewell to someone other than Lothar. His other two attendants were plenty capable to oversee his chambers but he still felt a bit worried. “I leave my home in your care,” he said anyway before boarding his Lion-pandabus.

Haldis and Zargerecht were there to greet them at the castle. Zargerecht eyed the temple attendants but had no specific comments. They walked through the castle with lowered eyes. A few nobles observed the procession and noted the lack of ochre with open curiosity. It was very interesting information that the youngest Archduke candidate had commoner attendants for some reason.

Melchior expected to have time to work on his reports, instead he was sent to the Winter Playroom with Zargerecht and his knights. He felt this was fine. Adaire was there and he had his planned rematch with Wilfred. Kolteruze also seemed to be in a better mood today. He could be forgiven for his outburst so long as it didn’t happen again. Melchior didn’t want to distance his friends if he didn’t have too. Even Isolde had good reasons for her actions and was trying to improve after correction. He wasn’t a fan of cruelty done on his behalf but he could freely discuss the incidents and find solutions. He was more than willing to forgive those he knew to be good at heart.

Adaire was predictably happy to see him. Theodore was also there. His tearful, blessing filled goodbye felt silly now. “Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has heard my prayer and allowed the threads of our fates to be woven together once again, Lord Melchior,” Adaire said.

Melchior was surprised by the sudden formality much as he was when Leibshitze suddenly improved. “I accept your greetings,” he said without taking too long being shocked. “How has the Winter Playroom fared in my absence?”

“It has been very fun but also harder than last year.” He went on to report much like a proper retainer. The playroom curriculum hadn’t officially changed but Gerianne brought new information and lessons with her. Ansgar was willing to help the younger students learn about magic circles as well. Adaire tried to take on as many new topics as were available. Dirk was helping him learn the prayers. Bertrum was also working with them. He and Dirk got along much better now that Kazmiar was taking them both home for breakfast and dinner. Bertrum was still sad whenever Konrad was discussed but he didn’t have the same mean look. He was even having an easier time playing with the other children.

“You’ve done well, Adaire. I’m glad I relied upon you for assistance,” Melchior praised.

“I did my very best,” Adaire replied as he beamed.

They prepared for the Karuta tournament only to find that Wilfred wouldn’t be joining. “He has come of age, dear brother. He no longer has to come to the Winter Playroom,” Charlotte explained.

“But we promised to face each other again,” Melchior said.

“Perhaps you can invite him to the castle for a game,” she suggested. Melchior was too disappointed to understand the full implications of her comment until the following day. He helped make the brackets. This time, the temple kids were placed in higher levels to begin with.

After a happy dinner with his family, Melchior returned to his room. It felt more orderly than normal somehow. Instead of drawing, he worked on the reports about his retainers in his hidden room. He’d written out all his compliments and neutral comments for everyone first. Now faced with adding criticism, he felt dismayed. He wasn’t sure what could be considered a personal nitpick versus a professional failing. Zipporah seemed to be without flaw while Sigsnyr’s only weakness was the presence of many new magic tools. That Flautzeal was so formal and distant wasn’t actually a problem for his work, it just made Melchior feel a bit sad. He was saved from having to commit any words to paper by the flashing of the warning light. It was time for bed and he was happy to compress his discomfort and put it aside.

Kazmiar came the following morning with notes of his own. He didn’t do much scholar’s work now that he was high priest, but he had been socializing and had information from the adults of Ehrenfest. Isolde read through this with her lord while Kazmiar read their notes from the Academy.

“You gathered this much information?” he asked with surprise.

“Most of it isn’t important,” Melchior assured him.

“Perhaps not to you or even your parents, but there will be some who want to know these things. We will package it by topic to sell at the information auction,” Kazmiar declared. He worked with Flautzeal to reorganize it and make copies. Melchior knew his siblings sold information collected by the students every year. It was another thing they hadn’t included him in. He wondered if he should offer to help.

The information from Winter Socializing was mostly about the internal faction politics. As Melchior’s scholar, Kazmiar was invited to many things. He was being courted especially heavily by Veronica’s mednobles. Melchior’s retinue had many children ostensibly from their faction so they assumed he was amenable to their side. Their side seemingly just wanted help repairing their image and rebuilding their strength. “That will never happen,” Isolde said confidently. “I don’t think it's wise either way. In a few years, their faction will cease to exist.” Melchior paled a bit. So many people were namesworn to the former First Wife.

There was also a push from a few giebes to ingratiate themselves in hopes of being selected for the next printing or paper workshop. The barons especially felt the pressure to jump in line. “I don’t have control over that thought,” Melchior noted.

“Your sister dotes on you rather publicly. They think you might be able to persuade her to put in a word,” Kazmiar explained. “I don’t think It would be bad for you to hear them out. Most of the mednoble provinces have other things to recommend them and don’t need this new industry as much. The laynobles on the other hand, struggle to convince noble’s to immigrate to their land and to meet the increasing tax expectations.”

“We are raising taxes?” Melchior asked.

“No, but with richer provinces paying in more, they feel pressure to keep up since their influence will wane even more if they are seen as being less useful. It wouldn’t be impossible for some to be merged into larger provinces if things become to disperate,” Kazmiar replied. “These are very complex problems. I recommend working on other things for the moment. Nothing will happen in the next few years so you can take time to better understand the problems.”

Melchior thought about the empty Vogtwerk provinces and the farmers forced to sell their grain and starve. “They won’t force their commoners to starve just to pay more taxes, right?”

Kazmiar regarded him with fresh eyes. “That’s a very mature question. I do not think we are at that stage. I worry more that the extravagance of the city is making them envious.”

“Should we create some more approachable trends?” Isolde suggested.

The older scholar smiled. “You kids are thinking well. If you can think of some, that would help to reduce ire. Being able to participate in society can often calm discontent. Send Flautzeal to speak with the laynoble children and see what they have to say.” She nodded and made a note in the diptych.

Melchior was amazed by how quickly they could work through the reports with Kazmiar’s help. He’d never had work to give this scholar before and had assumed he wouldn’t be able to jump into things so easily. “You seem quite skilled, Kazmiar,” he said as the thought entered his mind.

“Thank… you, my lord.” Kazmiar replied. He felt he was middleing as far archscholars were concerned. It was a strange thing to just say as well. “What prompted you to say this?”

“We’ve never really worked together before. I was just amazed by how well you know scholar’s work,” Melchior replied.

“You were too young for serious endeavors when I became High Priest. Haldis told me you were considering letting me go. I’d like to remain in your service so I’m trying to be more useful in your daily life,” he said. Melchior had been surprised so often by the spread of information in the last few days. He hadn’t thought deeply about Kazmiar’s employment since the initial conversation. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or upset that Haldis had the conversation in his place.

“I’m sorry, Kazmiar. I wasn’t unhappy with you just trying to save money.”

Kazmiar gave him a reassuring smile. “ I know. He also chided me for using your temple attendants while letting you cover their room and board. I’ll be taking over half their expenses next year and making sure they do more work for you more often.”

“Wow, thank you. I didn’t mind but I’ll be able to disperse some of my donations to the new blue apprentices,” Melchior said happily. The temple had been saving to move Konrad up to a blue, now that he was leaving, there would be space for other kids with mana to take his place. They would eventually have to earn their own living but they were too young and inexperienced to do so in the beginning. Kazmiar hid his thoughts behind a noble smile. It was strange that Melchior’s happiness derived from the ability to reduce his own pay. Kazmiar expected him to have some hobby or other he wanted to fund. Melchior already used less for his chambers than Kazmiar. If anyone looked too closely, he might have to reduce his own collection of attendants making his work even harder. Kazmiar wasn’t normally given to malfeasance but he strongly considered keeping the records the same while moving the funds behind the scenes.

Melchior also asked for advice on the personal reports. He brought Kazmiar into his hidden room and showed him what he’d written so far. Somehow he felt disconnected enough from Melchior's other retainers to allow him to read things.

“Lady Florencia is just trying to get a sense for what you value in your retainers. You note that Flautzeal's formality is not something you enjoy while explaining that you do not consider it a reason to discount his other work. No one can be perfect. What you want is people you can trust to help you do the work you need to do. Pepin might forget things but you find his sensitivity to be invaluable. That is enough to secure his place. She will not distance anyone unless you choose to do so,” Kazmiar explained. He didn't add that Wilfred's retinue needed pruning that she hadn't forced him to do.

“I think I understand. Thank you,” Melchior replied.

“It is only my job,” Kazmiar said before taking his leave, amazed by the sheer volume of praise Melchior liked to heap upon his retinue.

Chapter Text

A Selection of New Retainers

The reports were completed after lunch. Melchior sent Lothar along with Pepin to deliver them to the First Wife. He didn't think Pepin would peek but he felt it was safest to send someone immune to temptation.

They returned with his vouchers for credit at the book sale and perused the list of available items. There were many books available now. The picture book bibles were produced continuously. They were mostly sold to other duchies but noble's in Ehrenfest still bought them occasionally. Aside from them, the knight and romance stories had new additions each year.

Alexandria sold them manuscripts when their own presses were overburdened. Ehrenfest had more known authors at the moment but the greater duchy was better able to collect stories from all over the country. Rozemyne also brought books for a spring book sale during her visits. It was fun to see the difference in editions of the same books. Ehrenfest and Alexandria had different resources and different artists so the illustrations and covers tended to be different.

Thanks to the legal deposit system, Melchior was able to read everything printed in the duchy. He didn't need to buy any books and already had sets of all the games. He contemplated buying the recipe books just for the art but they were more expensive than his voucher could cover. It was strange to have a prize he couldn't use. He asked his retainer's if there was something they wanted.

“Are we allowed to read the books in the castle bookroom?” Isolde asked. Melchior promised to ask for permission. “Then I would like my own set of Karuta,” she said.

That would easily be covered but, “Those are so easy to make,” he noted. “They have blanks in the orphanage with the words. You could draw your own art for a custom set.”

It was the same for playing cards. There were both cheaper versions and diy solutions. Flautzeal’s family would buy any music sold so he didn't need to buy it himself. Being Melchior’s retainer meant easy access to his toys which he pressured everyone into borrowing if they so much as glanced at them, so even the knights were in a similar situation to himself.

“We need to add something people might want to purchase over and over,” Melchior mused. “I would buy paper if we sold it.”

“It would be simple to have the Plantin company add paper to their inventory,” Isolde said.

Melchior shook his head. Last minute additions were far from simple. Paper was heavy in large quantities and the carriages were already filled as much as possible.

“Let Isolde buy her Karuta set and be done with it. There is no reason to dwell on such a small decision. Just give what remains to Adaire.” Haldis sighed. “Your meeting with the Archduke is tomorrow. Have you completed your reports and designs to present? Which fur are you giving him.”

Melchior put the topic aside with reluctance. He wasn't sure why Haldis seemed so strained despite all the extra help but his advice was sound.

The foretold meeting with the Archduke began the next morning at third bell. Melchior came prepared with his reports and scholars. Sylvester looked tired already.

“Thank you for these reports, I’ll read them later,” he began and waved the scholar away. Melchior watched his hard work relegated to a side table with mild annoyance. A sheet with names was presented to him.

“I know you don't want to take on more staff but we have no more excuses when you're using commoner attendant’s. I know the reason and I’m not forcing you to take on attendants but you need to take at least one more scholar. You were too open about needing an older student at the post Tournament dinner,” Sylvester said.

Melchior thought back to how happily he’d spoken with his mother. He was so excited to sit with her. Now his enthusiasm felt like a trap. “I should have been more discreet,” he muttered. Ferdinand's warning had come too late. He looked at the list.

He first noticed that it only contained boys. After going through a few names, he brought out his pen and started making marks so he would remember his opinions. He made a slash at the beginning of the names of those Adaire spoke poorly of or who he’d witnessed be mean to others and a circle next to those he heard good things about. He also added a strike to Veremund's name. Veremund didn't want to work for him so he wouldn't ask him too. Once he was done he passed his pen and the list to Isolde.

She delicately placed the pen next to his hand and took out her own. While each of his scholars and retainers in attendance were brought to look at the list Melchior talked to Sylvester about a second one.

“These ones aren't up for debate. We need you to train these girls for Charlotte. The first girls are already serving her but she doesn't need more guards here in Ehrenfest so they will join your apprentices this year and return to her at the Royal Academy.” Charlotte’s female retainer's would retire soon after coming of age. She would collect some older women to work as scholars and attendants but knights often struggled to move back into their jobs after having children. She would also need more knights than anything and they would need to be ready to work when she called for them. “You have too few knights but they're all… mostly highly skilled. This is also a good way to show your support.”

“We will welcome them and ensure their quality,” Melchior promised. He had confidence in Dedryck’s leadership and training. Plus having more knights would make it easier for his own to engage in other activities, like hunting. The boys on this list gave him some pause. “Am I training them as well?”

“No. You have retainers from everyone except Wilfred. He’s made formal recommendations for these three knights so you have to take them,” Sylvester paused to watch Melchior’s expression. “He’s under the impression you’ve been avoiding his recommendations on purpose.”

Melchior glanced at Isolde. “He didn't make any before now. I didn't like most of the boys at the Autumn Gewinnen tournament and didn't need more knights after the addition of Theodore,” Melchior explained.

Sylvester pinched the bridge of his nose. Wilfred made it sound like Melchior was politically distancing himself and pressed for these knights as some sort of test. Sylvester had been skeptical. It felt like a strong claim to make about a ten year old at the time. Now it seemed like it had more to do with Melchior’s particular criteria than any conscious moves. “If that's all then it's ok. If you find that they're a bad fit after a year or so you can distance them but remain on good terms. So don't keep them out of empathy for their career prospects.” he sighed.

Melchior nodded while Isolde stopped facilitating the examination of the list. “If you would permit a mere scholar to speak,” she began. He didn't look happy but he allowed it. “Thank you Aub Ehrenfest. We have reason to believe that some of those associates of Wilfred's are trying to create an Anti-Charlotte faction. They also seem intent on distancing Lord Melchior from some of his trusted retainers due to lingering hostilities over their criminal ties.”

“An Anti-Charlotte faction?” Sylvester mused. “Why is this the first I’ve heard of this?”

Melchior tried to answer but realized he just hadn't thought to talk about it. “I guess it didn't seem important enough to say,” he said with a shrug.

The Aub and his scholars had a range of microexpressions. “A simmering faction placing itself in opposition to the heir apparent is very important,” Sylvester said calmly. “Write me a report about what you know,” he sighed and moved on. He spent a moment feeling nostalgic for the halcyon days when Ferdinand sent him tons of useful information. “Your request to reduce the number of tutors in your employ has been accepted provided your grades do not drop significantly. Your remaining scholars will have to build and present a curriculum to Florencia each season. You can borrow resources from the Dormitory bookshelves as well, just send a list to my office and someone will retrieve them.”

This was wonderful news. Melchior didn't have enough work for his scholars during the year and apprentices were less expensive than adults. There were top students from every year in his retinue. He could borrow their notes. He would need to think of something good to trade for them.

Melchior received the original list back and scowled. Sigsnyr and Dedryck looked at the list of knights and the former scowled. Every name besides Veremund had at least two slashes while the male knights slated to be hired were liable to clash with Zipporah. They didn't like taking directions from her. Only Melchior had any say in the matter.

“Are there any other options? We don't like these ones,” he said and passed the list back to the Archduke. The scholar tasked with the hand off regarded the list with a slight frown. His son had received a slash from everyone.

“Can you tell me what's wrong with them?” Sylvester asked as he examined the evaluations. “You're the only one who doesn't like Veremund. Didn't you publish research together?”

“He does not wish to serve me,” Melchior replied. Sylvester almost threw the paper even though that wouldn't be effective. How many mednobles could reject an Archduke Candidate before he developed any amount of backbone. His ego didn't even seem wounded in the slightest.

“You don't have to befriend everyone who works for you. Why don't you take Benedikt. He has the least slashes and a circle from you,” he passed the sheet back. Melchior felt unsure. Isolde gave him a slash. She was his head apprentice scholar. If she didn't like him then he seemed like a bad fit.

“My head scholar doesn't like him. I think I should choose someone else,” Melchior said.

Kazmiar was absent so the Archduke looked at the next highest scholar. The girl in question returned a polite smile. She would be married off in a couple of years. Her dissatisfaction could be suppressed in the meantime.

“I think you should take him. He’s an archscholar entering his sixth year. That is perfect for training your younger scholars,” Sylvester replied.

It didn't sound like a suggestion so much as an order so Melchior was forced to agree. He gave an apologetic look to Isolde. She maintained her noble smile.

“Do you need any more scholars?” Sylvester held up the list again.

Melchior shook his head. “Dirk has agreed to join,” he replied. The Archduke's scholars blinked in amazement. Sylvester just rested his head on the back of his hand.

“Are you going to hire Bertrum too?” he asked. That would complete the set after all.

“Bertrum doesn't trust me. He does not wish to join my retinue,” Melchior said.

“He doesn't trust you?” Melchior looked sheepish. “What happened,” Sylvester coaxed.

Melchior steeled himself before whispering, “We killed his family.”

Sylvester flinched as though struck. “You didn't do anything,” he corrected. “Those were my orders and it was necessary.”

“I understand the importance of it. I am not criticizing,” Melchior assured him. He looked up into Sylvester’s eyes. “My retainers bear the blame for their parents' actions. I must do so as well.” His body language wasn't strong but his eyes said he would engrave those words on his namestone¹.

Father and son held eye contact for a long time. Sylvester took a deep breath. He never expected Melchior to take up such a burden and didn't know how to convince him to put it down again. “If Bertrum has no interest in service, I see no reason to push the issue.” He called for the reports Melchior brought earlier. After glancing at them again he pinched between his eyes. “This is like a report from Justus,” he muttered. He had it put back where it came from. “I’ll sort through it later. Do you have anything else?”

The tension seemed to evaporate. Melchior smiled and gestured for Haldis to bring the gifts forward. “I finished the design for a brooch and hairpin set for you and Mother. I’ve also brought a fur selected just for you.” It was picked at Veremund’s suggestion. The beast was rare and the fur a beautiful blue-black. It would look lovely as the underlayer of an ochre cloak.

Sylvester also smiled. He gave the fur a few strokes then had it taken away. He spent longer looking at the brooch. “This is nice. I wouldn't have chosen flowers for myself. I’m glad this is stronger on the leaves. That said, You don't have one for a schtappe.”

Melchior tipped his head in confusion. “That isn't really a trend. It's just a thing I did with my retainers for fun,” Melchior explained.

“Oh? Then why did you promise to show designs to Brunhilde?” Sylvester asked.

Melchior felt that he would need to stop being surprised to find out people talked to each other. “Lady Bertilde purchased a design from my scholar. I could not risk another chiding from Lady Brunhilde.”

“So you're more scared of Brunhilde than me?” Sylvester pressed. Melchior knew he couldn't say yes. He also was more afraid of Brunhilde for reasons that weren't clear in his mind.

“I simply know she cares the most about these things and is more sensitive to being left out,” Melchior said diplomatically.

The Aub templed his fingers and rested his chin on their tips. “Every time you feel like you should send something to her, send it to me too, ok,” he said. Melchior nodded. He didn’t like whatever this look meant. “Great. If that's everything then you are dismissed.”

Melchior rose with his scholars and left with a bow. They returned to his room with the list of knights. The new retainers would be added after the feast. Kolteruze looked over the list with a frown.

“She hates attendants and he hates me in particular,” he explained.

“She just didn't want to be an attendant,” Pepin argued. “As for him. He really dislikes Kolteruze.”

Melchior handed the list to Kirk as well despite the priest having no context for any of the names. He read through it but didn't say anything. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to speak anyway.

“We will have to learn to work with them. Father said I do not have a choice. I’m sorry, Kolteruze.”

Kolteruze sighed. “You need not apologize to me. I will continue to do my job regardless of the makeup of your guard.”

Isolde had a less pragmatic view of the new scholar. “Of all the people!” she muttered. “He’s always getting in my way.”

Having just been told not to apologize, Melchior felt he could only let her stew. “We will learn what we can from him and if he isn't a good fit, we can choose someone else,” he assured her.

She looked at Pepin who shrugged. “I have not interacted with him. I cannot comment.”

“Then we can only wait and see I suppose,” she grumbled.

They ate lunch conflictedly and prepared to attend the Bookfair.

*

Before his meeting with his mother the next morning, Melchior gathered his retainers for an emergency meeting. His emergencies were generally tame in nature so his apprentices weren't feeling all that worried.

“We must save the commoners,” he declared. Only the lack of an immediate threat kept panic from breaking out.

Haldis felt like he would tip over in a stiff breeze. “Can you elaborate?” he asked. He was the only adult in the bubble. Zargerecht and Lothar were working on something or other together while the guards were guarding.

“Father wants to introduce parues to the other nobles. If we can't create a supply independent of the commoner woods, the commoners won't be able to collect them and some people will starve in the winter.”

“You think people will starve without this winter sweet?” Isolde said. Melchior nodded. She really doubted that but having ready access to that delicacy was a mission she could believe in. “What have you considered already?”

Melchior sent Kirk to retrieve the seeds from his temple luggage. Pepin and Kolteruze watched him go with complicated expressions. “These are parue seeds. I don't know how to grow them. I assume you just put them on the ground. They are launched at high speeds from the shaking branches as the trees melt in the morning sun.” As his explanation grew more and more fantastic, his retainers felt less and less sure they were discussing a real thing.

“That doesn't sound like any faeplant I’ve heard of,” Zipporah said.

“Me neither,” Sigsnyr added.

“They only appear overnight and die in the morning and only in winter after the Lord of Winter hunt. Maybe they appear during the blizzards but no one can go collect them.”

Zipporah looked excited while everyone else was amazed. “What do the trees look like?” she asked.

“Like glass,” Sigsnyr replied quickly.

“You’ve seen them? Then what do you mean you’ve never heard of this plant?” Zipporah questioned.

“I’ve seen a painting of them.”

“Oh!” Melchior interjected. “How could I forget? What happened to my painting?” Everyone shrugged or shook their heads. It was returned to Ehrenfest but seemed to disappear after that.

“You can ask the First Wife at your meeting,” Haldis counseled. This painting was becoming a larger and larger mystery everyday.

Melchior put aside that worry to return to the topic of most importance. “There isn't much time. Can you visit the Noble's Forest in the early morning to check for them?” he asked.

Sigsnyr and Zipporah looked pensive. “Its quite a bit more dangerous than the lower city forest. Commoner children couldn't gather there at least,” Sigsnyr said. “It will be dangerous but with us and your adult knights, we should manage.”

“Who will guard him while we're gone?” Nikolaus asked. They both looked at him with amused smiles.

“You,” Zipporah said calmly. “There is a barrier over the Northern Building. So long as Lord Melchior remains inside, we can reduce his guard.”

Haldis shook his head. “It is not the same as the Lord of Winter hunt. Charlotte is here now. I know you do not consider her a threat, Lord Melchior, but we must exercise caution in your stead.”

“We can do it with just Dedryck. Its only a flight after all. We won't be able to cover a ton of ground but we can make a cursory look. Are they rare in the commoner woods?” Sigsnyr asked.

“Not particularly,” Melchior replied.

“Then if they are there, we shouldn't have a hard time finding them,” he declared.

“Would the caretakers not know about them already?” Kolteruze asked.

“I can go find out,” Isolde offered.

“You can't go by yourself. I’ll accompany you,” Zipporah said.

The plan was made. Isolde and Zipporah would use the rest of the morning to go ask the forest caretakers. The knights would go look the next morning and Kolteruze would attempt to plant the seeds at the temple.

“This is a great excuse not to go to the Winter Playroom,” he muttered happily.

Kirk looked around anxiously. It took a few moments but he eventually caught Melchior's eye. “Yes, Kirk?”

“Thank you, my lord. There will be no one at the temple to host Lord Kolteruze. Both you and the High Priest are away and the other blue clergy are not familiar with him,” Kirk warned. “Our efforts cannot remain secret. His presence will be reported to Sister Streita in the High Priest’s absence.”

“It would be helpful to have Sister Streita on our side,” Melchior mused. He looked between Kirk and Kolteruze. Would it be safe to leave Kirk alone with him? Kolteruze might not physically hurt him due to his aversion to violence but there were other ways to cause harm. “Pepin, can you take Kirk with you to the temple to explain our situation to Sister Streita. Then Kolteruze will have assistance when he goes to plant the seeds.”

Haldis sighed. “Normally I would say that's fine but you have very little Winter remaining for this test. It would be faster to send Kolteruze to both explain and do his work at one time.”

Melchior looked hesitant to give the order. He could send Pepin along but Pepin wouldn't be sufficient to protect anyone against Kolteruze. It was inconvenient to be so unsure. There just hadn't been time to discuss things with his head apprentice attendant.

Haldis struggled to unify this strange lack of trust with the reports of Kolteruze's competency. Pepin could not fail to notice the sudden strain between them either. He shared a glance with Haldis. Their thoughts were the same. What could have happened?

Kolteruze watched Kirk. He hadn't said this out of spite. He was doubtlessly considering how to accomplish his master's goals in the best way possible. But allowances for his comfort were creating inefficiencies. “I can Take Kirk on my highbeast. His presence would be necessary anyway to discern an appropriate place to plant the trees. Your plants have also been without care for three full days,” Kolteruze said.

Melchior looked at him. His lord’s expression was still fairly easy to read. He was skeptical about Kolteruze himself. How strange and terrifying. “If you do not mind transporting a commoner on your mount, then that would be most efficient,” he said.

Kolteruze didn't want to have a commoner so close to himself but this commoner was important to his lord and was clean enough. “It is on your orders. I will see it done,” Kolteruze replied.

Melchior considered the problem again. He needed someone with greater authority. Zipporah was going with Isolde but Sigsnyr was free. “Sigsnyr, please accompany Kirk and Kolteruze to the temple when they go.”

Sigsnyr broke from his planning session with the knights and scholars. “Certainly, my lord. Will we be tending to the plants?” he asked in an excited tone.

“Your main job will be finding a good place to plant the seeds for testing. Once that is done you may examine the magic circle in the atrium,” Melchior sighed. Sigsnyr looked very happy. He looked at both Kirk and Kolteruze to share in his joy but was met with strained expressions. His inclusion was not out of grace or magnanimity.

“I will ensure all proceeds smoothly. Have no worries, my lord,” he promised.

“Thank you, Sigsnyr.”

Kolteruze felt a sudden chill. Sigsnyr was employed to distance threats and this time Kolteruze was the threat in question.

Performance Reviews

The talk with the First Wife was being held in a meeting room in the Northern Building. This was where their siblings' teas were most often held and where other happy occasions took place so it gave Melchior a feeling of comfort.

He brought Haldis to serve them and Dedryck as his one guard. Florencia also brought her head attendant Joanna and Lindlotte, an older female guard she seemed to trust a great deal. The mother and son enjoyed a spot of tea and cookies before launching into the serious business. A sound blocker was placed on the table and activated. The attendants were given leave to come and go as necessary but the more private environment would allow for frank discussion.

“Let us begin with Zargerecht. I noticed you did not include a report about him,” Florencia said.

“I did not think I was supposed to write one for Zargerecht,” Melchior replied with surprise.

“He is a retainer who served you at the Royal Academy, is he not? Tell me now what his work was like.”

Melchior explained that Zargerecht was as skilled as always. He spent much of his time observing the apprentice attendants and Melchior to give advice and correction. “He focused more on training until we encountered an emergency, then his abundant skills helped us find our way through,” Melchior said happily. Zargerecht was a good attendant so he was happy to heap on the praise.

“And your complaints?”

He didn't like Zargerecht’s long lectures but he knew they were meant to assist him. Complaining that he didn't always agree with his other retainers felt silly too. “I have no complaints,” Melchior replied. His mother just held his gaze with her gentle smile. He fidgeted a bit as it carried on. “There was one instance where he lost his temper but he was worried Isolde was speaking treasonously,” Melchior admitted.

Florencia picked up her tea, breaking eye contact. “I see. Tell me what happened.” Melchior explained the conversation and the aftermath. He talked about his worries concerning Pepin and their non-existent feud. “I agree that neither Zargerecht nor Pepin seem likely to behave in that manner. I cannot speak about your apprentice but Zargerecht's worries about treason are easily explained.

“He did not come with me when I first came to Ehrenfest. It was after the civil war, after his lord was executed due to guilt by association with the previous Archductal family, and after his family was lost, that he fled here by himself. After years of diligent service, his life was forfeit due to the treason of others.

“Frenbeltag chose the wrong prince but we did not participate in the assassination of the princess. Do you see how easy it is to be mired by a momentary lapse in judgment?”

Melchior was amazed. He’d had no idea Zargerecht went through so much. That his lack of a family was due to tragedy and not personal choice was awful. He nodded gravely. Protecting Zargerecht from additional heartache would be difficult in his weak position but he made a vow within himself to try.

“Though his outburst is understandable it was still poor form. I will speak with him,” she promised. Melchior sighed. His fears that any negative information he shared would result in consequences were apparently true.

Florencia gestured for Joanna. “Call in Kolteruze,” she instructed.

Melchior felt a cold sweat roll down his back. Was she going to begin passing down punishment immediately and without consulting him? He tried to ask her to reconsider but she only smiled.

Kolteruze also looked a bit nervous though he hid this well.

“Kolteruze,” Florencia began, then read the report in its entirety while Melchior's entire person shattered. He held his magic tool while taking deep breaths and employing every other coping strategy he had. “Is there anything you would like to say in response?” she concluded.

Melchior struggled to regain his composure while Kolteruze looked relieved. “If you would like for me to increase the rigor of my course work, I will do so,” he said.

“I had to find something bad to say. I do not think you need to alter your schedule if you do not want to,” Melchior insisted.

“Melchior believes you could accomplish great things with a greater application of your abundant intelligence. I’ve heard this from many others as well. Some say you could become the Castle Steward,” Florencia said.

Kolteruze replied with a smile. “It is not my wish to ascend so high. I am content to serve my lord.”

“I am happy with his service,” Melchior added.

“I would like to see you give it a try next year. Add a few classes from any profession and see if you take a liking to the subject. This is your only opportunity to gain certifications. Do not squander it in sloth and leave your youth filled with regrets,” Florencia ordered.

“As you wish, Lady Florencia,” Kolteruze said with a bow before being sent to retrieve Zipporah.

“Mother!” Melchior cried. “You said only you would read these reports.”

“Oh? But I am reading the reports,” she teased. “I wanted you to be honest. It is difficult to communicate our displeasure with those we value but it is vital for our growth and that of our retainers.”

“I would have said different things,” Melchior wailed.

“I know, that is why I lied to you,” Florencia said so matter of factly that Melchior was stunned into silence. Noble's did not admit to such things. Mothers did not lie to their children.

Zipporah arrived before he could reform his world view. She listened calmly and blushed at the effusive praise. A look of deep thought clouded her expression upon hearing his criticism. “Zipporah shows great skill in planning maneuvers and leading small groups. This is an asset for a guard knight. However, she chooses to eschew authority whenever it is offered. I think she could be a great leader or even a Knight Captain but she cannot learn the skills required if she only leads small hunting bands.”

“It is ok if you do not wish to enter a high position. Leadership can be very draining,” Melchior assured her.

Florencia listened to his justifications, sipped her tea, and waited for the girl's response. “It is as you say, Lord Melchior. I know I will lose my position soon after coming of age. It therefore feels like a waste to have ambition,” she admitted. “I will stop avoiding appointments on purpose. If you order it, I will seek out greater skill as a leader. Only…” She stopped.

“Please continue, Zipporah. This is a time to be honest,” Florencia encouraged.

“Any effort you allocate to training me will be wasted.”

“You may pass those skills on to your children,” Florencia said. “The trust you are building as a young woman will create avenues for your sons to ascend to high places. It is an investment for the future. As women, we must think longer term.”

Zipporah accepted her critiques and was replaced by Sigsnyr who listened happily then sheepishly to his report. “I will work to contain my excitement such that it does not influence my work,” he promised. “It is true that leading the apprentice knights, taking the attendant course, and leading expeditions around the academy is a great deal of work. But, I am happy to do it all, my lord.”

Florencia didn't give Melchior time to disavow his words. “You both claim it does not cause your work to suffer but being present to guard your charge is the primary work of a guard knight.”

Both boys paled. “Mother, there is nothing we can do about the amount of work required in the later years. All of my older knights are impacted by the rigor of their lessons.”

“Sigsnyr passed his fifth year classes faster than Theodore passed his fourth year classes. What delays him is the attendant course which he takes as a mere hobby,” Florencia replied.

“Mother, he cannot quit in his last year. All his work would be for nothing,” Melchior cried.

She fixed him with the same smile. “His work is ensuring your safety.”

Nothing could have prepared him for these repercussions. That Sigsnyr was busy wasn't a problem according to Melchior. He would like to spend more time with him so he listed it to complete the sheet. “Mother, please,” he pleaded. Sigsnyr stood silently by. She was completely correct. There was nothing to say.

“Can you give me even one good reason?” she challenged.

All the power in his mind focused on finding a reason. “Attendants of the sword are valued for their ability to follow their charges everywhere. There will be times when I am summoned and can only bring an attendant. In those times, Sigsnyr can ensure I am still protected. Knowledge of the work of attendants will make it easier for him to spot abnormalities and identify threats. Learning many things gives people additional perspective on the world making them better people over all. I want him to realize his dream… It… it seems good to allow him to complete the course he's spent so many resources on already,” Melchior couldn't look at his knight's dejected posture. He thought desperately and gazed at his mother trying to gauge when he’d said enough.

“If you think it is good, then that is enough,” she said once his speech dried up.

“It is?” he asked in disbelief.

“You are his lord. It is your decision to make. I can advise you to have him focus on his work instead of his hobbies but it is your choice. You will have more knights next year. Select a new head knight. That will give him more time for his studies to ensure he actually passes. It was very close last year.”

Melchior didn't want to select a new head knight. He didn't want to fire Sigsnyr when he did such good work. “I know it is not a comment on my competency as a leader,” Sigsnyr said before Melchior could relay his thoughts. “Zipporah would not require much training to take over either.”

“I will consider it,” was the most Melchior could say.

“I will await your orders,” he said and bowed.

Pepin, Nikolaus, and Gerianne’s reviews were easy by comparison. Pepin promised to work harder such that his poor memory would not impact his work. Gerianne just needed more training and to grow a bit more. Nikolaus admitted to being afraid of Isolde and the older students. They weren't being mean to him but he felt he could not say the right thing most of the time.

“I think you offer unique perspectives,” Melchior said.

“It is hard to receive criticism, but if no one knows what you are thinking they cannot advise you on how to think differently. Melchior will assign you a mentor. Learn well and build confidence. You cannot be intimidated by little girls,” Florencia counseled then sent him away.

Flautzeal calmly accepted the criticism that his work was slowed by his insistence on perfection. At first he promised to practice so he could work faster but Florencia told him that would not be enough. “It is not possible to be perfect. Your commitment to producing the best work is admirable but your perspective is wrong. The best work will not always be the closest to your idea of perfection. Focus more on learning your lord's preferences such that you do not apply your efforts to things of lesser value.” He left with a smile despite the harsh criticism.

Finally, Isolde stood before them with a practiced smile. “Sit,” Florencia said. Joanna brought a chair and Haldis provided her with tea. Florencia stopped Melchior from doing a poison test and ordered her to drink anyway. Isolde took her cup and drained it. “You are the only retainer for whom Melchior had true criticism. He also had the most effusive praise.” She didn't read out the report this time. “You do not balk at being tested either.”

“If my lord wishes to poison me, that is his right,” she replied.

“Would you give him your name?” Florencia asked.

Melchior shuddered. He didn't want anyone's name. He didn't believe Isolde needed to give hers and couldn't fathom why his mother would ask.

Isolde finally faltered. “I would prefer not to,” she whispered.

“I see. Your loyalty is bred from your beliefs about duty and retainership, not a specific faith in my son,” Florencia declared. Isolde nodded. The motion was small. “That is not a problem. Melchior, I want you to be able to discern these things yourself.”

Melchior also gave a small nod. Florencia handed her the report. “See that your loyalty does not falter if your beliefs shift,” she ordered and sent her away.

They sat in silence for a little while. Isolde's cup was not removed so Melchior stared at it with tears threatening his eyes. “Why were you so mean, Mother?”

“There is nothing I can say to Isolde that she does not already know. She needs training and time to mature but her work exceeds what one would expect from a girl her age. What is more important is how you handle her. She is much smarter and more ruthless than yourself and does not share your beliefs. You need to consider how to lead her and those like her if you wish to be of greatest use to the people of Ehrenfest.”

“It is as you say.”

“Do not grow complacent because of her apparent loyalty. All of your retinue are tools to be used. That some are used for companionship is your choice but that will not be the case for everyone in your service.” She called for another sheet. On it was a drawing with circles and a few paragraphs of text.

“Your retainers can be organized thus. Those in your innermost circle have your trust and have proved their capabilities,” she pointed to the outer ring. “You will work with people not in your service and befriend people who are mostly useless, they should be kept distant, knowing only what is needed for work or your leisurely activities. At the moment, you treat all your retainers equally and try to pull them all into your inner circle. You must learn to accept some distance and be able to use their capabilities all the same.”

“Yes, Mother. I will consider your words carefully.”

She placed the sheet in front of him and leaned back in her chair. “Do you have anything to ask me?”

He wanted to launch straight into finding his painting but reconsidered. It was important but not in the same way as other things. “I would like to help Pepin's family,” Melchior said.

“What do you mean?” Florencia asked. She placed down her tea and renewed her attention.

“We arrested his family during the purge even though they did nothing wrong. Now they are branded as criminals despite years of loyal service. It is our fault. I know we cannot act as thought the purge was not necessary and successful, but I would like to alleviate their struggles.”

“What are their struggles? They have not leveled any complaints,” she replied. Her smile never faltered. Melchior couldn't tell whether he was making a good argument or not.

“I do not know. Pepin does not like to talk about it. His parents were reinstated to their positions and he kept his post so perhaps it has to do with one of his brothers,” he said.

Florencia took a moment to consider things. Everyone else arrested had done something or other. Even if it was well within reason for noble activities or not particularly malicious, it was enough justification. No one would believe that this one family had truly done nothing so they'd left things alone lest others try to argue for greater leniency or target them because of supposed favoritism.

“I will look into things but I cannot promise great or sudden reparations,” Florencia replied.

Melchior smiled. It was more than he could do by himself. If the First Wife was working on it, it was sure to be accomplished. “Other than that… if it is not too much trouble…I would like my painting back.”

“You speak as though I have taken it away,” Florencia teased. “I had it brought back to stop anyone from attempting to purchase it. Much art is bought and sold through the Society. I did not want anyone to mistakenly offer it to another duchy. It would be very difficult to get it back and a great loss for Ehrenfest.”

“I see. Thank you, Mother. Can you have it sent to my chambers,” he asked after a sigh of relief.

“I would like to find a place for it in the castle,” she said without any change in expression.

All relief vanished as quickly as it had come. “It is not nice enough to hang beside the great works,” Melchior tried to argue.

“What are you saying, dear. It is your best piece thus far.”

“If that is so, I need much more practice. Allow me to create something better and with a more appropriate subject matter,” he pleaded.

“We have many paintings of so-called appropriate subject matter. Its novelty does much to elevate it. Even the Zent agreed that it is worthy of commendation.”

Her expression didn't change but her tone grew less jovial. Something about this was important to her. Was it just that she really did like his painting and wanted it for herself? Were it a painting of anything else, he would be happy that his Mother thought it worthy of her walls. As it was what it was, he planned to hide it away so that it couldn't remind people of his embarrassing failure to meet expectations though it seemed that no one else wanted this. His retainers were scrambling to get a look at it, mostly because of Kolteruze’s inability to keep a secret, but still.

“I believe I can do better,” Melchior pressed. “Please allow me to prepare something else.”

“How long will the castle be bereft of your elegant work in that time?” she asked with faux concern. They both knew he was not a prolific painter. It didn't help that he had no ideas for a new work of similar caliber.

He sighed. As much as he wanted to keep it hidden, he did not want to disappoint his mother. Maybe the need to replace it would provide the necessary motivation to create something else. “Please do not place it somewhere conspicuous,” he asked. In the corner of the gallery hall would be best. Then the many larger and more impressive works would distract people.

Florencia placed a hand on her cheek. “But it will be the only painting in the castle viewed and recommended by a Zent,” she replied. Melchior did his best to hide his despair. He would need to think of something to tell nosy people who asked about it. In the best case it would end up in her private quarters somewhere but something told him that was wishful thinking.

Melchior relayed this news with a defeated expression to a chorus of delight from his retinue. They began making plans for how to find it in the cavernous castle with its many restricted areas.

“I do not want you to go appreciate it, I want it back,” Melchior groaned while Kirk patted his shoulder.

“Are you suggesting we steal from the First Wife?” Isolde asked. She didn't look upset by her harsh talking to at all.

“No…” Melchior replied. He would be willing to try if they could get away with it. Unfortunately, his record concerning clandestine activities was poor.

Footnotes

1. An equivalent to “Ill die on this hill” ^{^}

Cut Content

It was brought to my attention that this was not the lighthearted joke I thought it was. I am putting the old text here so that anyone who returns for a reread can find what they remember. It is no longer the canonical version of the scene. Reading it will not add to one's understanding of the events. Please feel encouraged to skip over it.

The Text:

“If that is so, I need much more practice. Allow me to create something better and with a more appropriate subject matter,” he pleaded.

“We have many paintings of so-called appropriate subject matter. Its novelty does much to elevate it.”

“Mother, please,” he whimpered.

“It will be the only painting in the castle viewed and recommended by a Zent,” she replied with finality.

Chapter Text

The Last Day in the Playroom

The Feast Celebrating Spring was the next day. It was the last time any children could be required to visit the Winter Playroom so he had to make an appearance. Melchior would have preferred to work on the parue problem. So far the knights hadn't found anything while the seeds hadn't grown. He didn't know what else to try but sitting around playing games felt like a waste of precious time.

Adaire was uncharacteristically low energy. Melchoir wondered if he missed Dirk or was tired of being there. “I am leaving soon. I will not get to see you,” he said.

“We can spend time together over the rest of the year. I tend to be quite busy but we can study together or take tea,” Melchior promised.

Adaire sighed. He’d thought so too. Now he knew better. “You will not have time, I fear. You do so much for our duchy.” A boy who could welcome new citizens and bless the harvest couldn't have time to spend with an apprentice attendant. This thought brought Adaire a bit of joy. He was training this year. He had things to do as well.

“I was reminded at the Royal Academy that those of greater status must send the invitation. I will not forget to invite you this year. It was my mistake that we are normally parted for so long,” Melchior replied. He smiled as a light filled Adaire's eyes. The hope for Spring and Summer activities was rekindled.

“I shall look forward to it,” he chirped. He showed Melchior the cards he’d purchased thanks to Isolde's kindness. Melchior didn't feel the need to say it had come from his voucher and chose to revel in their crisp newness with his friend instead. They spent some time preparing study materials for Adaire and playing outside. There was no snowball battle so they learned how to form furniture from Kolteruze and competed to make the comfiest chair. Melchior’s kept collapsing under his weight much to Adaire's amusement.

Melchior gave his friend a modest blessing before the parted ways for dinner. “This is the last time I shall see you this season,” Melchior said as he clasped Adaire's hands. “I pray that Dregarnuhr, the Goddess of Time, has woven our threads tightly together.”

“I hope so as well,” Adaire replied. They delayed until Adaire's mother came to retrieve him. She bowed to Melchior and Haldis before taking her son away.

“Adaire seems to really like you Haldis,” Melchior observed as they made their way to the dining room. “He doesn't greet Zargerecht like he does with you.”

“Perhaps it is because I am younger. He sees me as more approachable,” Haldis replied.

Melchior was nearly the last person to arrive to dinner. He moved to his chair and greeted his siblings. “I’m sad we weren't able to renew our challenge, Wilfred. I practiced over the Winter as well.”

“Excited to receive Erwachlerhen’s teachings were you?” Wilfred replied.

“Dear brother, I believe it is you who would be visited by fresh knowledge. We can still play before the season is gone if we try,” Melchior offered.

“I don't think I'll have time. But perhaps in spring. I'll invite you over,” Wilfred said.

“Then I shall bring my cards. Are you sure you want to play in your room instead of the meeting room?” Melchior asked. It would be cozier in Wilfred's room but the meeting room had more space for retainers. They could have a small tournament.

“Melchior, I have plenty of other rooms in my estate. We can use the drawing room or the parlor. I haven't selected a bookroom yet but there is one that gets very good light,” Wilfred babbled while Melchior looked confused.

“Your estate?” he asked.

“Wilfred has come of age, dear brother. He has therefore moved into his own estate,” Charlotte explained.

Melchior was speechless. Not only had it happened already, he hadn't even noticed somehow. “You moved already?” he squeaked.

“I just had my first night there. I’ll likely start having some dinners there too, though it's kind of empty,” Wilfred replied.

His eyes felt warm and his heart shuddered. “You didn't even say goodbye,” Melchior said softly. “You left me alone again,” he added barely above a breath.

Wilfred finally noticed the distress descending over his little brother. “Do not worry. You can always find me at the Knights Order. I will invite you over for tea and such. We can still have our siblings’ teas. It will even be more of an event if you come to visit,” he said. “Do not cry.”

Melchior took several deep breaths. This wasn't like when he was a baby. He couldn't weep nor was he as confused by the sudden loss. “You are right, Wilfred. We will still see each other at dinner sometimes. And we can visit on occasion.” He thought about how rarely he'd seen Henrietta these days and the statues he hadn't created yet. She could not understand, as he did, why her siblings did not visit.

The Archductal couple entered and they were served shortly after. They talked about the upcoming feast and charged their children to prepare well. “The nobles will have much to say. Consider your approaches tonight,” Florencia said.

Melchior didn't spend much time considering his approach. Insead he visited his little sister. He told her about his time at the Royal Academy and listened to her tales about the Winter. She was terrible at telling stories, always starting and stopping and jumping around the timeline of events.

“There is no one to play with me,” she claimed. There were several attendants assigned to her and a guard knight.

“What do you mean? Do your attendants not play with you?” he asked and morphed his highbeast faestone into a new form. She happily picked up the poor imitation of a bear and turned it over and over.

“Zagweeked was gone. You were gone,” she explained.

“I took him with me to school,” Melchior said. She gave him a pouty face.

“You took him?”

“I needed him to take care of me. You have these attendants to take care of you and Mother,” Melchior argued.

She looked at the women in question. They waited patiently to the side while he played with her. “They are not fun,” she concluded.

Melchior gave them an apologetic look. He remembered thinking only his favorite people were worth being around. He’d enjoyed learning to read but not learning addition and therefore did not like his math tutor.

“They are doing their best. You must do your best as well.” She had no reaction to his sage advice, only asked for the cat again. He changed his faestone and she accepted it with glee.

“Shall I read you a story?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Stories make me sleepy,” she replied.

“It is nearly time for bed. You should be sleepy anyway.”

“No,” she said.

“Would you like for me to sing?” he asked.

This time she looked excited. She got up and sat closer.

He sang her the song about the library and her favorite song twice. “Again!” she cried. He sang it again as she watched him with a happy smile. It was a happy, upbeat song. It would only make her less apt to go to bed. Her minders looked worried and Zargerecht was giving him looks that said it was time to leave.

“Let me sing you my new favorite song,” he offered once he finished.

She nodded and he spread out his arms to invite her in. She got up and sat down on his lap. It was not a new song at all but he sang it more slowly than normal while patting her head. Maybe it was the warmth or the song but she grew less energetic at once. By the time he'd repeated himself she had droopy eyes.

“I have to go now,” he said.

She tried to rally and grabbed his hand. “No.”

“I have to sleep as well.” She shook her head. He patted her head. “I am back from school. I can come more often. Do not worry,” he said.

“Come every day,” she ordered.

“I cannot come every day but I can come most weeks. I will bring gifts sometimes too,” he promised.

She looked sad but could not argue.

“I will have Spring Prayer to conduct soon. I can fly around on my highbeast this year…” he made mundane chatter until her eyelids slid closed and her breathing slowed. She rested on his chest and he stroked her hair for a little while longer. The attendants looked as relieved as usual.

“Does she struggle to sleep?” Melchior asked as he returned to his room with Zargerecht and his knights.

“Only when there is no one from her family present,” Zargerecht replied. “She is better if I am there as well.”

“I have apprentices now,” Melchior said. “You can go every night you are working.”

“I am assigned to care for you. I cannot abandon that duty,” Zargerecht said.

“You are not abandoning me. Kolteruze and Pepin are capable of managing my nightly schedule. I would like for you to be with Henrietta if she would otherwise be alone,” Melchior said with more force than before. They entered the Northern building but he stopped before the stairs. “She is my precious younger sister. It is important to me that she is happy.” He turned around to look up at his attendant. He caught sight of Fonsel who was wearing an expression like he'd seen the most adorable thing ever. It made him falter just a bit but he tried to project authority.

“If that is your wish. Then I will see it done,” Zargerecht promised.

They returned to Melchior's room. His apprentices had the night off to spend with their families. For some of them, it would be their last time having dinner with their parents before they left for the provinces. Haldis and Lothar prepared him for bed.

“How is it working in the castle?” he asked. Melchior didn't expect a full answer from Lothar.

He received a calm smile and a brief response. “I believe I can perform my work here as well. The magic tools are interesting to see. They make many tasks much less burdensome.” Melchior felt he would have to ask Kirk later. Speaking of, he wondered where his other retainers were. “We have been given rooms on the lowest floor for our stay.”

Melchior wondered why they weren't a bit closer. The Northern Building was very large and had many rooms. His chambers even had a special retainer’s room with a door that led into his living space. It wasn't even occupied since Haldis lived at home and Zargerecht had rooms elsewhere. Melchior wondered if Pepin or Kolteruze would want it.

The Feast Celebrating Spring

Melchior's guards had a minor argument that morning. He didn't need all of them but they desperately wanted to avoid attending the feast if they could. He also only needed one attendant, a position which Haldis defended with his superior status. Zargerecht would be with Henrietta while his apprentices would have to fend for themselves. Everyone had serious looks except for Isolde who looked ecstatic.

He’d spent some time thinking about his mother's words. Isolde was a mystery to him more than anyone. That they'd talked so much yet he understood so little felt strange. Perhaps it was because he never asked her about herself.

Today was not the day for that though. Melchior spent some time over breakfast talking with his scholars. Kazmiar was even there to share his opinion. “You can deflect a lot of questions by presenting your own topic. You can bring up your research to drive sales or talk about Charlotte’s achievements to boost her reputation.”

“Isn't that rather crude?” Isolde asked.

“It's not the deft and precise socializing you might read about in novels or dream about, Isolde, but it does work. People can't know things they aren't told and if Melchior wants people to think he's content to serve her, its ok to be a little servile,” he replied.

“It will seem strange if they are together. In that case you can share fun facts about other duchy's monuments and history,” Isolde counseled.

Kazmiar look quizzical. “What benefit would that serve? It will just make him seem immature.”

“Precisely. Charlotte is a skilled socialite. She will handle things mostly by herself. By opening conversation with appropriate facts, you will give her space to segue into anything she wants to say.” Isolde looked very happy with this plan. Kazmiar looked less convinced but agreed it was as good as anything else.

“Its going to be exhausting. As long as you do not allow fatigue to let you say more than you aught, it will be a success,” Kazmiar encouraged. After a few more words or encouragement, he left to get dressed himself. They sent him off with smiles and a list Isolde prepared with talking points Melchior wanted to disseminate. So that all his retinue could affirm the same things, she’d made several copies and made everyone read them.

For the most part it just reminded them to reply to all inquiries about taking the seat that Melchior had no intentions to do so. If anyone asked about his grades, they should be vague and say he was working hard and they felt inspired. They could feign ignorance on all other matters. Melchior didn't have good answers for the barons or the former Veronica faction nobles. Their struggles were complex and difficult to influence and he was ten.

“I shall be eleven soon,” he pouted.

He was pushing things by bringing four knights. Nikolaus begged his way in by noting that he didn't have any family to circulate with while Zipporah talked Sigsnyr out of his place with a single sentence. “You said I needn't even ask.” He grumbled and glared but did give her his place then leave to get dressed.

When it was finally time to go to the feast, Melchior made his way to the hall with Charlotte. She was beautiful as always but leaving without seeing Wilfred descend the stairs filled him with deep sadness. “We will be excellent, dear brother. Together we cannot be cowed,” Charlotte assured him. She patted his arm where she held it. It felt slightly less awkward to escort his towering sister so Melchior felt that he was growing.

His adult retainers wore brooches this time as well. There were not many flowers so Fonsel and Kazmiar received fruits without complaint. It gave Melchior a bit of courage everytime one caught his eye. He and Charlotte circulated and greeted friends before the Archduke entered to begin the festivities.

“Flutrane the Goddess of Water’s pure streams have washed away Ewigeliebe the God of Life and rescued Geduldh the Goddess of Earth. Blessed be the Melting of the Snow!”

“Blessed be the melting of the snow!” replied the assembly. They raised their schtappes and produced green lights which flew away into the ceiling. Melchior was reminded that he needed to find more opportunities for nobles to pray for Divine Protections.

There were a few moments to exchange happy smiles before the Archduke continued.
“A few years ago, we came in eleventh place in ditter and were glad of the achievement. Today we are a different duchy. Those young knights grew to teach their juniors and train such that their example might lead others to excellence. It is with great pride that I can say we have become a duchy who takes third place and has mixed feelings about it,” there were laughs from the audience. “Perhaps, young knights, you are disappointed but we are proud of your achievements,” he declared and the older knights cheered with gusto.

The entire Knights Order had been reinvigorated by the visit from Dunkelfelger and the training from Bonifiatus. That Ehrenfest was producing such high quality knights was a victory for everyone.

“We published a great deal of research this year. On a wide variety of topics. Our ongoing joint research with Frenbeltag and Klassenberg received third place. We are discovering new mechanisms to receive Divine Protections and reviving more rituals. Five other projects received Parchments for their excellent methodology.” The scholars were more restrained as a people but their applause was strong and their faces glowed with pride.

“And finally, after years of diligent effort and excellent service, our attendants were awarded third place!” The Archduke announced. The sixth year who went up to receive the prize carried it forward for all to see then rested it on an easel beside the stage. The attendants gave a melodious cheer while everyone murmured their congratulations.

He went on to praise Ottille’s work as the new Dormitory Supervisor. She’d offered assistance to the students and presented Ehrenfest's trends at the Tournament. Melchior hadn't seen much of the new supervisor. That she was receiving effusive praise for doing what sounded like the bare minimum painted Hirschur as possibly negligent.

The trends in question were the new brooches, more elaborate hairstyles, and Ehrenfest’s new revitalized dyeing techniques which were distinguished from Alexandria by motif and color selection.

Ehrenfest was maintaining its influence through trade. With Kirnberger building itself up as a vacation destination for rich commoners, casual visitors were going there and leaving space in the other cities for more serious merchants. Reunwalt was expanding and cleaning their own city in hopes of attracting both merchants and their own printing workshops but wasn't ready yet. Melchior knew there were talks of an Entwinklen but this was not announced.

“The marriage moratorium will persist for another three years. We hope you will bring many nobles with new perspectives and skills back with you to Ehrenfest,” Sylvester said. “This year we will welcome five guests to exchange faestones and seven new Ehrenfest nobles to receive the blessings of the Supreme Gods.”

While the assembly cheered and applauded this news, scholars brought forward boxes and set out faestones on a velvet table runner along with cards written by the Archduke.

“This year we had 21 honor students. An incredible achievement! Everyone's grades have risen across the board as well. Our hard work and dedication as a duchy has been acknowledged.” He then called each honor student to receive a faestone. They came in a variety of colors matching each person's birth season. Melchior held the green rock happily for a few minutes while the new adults were announced.

A boy, now a man, named Sebastian was announced to be working for Melchior. He was an archnoble noble from Herzfeld in the North and so far, none of Melchior's retainers had anything negative to say. The announcement caused a proud smile to spread across his face and a murmur to ripple through the crowd.

With this everyone was free to eat and then to mingle. Melchior and Charlotte’s retainers tried to stay near their lord and lady but were peeled away by curious nobles or their own relatives. Eventually the siblings had to face the many-mawed beast all on their own.

Just as Kazmiar predicted, the barons and viscounts tried to probe about the schedule for establishing papermaking or printing workshops. Charlotte deflected most of them with smiles and promises that they were able to add more provinces every year as more craftspeople were trained. She advised those with abundant woods to seek deals with Groschel and Kirnberger as they continued to furnish and expand their cities. She reminded them that Ehrenfest was always willing to accept smiths capable of learning the intricate work needed for printing.

In theory, they would be sent back home after training but approximately half chose to remain in the larger cities, Melchior remembered reading. It was a gamble but Khune was making a name as they produced more and more craftspeople capable of building presses and type letters. Haldenzel and the other large provinces had itheir own skilled artisans but had enough work that they could send some of their broken pieces to be recycled there. The making of pumps to sell to commoner merchants from Klassenberg was also handled by them.

Brunhilde came by with her father at some point. They exchanged pleasantries then he said something amazing. “Congratulations, Lady Charlotte. I hear Liebeskhilfe has granted her blessing².”

Brunhilde looked a bit surprised for a split second. “My goodness, Father. Who could have told you such things?”

“I thank you for your interest, Count Groschel. I still see Mestinora within my threads³.” Charlotte replied with a noble smile.

“Is that so? And I thought you would be quite beautiful in dark purple,” he said with a performative sigh. “Do you not agree, Lord Melchior?”

More than three sets of eyes fell on Melchior. He was shocked that anyone knew about the pre-engagement preparations. He would have to consider this another time as the Giebe seemed to be implying that Charlotte was moving to Bershmann. “Is Sister not lovely in every color? We have so many here and so many wonderful variations of fabrics. She would not need to seek out bolts anywhere else,” he replied brightly. Melchior glanced at Charlotte to see if he’d made his point well enough. Her look was mixed but not reproving. “Who knows how many people are envious of our stores,” he tried.

Brunhilde gave a little giggle while Count Groschel harrumphed. “May you be blessed in your due season,” he said before leading his daughter away.

“I see you are inventing new modes of speech,” Charlotte whispered once they were gone.

“I could not think of any appropriate euphemism,” he admitted. She gave him a pat on the arm. Giebe Groschel was not the only person to ask about Charlotte’s engagement. Melchior left the talking to her when he could. There were also people sharing the many achievements of their children and inquiring about the spaces in his retinue. He just said that he felt he had enough retainers for the moment but would consider additions in the coming years. He tried to firmly imply that no one would be let go from his current roster.

“Oh, it is the little ones,” said a woman as their previous interlocutor stepped away. She was the wife of a giebe, Melchior felt sure. He also wasn't happy about being called a little one.

“Greetings, Viscountess. I hope Ewigeliebe’s judgment was not too harsh,” Charlotte replied.

“Oh it's much more sedate here at home. How was the Royal Academy? I hear you participated in the ditter this year,” the Viscountess asked.

Charlotte put on a wistful look. “Yes. I learned a great deal. I have new respect for Leidenschaft who stands at the fore⁴. I do not doubt that a woman such as yourself must understand.”

The woman laughed. “I prefer my own garden⁵. I should not wish to distract with my wailing,” she said. “You understand.”

Melchior felt Charlotte grasp his arm a bit tighter. The insinuation wasn't lost on him either. Having been at the match in question, he knew it was not at all Charlotte’s fault. Having read the reports, he also knew they'd followed Wilfried's plans primarily. If Lestilaut was to be believed, he should have chosen the treasure at the critical moment.

“Surely their training and discipline would allow them to remain focused on their objectives and your assistance might prove crucial to victory,” Melchior replied.

The Viscountess looked down at him as though he were four years younger. “And that is what Entrindunge knows of Angriff,” she cooed with a giggle. She attempted to draw Charlotte into her joke by leaning in conspiratorially. “Even Efflorelume knows more.”

Charlotte did not find this funny, nor did she laugh out of politeness. Neither sibling dropped their noble smile. “Erwachlerhen can do so little when one does not leave their garden⁶ and the Royal Academy provides so many opportunities to experience new things. Would we not grieve the God of Darkness to avoid new lessons?” Charlotte said.

The woman blinked rapidly and stood up straight. “I suppose that's true. We must prepare our cubs to lead the pride,” she replied. “Oh, speaking of, I have yet to speak with Wilfred, do excuse me,” the Viscountess tittered then moved away.

Melchior took a deep breath. He didn't know how to feel about someone being so nasty. It sadly wasn't terribly uncommon at these events. It also seemed like only the people with the worst intentions wanted to speak with the Archduke's children.

He was therefore relieved when, in a brief moment when Charlotte was pulled away to speak alongside Florencia, Isolde brought Veremund over to speak with Melchior. He looked nervous to have her on his arm and just antsy in general. “Lord Melchior, I do not know why I am here,” he muttered.

Melchior was also confused. These feasts had many attendees but they were all more or less in direct service to the Archductal family. They worked at the castle, were giebes, or were a part of the giebes retinues. In the past, when there were many more people working in the castle, the giebes were only allowed to bring guards and an attendant. “There are so few people in our direct service these days. The requirements for receiving an invitation have grown lax,” Melchior explained as best he could. “We published research together and you assisted with the skins. In that way you rendered me direct service.”

Veremund sighed in relief. “My parents were terrified I was being pressured into your retinue. We are but sons of Vulcanift and daughters of Ventuchte⁷. This glittering company is a bit much for us.”

“Do not fear, Lord Veremund. I was very firm and told Father I would not take you on since you did not want to join my service,” Melchior replied.

“You are not upset?” Veremund asked.

“Of course not,” Melchior said with a tip of his head. Being an Archductal retainer was an amazing amount of work and a lifelong commitment. How could he be upset if someone chose to remain with their family instead.

“I think you are making a mistake, Lord Veremund,” came a voice from Melchior's left. Both Veremund and Isolde looked annoyed but she wasn't going to leave and didn't let Veremund escape.

“Greetings, Lord Benedikt,” Melchior said. He kept his smile light and welcoming despite the sudden chill.

“You need not address me with a title, Lord Melchior. We will soon be working together after all,” he replied. “Greetings, Lord Veremund… Isolde.”

“Blessed be the melting of the snow,” she replied. “May our work among the twelve be fruitful and enduring⁸.”

“I see. You have taken on Benedikt,” Veremund said, his deep voice taking on a higher lilt. He made no additional comments.

Benedikt frowned at the lack of title but didn't press the issue. “Indeed. Father hoped to find someone capable of teaching both myself and my young scholars. We shall be in your care Lord Benedikt,” Melchior said. “If you would all excuse me, it seems Charlotte has returned.” Melchior said then fled the sustained tension to return to the fray with Charlotte.

After the feast, he sat quietly at his desk and wrote out his notes. His knights looked very happy to have avoided socializing themselves. Zipporah wore a radiant smile while Nikolaus sank into a chair in obvious relief.

“How you manage it, I will never know,” he sighed.

“A smile goes a very long way to dispel awkwardness. Also remember to stand up straight and look like you're walking to talk to someone you know even when you aren't,” Dedryck said. “You can avoid a lot of conversations by seeming unapproachable.”

“Thank you, Dedryck. I’ll remember your advice,” Nikolaus replied.

Melchior took this golden opportunity to be distracted from his work. “Perhaps Dedryck would be a good mentor,” he said.

Nikolaus looked at Dedryck who looked surprised. “I don't know. I’m not particularly good with kids,” he said. Nikolaus looked a bit peeved to be lumped in with mere kids but didn't argue.

“You have similar personalities, I think you would both benefit from the arrangement,” Zipporah said.

Now Nikolaus looked surprised. “How would Dedryck benefit?”

“You are functionally an only child. You may find it difficult to be a good father without any practice,” Zipporah explained. “And Nikolaus has never had an older sibling to rely upon.

“Aren't you an oldest sibling,” Melchior noted.

“Yes but I have wonderful friends who help me and take care of me,” she said as warmth and joy filled her eyes.

“Are you willing to mentor Nikolaus?” Melchior asked. Nikolaus also fixed Dedryck with adorable eyes.

He folded immediately. “I suppose I can try.”

Both boys smiled. “I shall be in your care!” Nikolaus cried. He immediately began asking all kinds of questions. Melchior shuffled them into his hidden room to reduce the noise. Their distant chatter created a soothing backdrop to his work.

Haldis, Lothar, and Sheila busied about preparing his chambers for bed. Kirk stood by to refill his tea and fetch paper or wooden boards.

“Kirk, can you make a copy of this,” Melchior asked.

Kirk looked nervously around then came over. “At once, my lord.” Zipporah watched him retrieve a second pen and ink from Melchior’s desk. Its organization had changed slightly to better match the one in the temple, much to Pepin's dismay. Melchior seemed to prefer it so the change remained. Thus Kirk had no trouble finding what he needed to work. Once the copies were done, Zipporah was sent to accompany him on deliveries to the First Wife's office and Charlotte’s room. They began by ascending the stairs. Charlotte’s guard looked at them with interest. It was certainly a strange sight to see a commoner accompanied by an archknight. Kirk bowed carefully and stated their business.

“Lord Melchior sends reports of the feast to Lady Charlotte,” he said straight away. A commoner would normally need to ask for permission to speak but Kirk was Melchior’s attendant. He could not introduce the possibility of being turned away without at least stating his business.

“I will take them,” said the guard.

Kirk shuddered the smallest bit. “Please excuse my lack of obedience. Lord Melchior directed me to deliver them into the hands of Lady Charlotte’s attendant.”

“I attend her as a guard,” the man replied.

Zipporah sighed. “Lord Yrachtek, I know guard duty is lacking in amusements but we are not blessed with leisure this evening. Please summon an attendant.”

The guard smiled jovially as he took out a bell. An attendant appeared and took the reports quickly. Kirk turned to Yrachtek. “I thank you for your generous assistance,” he said and bowed again.

On their trip to the First Wife, Zipporah instructed Kirk to follow behind her. She walked confidently through the halls with an expression and bearing signifying that she was working and not open for discussions. The castle denizens dutifully ignored her but stared once they noticed Kirk.

Lady Florencia happened to be in her office. Zipporah took the reports and presented them to a scholar.

“Zipporah, is that one of the commoner attendants with you?” Florencia asked.

“Yes, Lady Florencia. Melchior’s apprentices were given the night to recover after the feast since they are here for training,” she replied. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a strange painting. It looked nothing like the art normally hung in the castle. Though she’d never seen it before, the glassy trees and black swag of fabric adorning the frame told her what it was. She couldn't help but grin.

“This is not so dire a circumstance that we need employ them,” Florencia mused. “What is your name?”

“Answering you, your highness. I am called Kirk.”

Florencia’s face did not change but she shifted her weight slightly. “So you are Kirk. My son speaks highly of you. How are you finding the work here in the castle?”

“I am amazed by the skill of noble attendants. There is much I will never be able to emulate,” he replied with his eyes downcast. The scholars around the desk had smug looks but Joanna seemed to be appraising the boy properly. His manners were perfect and his answer was correct if not wholly sincere. The only thing he seemed to lack was mana which, it was true, he could never hope to emulate.

“I see. I expect you will serve my son with your utmost, nonetheless,” Florencia said then gestured for them to leave. Kirk and Zipporah bowed and exited.

When they returned, Melchior was receiving a minor scolding. “Why didn't you summon a scholar or just send me? Now it looks like you have no other retainers to help you,” Haldis lectured.

“I am so used to sending Kirk on similar errands. It seems I fell into old habits,” Melchior replied. “Did everything go alright?” he asked.

Kirk nodded. “Charlotte’s guard had a bit of fun but nothing inhibited our mission,” Zipporah clarified.

Haldis sighed in relief. “What did Lady Florencia say?”

“Ah… that we are not in a dire enough position to need to make use of the temple attendants and that she’s sure Kirk will do his best,” Zipporah said.

“Those aren't exact words. Do you remember exactly what she said, Kirk,” Haldis asked. Kirk nodded and relayed the conversation exactly. Haldis struggled to withhold a satisfied smile.

“That is impressive,” Zipporah noted.

“It only just happened,” Melchior said with a slight pout. He didn’t feel he deserved the lecture for sending Kirk, especially now that everyone was praising his competence. It was wrong to vent his frustration at Kirk but Kirk would understand. “If you ask in a few days he will not remember.” Kirk gave him a smirk to which Melchior returned a mild gesture: something Zipporah had never seen him do for any reason.

“Lord Melchior,” Haldis chided.

“Excellent work, Kirk. Your memory is a credit to your teachers,” Melchior said and returned to drawing. Lothar gave Kirk a particular look as well.

With both boys thus chastised the air in the room calmed. Dedryck and Nikolaus were retrieved from their conversation. They both looked quite happy as they took up guarding inside the room and Zipporah was sent back to her own for the night.

Footnotes

2.There's talk of you getting engaged ^{^}

3. Is still too young or else committed to chastity rather than another. Mestinora it depicted as a child and Goddess of Wisdom are often associated with chastity (at least incarnations of Athena are)^{^}

4. Front line soldiers and commanders specifically as well as “what it takes to lead”^{^}

5. “I stay in my lane”^{^}

6.“You need to expand your horizons” or “you don't learn much by doing the same old things”^{^}

7. Humble craftspeople^{^}

8. A formal way to say: “I look forward to working with you as a retainer”^{^}

Chapter Text

New Potential Friends

For the nobility, Spring had officially begun, but the night of Ewigeliebe had yet to pass. The provincial nobles began leaving while the city nobles resumed their normal work. For Melchior, this was helping in the various offices. He had a short meeting with Charlotte and Wilfried to decide their Spring Prayer order. Melchior would take the chalice first while Wilfried would go last. Melchior was planning to visit Haldenzel to transcribe a book for Rozemyne's gift and to witness the Spring Summoning Ritual for himself while Charlotte had printing related matters to attend in Groschel.

Zipporah was delighted at the chance to come along while Isolde was disappointed. Her family lived in Ehrenfest so there wouldn't be an opportunity for her to accompany Melchior on a religious trip until she came of age. “Scholars don't normally come then either,” Melchior noted to her dismay.

Even more depressed than Isolde was Sigsnyr. “You are going without me!” he wailed pitifully. “Zipporah, I thought we were friends, comrades, allies.”

“The rules are not mine. You should feel lucky to visit even the temple as an apprentice,” she sighed. “I will not miss a chance to go home because it makes you sad.”

“I know. I can't ask you to. I just want a way to come too,” he whined.

“Nothing is stopping you from visiting normally. Your lord will be away, it would be easy to take leave,” Isolde muttered. Her own parents would never pay for such a trip.

A fresh look of determination filled his eyes. “Isolde. My hero,” he cried. Then his joy faded some. “But uncle will never agree to come. I will have to hire an attendant. And rent a room. Its going to be so expensive.”

“Do not be silly. Father will give you a room,” Zipporah assured him. “But yes. You will need to hire an attendant.”

Having a plan and some hope was enough to lift his mood. He walked with determination toward the Archduke's office that afternoon with his leave request. Sylvester’s scholar accepted it curiously. It didn't have the official dates yet as the Temple hadn't had its Spring meeting to decide them. “While Melchior is away in Haldenzel, is not precise enough,” the scholar said and tried to hand it back.

“If I wait until the day is set, it will not be enough notice. Please file it pending precise dates,” Sigsnyr asked. The scholar frowned but took the board. At least the formatting was correct.

Haldis took up his normal position, sending the apprentice scholars to do actual work. The rest of Melchior's retinue was arranged on two tables. Those with experience took one while the novices sat with Isolde while she explained the work.

Kirk and Sheila remained in Melchior's room. Haldis was of the opinion that it wouldn't be appropriate to bring the temple attendants but the passionate praise heaped upon Lothar won his inclusion. He settled stiffly into a chair with Haldis's assistance. Gerianne and Flautzeal were given forms to draw. They needed the most elbow room for their rules and such so they were at separate tables. Melchior continued his quest to improve his math skills alongside Dedryck and Sigsnyr. Zipporah and Sigsnyr took turns guarding.

It was new work for Lothar but much of the format descended from the temple's records. There was a clear mark from Ferdinand and Rozemyne respective organizational styles. He was not sitting with the novices either. His work was checked by Dedryck for the first couple of things before the knight waved him away. “It is better than my own work,” he muttered.

After watching their table on and off for the better part of a bell, Sylvester called Melchior over. “That is your temple attendant?” he asked. It was the same tone he used at their lunch.

“Yes. He is my head temple attendant. It is thanks to his skilled oversight that my chambers run smoothly and coordinate with the castle flawlessly,” Melchior answered. He tried to look intimidating.

“How much are gray priests these day?” Sylvester asked casually.

“You would take more of my retainers?” Melchior asked. This time he had no great indignation. He was simply surprised.

Ridyarda stepped forward. “My lord. What will the scholars say if you replace them with a priest?” she chided.

Sylvester frowned then sighed. “Fine, fine. Keep your priest,” he muttered.

Melchior returned to his table. He looked at Lothar long enough for the attendant to look back. He began to get up but Melchior stopped him. “It is nothing. I was lost in thought,” Melchior assured him and went back to his own work.

When he returned to his chambers after dinner, Kolteruze and Pepin were there instead of the temple attendants. He asked them about their time at the feast and instructed them on what to pack for his return to the temple. His sword and paints would travel back and forth along with his flute. His scholars would be in charge of securing potions for Spring Prayer. He was given an allotment by the duchy but had some ingredients from the Royal Academy that could be made into more. His support faestones also needed to be traded with other members of the Archductal family. Brunhilde and Bonifiatus had lesser burdens for mana replenishment and so donated for these moments when a great deal of mana was needed all at once. They added a little at a time over the course of the year so it wouldn't be a burden.

Melchior also emptied a couple of his own storage faestones. He hadn't been filling them lately as he was compressing and using his mana more often. It seemed like a good use of the excess to contribute to Spring Prayer. Filling a third of the Central District was still too much for him.

He also read notes about his new retainers compiled by Isolde. She had much to say about Benedikt but only one line of praise. He was good at brewing it seemed. He was also officious, rude, unfunny, and arrogant according to Isolde. For the knights, there was a dry explanation of their various skills courtesy of Zipporah. No matter how professional she attempted to be, describing someone going into their final year only as “capable of using a sword and shield” spoke volumes. Sigsnyr evaluations had apparently been unusably scathing. Theodore had a more neutral opinion but described the youngest male knight as “incapable of having a conversation with a woman without offending her.”

Melchior held his head. The new retainers could not be so terrible. He couldn't understand why Wilfried would recommend such poor fits for his retinue. Not to mention that Isolde and Zargerecht were already at odds. If Benedikt and her could not get along, there would be much more conflict.

Before he could leave after breakfast, he had to meet his new retainers. Kazmiar delayed his commute to be present. No one wore their brooches. There were not enough for all the new knights, so it was agreed that only Melchior would wear his. The order for the next year would have to be larger.

Melchior took several deep breaths as he traveled to a meeting room near but not inside of the Northern Building. As they were not yet in his service, Florencia did not give her permission for them to enter.

He wanted to project poise and make a good impression as a proper Archduke Candidate. Dedryck and Sigsnyr would handle talking to the knights while Isolde would explain things to Benedikt on his behalf. Besides them, he was accompanied by Zipporah, Nikolaus, and Gerianne who would accompany him to the temple. Fonsel was in charge of delivering the clergy via carriage along with Melchior's luggage. Pepin was tasked with standing in Melchior's line of sight so he could send signals about people's attitudes.

Melchior paused before the door to take a few more breaths before stepping inside. “Charlotte will be coming to introduce the girls on the way to her office,” Haldis reminded him. He nodded and put on his best impression of Florencia.

The three girls and four boys were standing on seperate sides of the room for some reason. Melchior entered and sat in the seat Haldis presented him. He took a moment to survey the assembled children and Sebastian. If Charlotte was coming, he would need to stall until she arrived.

“Lord Benedikt,” he called. The young scholar came forward and knelt. “I’ve heard you have some skill in brewing.”

Benedikt glanced momentarily at Isolde who stood on Melchior's right opposite to Gerianne. “I am also capable of gathering information and brokering deals,” he replied.

“That is good to hear. We will develop your administrative skills as well,” Melchior said. He waited as was customary when accepting a pledge.

After slightly too long Benedikt shuffled on his knee then began. “I will turn my skills to your aims. Please utilize me to achieve your ambitions,” he intoned. It was a very standard pledge but Melchior didn't need everyone to sound like Gerianne.

“I look forward to your good work, Benedikt,” Melchior said. He waited for the older boy to bow and stand before continuing. “Isolde will explain our work and schedule. Please confer with her if you have any additional questions.” He gestured for the two to stand to the side.

By rights, Helenwig should have been next but Charlotte had yet to arrive and Melchior didn't want to hold Kazmiar for too long. He called Sebastian forward.

“As you are an adult you will be expected to follow me on such errands as Spring Prayer and the Harvest Festival. This will require long absences without days of rest.”

“I am well aware of the work you do for our duchy. I am honored to serve in whatever capacity you need,” Sebastian said. “You need fear no incursions behind my shield.”

“Then I shall be in your care. Dedryck is my head knight. He will assign shifts and provide guidance as needed,” Melchior gestured for him to return to his spot. He came forward again when Gottschalk was called.

“Please allow me to present Lord Gottschalk. He hails from Haseney and is the older brother of your fellow first year,” Sebastian said.

While Gottschalk knelt Melchior considered who’s brother he was. It was not Gerianne and Ansgar was a laynoble. It took great strength not to grimace once the name came to him. “Haseney produces much grain for our duchy. I am delighted to have one of her sons in my service.”

“Thank you, Lord Melchior. I will do my utmost to ensure your security. You may feel assured that no harm will come to your distinguished person.”

“Learn well. You have but one year remaining to enjoy the wisdom rich environment of the Royal Academy.”

Gottschalk looked a bit confused to not be offered the standard reply but he recovered and said: “I will do my best.”

There was a bell at the door. Pepin opened it to reveal Charlotte in a Spring outfit accompanied by her retinue. She entered with only guards and her head attendant. “Greetings, dear brother. Thank you ever so much for taking on the burden of training these apprentices. I can personally assure that they will render you fine service in the interim.”

“Hello, Sister. Thank you for recommending such excellent knights.”

She smiled brightly and took a chair across from him. Sebastian and Gottschalk were obscured in their corner by her collection of knights. “Please allow me to present Helenwig, Cecilia, and Eikestine.” She explained the girls’ origins. Helenwig was from the largest new province. Cecilia and Eikestine were from mednoble districts.

“Lady Cecilia. It has been said that you have enmity for attendants. I value the contributions of my own quite highly. Can I expect conflict to arise?” Melchior asked. He maintained his calm smile but held his gaze directly on her face.

She knelt immediately. “Oh no, my lord. I was only just free of Weigemilch’s embrace and could not bear the thought of becoming one myself. I have great respect for attendants. I also know their work is beyond me. That Lord Sigsnyr is both a knight and an attendant has amazed me continually,” she explained.

“That is good. I can look forward to your promised fine service unburdened by worry,” Melchior replied.

“I offer you my shield. You have my gratitude for providing knowledge and opportunity to one such as myself,” Cecilia said with several bows.

“Lady Eikestine. It is wonderful indeed to hear good things about your skill and temperament. I hope this praise proves true.”

She blinked in confusion as she knelt. It was an oddly lukewarm declaration for an oath taking. “As do I, my lord. I will endeavor to prove my continued worth. Please witness my strength.”

“We shall be watching,” Melchior replied. He felt silly saying such high handed things but Pepin was giving him good signals and Isolde hadn't lost her giddy attitude the entire time.

“Lady Helenwig. You are the sole archknight in this collection of apprentices. Much will be expected of you as you have already proven yourself to be of quality.”

She blushed just a little. “Thank you for taking me into your service for the interim. I was so sad when Lady Zipporah chose to serve you instead of Lady Charlotte. It was terribly difficult to choose whom to serve myself. Now I can enjoy her tutelage and serve my lady as well,” she replied. She knelt next to the other girls happily. Charlotte and Melchior traded amused looks.

“Lady Zipporah is certainly worthy of emulation. Do not forget to invest in your own strengths and seek the form best suited to you,” Charlotte said.

“It is as you say,” Helenwig replied.

“I leave them in your care, Brother,” Charlotte said before taking her leave.

The knights remained kneeling then each gave their pledge to protect Melchior and improve themselves. “I shall be in your care,” Melchior said then gestured for them to step back.

Ortolf was the final person called forward. He struggled to hide his displeasure at being last. Sebastian presented him as well. “Lord Ortolf hails for Groschel. He will be going into his fourth year.”

Theodore's words came to mind immediately. He wasn't sure whether to mention it now or to call the boy aside later. Since there were so many girls in his retinue, Melchior thought it best to lay things out. “There are many young women and girls in my service. I expect you to treat them kindly.”

Isolde took in a sharp breath. The other retainers he could see had a variety of surprised expressions. Ortolf’s was chief among them. “What do you mean to say, my lord? I would never disrespect a lady.”

“If that is so then your reputation has been tarnished without reason. We shall see which it is,” Melchior replied then waited for Ortolf to kneel. It took him slightly longer than Benedikt to catch on but he lowered himself onto one knee and crossed his arms.

“I will do my best to protect you and to grow into a knight worthy of your banner,” he pledged.

Melchior hadn't decided on his response by the time Ortolf finished. A part of him wanted to be firm while the other didn't want to seem harsh. At the moment, it was his word against Theodore's and while Melchior trusted Theodore to tell the truth, he didn't want to believe someone could struggle to speak with women to such an extent. The silence was dragging on so he went with his first thought. “See that you do.”

Ortolf visibly shivered as he rose and returned to his place. Dedryck stepped forward to explain the guarding and training schedule. He noted that Melchior was only at the castle approximately half the time. The other days would largely be spent training and gathering depending on a variety of factors. He mentioned that Theodore would join them at the Royal Academy while Cecilia and Eikestine would move over to Charlotte’s retinue at that time. “With the addition of Sebastian, Melchior’s guard at the temple will be sufficient to exclude all of you. You are welcome to visit during your free time to offer mana to the Divine Instruments. Melchior's attendants will assist you. Send an ordonnanz to Kazmiar before coming.”

They seemed to sigh in relief when told they wouldn't need to come to the temple. Melchior felt something complicated well in his chest. It was going to be hard work to rehabilitate the image of the temple. He also wondered why they would agree to serve him if they disliked his profession.

“I will return in three days. Take this time to learn the schedule such that you are prepared to serve at that time,” Melchior said before leaving with those accompanying him back to the temple.

“I will come after lunch,” Isolde promised.

“You do not wish to eat with us?” Melchior asked as they walked toward the exit.

“If you are inviting me, then I will gladly accept,” she replied.

Melchior smiled and nodded. They walked for a little while longer before Benedikt spoke up. “Isolde serves in the temple as well? Should I also come?”

Kazmiar gave him a sidelong glance. “I heard Isolde explain only a few minutes ago. You do not have your family's permission to work at the temple.”

“Oh, you are correct. I will ask posthaste.” He said and began to walk off.

“There is more for us to discuss,” Isolde called out.

Benedikt turned with an obvious frown. “I have nothing more to say,” he replied.

“You are to begin serving as Lord Melchior's scholar. You must be briefed,” she growled.

Melchior glanced back and forth between them. This was the first time he’d seen people simultaneously fighting and trying to spend more time together. He wasn't sure whether to separate them or not. “I do not think he understands that Isolde is your head scholar,” Haldis whispered.

“She is?” Melchior asked. He still had Kazmiar who was both older and more experienced.

Kazmiar nodded. “My work is tangential to your life and ambitions. Isolde works with you directly and plans your scholars’ activities. Do you not pass instructions to her for Flautzeal? Have you ever done the reverse?”

Melchior's eyes grew wide. He hadn't realized why Flautzeal always asked him to speak with Isolde directly instead of having him act as an intermediary. It made things more complicated when Isolde couldn't come to his room but it was always worth taking the extra effort. He’d assumed that was the reason but it seemed that Flautzeal was trying to preserve the chain of command.

“Benedikt,” Melchior called out. He and Isolde paused their intense whispering at the sound of his voice. They came over together. “I have just realized I failed to properly introduce you to my scholars. You are not the same as the knights after all,” all three scholars smirked at this assertion. “Isolde is going into her fourth year. While Kazmiar is my adult scholar and has served beside me the longest, his work mostly entails being the High Priest. For this reason Isolde is my head scholar. I ask that you give her your cooperation.”

Benedikt grew pale while a pink excitement filled Isolde's cheeks. He tried to begin speaking twice and failed. “I… see. I was not aware. Forgive me Isolde for being short. I assumed that since Kazmiar was going to the temple today, these discussions would await his return. Please, enlighten me as to the nature and focus of our work.”

“Come with me then. I have prepared a meeting room,” she said. Her smile was just a bit too broad to be polite. Melchior felt happy to see the conflict resolved while Kazmiar and Haldis wore pensive expressions.

“He shouldn't have needed to be told,” Kazmiar muttered. Melchior raised an eyebrow. “She is conspicuous by her very nature. That he hasn't collected information on her activities by now is strange.”

“He was only accepted as my retainer very recently,” Melchior said.

“That's true,” Kazmiar noted, then carried on towards the exit.

New and Familiar Rhythms

It was nice to be back at the temple. Just standing before the doors being greeted by Lothar filled Melchior with a sense of ease. “And so we have returned,” he said.

“Welcome home, my lord. We have prepared your chambers. It will take a bit more time to collect a full report on the temple and orphanage.”

“That is alright. You have worked hard to learn the ways of the castle and have only just returned. Please summon Chet to give a preliminary overview.”

“As you wish,” Lothar replied.

Kirk helped him into his temple attire with noticeable quiet. “How was the castle, Kirk? Was it what you hoped? How were your rooms?” Melchior asked when the silence dragged on.

“It was an eye opening experience. I am glad I will be better able to serve you after training there,” he replied.

“And how were your rooms? Were they warm enough?”

“We were comfortable and well taken care of.” Kirk replied.

Melchior frowned. “I would like to hear all about it. You are being so spare,” Melchior said. He twisted to look at his apprentice. Kirk stopped tieing the bit of cloth in his hands. Melchior was well accustomed to being dressed and wouldn't just move out of position.

“Is something the matter, my lord?”

Melchior just looked at him. Kirk had gotten taller over the winter. He’d grown more than Melchior at least. He looked down with tired eyes. “Was it difficult?” Melchior asked. He watched Kirk's face as he answered.

Kirk tried to look away. Dressing someone placed you very close together. Looking his master directly in the eyes was taboo by itself. In this moment, Melchior's gaze carried so much attention. His bright blue eyes seemed to search and observe everything.

“Was it that bad? Did someone hurt you?” Melchior pressed.

“No I…” Lothar returned with Chet. He gave Kirk a small reproving look.

“It is my fault, Lothar,” Melchior said and turned back to the proper position.

Once dressed he listened to Chet’s report. “The seeds you planted sprouted on the morning of the last day of Winter. The one behind the orphanage broke two windows. We collected twelve seeds from the ivory pathways. The second tree was harvest according to normal convention. If trees appear next year. They may grow too close to the temple and break more windows.”

Melchior felt the blood drain from his face. Windows were expensive and they normally had someone behind them. “Was anyone hurt,” he asked.

“No, my lord. The upper rooms are mostly empty.”

Melchior sighed in relief. He’d made some money at the Royal Academy. He could fix the windows but he could not save anyone so long after the incident. “That is good. Have a craftsman come repair them. I will cover the cost.” Chet bowed and left to report to Kazmiar as well.

“My lord, this was a task given to you by the Archduke. Did he give you a budget?” Lothar asked. Melchior shook his head. “Perhaps you should apply for one.” Melchior wasn't sure how to apply for funds but he made a note to ask his scholars.

He had some time before music practice so he thought about a problem he'd put aside. His knights and retainers had worked hard on the skins. It was not the kind of work they would generally be asked to do and the knights had given him a very large portion of their take. He still didn't feel it was right to accept so much but everyone insisted it was. The proceeds would be helpful for doing things like fixing the windows but perhaps it would be better to disperse it.

Lothar shook his head. “It would not be appropriate to give your retainers money. They receive pay from the duchy and already received adequate portions of the revenue from your research, no?”

“But I did so little work and got such a large portion.”

“Your family owns the work space and the gathering was done by your retainers during their work time. That would increase your portion a great deal,” Lothar explained.

“Father owns the space. Should we give him a portion?” Melchior asked.

Lothar’s smile fell just the smallest bit. “I do not recommend setting such an expectation with this Archduke.”

Melchior thought about all the retainers he’d lost and the ones his father tried to poach recently. He would wait until Sylvester asked. “I would like to repay my retainers a bit.”

“It would be appropriate to give gifts after a long working trip. They do not receive days off while you are at the Royal Academy. It can be said that their work causes extra strain, and might, therefore, command a small token of your appreciation.”

A large smile spread over Melchior's face. He could give gifts! Just planning them would be exciting. “What should we prepare?” he asked and began imagining their happy surprise.

Lothar didn't give any recommendations persay, he just explained the general conventions for giving gifts. Girls were generally given things they could adorn themselves with like fabric or accessories. “They should not be too extravagant lest people assume you have intentions. Fabric for household use is likewise reserved for your intended. Anyone might be given something related to their hobbies but thread should be avoided as it carries the implication of a request for embroidery. You could give gifts of food but that is ill advised. Someone could poison them then blame the attempt on the giver.”

By the end of his speech, Melchior felt sure there was no way to give a girl a present without signaling that you wanted to marry her. “What about boys?” he asked with a sigh.

“Avoid anything which might be misconstrued as intimidation. Avoid food for the same reasons as before. Avoid anything which would be more appropriate for a woman lest it be misconstrued as an insult to his manhood.” The list was just as long and seemed to imply that decorative weapons and hunted materials were the only appropriate gifts.

“What about useful things?”

“They are your retainers so something pertaining to their work would be acceptable,” Lothar said.

Melchior felt encouraged. “Isolde and Flautzeal use a lot of paper. I could give them some decorative sheets,” Melchior mused.

“Giving a woman stationary implies you wish to receive her missives,” Lothar replied.

Melchior felt like screaming. He was not even considering marriage yet but everyone would view his actions as romantic. “Perhaps a diptych then. She already has one but that is the only thing I can think of.” He looked at Lothar hopefully.

The attendant sighed as well. “Yes, that would be appropriate for a scholar.”

“Then I shall get one for Flautzeal too. If its marked with the Klavier crest, does it have to be made by them?” Melchior wondered aloud. Kirk failed to hold back a giggle. “Do you think they would make something so simple?”

“From what I’ve observed, they would be very high quality,” Kirk replied. Both boys laughed for far too long.

“I will send him a note and ask. Maybe he has his own mark.” Lothar prepared wooden boards. “Wait! I can send a magic letter,” Melchior cried happily. He pulled two pieces of parchment from his desk and the wooden board with the magic circle recorded upon it. Using his mana pen, he carefully copied the circle onto one sheet. He almost began on the second one then remembered his new spell. Kirk watched in awe as a pale blue light covered the circle then followed Melchior’s hand to the second page where an identical circle magically appeared.

“Oh wow. That’s amazing!”

“It is! Sister invented this spell,” Melchior shared cheerfully. He penned his notes asking for Isolde's personal symbol and whether Flautzeal would mind having a diptych made by someone else but marked with his own brand.

“My lord, as these are for you retainers, you need not worry. However, writing the first and only copy on this paper will make corrections impossible,” Lothar counseled.

Melchior hadn't considered this. “Thats true! I will also need reply sheets,” he said.

“Lady Isolde is coming here after lunch. She can deliver mundane missives at that time,” Lothar reminded.

Melchior thanked him for the reminder. Faeparchment was expensive even if he’d obtained a great deal for very little. He placed the sheet onto Kirk’s hands before bending the corner just a little and sending them away. Kirk was better at hiding his amazement or had just seen more magic than before, but he still gazed after the birds in wide eyed wonder as they alighted from his palms.

With the scholars done, he had to think about the knights. They didn't take notes as often and might not want a diptych taking up space on their belts. They might be able to use them in their classes but that took more space than the wax tablets generally allowed. “They have a lot of little pouches,” Kirk offered. Melchior thought about all the details on his potion belt and wondered what Ehrenfest leather workers were capable of.

“Could you visit the city and see what kinds of decorative pouches there are? You can take my belt along as an example.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Kirk said happily. Melchior's belt was removed and emptied. Kirk held the pen for a few moments. He’d watched Melchior write with it but hadn't been ably to really see it. A night sky was trapped in its barrel and the small silvered letters were impossibly neat. Melchior watched Kirk examine the pen. He wasn't afraid of him breaking it but he also couldn't relax. “This is amazing,” Kirk muttered.

“It was a gift from Uncle,” Melchior explained. Kirk placed it down carefully but also as though it were on fire. He even took a step back. A gift from the legendary former High Priest was sure to be more valuable than his own life. “I do not know how to repay him. He says he did not dislike my illustrations but he did not seem delighted with them either. He also does not want a diptych even though both Letizia and Rozemyne have one now.”

“Did he say he did not want one? In those exact words?” Lothar asked.

Melchior thought about it. “I think he said ‘I do not use them’ when I asked.”

“That is not a no. If he did not want one, he would say no but he could not say yes even if he did.”

“That is confusing,” Melchior sighed but he added a line to his gift list all the same. He wasn't sure what Ferdinand would want depicted but he had all year to consider it. He needed to focus on what to give his attendants.

They did not wear visible pouches most of the time. That made him wonder where they stored the things they carried on his behalf. Protection charms seemed like a good idea but he didn't know how to make them. They didn't wear many accessories while working but they might enjoy them at other times. “Lothar, you are an attendant. What sort of gift would you like?”

Lothar smiled nostalgically. “I received a pen and ink when I came of age and a suit of clothes when my lord deemed me trustworthy enough to perform errands beyond the temple.” There was a glow in his eyes that said he greatly appreciated these gifts. To Melchior they sounded like he was given tools for work and expectations. But the mention of clothes reminded him that Kolteruze hadn't received a fur like everyone else. He was uncomfortable wearing them but he wasn't uncomfortable with wool.

“Kirk, do you think you could knit something for me?”

Kirk shook his head. “I would be honored for you to wear something I created but my skills would bring shame to your person. There are better knitters in the orphanage. What sort of thing would you like?”

“I think… one of those long sleeve tunics.”

Kirk paled. “For you? It is good that you are asking in spring. They take a long time to make and a great deal of yarn. To make something of sufficient quality, new yarn from specialty sheep would be needed. Only Marthe in Hasse is able to spin with such fine stuff. Once it is spun, a knitter of greater skill than we have should be employed.”

Melchior also paled as the task mounted. Killing one animal and collecting a few plants could replace three seasons worth of work it seemed. Not to mention, Kolteruze was mean to Kirk. Melchior was having a hard time thinking such an elaborate gift was worth it when a woven mantle might be just as warm. “How did he treat you when you came to plant the trees,” Melchior suddenly asked.

It took Kirk a few moments to process the question. It felt disconnected from the previous topic. His face reddened as he remembered their conversation. Riding a normal highbeast instead of the Lion-pandabus meant sitting against the older boy. While they flew, Kolteruze spoke into his ear. “I do not think I should say, my lord,” Kirk said as a blush spread over his face.

“I will not tell him you told me. Lothar will keep our secret as well,” Melchior coaxed. To produce such a reaction, it must have been awful. “I will protect you. You won't ever have to see him again.”

“That is not…” Kirk began.

“You have received an order,” Lothar said. He was also curious about the young archattedant. The boy had obviously felt intimidated by Melchior's temple attendants and seemed liable to do something. Lothar had been relieved to know that Lord Sigsnyr was accompanying them but that was not a total guarantee. They were both nobles, they would support each other over a commoner.

“He apologized,” Kirk began. Lothar struggled to hide his shock while Melchior made no effort at all. “He said he hadn't realized how deeply you valued us and the privileges allotted because of that. He promised not to chastise me directly and to bring his complaints to you instead.”

“That will discourage others from making comments or antagonizing you,” Lothar noted.

“It sounds like he still doesn't like you,” Melchior muttered. He didn't want to hear petty complaints about Kirk in the future just because Kolteruze looked down on him.

“My lord. For an archnoble to say such things, takes great humility. He has acknowledged Kirk's worth to you, his lord, and promised to deflect animosity away from him. Telling other nobles that their complaints will be passed to you rather than punishing Kirk on the spot will do much to protect him,” Lothar explained.

“So he will be kind to you in the future?” Melchior asked.

“He was very polite while we planted the trees,” Kirk said with a brand new blush on his cheeks. Kolteruze was so gentle when he wasn't angry and an amazing attendant as well.

“Then we will make the tunic,” Melchior declared. Now Lothar and Kirk were confused. Melchior wanted to see a knitted garment of archnoble quality. They looked so fun.

Chapter Text

Sending a Challenge to Klavier

After receiving an evaluation for his flute playing from Trude and having lunch, Melchior asked Isolde about his letters.

“I was surprised to receive it so soon after you left. You asked for my personal symbol?”

“Yes. Sister has a crest for her workshops and imprints. She developed it before being adopted by the Archduke and switching to our family crest. I thought you might have one as well or do you use your family’s?” Melchior asked.

“Neither. I can create one if you believe I should have one,” she replied.

Melchior was surprised; almost everything he owned was marked with Ehrenfest’s crest somewhere. “How do you label your things?”

Isolde tipped her head in confusion. She glanced at the other nobles but they looked like they agreed with Melchior. “I use my name if I must mark them at all. It would be most inconvenient to remove my family crest after I marry into another house.”

“That's true,” noted Gerianne.

“Then a personal symbol sounds best. Let me know if you need help designing it,” Melchior said. He finished off his tea and was going to get ready for training.

“I would be honored if you would create something for me,” Isolde said shyly.

Melchior beamed. “I’d be happy to. What sort of things are important to you? Sister used books and flowers because she likes those things. I’m not sure how to represent conversation as a crest,” he babbled and gestured for paper. He carefully marked out twelve little sections and began doodling.

“Lord Melchior, you are expected in the training hall,” Lothar reminded him.

“Ah, that's true,” he handed the paper over to Isolde. “Write on the back what you might like. I’ll make a few options when I have time.” He then got up and began preparing for training.

Isolde remained sitting and staring at the paper. She had to be shuffled out so he could change.

Melchior remembered to bring his wooden sword to the indoor training space. Zipporah looked all around like he and Nikolaus had and returned with a delighted smile. “It is even more impressive than the Knights Order despite the small size. You got to practice here all winter?” she asked.

“I’ve only been here twice,” Melchior replied. Both times were awful as well.

“This is my first time here,” Gerianne said. She remained at Melchior's shoulder but looked around with similar awe. “It will be moved back outside tomorrow so this is our last chance to use it.”

Zipporah cackled. “He will be so jealous,” she muttered.

Fonsel took his place guarding the room while the kids lined up. Sister Streita entered with a flourish of her blue robes. She’d acquired Leidenschaft blue riding pants over the winter which she now wore under her robes. “You have returned, High Bishop. And this young lady, will you be training with us as well?”

Zipporah looked positively overcome with joy. “Dame Streita. I would be honored to receive your instruction,” she said.

“I have shed my knightly titles. I am Sister Streita now. My wisdom is still at your disposal. How do they call you, again?”

Zipporah knelt. “I am Zipporah Tocher Haldenzel, may I offer a blessing in appreciation of this serendipitous meeting ordained by the pure flowing waters of Flutrane, the Goddess of Water.”

“You are a noble, child. Do not lower yourself before a shrine maiden. We have also already met. You were quite small but I remember.”

Streita sent Melchior and Gerianne to the archery targets to pick up arrows while she watched Zipporah spar with Nikolaus. The bouts were quite short and entirely one sided. “I think you are better than Sigsnyr,” Nikolaus sighed.

“He goes easy on you,” Strieta replied.

“That is easy?” Nikolaus squeaked.

They moved on to sword forms for a while then Streita sent the boy to his own corner. “You are going into your fifth year, no? Show me your sword dancing.” Zipporah nodded and summoned her sword. Streita clapped a tempo while Zipporah whirled around with her schtappe made sword. It was exactly like most other people's, Melchior noted. She was not as good as the graduation dancers but her performance was still a welcome distraction.

“Continue your practice,” Streita yelled over her shoulder at the archers. Melchior and Gerianne hurried to nock then quiver their arrows. “Do you want to be selected?” Streita asked.

“It is an honor to be selected,” Zipporah replied.

“Sigsnyr said he had no ambition to join the sword dance so I did not push him. I think you are capable of earning a place but it will take work and a lot of it. If things have not changed, the selection happens in the middle of the year but your very first class will decide everything. You have three seasons to improve and you will need them all.”

Zipporah stood very still for a moment. If her skills were so poor, she wondered if she could ever make it. Of course, she would not know without trying. “I am not afraid of hard work and I would like to be selected.”

A smile covered the former knight's face. This was an attitude worth nurturing. “Then you need only decide whether you wish to appear graceful or powerful? The dance changes depending on your answer.”

Melchior wondered how the same steps and motions could differ between the given options. Zipporah did not hesitate for even a moment.

“I should like to be graceful,” she declared.

“The girls always pick that,” Streita said with a grin.

“It is the superior option,” Zipporah argued.

“It is, isn't it? A shame the boys don't understand,” Streita said with a sideways glance. She and Zipporah giggled together then began more practice.

Before the training room could be hauled outside, the Spring Prayer meeting had to be held. There was just enough space for everyone at the fewer tables. The blues did not look happy to be in such close quarters but Melchior thought it looked cozy. Isolde had arrived in the morning with Flautzeal. They sat to the side to take notes.

“Flutrane the Goddess of Water's pure streams have washed away Ewigeliebe the God of Life and rescued Geduldh the Goddess of Earth. Blessed be the melting of the snow,” Melchior began.

“Praise be to the gods. Glory be to the gods,” the clergy replied.

“This year, we shall be sending Sister Streita on her first mission to bring Spring to the people. I ask that you offer her any assistance she might need in planning for her trip. She will assume Sister Philine’s route. The children of the Archduke will bless the Central District once again this year. I will also be visiting Haldenzel to witness the summoning of Spring. Lady Charlotte will travel to Groschel to deliver their chalices and observe their new workshops. The High Priest will now announce the other assignments,” Melchior said and sat down with a relieved sigh. It was always difficult to remember this speech. He always had so little time to practice.

Very little was changing this year. Kazmiar liked to mix up where people were going to prevent unscrupulous relationships from forming between the giebes and the priests but the relative makeup of each person's route was the same. As they were likely to return to the same provinces in Autumn, it was important to ensure a fair distribution.

Philine did not have a speech this time. She was only at this meeting because she was still technically serving as a shrine maiden. She and Damuel were preparing for their move after the Archdukes Conference. Since most of her things were in the Orphanage Director's chambers, she had nowhere else to go.

“Do not grow slack in your duty. Remember that the lives of all the people of Ehrenfest depend on our diligence,” Kazmiar concluded. He took a few questions about new carriage companies and other miscellaneous things before dismissing everyone.

Melchior's scholars returned to his side and they all made their way back to his room. “I feel like you are doing much more work than the other priests,” Isolde noted.

“I have the most mana and elements. Our harvest is much improved by having an Archduke Candidate fill the Central District. There has been a noticeable waning since Sister stopped conducting our Spring Prayer. I hope to become Omni-Elemental so I can enrich the land properly,” Melchior explained. He sat down at his desk and began calculating his winter expenses. Lothar had collected all the bills and invoices and would check things over after, but Melchior wanted to work through things himself.

“Properly, you say,” Isolde muttered. She could not imagine pouring so much mana into anything then saying she could not do it properly. “I have completed my list. Shall I take it back with me to your chambers in the castle. I see you have much work to complete in preparation for your report to the Archduke.”

Melchior told her to leave it with him. He couldn't spend all his time working on accounts after all. They sat in silence for a while with Melchior working and the scholars resting with tea. Lothar's reminder about being a host flickered into his mind. This time however, there was work to be done. “I have only my own accounts. Isolde please go to the Orphanage Director's chambers and see if Sister Streita requires assistance. Flautzeal please go assist Kazmiar.”

Isolde rose immediately and followed Kirk away. Flautzeal stood next to his desk until Melchior looked up. “Is something the matter? If you do not wish to work here, you may return to the castle and assist Haldis,” Melchior said.

Flautzeal looked scandalized. “My lord, I would not argue against your orders,” he said. Melchior narrowed his eyes. It was something, even if Flautzeal didn't mind temple work, there was a problem. “I have a reply to your letter,” he whispered. He produced a note sealed with Klavier’s crest.

“It is so formal. I admit I was asking mostly in jest and just to be sure,” Melchior said. The blood drained from Flautzeal’s face. Melchior paused his opening. “What's wrong,” he asked and gestured for Lothar to bring a chair.

“I was practicing with Father when your note arrived. He read it before I could stop him. He took your words absolutely seriously. I think he thinks you are questioning our abilities as carpenters. This was reinforced when I admitted I could not carve Letizia's diptych for you.” His voice quavered and he seemed ready to cry.

“Oh Flautzeal! That was not my intention at all. I apologize for my lack of consideration. Please tell your family I have the utmost respect for their work and for you as a scholar. No, I will write a letter,” Melchior panicked. He looked to Lothar for support and a wooden board to begin drafting an apology.

Flautzeal panicked as well. “No, please,” he begged. He and Melchior shared pained expressions for a few moments.

“Perhaps you should read the reply first, my lord,” Lothar offered.

With shaking hands, Melchior undid the seal. It was very nice wax, he noted. In a very decorative yet readable hand, Lord Klavier expressed his appreciation for Melchior's taking his son into his retinue. His family would be delighted to take on the task of carving diptychs along with any other woodworking he required.

“I cannot ask House Klavier to carve shallow depressions into wood blocks. You make works of art,” Melchior groaned.

“Father said such a simple project would be good practice for me. It will hide no mistakes but has no sound to be influenced by poor workmanship,” Flautzeal said.

The missive did not end there. Flautzeal's father also apologized for his son’s inability to perform his duties when asked and assured Melchior that he would be well reprimanded and strictly trained. Melchior rested his head on his desk. He was glad Flautzeal hadn't heard their mirth the day before. His family's strictness suddenly felt like no laughing matter.

“I am sorry,” Melchior whimpered. “I cannot take back my request now.”

“We would not want you to ask anyone else,” Flautzeal declared. His mood seemed to have improved suddenly. “Please tell me your specifications.”

Melchior straightened up. “You do not seem as upset. Your father must have been angry.”

Flautzeal shook his head. “He apologized for failing to properly prepare me. He’s agreed to teach me how to carve after so many years of asking. This is an exceptional opportunity for me,” he said brightly. A determination like fire glowed in his deep blue eyes.

“Isn't wood carving a large part of your family business?” Melchior asked.

Flautzeal nodded. “You must master sharpening the tools before you are allowed to begin. I still have a tendency to remove too much material when sharpening chisels so I was deemed unprepared. My older brother was 15 when he was allowed to begin. He whittled in secret for several years.”

Melchior was stunned into silence. Flautzeal's family sounded even more intense than Lady Florencia. If you were not prepared for the task ahead she would force you to spend extra time catching up while learning the new task. He wondered how far behind he would be had he been unable to move forward without achieving perfection in the preliminary skills. “I see I can have absolute faith in your abilities.”

He began to relay his requirements. “I need three at this time, two sized for children and one for an adult.”

“Adults have a great range of hand sizes,” Flautzeal replied. He took out a sheet of paper with other notes and began adding to it.

“It is for my uncle. His hands are about…”

“It is for Lord Ferdinand. You needn't say anymore. Who are the others for?”

“One is for Isolde and the other is for…” he looked at Flautzeal hands and tried to think of someone with similarly sized hands. “Kirk”

Flautzeal paused his writing. His entire demeanor was something Melchior had never seen. “It is not good to lie to your craftspeople. We cannot produce acceptable work without a clear understanding of what you want. It is not that I do not believe you would like a diptych for Kirk but this order is not for him, is it?”

Melchior looked away shyly from Flautzeal's unbroken gaze. “It is for you,” he sighed.

“I already know you want me to obtain one, who is the gift for,” he pressed.

“I am giving my scholars diptychs in appreciation for their hard work at the Royal Academy. It is for you,” Melchior said.

Flautzeal's poise cracked momentarily. “I see. I… that… I will make one fitted to my hands then. What other specifications do you have?”

Now that they were both feeling terribly awkward. Melchior explained that they should be made like the one Rozemyne sent for him to paint: smooth with rounded edges but otherwise blank. Minor imperfections in the wood were fine but no large voids were acceptable. A light colored wood would be nice but he could gesso over it if they only had dark grains. “I know your family only works with wood of the highest quality. These need not be made to the standard of an instrument. Please do not waste fine materials because you made very small mistakes,” Melchior begged. He could already imagine the discarded but perfectly usable pieces. “I will send you Isolde's mark after it is created, please engrave it on one outer panel. You may do the same for your own if you like.”

Melchior had already thought of a fun design. He would paint a tea party nook in pastel shades with references to all the various duchies’ idiosyncrasies. He would include the evergreen bough from Klassenberg and the banners from Alexandria. The chairs from Kirschnereit were kind of ugly but the wicker pattern could be applied to other shapes. Kolteruze would also know more things he could include. The back would be simpler, a light yellow panel with Isolde's mark. Her eyes were pink and her hair pale blue. Pastel yellow would complete the primary colors.

With a simple side and a painting, she could hang it from her belt without being overly flashy. Perhaps inspiration would strike once he had Flautzeal’s in his hand. Much like his uncle, he had all year to think about it.

Flautzeal took all of these notes with a smile. He assured his lord that such a simple order would be complete by the end of Spring Prayer. “Thank you for placing your trust in us. We will see that it is well cared for,” he promised then skipped out of Melchior's chambers to assist Kazmiar.

Lothar was torn for a moment between running after him and remaining with Melchior. Sheila was still downstairs and there was no good way to call her up without leaving. “My lord,” he said.

Melchior looked up from his reports and wonderment. “Yes Lothar?”

“As you are hosting more nobles more often, perhaps you should consider taking on more attendants,” he said.

Melchior scowled. It was expensive enough to have five. Even having his financial burden reduced to four was still expensive. “I do not think I can afford it,” he replied.

“You take a much smaller portion of the temple funds than previous High Bishops. It would not be wrong to increase your pay.”

“I do so little already. That I take so much is both mysterious and shameful,” Melchior said. He held up his half done account. “I am given the most lucrative route for the Harvest Festival and the cheapest for Spring Prayer. Kazmiar, Frietack, and Kampfer actually do all the work to prepare for rituals and run the temple. How can I ask for more pay when we are trying to bring up more blue clergy from the orphanage,” he was shaking by the end of this speech.

Lothar blinked in surprise but didn't allow his smile to falter. “My lord, you donate the most mana out of everyone.”

“I produced mana like I produce chaos⁹,” Melchior replied.

Now Lothar's eyes grew wide. “Mana cannot be compared to such things. It comes naturally to you but it is beyond most people to fill a single faestone on the Divine Instruments. Your mana is extremely valuable.”

Melchior sighed. It didn't feel valuable. It was dangerous both to himself and others, it made him irrational, it could power interesting things but so could people. Other countries functioned perfectly well without it. “I would like to avoid taking on even more retainers.”

“Understood, my lord,” Lothar replied. It was not as though Melchior's scholars could not find their way around and Kazmiar had more than enough gray clergy to attend Flautzeal.

Spring Fitting

Sigsnyr was indeed incredibly jealous to find out that Zipporah got to use the indoor training room without him. She took the excuse that her lord was at the temple to train there instead of the Knights Order even though she wasn’t on that day’s guard rotation. Sebastian was surprised to be forced into training but Fonsel wasn't there to show him an alternative. He dueled with Dedryck so Streita could gauge his skill.

It was thrilling to watch two adult knights clash. Melchior and Gerianne were given time off from learning archery to watch them spar. While Sister Streita had much advice, Melchior found he could barely follow their movements. “They are so fast,” he muttered.

Gerianne nodded. “It is enhancement magic. I cannot wait to learn.”

“You will not have the mana for it if you continue to spend it all giving blessings,” Zipporah said.

“I will compress during these three months. I cannot abandon the children at the Royal Academy,” Gerianne replied.

“What do you mean, Gerianne? Is it just the blessing to dispel nightmares?” Melchior asked.

“For nightmares, very minor injuries, anxieties about tests. She wastes mana on anyone for anything,” Zipporah replied

Gerianne shook her head. “If I have the mana, I bless anyone who asks,” Gerianne corrected. “Mana is a gift from the God of Darkness. We can only bless other people. It seems to me that we should share.”

“I agree,” said Melchior, eyes aflame. Zipporah pinched the bridge of her nose. “I also think it's a good idea to have a season where you relax your compression,” he added. Gerianne was decidedly less tiny than before. Much like Kirk, she’d grown more than Melchior over the winter.

“Don't you want as much mana as possible?” Zipporah asked.

“He wants to be taller than Wilfried,” Gerianne replied with a giggle.

Melchior frowned and did not dignify them with a reaction.

Their chatter was interrupted by Sister Streita sending everyone back to their stations. Sigsnyr was impressed into service as Zipporah sword dancing partner. Melchior was amazed by how good a person could be while failing to be chosen.

He was almost sad that he needed to turn his attention to the bow. Today they would finally get to loose an arrow. Gerianne also seemed very excited. He mentioned that she hadn't spent the only two days of training over the winter on the pre training.

“She had to begin without you before the Academy season. She has been waiting for this even longer,” Sister Streita chided.

Melchior gave his apology and prepared to shoot. They were placed just three paces from the targets with a standing quiver of arrows between them. Melchior was told to nock his arrow and draw the bow for less than a breath before letting go. The arrow made a satisfying thunk before the air was filled with fresh instructions.

By the next morning, Melchior was happy to forget all about archery. He woke early and dressed for the castle. Kirk brushed his hair as gently as Pepin and fixed it onto a new style. “Did Pepin show you how to style hair?” Melchior asked cheerfully.

Kirk nodded. “He said you request that he does it over Zargerecht. He was surprised at first but realized later that he's better at working through tangles without causing pain,” he replied. He was back to speaking more freely while he worked but it was less likely to interrupt things now.

“I do not understand how he does it,” Melchior muttered. Kirk gave an explanation for which Melchior had no context. Once he was ready he double checked his papers and made sure he had his sword. He did not want to receive a chiding from his new instructors at the Knights Order.

“Lothar, I tried to finish the accounts. I do not want to delay the spring reports but please leave my sheet so I can continue even if you must complete the work on another,” Melchior said.

“As you wish, my lord.” Lothar replied.

Melchior stood next to his highbeast and looked at his three attendants. Lothar's request came to mind. He wondered whether he was giving them too much work. “I leave the temple in your capable hands,” Melchior said, then mounted his lion. He still didn't have reins but found that having a collar to hold on to made it easier to stay balanced. He’d chosen a decorative rope also adorned with flowers.

He was greeted at the castle by all but two of his apprentice knights. Gerianne and Nikolaus were having this as their day off. Since both Dedryck and Sebastian were already with him, Sigsnyr stepped forward to offer greetings from the group.

“A..nd so I have returned,” Melchior said before they proceeded into the castle. With all these knights behind him, he suddenly felt the absence of Gerianne at his shoulder. Everyone else kept the normal distance. He felt like it would be wrong to replace her.

Before the tunnel to the Northern Building, Melchior stopped. Charlotte was here and might not like him bringing a small army into their home. “Dedryck, I do not believe I need so many knights at the moment.”

“It is your first day at the castle since their hiring so they have come to greet you,” Dedryck explained.

“I see. Those who are not scheduled to perform guard duty may disperse to their other activities,” Melchior ordered. Some of the apprentices hesitated. They looked to Dedryck for confirmation but he said nothing and merely assumed his position again.

After a few minutes of farewell, Melchior was left with the adults and Sigsnyr. He wasn't going to question the schedule set by his head knight but it did feel strange to end up with such a familiar selection. He continued across the bridge and up to his room.

Haldis prepared tea while Zargerecht presented his schedule. “You have a fitting in two days. Your spring wardrobe will be finalized and your summer clothing planned. You will also be able to order your housecoat and brooches. Your training will begin at the Knights Order this afternoon and continue on this and your third castle day for the foreseeable future. Your scholars will present their curriculum before you return to the castle. It will be presented to Lady Florencia after your approval.” He would also spend his normal time helping in the offices but the tea parties with his siblings had yet to resume.

“Kolteruze, please coordinate with Charlotte and Wilfried to plan for next week,” Melchior ordered. His eyes lingered on Kolteruze for a few extra seconds. He wondered whether he could just have his attendant measured or if that would give things away.

With so little on his agenda, he had time to work on Klassenberg’s book. He would need two copies after all as he’d promised one to Alexandria. Isolde was greatly amused by the recorded rivalries and took much joy in imagining the scenes only briefly mentioned. “Perhaps you should write a book,” Melchior suggested after listening to the third such fabrication.

“I do not think people would read it. No one seemed to like my story,” Isolde replied.

“It is not that we didn't like it. It was just too high level for us. I’m sure that ladies as refined as yourself would find it quite thrilling,” Haldis said. He sat nearby tallying Melchior’s winter expenditure.

“I’ve never read this story,” Benedikt interjected. “Was it published anywhere?” He was working on the curriculum as he wasn't very good at reading archaic text.

“We gave several stories to Sister as a gift. If you would like to write one she accepts all kinds,” Melchior replied. His eyes danced at the possibility of more contributors to his yearly gift.

“Which sister is this?” Benedikt asked.

“Only one of his sisters loves books more than breathing and would purchase even amateur fiction,” Isolde replied.

“Rozemyne,” Melchior said with a sharp look at Isolde. He wondered why she was being so antagonistic. Maybe talking to her would be a better use of his time.

Benedikt also had a hard look for Isolde. “I see. Thank you for explaining, Lord Melchior. I will try my hand at composition.”

They continued working until it was time for Melchior's music lesson. Only at this point did he realize he’d forgotten his flute at the temple. “I remembered my sword,” Melchior said sadly.

Flautzeal was not amused. “You must practice everyday to maintain your abilities,” he scolded.

“Yes, I know,” Melchior replied. Isolde sent an ordonnanz to Zipporah instructing her to retrieve the flute.

“I shall have it back before your lesson concludes,” was the reply. Sigsnyr looked at the bird with a pensive expression.

“You are fortunate to have loyal retainers,” Flautzeal said then began their lesson in earnest.

After lunch, he had training once again. The Knights Order was a huge building with a dormitory, parade ground, and practice halls built by Entwinklen. Melchior had been a few times but they were brief and largely unpleasant. Today he stood with the other young apprentices from 9 year olds to 12 year olds while their instructor explained that season's regime. Most trainees would appear four days out of the week. Their parents had to pay a small fee for the privilege so most kids began at ten after receiving home training if they began before choosing a course at the Royal Academy. Melchior and Gerianne stood together. It was both of they're first days as Gerianne was generally trained at the temple. She insisted on being here with him and was planning to come when he did.

“Being a knight means wielding great power at the discretion of the Archduke. You are not to use your strength for personal gain. You must have discipline and a pure heart,” they’re instructor went on to explain the many avenues available to knights. They could work as guards for people or places, train new recruits, lead hunts, and so on.

Melchior watched him pace back and forth and tap his rod in his hand. It was the same kind of stick Sister Streita used. He wondered if all knight instructors used such things.

The new students were made to run for a while. He was happy not to be the most out of shape but cautious of feeling too proud of his progress. Just this winter a medium length hike had tired him out. After the running they were shown several exercises and made to complete as many repetitions as they could. Gerianne proved to be the most fit of anyone. She was routinely the last person moving while everyone else nursed their aching lungs.

“Is this the best you have lads?” called their instructor. “This pudgy little girl is stronger than you.”

Had Melchior been able to breathe properly, he would have pointed out that she was not just a little girl but a dedicated athlete. The other boys gave her side long looks while she frowned and looked more or less recovered. After one bell of exercise, they were finished for the day. It was a little bit shorter than Sister Streita's lessons but he felt miserable in a way he hadn't in a long time.

Sebastian came over from his place guarding by the wall. “How was your first day?” he asked brightly. Melchior only gave him a forced smile. “That bad? I would say it gets easier but that isn't true.”

Gerianne also seemed unhappy as they made their way outside. Nikolaus and Helenwig came over from their lessons too and prepared to travel with Melchior back to the castle. “We should do our stretches or we will be in pain tomorrow,” Melchior said. Gerianne and Nikolaus lined up immediately and the three began the short workout taught by Fonsel after Melchior’s first experience with muscle soreness.

“Does that work?” Helenwig asked as she observed the motions and tested them herself.

“I do not know, I have not awoken to muscle soreness in some time. Perhaps, this will preempt it,” Melchior replied. Nikolaus and Gerianne just shrugged. Once Fonsel arrived from the training grounds they took off.

The flight was pleasant in the evening coolness. The sun slowly slipped behind the horizon as they meandered over the Nobles Forest. Melchior looked down and thought about the parue trees and the possibility of going there to draw. He had plenty of knights now. He wondered if he still needed to bring all of them or if there was an appropriate number and he’d happened to only have that many. Then he remembered his promise. The Nobles Forest was even more dangerous than the commoner woods or Hasse’s forest. If something happened to him, even more people would be punished now. He put away his hopes and focused on flying home.

The next day he had plans to help in the First Wife's Office. Before that, he would need to go to his fitting. It was fairly straightforward this time. He would try on his spring outfits so the tailors could make any necessary adjustments then measure him for his summer wardrobe.

Haldis would also order the brooches for next year. Melchior wanted something a bit different from before. Zargerecht said it needed to be based on a white branch but he wanted some variation. Instead of a standard tree branch, he chose to evoke the imagery of willow and honeysuckle.

For his and Charlotte's accessories, he would use primarily the honeysuckle. His own would be a bare white branch forming a loop with flowers crawling a little up one side and hanging in a nice triangle arrangement below. If everything worked out, his tear shaped registration faestone would appear like it was hanging from the curled tip of the branch. Charlotte’s pin would create a veritable curtain of small flowers across the back of her head.

Out of fear that it would be extravagant enough to cause offense, Melchior made sure to have Haldis stress that no metallic inclusions should be used this time. That the flowers would be white with a rainbow of different colored stamens, for Melchior, and pistils, for Charlotte, felt subtle enough to pass muster. He also requested a place to hang a hidden charm behind the flowers of his brooch.

His head retainers would receive white branch hoops with sparse leaves and small flowers along their length. The other adults and head apprentices would have lush branches with green leaves. The normal apprentices’ loops would have just a few leaves with dangling fruits to make up for the lack of other adornment. He also designed little clusters of flowers to give to his temple attendants.

It was going to be expensive. Haldis negotiated a small discount in exchange for Rozemyne's hairpin craftswoman's information. In addition, Charlotte would purchase her own hairpin. She complimented his design and expressed joy at the prospect of matching again. “Dear brother, it seems that I will match your retainers this year,” she teased.

Melchior paled, he’d worked so hard on making several designs that he'd forgotten to make Charlotte’s unique. “If we make your flowers indigo and add a few blue ones to my brooch, you won't be matching anymore,” he offered.

“I like the white too much. It will be alright. Though, I could take your idea and add blue flowers into mine then order blue brooches for my retainers,” she mused. The girls around her looked very excited by the idea.

“Please feel free. I will even paint a new design if you like. I only ask that you do not use white branches,” Melchior replied.

“Have you taken that as your symbol?” She asked.

“It was not intentional, but that has become the case,” Melchior said sheepishly.

“How bold, Melchior. The white tree is one of the symbols of Yurgenschmidt. Is this your secret way to announce your intentions?”

Melchior shook his head quickly. “Ehrenfest is my Geduldh. I do not wish to be the Zent,” he replied.

He was called to try on his clothes while Charlotte surveyed his drawings and ordered other things from the Gilbertta Company.

He entered the changing room with his attendants and Nikolaus. He didn't quite feel comfortable being undressed in front of his new male knights. Ortolf couldn't conceal his annoyance at not being taken along with the other fourth year but Melchior didn't feel the same pull to accommodate him as he did with Theodore.

Melchior tried to peek at his measurements again and was smoothly rebuffed again. His spring clothes were a bit too large as everyone seemed to expect him to grow more than he had. “We used Lord Wilfried's growth as a guide, my lord. We deeply apologize for predicting so poorly,” the tailor said as he knelt. Melchior contained any negative feelings he had on the disparity between him and his older brother to smile calmly and assure the craftspeople that he was not upset and appreciated their faith in him.

“Next year I will do my best to grow more quickly,” he promised. One of the younger workers struggled not to laugh while Nikolaus giggled in the corner. With all his measuring taken care of he made the snap decision to get the information he wanted now rather than guessing all spring and waiting until summer

“I would like you to measure my attendant as well,” he declared. Zargerecht and the apprentices all looked at him in surprise. “Kolteruze, come and be measured,” he ordered. The boy in question came over as instructed and allowed the confused workers to hold their tapes and rules against him. Melchior thought it best to not specify which measures to take to better obfuscate his intentions. In hindsight, he realized he should have had more people measured. These were recorded on a wooden board and given to Zargerecht.

Back in the main room, Lady Florencia chose between a collection of blue linens and blue lightweight wools. Haldis had managed to advocate for white pants but the fabric from Hauchletze was the only colorful thing on the tables. The tailors were greatly amused by the busy print. They noted the distinct sides of the fabric with one being more white and the other having the rich tones.

Lastly was the silvery white fur Veremund selected for Melchior. It was plush with a particularly flexible skin. It was large enough to cover the inside of a cape with a bit of piecing so Florencia ordered thin ocher fabric to go with it. “I think you will look rather dashing,” she teased.

Her own fur was the same blue-black as Sylvester’s with a golden shimmer just at the tips of the hairs. She spent some time discussing how to use it without making any definitive plans.

Footnotes

9. Waste. Human waste in this instance ^{^}

Chapter Text

The First Wife’s Office

Melchior was sad after this repeat of all his prior clothes buying experiences. He thought fondly of the bluish-green used for his baptism and never again. “Isolde, I cannot go on in this way,” he groaned. “You are smart. How can I avoid a blue Autumn? Kolteruze, what do I do?”

“I think blue looks quite nice, Lord Melchior,” Benedikt encouraged.

“Thank you. Mother thinks so as well,” he replied. Isolde paused her transcribing to think. If he could take over his own clothes ordering, he could choose whatever shades he wanted but dressing for the dinner at the Royal Academy had proven just how hard it was to put him in other colors. They might need to devise a new way of dressing.

“I believe you should consult a few experts. Those whom Lady Florencia trusts who are more open to avant garde fashions. We must also prepare well in advance,” she said. “You may leave this to me. I will not allow you to wear only blue until you come of age,” she promised.

“I look forward to our success,” Melchior replied.

“Have you considered dyeing your hair?” Kolteruze asked.

Zargerecht and Haldis both shot him glares. “Absolutely not,” Zargerecht huffed.

“That both of your colors are blue is what constrains you,” Kolteruze argued.

“Your colors are both brown but you wear other shades,” Isolde noted.

“Very true,” he said and returned to some task or another.

Melchior sat down at his desk and looked over his accounts. This time, Haldis included his preliminary budget for the Spring. Fixing the windows was going to be surprisingly affordable while his expected paper expenditure was worse than before.

“Haldis, you expect me to use more paper instead of less?”

“You have more intensive studying to do with the addition of the knight’s course. You also have a few transcriptions planned.”

Melchior sighed. He wouldn't be able to curb his paper usage anytime soon. He wondered if it would be cheaper to open his own workshop and how he could go about doing it.

After lunch, he took his retinue to meet the First Wife for the second time that day. He made his greetings then stood before his mother's desk in a daze.

“That's a beautiful painting, Lady Florencia. I have never seen anything similar,” Benedikt complimented.

“Why thank you. The artist is one for unique experiences. It gives him a special perspective,” she replied with her same calm smile.

Melchior shivered. All plans to covertly recover his shame would have to be discarded. He forced himself to stand up straight and meet his mother's eyes before taking his retinue over to the tables prepared for them.

Zipporah and Kolteruze were upgraded to the veterans’ table while Melchior took over for Isolde as the teacher. Ortolf looked over curiously as he was placed in his chair by Haldis.

Melchior quietly began his explanation. “While I am at the castle, I assist in Mother and Father's offices. Early spring is the busiest time of year so I hope you will apply yourselves diligently,” he said.

“We are knights, most of us. Do you intend to have us work like scholars?” Ortolf questioned.

“It is only the most basic tasks. You will do just fine,” Melchior encouraged. He explained the budgetary forms to Benedikt and the use of the rulers to Ortolf. Pepin continued slowly working and asking questions about everything. Melchior was happy to realize he could answer then. Eikestine asked to be allowed to work on transcriptions instead of math.

“Mestinora has not blessed me to handle numbers,” she pleaded.

“Seek the bosom of Erwachlerhen for math is important to all our lives,” Melchior intoned. He did allow her to transcribe for the day but also assigned some math to do in her off hours.

“I did not think I would have to improve in this manner,” she sighed.

Sebastian set to his work with a determined frown. He asked questions every now and then but mostly worked slowly so as not to make mistakes. By contrast, Ortolf rushed through his first forms. Melchior examined one then placed it back in front of the apprentice with a calm smile.

“These lines are not straight, do it again on the back,” he said. Ortolf took the page timidly then copied the example page a second time. It was crooked. “Isolde, do you have a bit of parchment,” Melchior called out.

She handed a piece to Haldis with a curious look. Once it was delivered, Melchior placed it before Ortolf. “We cannot waste Ehrenfest paper. Practice on this.”

Ortolf worked more slowly this time. The lines were in the right places but everything was at slightly wrong angles. “You have a schtappe yes?” Melchior asked. Ortolf nodded. “Use Waschen to clean this. Be careful to only clean this sheet.”

The young knight did as ordered with increasing frustration. Melchior instructed him to use Stylo so as not to waste ink. He looked at each attempt with a strict eye before ordering for it to be done again. After several slightly improved attempts Ortolf burst with frustration. “Can you even draw it perfectly?” he spat. Many people looked horrified that he would speak to his lord in that tone but Melchior just took a paper and a ruler and calmly drew a template with straight lines at right angles to the page. He placed it down over the example sheet. They lined up exactly.

“Do it again,” he ordered with a calm expression.

Someone might have told him this was harsh treatment, but to Melchior, this was how office work was taught. Kolteruze couldn't help but smirk throughout this vicious hazing. While Eikestine shivered in her seat. Eventually, Ortolf ran out of mana without producing a perfect form. “It is alright, you can try again next time,” Melchior said cheerfully and took the implements to begin drawing forms.

“My lord,” Sebastian began. He glanced at the exhausted novice then back to Melchior. “Is that appropriate work for one such as yourself? Shouldn't an apprentice scholar be given the task?”

Melchior looked at him then placed a hand to his cheek. “I could not ask my retainers to perform this work if I were unwilling to do so. My own skills at administration are still quite poor so I rely on you all to make meaningful contributions. This is the best application of my skills,” he said in as sad a voice as he could muster.

Sebastian squinted and turned this over in his mind. “If you are sure, my lord. It seems to me to be beneath you.”

“Then my skills are not yet worthy of my status,” Melchior replied.

Melchior returned to his room to prepare for dinner feeling ill. His painting stared at him from behind his mother's desk the whole time he was working. It had so distracted him that he couldn't do anything but draw forms. He hoped he wasn't shaking as he walked through the tunnel. Isolde and Benedikt discussed their plans for his studies quietly along the way.

The guards selected to enter his room were all familiar to him. Zipporah and Gerianne remained in his living area while he changed in his private chambers. There was no time for a bath but he was brought fresh underwear and clothes. They carried the flora fragrance so like his mother's that it made him anxious all over again. When it had switched from being a comfort to reminding him of his mounting inadequacy, he didn't know. He had Pepin make a note to consider new scents.

Wilfred was not at dinner that night. Instead Brunhilde joined them. She mostly spoke with Charlotte and Florencia about their factions and trends. There was a persistent calm occuring at the moment. The Leisegang elders were content with their new provinces while the younger generation was working hard to prepare for the Archdukes Conference and the trading season. Nearly everyone had gone home already though a few northern barons were hanging on for a few more days.

“You will be delighted by this year's brooches, Brunhilde. I have seen the pictures,” Charlotte said, drawing attention to Melchior whose daze had yet to fully lift.

“Is that so? I’m looking forward to placing my own order. Your retinue always looks so fun with their matching accessories,” Brunhilde replied.

“Your taste approaches Kunstzeal¹⁰, Lady Brunhilde, I am struggling to create something worthy,” Melchior said with his best smile. It was more accurate to say that her taste was difficult for him to appreciate but he would never admit to that. “I hope you will not be inconvenienced by a few more days of delay.”

“Not at all. You have promised additional designs. Of course it would take more time,” Brunhilde said. She took another bite and made a face as though just remembering something. “I would like to see your plans for this year as well. I was not able to view anything except the finished product last winter.”

“Oh yeah, me too,” Sylvester interjected, pausing his conversation with Florencia. “While we are talking about things I never got to see. We want to view your return gifts for Rozemyne before you leave for the Academy. Ferdinand said you sent him some commoner plant,” the Archduke sighed.

Melchior blushed in embarrassment. “It is a variety believed to grow only around Ehrenfest city and has medicinal properties greatly valued by mundane apothecaries. I had little time to prepare,” he replied.

“I also only got to see that painted box you made for Rozemyne because she brought it to the Interdutchy Tournament and your painting is still a mystery to me,” Sylvester continued to complain. Melchior thought better of correcting his father as to the nature of the box and mentioning his gift to Letizia.

Lady Florencia seemed to understand his pleading eyes. “My dear, you would have seen it had you visited as you promised,” Florencia said without mentioning the other artwork returned from the Society.

Sylvester looked at her with a blank expression for a few seconds before understanding dawned. He snapped his eyes back on Melchior who jumped a little. “You gave it to your mother to hang in her office!” he whined.

“It was commandeered,” Melchior muttered.

“Then I want to requisition one of my own,” Sylvester huffed.

“Of course, Father. What would you like me to paint? Perhaps a portrait of Mother,” Melchior offered immediately. Perhaps by distracting his father with new things he could avoid further embarrassment.

Sylvester’s expression softened. “That would be lovely but not quite appropriate for an office. I'll think of something and let you know.”

“Father, If it is to be a requisition, you will have to prepare the proper forms and create a budget,” Charlotte said with a glance at someone behind Melchior.

Sylvester grimaced. “You are going to charge me? Did you charge Florencia?”

“Mother has provided substantial funding for Melchior's art supplies for years. A single painting is a small return on her investment,” Charlotte argued. It seemed Melchior’s embarrassment could not be avoided.

“How much is substantial,” he asked with a squint. Florencia touched his arm in a strange way and his eyes widened. “That much?” he whispered.

“I use a great deal of paper,” Melchior sighed. He failed not to hang his head in resignation.

“How do you use that much paper and where does it all go?” the Archduke asked.

Melchior could only shake his head. “It seems that most of it remains in his room. I had a wonderful afternoon perusing his older work this winter,” Florencia answered on his behalf.

“This winter you found an entire free afternoon to look at drawings?” Sylvester grumbled. It had been a very busy winter for them both.

“As you found time for lunch at the temple,” she replied. Sylvester’s indignation deflated amidst giggles from Brunhilde and Charlotte.

After dinner, Haldis did not have to set Melchior to the task of finishing Brunhilde's designs. Melchior retrieved them from his hidden room and sat at his table adding the final touches. He thought about the egg based paint as he used his normal oil based variety. The oil seeped just the smallest amount into the paper which he’d only begun to notice when the new recipes were shared with him. Of course his uncle would be unhappy enough to suggest he switch mediums.

It did not completely ruin the impression from afar, so Melchior accepted the pale staining on Brunhilde's designs. She wanted large blooms over many little ones. In that way, it felt similar to the hairpin design Torsten wanted.

The box containing the flower from Bershmann sat on his shelf. It could not be placed in his hidden room because other people added mana while he was away. All those who pledged to protect the blossom added a little bit on a rotation so as not to burden any one person. After seeing the flower, Haldis joined the order of its guardians. He hoped to show it to his wife one day which Melchior promised to allow after the gift was given to Charlotte. “We cannot risk her finding anything out,” Melchior declared solemnly.

Haldis recommended not allowing anyone into his private quarters who hadn't already seen it. At first, Melchior wanted to disallow just Charlotte’s loaned knights but his attendant thought that would make them feel excluded. If it was all the new knights, that would communicate unilateral cautiousness and give them a reason to try to earn his trust. It would otherwise be hard to explain why Gerianne, Isolde, and Zipporah were conditionally allowed while the other girls were not.

Fashioning a schtappe for the Second Wife was a bit more complicated. She was integral to Ehrenfest but use of the crest was carefully controlled. The symbol created by Charlotte and Florencia also felt wrong to use. He considered adding the one for House Groschel but he got the impression that Brunhilde was not on the best terms with her father.

In the end, he created one design focused on utility and another less practical but prettier wand. The first looked like, and could function as, a letter opener with a decorative handle and Brunhilde's usual wax seal on the end. The second boasted a floral dangle, ivory details, and a tiny faestone droplet at the end in her birth season's color.

They would take some time to dry but they were ready for delivery after that. Melchior considered sending them the moment they could be touched but he thought he might think of things to add later.

By the time this was done, he was late for bed. Kolteruze and Haldis helped him bathe then tucked him in. Melchior had some mana to compress but most of it was either donated to the Divine Instruments or stored in his support faestones for Spring Prayer. He thought about pausing his compression again. Having a lot of mana was important but the possibility of being shorter than Gerianne haunted him. Right before bed wasn't the time to do it though.

Learning Many New Things

The next morning, Kazmiar and his apprentice scholars gathered for a morning meeting. Melchior was a bit late getting up so he entered a conversation already in progress.

“This will not do,” Kazmiar said as he held a wooden board in his hands.

“I do not think it's too rigorous,” Isolde argued back.

“It's too much for a second year. You're covering third year Theology here,” Benedikt replied.

Isolde sighed loudly. “The curriculum has become more intense. He will need to know half the subordinate gods for his test. It takes such a long time to memorize them all so I think he should just work towards that,” she explained. Flautzeal nodded along as well.

They paused their spat to greet Melchior then passed him the boards to review. Isolde looked quite pleased while Benedikt and Flautzeal looked nervous. Melchior was confused as it seemed to cover mostly things he’d already studied.

“I do not mean to say that it is too rigorous,” Kazmiar began. “I am saying it isn't rigorous enough in some places and doesn't cover the correct material. Didn't the tutors send you their previous schedule?”

“Yes. It covers up to some third year content just like ours,” Isolde said.

Kazmiar shook his head along with Melchior. “It covers everything he's been taught so far,” Kazmiar clarified. Isolde and Benedikt sat with shocked faces. Flautzeal tried to peak at the board again as if unsure of what was written there all of a sudden.

“You are so far ahead,” Isolde muttered. “I see we will redo it. My apologies, my lord, we were working on false assumptions from the beginning.”

“It's ok,” Melchior said. “I also already know all the names of the gods. I need to for my work.” He slid the board back across the table when his amazed apprentice scholars failed to take it from his hands. “I believe my worst subject is law. I also haven't brewed very much and my magic circles are awful.”

“I would not call them awful,” Isolde replied. She took another blank board and spread her notes out alongside it.

Flautzeal took the board himself. “May I keep this?”

Melchior nodded. “It is useless anyway,” Isolde muttered.

“Its amazing that you know all the gods already,” Flautzeal said. “It is difficult for me even though I practice everyday.”

“Are you using Karuta?” Melchior asked. Flautzeal said that he was. “If you don't have the picture book bibles, you can borrow mine.”

“If you are sure, then I will accept. Thank you, my lord. I won't squander your kindness,” Flautzeal replied.

“I can also teach you the songs the orphanage created to help remember them,” Melchior offered. He gestured for Pepin to come over and asked him to place his picture books into a box for Flautzeal. When he turned back to the table, he was met with hungry eyes. “They are quite… silly,” he began to say then stopped.

“I would like to learn these songs,” Flautzeal said.

“I will write out the words,” Melchior promised to which Flautzeal returned a restrained cheer.

“Songs sound like they would have helped a great deal,” Pepin muttered when he returned with the box.

While the scholars worked, Melchior spent some time talking to Pepin and transcribing the Klassenberg book. He could only sigh at how much paper he’d already used on the project and they were only half way through with their first copy.

“Do you enjoy reading old books?” Pepin asked. He liked the smaller printed books but found the old tomes too difficult to be enjoyable.

“Sometimes. Just like newer books, some are fun while some are boring. They are just longer so it's worse if they are boring,” Melchior replied. He was happy to be able to read so many books. The older gray priests told him that most commoners would never see a single book for their entire lives. They couldn't even read. He found that hard to believe at first but the Plantin lehenges said the same thing. He wondered if there was a way to share their books with more people. Both the temple and castle book rooms had a few books almost no one read.

Thinking about sharing books no one wanted to read reminded him of the Leisegang wheat memorial tome. “Pepin, can you collect a book from the castle book room? It is called New Variety, New Possibilities.”

“Of course, my lord. Do you mind me asking what it's about?” Pepin asked while repeating the name to himself.

“Wheat.”

“Just wheat? It will help me remember to know more details,” Pepin replied.

“It is a book written to commemorate the invention of a new strain of wheat in Leisegang. It is more cold and pest resistant than other varieties,” Melchior explained.

“I see. That sounds boring but I'll do my best. Is it ok to go now, before I forget?” Melchior gave his permission and resumed his work.

Once the discussion about his studies had concluded, Kazmiar hurried away to the temple and Melchior took his scholars, knights, and Zargerecht to the Archduke's office. It was unusual for Melchior's oldest attendant to accompany him but Haldis had asked for a rare day off. No one tried to fight him for the position of attendant and Melchior did not press him into service. He stood near Ridyarda watching the room and caring for his charge when needed.

Melchior found it easier to work when his painting wasn't looming behind him. He sat next to Gerianne and worked through harvest totals from various provinces. There was a large disparity between the northern provinces with and those without ceremonial stages to summon spring. “Sebastian, didn't Herzfeld receive a stage last year?” Melchior asked as he tallied their crop yield.

“It would be two years ago now, my lord,” Sebastian replied. Melchior wondered whether foodstuffs just weren't their main production. Khune had voluntarily accepted a later place on the list because they focused on smithing and quarrying stone. They still wanted a stage to extend the mining season but were considerate of other people's need to grow crops. “We do a fair bit of farming and hunting,” Sebastian assured him. They also raised livestock. Melchior compared their totals for wool and dairy and found they were higher than others but just that didn't feel like enough. He made a small note at the bottom of the page and continued on.

A scholar came to collect the forms Flautzeal had completed. Flautzeal sighed. “It is hard to feel like I am doing anything when my pile continues to disappear,” he grumbled.

“I know precisely how you feel,” Melchior assured him.

They worked until third bell when Zargerecht brought them tea and snacks. Gerianne was particularly delighted. “Haldis never brings us tea. I haven't been able to try these before either,” she chirped.

Melchior looked around. They were the only group with refreshments. “I think it is out of consideration for the other workers,” Melchior said as he noticed their jealous glances.

“They should ask for tea then,” she replied.

Sigsnyr switched with Sebastian for the second half of the morning. He picked up where the other knight left off on transferring records from wooden boards to sheets of plant paper. Next to Sebastian’s handwriting, Sigsnyr's was delicate and pretty. It was not on par with Isolde or Lord Klavier, but Melchior thought it was pleasant and easy to read. He said as much, interrupting Sigsnyr’s mid pen stroke.

“Thank you, Lord Melchior. I write a lot of letters, or I used to, and wanted them to look nice,” he said.

Isolde leaned into their conversation. “Who do you write letters to?”

“Who do you think?” he snapped. She giggled. “Please stop teasing me about this. My feelings are not romantic.” Sigsnyr insisted.

Melchior looked back and forth between them, his curiosity peaking. “What are you talking about?” he asked. Gerianne also paused her work to listen.

Sigsnyr blushed from all the eyes now upon him. “It is nothing. She just won't stop trying to get me to admit to amorous intentions.”

“Oh, Sigsnyr. Dedryck won't even put you on guard duty together,” she teased.

“That is to ensure Melchior always has familiar guards and it's just for the time being,” Sigsnyr said. “I’ve said this several times now.”

“Ah. You are talking about Zipporah,” Gerianne said and returned to her work.

“Isn't that more interesting,” Isolde argued. “Come Gerianne, you cannot tell me you do not see it.”

“If it were going to happen, it would have, ages ago. He would have asked her with plenty of time to spare to prepare a dress for graduation,” Gerianne said without looking up.

“There is still time,” Isolde encouraged more to Sigsnyr than to Gerianne.

“Do you want to escort Zipporah?” Melchior asked. He fidgeted in his seat with excitement. They did seem very close. It would be great fun if romance blossomed between his knights like in a story.

“I… if it did not mean so much, then yes. As it carries the meaning that it does, I would not dare” Sigsnyr replied with downcast eyes.

“You do not love her?” Melchior questioned.

“I love her like I love you, or my father, or anyone else,” Sigsnyr replied.

Melchior wasn't sure how to respond to being told someone loved him. It took him a moment to hear the whole declaration for what it was. His feelings were familial or like those between friends. Still, it made him feel happy so he thought he should respond. “Thank you, Sigsnyr. I should think I love you as well.”

Isolde nearly fell from her chair as she struggled to keep her laughter silent. Sigsnyr placed a hand to his head and sighed. “Thank you, Lord Melchior. This is perhaps not the place for such confessions.”

“But…” Melchior wanted to say that Sigsnyr had only just done the same thing but a sharp call came from the Archduke’s desk.

“Hey, are you here to chat or to work?” he yelled. Melchior's retainers all startled and began working in earnest but Melchior spared a glance at his father. He looked pouty rather than angry. Melchior gestured that he wanted to get up, walked over to his father's desk and asked for permission to whisper to him.

“You may approach,” Sylvester said, his expression mixed with curiosity and annoyance.

Karstedt watched the little boy walk around the desk and whisper into his father's ear. Sylvester smiled and gave him a pat on the head.

Sigsnyr seemed excited to move around after spending his morning sitting down but Melchior was not looking forward to training at the Knights Order. Even though it had been entirely useless the first time, he brought his wooden sword just in case. It was still bare as he hadn't had time to decorate it. Gerianne wore her knight uniform and shield bracelet while he still only had his training clothes. They were a combination of older underwear, a padded vest, and looser breeches. The early spring weather was still cold so he shivered a bit while their instructor gave a speech about swordsmanship.

“Your blade should feel like an extension of your body. You will one day wield a schtappe made weapon which will actually be an extension of your body but that's not what i mean.”

He proceeded to demonstrate the first set of sword forms. His movements weren't as refined as Sister Streita’s nor did they flow as beautifully from pose to pose but it was more or less the same as Melchior already knew. He still practiced just the first swing as instructed.

The young man tasked with training the youngest recruits, walked around with his stick and tapped peoples shoulders and legs. Melchior heard Gerianne winced slightly when she was corrected. Her shoulders were at the wrong angle apparently.

Melchior envisioned Sister Streita and did his best to match her stance and motions. “Your stance should be wider,” said the instructor with a sharp hit to Melchior’s leg.

“That hurt,” Melchior said. He didn't stop to rub the affected area but he could feel it smarting. The young man looked momentarily afraid then recovered his serious demeanor.

“A bit of pain helps you remember,” replied his instructor. “Lord Wilfred commands that I not be easy on you just because you are the son of the Archduke.”

Melchior had many things to say in response but kept them to himself. Sister Streita was plenty memorable without causing pain. The tapping of her rod was very annoying. He could feel it between his shoulder blades in his dreams but it never hurt.

Contrary to his claim to not go easy on Melchior, all subsequent hits carried less force. From Gerianne’s face, Melchior could tell this was special treatment for himself.

As they were following along with everyone, they could not move forward until the very last person could manage the swing a couple of times. Melchior hadn't appreciated having all the time he needed to learn given to him while Gerianne moved on. He’d been upset at being left behind but he now felt he was better for taking his time. The nine year old at the end of their line, continued to struggle with the subsequent moves because he didn't quite understand the first one.

By the end of practice, Melchior was achy in the spots their instructor liked to correct but otherwise only frustrated. He and Gerianne offered healing to everyone and got a reprimand for it. “Such small pains are useful for growth. By healing them you are both wasting mana and encouraging them to forget.”

“I cannot do nothing when people are hurt,” Melchior argued back.

“You must learn the difference between hurt and uncomfortable,” snapped their instructor. “Lord Melchior, they cannot improve if you coddle them.”

Gerianne and Melchior shared annoyed looks. They muttered their grievances as they waited for his other knights to assemble. The older apprentices were flushed from exertion but otherwise in good spirits.

“Was it difficult again today?” Sebastian asked.

“I do not like Lord Brunschwart,” Melchior replied but would not say anything else.

“He is unskilled and officious,” Gerianne offered. “He will ruin my swordsmanship.”

“I know he's different from Dame Streita and not as experienced but his sword work is very good. He should have much to teach,” Sigsnyr replied.

Gerianne shook her head and joined Melchior in performing their stretches. “I’ve neglected you,” Melchior said suddenly and cast healing on Gerianne. “I apologize.”

She returned his blessing with a happy smile. “You need not worry about me. As he said, it is merely uncomfortable, not painful.”

Melchior scowled and turned to the others. “Is anyone else hurt?”

Gottschalk and Sigsnyr shrugged. “It is nothing worthy of concern,” Gottschalk said.

Sigsnyr sighed as green light streamed over his fellow knight. “If you truly do not want healing, you must say no, no matter the true state of yourself.” He dodged Melchior only to be caught by Gerianne. “It is the smallest bruise!” he huffed. “Thank you.”

“They make a dangerous team, don't they,” Sebastian observed with a laugh.

Melchior and Gerianne beamed and nodded together. “You cannot escape us,” Melchior declared.

“You must keep your eyes on all combatants!” Gerianne lectured in a miniature impression of Streita.

“It is as you say,” Sigsnyr said gravely before breaking into laughs with the other knights. Gerianne pouted adorably while everyone giggled. She took up her guard position at Melchior's shoulder.

“Let us return then,” Sebastian said and led their party to the launching platform and into the sky.

Melchior was usually bored by his bath and massage without Kirk to talk to him. Zargerecht and Kolteruze helped him prepare to retired then made tea and left him to his drawing. After a few moments Melchior paused. “Is Mother visiting Henriette?” he asked.

Zargerecht stopped his tea preparations. “You are without any other adult attendants. I cannot leave you,” he replied, answering the string of questions sure to come in one go.

Melchior frowned. “Kolteruze is sufficient for the remainder of tonight. Please go and assist.”

“Kolteruze is still only an apprentice. Henriette is well taken care of. You may be assured by the quality of her attendants,” Zargerecht replied.

“You said she struggles to fall asleep without her family or you. Good rest is important for growth and health. Kolteruze, can you manage by yourself?”

Kolteruze nodded despite Zargerecht's sharp look. “Please place your faith in me, Zargerecht. I will ensure Lord Melchior is properly attended,” he promised.

Zargerecht smiled calmly. “Then I will go attend the baby as you command, my lord. I wish you Schlaftraum’s blessings,” he said, then exited at a brisk walk.

“Are you sure, Lord Melchior?” Kolteruze asked after a moment. “I can assist you alone as most things are finished but does Zargerecht not provide you comfort as he does your sister?”

“I am not a baby. I will manage on my own,” Melchior replied. Kolteruze regarded him with a dubious expression. Melchior had been noticeably antsy since ordering Zargerecht away every night. Haldis was both skilled and gentle but he had not served Melchior since his lord was a baby. Pepin was not even around to talk to him before bed.

Kolteruze continued to hover for a little while. He finished making tea then stood around waiting for instructions. Melchior continued doing small drawings for a little while then stopped. “Did Pepin bring the book this morning?” he asked.

“Yes. They are in the other room. Would you like me to retrieve them?” Kolteruze replied.

“There are multiple?” Kolteruze nodded. Melchior began to stand up so Kolteruze pulled his chair back. They went to the front chamber along with Sigsnyr. Gerianne was sitting in the guards chair by the door. She stood when Melchior arrived but didn't say anything.

The books rested on a side table. There was the one Melchior requested as well as two others about farming and Leisegang respectively. “I suppose he forgot the name of the book and brought everything tangential to the topic.” Melchior mused. He took New Variety, New Possibilities and handed it to Kolteruze. “You wished to borrow this.”

Kolteruze took the book but didn't open it. “Thank you, my lord. Did you wish to read either of the others?”

Melchior said that he did not. If they were anything like New Variety they would put him to sleep prematurely. Once they returned to his room he offered Kolteruze a seat and gave his permission for him to be at ease until
bedtime.

“I am your only attendant, my lord. I cannot be engaged in other things,” Kolteruze replied with a smile.

“Indeed, you are the only one here. Sigsnyr will not say anything. You may be at ease. I will call if I require your assistance,” Melchior insisted. Neither Haldis nor Zargerecht would just stand and watch him. They had many duties besides simply attending him and took moments when he was engaged for long periods to do their work. As Kolteruze had nothing to do besides serve Melchior, his only other option was relaxing or, “I would like for you to read this book and tell me about it,” he said when Kolteruze remained unsure.

“You've already read it,” Kolteruze countered.

“I want to know your opinion as an enthusiast,” Melchior replied. Kolteruze held the book in one arm and touched its cover with his other hand. He did want to read it but he would have plenty of time for that while Melchior was at the temple. He didn't need to compromise his service to indulge at this moment.

“He doesn't want you just watching him,” Sigsnyr said from the door. “I’m not sure why he cannot say that but he wants you to occupy yourself with something else or he won't be able to draw in peace.”

Melchior fixed Sigsnyr with a frown while Kolteruze looked surprised. “I had no idea, I apologize, my lord. I will read the book,”

“You must give clear instructions,” Sigsnyr said in response to the unfair criticism in his lord’s look. He then returned to silently keeping watch but not looking at Melchior directly.

Footnotes

10. Is very refined and elegant ^

Chapter Text

Leisure Time

It was his first proper day off in a long time. It felt strange to have nothing to do after being so busy at the temple and the Royal Academy where there were no days off. He did his exercises then voluntarily practiced his instruments then sat at his table wondering how to engage with the day. He could always draw, but his paper expenditure haunted him whenever he took out a new sheet. His parchment scheme proved to be less than effective as he was not all that ruthless by nature and his retainers liked to talk him out of erasing even the things he was willing to destroy.

Still he did have seven new subjects to capture. It was too cold to sit in the gardens but his favorite corner of the castle would be free of loitering nobles now that everyone had returned to their provinces.

He did a few preliminary sketches in his note book of Cecilia before settling on an angle with good lighting. “I’ve never sat for a portrait before. Do I have to do anything in particular? Should I make a face?”

“You may do whatever you like. I will try to represent you as I see you,” Melchior replied and held his willow charcoal up to measure her proportions. She settled on a serious face like the one she used on guard duty. When she wasn't focused on her expression she tended to walk around with a slight smirk and curious eyes. After a very short while her mind wandered and she resumed this expression.

Melchior was annoyed but felt it was best not to ask her to change back. There was every possibility she would pick a third face in her attempt to repeat the first. He hadn't made any dark marks yet so he could largely clean off the face of his drawing to begin again. This was only the first challenge. Cecilia was also not good at sitting still. Even Sigsnyr, who could not remain in the same position for fifteen consecutive minutes, could remain motionless between fits of movement. Cecilia bobbed her head or tapped her foot constantly. When told to be still, she shifted her weight over and over as subtly as possible.

After a frustrating session, Melchior managed to complete a drawing of her face and shoulders. “This is my first portrait of you. Would you like to keep it?” Cecilia took the page and looked at it. She nodded vigorously and beamed.

“Oh thank you, I will send this to my sister,” she said.

“This one is a gift. Do not allow Haldis to collect payment. However, I cannot speak for subsequent pieces,” Melchior noted.

“I understand completely,” Cecilia replied. She spent a bit longer staring at her drawing and showing it to Isolde and Gerianne before rolling it up carefully and putting it into a pouch.

“Do you always give away your drawings in this way?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes. I have a great many already. It makes me happy to share,” Melchior replied. He allowed Pepin to collect his papers and put away the materials.

Sebastian regarded him with a happy smile. “I think you will make an excellent leader,” he said.

Melchior paused and looked at his knight. He could not help but blush lightly along the ears. “Thank you, Sebastian. I will endeavor to meet your expectations.”

Isolde watched this exchange with restrained glee. Once it was clear that Melchior was not going to continue drawing she stepped forward with a wooden board. “My lord, I know today is your day of rest. However, it would be most advantageous to have your opinion on the curriculum such that we can obtain Lady Florencia’s approval and begin next week.”

“I will look at it,” Melchior said and accepted the board. The revised version would cover more law as he’d requested. The theology portion had been all but totally removed. There would be seasonal reviews to ensure retention but nothing else. It also covered the beginning of the Knight Course and brewing for the second year classes. As it was paced to follow the same intensity as his previous studies, he would complete this year's material by the Starbinding at the earliest and Autumn at the latest. “It ends,” he noted.

“Well yes. You will complete all the required knowledge to pass on your first days by the end of summer. Then you will have time to rest before the school year or to pursue other topics.”

There were no other topics Melchior wanted to pursue. He also did not want to fall behind as his responsibilities piled up and the course work grew more strenuous. “I would like to employ Kolteruze's method,” he said.

Isolde regarded him curiously. “What is Kolteruze’s method?”

“He continues to study without pause. In this way he has progressed through several years of material and is almost finished learning everything he needs to know until graduation. I do not wish to take a break. I do not need to learn as many rituals this year either. Something else may delay my studies but I want to plan to maintain my usual rigor.” He handed the board back to her. She passed it to Pepin with instructions to follow it to the best of his abilities then began drafting a third curriculum. Pepin grew pale and looked back and forth between the scholar and her lord.

They returned to his chambers for lunch. Most of his retainers preferred to eat with him rather than in the castle's dining hall. Melchior was not sure why but he’d also never asked. He enjoyed having other people to eat with since his family was too busy to gather all at the same time.

Isolde was unusually quiet. She would normally talk about her social life or studies. Listening to her was the primary way Melchior learned about the women and girls of the castle. Today she ate in silence with her eyebrows knit. Only once the after lunch tea was served did she speak to ask a question.

“Is there anything else I should consider? I would not like to fail a third time,” she said.

It took Melchior a long moment to understand what she was asking and a bit longer to consider his response. “It would be helpful for me if you included my knight training. I like seeing what I will learn and marking things once I’ve completed them.”

She nodded and made a note in her diptych. Melchior looked at it while she wrote. It was plain like they usually were, only marked with her name and a touch of paint for decoration. He’d never seen someone use the more elaborate versions he was creating. Would she get strange looks for holding a painting in her hand? The people at the Society looked horrified whenever someone touched Letizia's diptych after all.

These thoughts carried away his attention long enough for Isolde to finish her note and notice him staring at her hands. She didn't move for a long while and his eyes didn't waver. “Is there something on my hands, my lord?” she asked finally.

Melchior blushed and looked away. “I was lost in thought,” he said.

She smiled deviously. “If it pleases you, you are welcome to look at my hands for as long as you like,” she teased.

Melchior turned even more red. He did not know why this felt so embarrassing but his face grew hot all the same. “I… that is not it. I was considering how it would look to hold a painted one,” he admitted.

She looked at her plain tablet. The wood was selected to accent her hands and the little painted details matched her hair. It was a popular item among the younger scholars. She could not help but imagine how elegant the shumils' portraits would look while she took notes. “I think they will lend their users great elegance and bring joy. It would be difficult to use something so beautiful as I use this simple one but Aub Alexandria is used to having the best things,” she encouraged. If they could find more painters, they could start a proper trend. It would be rude to ask Melchior to make her one.

Melchior considered her words. It would be ok if she didn't use her gift, he decided. She could display it like a normal painting if she wanted. He only hoped it would be to her tastes.

After lunch, there was a new expanse of time to fill. He chose to plan for Flautzeal’s gift. He marked his normal grid for practice sketches but used two boxes to plan for both sides of the diptych at once. He contemplated what, if anything, to paint around the engraved symbol. It might look strange floating amidst a painting but ancillary decorations could be nice. After several attempts to choose a scene he could not think of anything.

Flautzeal loved music and seemingly nothing else. A painting of a random person singing felt strange. The design for Isolde's could charitably be called a landscape but including a subject made it feel like something else entirely. Would Flautzeal want a stranger on his tablet? Would he want himself?

As these thoughts raced through his mind, Haldis looked over his shoulder. “What is this, my lord?”

Melchior jumped but recovered quickly enough. Isolde was working at his table so he removed a sound-blocker from his desk and gave it to the attendant.

“Oh, is it a secret?” Haldis asked cheerfully.

“I am planning gifts in appreciation of everyone’s hard work at the Royal Academy. I forced everyone to do manual labor with smelly hides.”

Haldis glanced at the pastel lady daintily covering a wooden board with neat letters and tried to imagine her doing such work. “I can understand your drive to give recompense,” he said. “Is this for Isolde?”

Melchior shook his head. “I have already decided what her’s will be. I am having trouble deciding for Flautzeal. I’ve already made a mistake and revealed my intentions. I want to amaze him with the artwork.”

“I think he is easier to please than you imagine. How did he learn your secret?”

Melchior explained his ill conceived note and the repercussions. “I cannot believe I placed such an order with instrument makers,” he groaned. The memory was still so painful.

“That was quite the mistake. Such a letter could only be read as a challenge,” Haldis replied. He waited for Melchior to go completely ashen before adding. “And, like everything they make, it will be three times as expensive.”

“Oh no!”

Haldis laughed at his charge’s woe before patting him on the shoulder. “Do not worry. Diptychs are not very expensive by their nature. Perhaps it would be easier to decide if you saw their workshop and Flautzeal’s home. It is very common to visit to view such work in progress. While this would normally occur approximately two seasons into the creation of a fine instrument, I do not doubt that House Klavier would treat you with the same courtesy as every other customer. When will your order be finished?”

“After Spring Prayer, Flautzeal said.”

“Then you should visit before. Even if you take all year to paint it, you won't have another excuse unless you place another order,” Haldis explained. Melchior shivered at the thought. He did not want to give offense a second time. It would be interesting to draw somewhere new. He couldn't go anywhere dangerous, but a mednoble estate was certainly fine. As he thought about visiting mednobles he remembered Adaire. He would need to invite him to visit at some point.

“Please plan a visit. I would also like to invite Adaire for tea,” Melchior said.

Haldis hid his confusion and only said. “I will make arrangements. A meeting with Adaire may take some time as he has begun working as well.”

Melchior's face brightened. “He has! That's wonderful. Do you know what profession he chose? Is he being treated well? Should I send him a note of congratulations?” Melchior looked toward his collection of decorative papers.

“There is no need to make a large fuss. It is no great event to begin an apprenticeship. I can say with confidence that his master will treat him with great kindness,” Haldis replied. He placed down the sound blocker then picked it up again. “Did you force Zargerecht to do manual labor?”

“I would never. He was not supportive of the idea either. We vexed him terribly,” Melchior replied.

“Will you get him a gift as well?” Haldis asked. It would be a shame if he were excluded. Adult attendants worked so hard for Archduke Candidates at the Royal Academy.

“Oh yes I plan to get the attendants…” Melchior paused. He’d been so distracted with Kolteruze's gift that he hadn't finished planning. “I forgot to choose. What should I get?”

Haldis spent a few moments considering what a good gift for his coworker would be and drew a complete blank. Zargerecht had very little free time and no hobbies as far as Haldis knew. He lived for his work and was therefore rather dull. “That is difficult to say. It will also be more meaningful if you decide for yourself,” he said.

Melchior also struggled to imagine what Zargerecht would like. He made a note then started thinking about Pepin instead. Melchior knew a lot about Pepin. He loved his parents and two older brothers. One was a knight and the other an attendant. He enjoyed teaching others and had an almost magical draw for children. It was good that he seemed to like them. Melchior had originally thought it was strange for someone with such a bad memory to be good at teaching but Pepin knew a lot of ways to learn things because he’d tried so many ways to retain information.

This first brought to mind just giving him another diptych but he would forget his notes after they were erased. Pepin would doubtlessly need to transfer everything to paper rather than just the important things. Maybe using paper to start would be better. His blank books were a bit fragile, but with a cover like the parchment books and a nice latch, the pages would be protected and the book could be taken everywhere. He would have Kirk ask the Plantin lehenges if they produced such a thing.

After dinner, Melchior went on his promised weekly visit.

“Mel! Mel!” Henriette cried happily.

“I have come,” Melchior replied. “How was your day?”

She babbled about her adventures in running circles around her attendants and brewing a fake potion. She showed him the water in a glass vial she’d made. He convinced her that he could not drink it as he was full of mana already.

“It is for healing,” she insisted.

“I am not injured,” he replied.

“It makes you stronger,” she claimed.

He sighed and took the vial. He didn't open it but pretended to drink it. She watched his face for a moment. He slipped the full container into his belt slot then made an exaggerated look of surprise. “Wow! What an amazing potion,” he said. He then stood up and lifted her into the air like Bonifiatus liked to lift people. “I feel stronger already!”

She giggled happily and begged to be lifted again. Unfortunately, her portion was just water he hadn't even drunk. He was also not particularly strong for his age and only eleven. Three year olds were not particularly light.

“It has worn off,” he said sadly. “You will have to make it stronger next time,” he said with a pat on the head as he struggled to regain his breath.

Henriette pouted. “I want to fly,” she said.

“One day you will fly. I will teach you to fly very fast,” he promised.

“I want to fly,” she insisted.

“The potion has worn off. Shall we brew another?” he asked.

She fretted and stomped but he smiled and brought her over to the brewing toys. There was a little pot and a brewing stick. “I am amazed that you are brewing potions already. I only just learned myself,” he said and knelt down by the toys. “Won't you teach me your potion?” he asked with a bright smile.

Who could resist the allure of being the teacher? Henriette came over and explained the ingredients. “We add laughs,” she said with a frown. She had not forgotten her wish to fly but they needed the potion of whatever she decided at the moment. The list of ingredients was very long and did not include any plants. It was important to read one of her books over the pot but it had no words. Melchior described the shapes on the page and waved his hands over the brew.

“Not this book,” Henriette said. She brought over a different book for him to read which he did. After the third book, the potion was forgotten because she wanted to see the pictures.

They sat reading for a while until one of her retainers signaled. “It is time for bed,” Melchior said before she could request the same book a fourth time.

“No,” she said and shook her head.

“But it is late. Rest is very important,” Melchior replied.

“You will leave,” she huffed.

Melchior could have cried. He looked at Zargerecht who communicated with his eyes that Melchior could not stay no matter how much he wanted to or she begged.

“That is true. I have to sleep in my own room,” Melchior said.

“No,” she huffed.

Melchior signed. “I will read you the book if you lie down,” he offered.

She looked at the book. She did want to hear him read it but she did not want to fall asleep. These choices battled back and forth for a few moments.

She got up from their spot on the floor and returned with a different book.

“You want me to read this one instead?”

She nodded and smiled.

“Then you will lie down?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I lie down for that book,” she said and pointed to the other book.

Melchior understood. His bargain was over the other book. By changing books she could escape both options she did not like. “You are very smart,” he said and patted her head. She bounced happily, sat down beside him, and leaned against his chest. “Schutzia!” she cheered.

“It is Schutzaria,” Melchior corrected. “She will not hear your prayers if you do not say her name correctly. Do you like it when people say your name wrong?” Melchior asked. Henriette shook her head and tried to say the Goddess of Wind’s name with limited success. “It is all right. You will learn one day. Until then I will pray on your behalf.

“I can do it,” she insisted.

“Ok I won't pray then,” Melchior said.

This was also not acceptable it seemed. She did want him to pray on her behalf but she also wanted to pray herself. “We can pray together,” he promised. “First you must learn the names of the gods.”

He read her the book about Schutzaria and her subordinates twice before her eyes began to droop. She worked hard against her exhaustion but allowed him to carry her to bed. It still had bars around it so he gave her to Zargerecht to actually place her inside. Melchior stuck his hand through the bars so she could hold it and told her the story a third time from memory. Then he sang her the song from the orphanage.

“The goddess who blows the winds, Schutzaria who holds the shield. Protector of the precious things like Kunstzeal’s Arts, Forsernte’s harvest, and the Wisdom of Mestinora…”

Eventually, her eyes closed and her breathing became even. Melchior stood beside her bed, holding her hand, until he was yawning too.

“My lord, you must return to your room,” Zargerecht said.

“I know,” Melchior replied sadly. He pulled his hand back and walked away.

Even with Zargerecht there, it was hard to fall asleep. It took compressing his mana until he felt sick to finally feel tired enough.

Back to the Temple

For some reason, Melchior remembered his honeyed fruits when he woke up. After making liberal use of them at the Royal Academy, all that remained was a bit of honey and the one preserved apfelsige. He directed Pepin to pack it along with his flute and sword. He also considered getting a second flute as well as one for the orphanage but shuddered at the thought of placing an order for them.

He also asked if he could visit his sister but was told he could not ruin the structure of her day. Instead he was dressed and fed breakfast and taken to the temple.

The spring mornings were still chilly but the sky was clear and blue. Melchior watched the ivory estates fly by and wondered what it was like to have one all to yourself. He didn't know where Wilfred's estate was exactly. He tried to get a good look at the archnobles’ area to see if he could identify his brother's new home. Unfortunately, they were all identical with minor differences in gardening.

The temple came into view after a little while. He could descend smoothly now but dismounting like a knight was still beyond him. His lion tended to remain hovering in the air. Today he decided to desummoning it as he jumped off. His temple attendants watched him float down, swing his leg over the head of his big cat, slide off somewhat gracefully, and dropped his large faestone onto the tiles. It made a popping sound and a huge crack formed.

“My lord!” Sebastian cried as the blood drained from his face. He walked slowly over to a defeated looking Melchior as the latter bent down and picked up his highbeast.

“I am sorry. That was clumsy of me,” the boy whispered to the rock as he petted it. “I will practice over grass next time,” he promised.

“My lord?” Sebastian asked. He couldn't think of anything to say. His job was surely in jeopardy. How could he report to the Archduke that such an expensive and necessary item had been lost.

“He has done it before,” Dedryck assured him.

This was not as reassuring as it was supposed to be.

Gerianne abandoned her positions near the door to come over. “Oh no,” she whispered. She also touched the broken rock gently. “Will it still be usable?”

Melchior nodded. “Yes, I do not want to spend the mana to fix it at the moment. I will do my donation first,” he replied.

“You can fix it!” Sebastian cried and walked over.

“Yes.”

“Lord Melchior, you should repair it immediately. It is dangerous to be without a highbeast. You will not be able to flee if an emergency arises,” he coaxed. While this was true, seeing it broken was causing him great distress.

Melchior sighed. He focused on adding just enough mana to make the stone pliable then squished it around in his hands until it came back together. Gerianne and Sebastian were left frozen in surprise as he placed it back into his medallion and walked over to his temple attendants.

“I have returned. Has the temple been well?” Melchior asked.

“Welcome home, my lord. The temple has been very busy but all remains in order and everyone is in good health. The craftsmen have come to begin repairs. They are by the orphanage and will not disturb you.” Lothar replied.

“I see. Let us return to my chambers. Then I will hear your reports.”

Kirk and Sheila carried his things while they walked through the halls. The familiar clacking of their wooden shoes made Melchior feel even more relaxed. Sebastian took up his position in the hall while Sigsnyr followed the younger kids inside.

Lothar immediately prepared tea while Melchior sat at his desk and did a few more lines on his accounts. Once the tea was set he turned to hear the report. “Preparations for Spring Prayer are progressing on schedule. We need to reserve carriages now. Will we be traveling by highbeast as we did for the Harvest Festival?”

“I think I can do it. I have more mana and more practice now,” Melchior replied.

“Dedryck asked me to pass on the word. We will need carriages this time,” Sigsnyr said. Melchior looked both surprised and betrayed. “Many more provisions must be transported for Spring Prayer. You cannot collect food on the way. Your highbeast would need to be at least double the size and carry three times the weight at a rough estimation,” Sigsnyr explained.

Melchior frowned. He tried to imagine how much mana he would need to make that work. He’d grown since the Harvest Festival and had compressed his mana a great deal. It felt doable.

“Dedryck has also observed that it takes more mana to fill the Spring chalice than to perform the blessings in Autumn.”

Melchior had forgotten about that. His previous confidence was turned on its head. “I fear I will struggle to transport even just myself. I apologize for my weakness, everyone. Please reserve the usual carriages, Lothar,” he said.

“There is no need for you to apologize to us. It is our duty to ensure your safety and comfort, however we must travel,” Lothar replied. He ignored his lord's pouty expression and moved to continue his work.

Kirk stepped forward looking excited to finally get to share. He started to speak then looked at Sigsnyr who was still standing close by to listen to the reports. Sigsnyr held his gaze for a bit then tipped his head in confusion.

“Is something the matter, Kirk?” Melchior asked.

“I have a report on the errand you tasked me with last week,” Kirk replied evasively. He then gave an exaggerated glance at the three apprentice knights in Melchior's room.

“Ah, let us go to my hidden room,” Melchior said and leapt up from his desk. Sigsnyr watched them go with a wounded expression. He followed behind all the way until the door slid shut in his face.

“Lord Sigsnyr looks very sad to be excluded, my lord,” Kirk said once the door was sealed.

“I’ve few secrets from him. He is not used to it,” Melchior replied. They giggled.

“Will you be able to resist telling him?” Kirk asked as he positioned a chair for Melchior. Melchior noted that there was only one chair in this room. It was fashioned more closely to the one in the castle. Both were made to look like miniature versions of the children's room in the Main Building of the castle.

“I think he will figure it out. I would like to speak with the craftsperson to discuss the possibilities. Do you think I can paint on leather?” Melchior replied. He unhooked his diptych to look at his notes. “Oh and does the Plantin company make traditionally bound books out of paper?”

Kirk paused to consider the flood of questions. “I do not know. I will ask. As for the leather workers. They would like to compete for your exclusive business. Fred’s tailoring shop has agreed to coordinate the competition if you would like.”

Melchior considered this, a competition did sound exciting but he didn't have much need for leatherwork. He would need a new potion belt eventually but he didn't anticipate needing too many more pouches after this order. “I don't think I need an exclusive leatherworker. And why would a tailoring shop host such a competition?”

Kirk tried to remember the explanation Fred gave. He was an older man with kind manners he struggled to maintain as he got excited. His explanation was therefore a mix of logical arguments and expressive grunting. “Ah. Master Fred said it was good to have a neutral party oversee things to prevent foul play. His shop also sells many ready made items to visiting merchants so he would like to find a leatherworker to create small goods for him. If you sponsor a competition, it will save him the trouble of doing it himself or changing shops and building enmity,” Kirk said.

It sounded like a good deal for Master Fred, Melchior thought. “He wants to use my competition to compare craftspeople?” he muttered. He didn't know how revolutionary his idea was but inventing the brooches had incurred extra costs. “What do I get in return? I have to pay for the pouches and we have to host them at the temple right?”

Kirk shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never planned anything like this nor put in an order. I listened to Lord Haldis talk to the Gilbertta company but they are very used to doing business with nobles. Master Fred only serves wealthy merchants and local organizations.”

They spent a few moments in mutual contemplation. “We need more help,” Melchior concluded. “Can you ask the Plantin lehenges? Maybe they know more about these things.”

“Yes of course. I will also ask Lothar. Lady Rozemyne did a lot of business with the lower city.”

“Just be sure the knights do not find out,” Melchior said. “Or Kolteruze, he cannot keep a secret either.”

Kirk wanted to know more about this but it was not his place to ask. “I will be sure not to tell them,” Kirk assured him.

“I also cannot think of a gift for Zargerecht. Can you ask Lothar and Sheila what adult attendants might like?”

Kirk nodded. “Is there anything else, my lord?”

Melchior couldn't think of anything else. “No, that is all I have. Tell me about the orphanage. How is everyone?” He hung his head thinking about how he could not see them.

Kirk told him they were all healthy and excited to begin foraging again. “Paper production will resume towards the middle of spring when it is warmer.” It was a short and proper report for a lord who was more or less uninvolved with the subject matter.

“I want to know about Lyle and little Inga. How are they? Was the winter alright?” Melchior pressed.

Kirk cast his eyes down. He didn't spend much time in the orphanage now that Melchior wasn't visiting. In truth, he wanted answers to these questions as well. “I cannot say, my lord. I have not been to the orphanage in some time. Would you like me to go and ask Wilma for a more thorough report?”

He did. Melchior almost asked him too but stopped. No official report wouldn't tell him what he wanted to know. Only a proper conversation would enlighten him. He could summon his friends to his room but that would force them to come to the nobles section, a place they all regarded with caution.

“No, it is alright. I will make an official visit sometime,” Melchior said. He looked up at Kirk who seemed to share a pained expression. “How was your winter?” Melchior had asked this question more than a few times now. “Please be honest with me. Was it cold?”

Kirk only hung his head. Lothar taught him not to complain. He was already provided with a coat and could spend much of his time in the kitchen when Melchior wasn't at the temple. His room felt desperately cold only on some nights. Unfortunately, it would not kill him so it was not appropriate to complain about.

“Kirk,” Melchior said again. “We are in my hidden room. This is a place to be honest and feel our emotions. Please be honest with me.”

“It is cold in my room. Very cold sometimes,” he replied. His voice cracked a bit. “I know I should not complain. It is not life-threatening but it is much colder than the orphanage and I am all alone.”

Melchior felt his own throat closing as his eyes grew warm. Firewood was expensive but if his attendants needed to keep warm, he would find a way to provide for them. Then he remembered that all the blue priests had attendants who would be cold over the winter. There had to be a way to help everyone. “I will find a solution. I am sorry I allowed you to suffer for so long,” Melchior promised. He stood up and took Kirk's hand.

Kirk went very still. There were many appropriate ways to touch one's lord. Holding hands for no apparent reason was not one of them. But Melchior only patted the back of his hand a few times then let go. He looked at his belt and sighed then dabbed his eyes with his sleeve. This broke the daze Kirk found himself in. He produced a handkerchief and took over.

“Thank you,” Melchior said.

“You are always welcome,” Kirk replied.

They exited his hidden room with bright smiles and reddened eyes. Sigsnyr stood only a few steps away. He blinked in surprise but knew he couldn't ask. Since Melchior had excluded him on purpose, it was none of his business. “Are you alright, my lord?” fell from his lips anyway. Melchior just nodded and returned to his desk.

Kirk exited and made his way down to the servants’ floor. He passed by the kitchen and greeted Sheila and the chefs. This was a great time to check off one of his errands. “Sheila, Lord Melchior wants me to ask you something,” he said.

She looked up from her cutting board but did not stop cutting. “Ask away.”

Kirk watched the blade leap up and down in a blur, his nerves suddenly taut. “What would you recommend giving an adult attendant as a thank you for their hard work?”

“This is the Little Bishop's attendant, no. After spending all day with children I imagine he wants a drink,” called over one of the chefs. He was a younger man hoping to open his own eatery one day. He trained in the temple to pass on the skills to the rest of his family who were also chefs. “I can't imagine waiting hand and foot on those tykes. They look like a lot of work.”

“You cannot speak of our lord this way,” Sheila snapped. “He is not like the small terrors which leap from your sister's loins.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know. I’ve seen him sit all quiet and proper in the corner there. But all kids are trying on the soul. They think they're just smaller men but don't have the good sense they should have,” he argued.

“Kirk did not ask you,” Sheila said. “Butcher the meat in silence. We both know you need the focus.”

He put up his hands in mock surrender and turned back to the year’s first mystery hunk of meat sent by Lord Bonifiatus. Kirk waited patiently for a real answer but was called by another gray priest instead.

“Kirk. The High Bishop has guests at the gate. One requested you by name. The one with brown hair who visits the atrium,” said the gate guard.

Kirk sighed. He did not have time to entertain Kolteruze while running errands for his lord. But, there was no one else with the knowledge the archattedant would ask for. He was doubtlessly here to see the plants and mess around with the magic circles. There was no other reason for him to visit the temple.

“I do not have time for him,” Kirk muttered, then turned to exit the kitchen. To his horror, a girl in dark scholar's garb with light blue hair turned the corner. No one had heard her in her little cloth shoes. She wore a satisfied expression upon seeing their collective shock.

Chapter Text

Gaining More Allies

Everyone put down their implements and knelt. Isolde basked for a moment in their servility, then bid them return to their work. “Kirk, what don't you have time for?” she asked.

Kirk paled. He knelt again. “Lady Isolde, I apologize for my delay in receiving you. This place is not fit to host your ladyship. Please allow me to guide you to Lord Melchior's chambers or a receiving room.

“It is not your fault. I wished to see where you all scurry off to all the time. Now, where are you headed on your errand?” She looked down at him with a devious smile. He felt sure she gained extra satisfaction from being in a forbidden area.

“Answering you, I was on my way to the Nobles Gate to greet you and Lord Kolteruze. He requested me,” Kirk replied from the ground. The guard had long since made a hasty retreat. Sheila and the chefs moved with noticeably less ease.

“There is no need to worry about Kolteruze. He has gone to Lord Melchior's room. It is clear that our arrival interrupted something. You are not generally in the kitchen at this time and you could not be getting treats for guests you did not know about. Come, tell me your secret,” she prodded.

They were not Kirk's secrets strictly speaking. He could not simply share them with whoever ordered. “I cannot say. I ask for you magnanimous grace,” he replied with a bow.

She performed a look of disappointment. “I understand. It is an errand for our lord after all. Run along then,” she said with a shooing motion. He made one more bow then hurried toward the Boys Building. After a few turns he got the distinct impression he was being followed. He turned a corner then knelt. After a minute, Isolde turned the corner as well. She jumped a little in surprise.

“Lady Isolde, I cannot permit you to follow me. It would violate the rules of the temple under which both denizens and visitors are constrained,” he said with his eyes downcast.

“Humfp, so you are going to the orphanage. That is very interesting. What do you intend to do there?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

“Please forgive me, my lady. I cannot say.” She looked at him for a long moment. “Please allow me to guide you back to the High Bishop’s chambers,” he added. He wanted to sigh and huff as well but maintained his composure.

“You are a very good attendant, Kirk,” she said and gave his head a pat. She also giggled when his entire face turned red. “I am Lord Melchior's scholar. Did he ask you to keep this a secret from me?” she asked.

Kirk first had to recover from his embarrassment. He could feel her delicate hand on his head even though it was no longer there. He could also smell her perfume which did not help anything. Once he had a moment to think, he considered that Isolde was not on the list of giftees nor was she Kolteruze, who could not keep a secret apparently. As far as he knew, scholars were known for handling sensitive information for their lords as well as brokering their deals. She could also talk to Haldis about his previous dealings with merchants much more easily than himself.

“He did not,” was all he responded. It still felt wrong to just tell her.

“And who did he tell you to keep it secret from?”

“The knights and Lord Kolteruze,” Kirk replied.

Isolde considered this. That was a strange assortment of people. It included some of Melchior's most trusted retainers as well as his newest ones. There was little reason she could think of to include Kolteruze with the knights. And what did all of this have to do with the orphanage? It was a delightful little mystery.

“Did he say why those people?”

“He did.”

“But you will not tell me?”

“I cannot share that which my lord wishes to hide, Lady Isolde,” Kirk replied. He looked up at her which gave her a start. “As a scholar, you must understand.”

She frowned. He was a commoner and a year her junior. She did not think it would be so hard to extract information from him.

“Then I will ask Lord Melchior, and I will tell him you refused to inform me,” she said in a final bid to force his hand. Kirk only smiled a polite smile and bowed his head again.

“Please allow me to guide you,” he said.

“Very well,” Isolde said with a huff.

She followed him to a flight of stairs which spat them out near the chapel. In the halls were several gray clergy carefully cleaning and polishing the walls and statues. They all paused and knelt as the two retainers passed. As they walked, she recalled that this was almost as far from the High Bishop's chambers as one could get while still in the nobles' section.

“Why did you lead me all the way here instead of back to Lord Melchior's room?” she questioned.

Because there was no good way to announce her arrival at the servants door, was Kirk's immediate thought. Instead he replied, “You wished to see where we are always scurrying off to.” What could have possessed him, he didn't know but she could not see him smirk from where she followed behind.

Isolde wanted to chastise him for his cheek. After all, he was so polite to Kolteruze after their disagreement. However, their mutual lord would not tolerate any unkindness to this gray apprentice priest. “You are bold to say such a thing,” was the strongest retort she could think of that would not spark an incident.

“Your compliments are wasted on one such as myself,” Kirk replied in a humble tone.

If anyone could recognize false inflection, it was Isolde. Her cheeks flushed with rage. “How dare you tease me,” she grumbled. Kirk did not reply. He was already very close to earning a lecture and might get one anyway. This was a bad time of year to be sent to the repentance chamber as well.

They eventually arrived at the High Bishop's door. Kirk rang his bell then waited for the doors to open before entering and announcing Isolde. She still looked red and frustrated which prompted Melchior to ask what was wrong.

“I wish to speak with you in private,” she replied with a pouty expression.

Melchior fidgeted in a panicked way while Kolteruze looked impassively over his tea cup. He was not working so he wore a green surcoat with generous sleeves embroidered with goldenrod and brown. Kirk found himself both surprised and staring a bit too much for a lowly servant. The older attendant moved so gracefully and looked so nice.

“We will go to my hidden room,” Melchior declared and motioned that he wished to get up. Kirk broke away from his reverie to assist.

“You cannot be alone with her,” Sigsnyr called from the door. He had a hopeful look. This time he would get to hear the conversation.

Kirk tapped Melchior on the arm as he helped him up. Melchior looked at him and he mouthed “no knights” with a slight shake of the head. Melchior was not good at reading lips but the phrase “call your knights,” was part of their emergency training. He could recognize Kirk grunting the cadence of the words even.

“That is true, Kirk will attend,” Melchior ordered much to Sigsnyr's sadness. Gerianne broke her posture to give him a pat on the shoulder.

Once situated in the hidden room for the second time, Melchior turned to his scholar. “What is wrong, Isolde?”

“I wish to know the secret you are keeping from Kolteruze,” she declared.

Melchior glanced at Kirk who just smiled normally. There were at least two such secrets at the moment. “Is this why you are upset?” Melchior asked.

“Kirk was teasing me,” she tattled. Kirk still returned his normal smile.

Melchior also smiled. She seemed filled with indignation but not genuinely hurt. “You tease me very often so I have empathy for your situation,” Melchior replied. “Did he say anything cruel?” he asked just to be sure.

“I cannot say that he did,” Isolde replied.

“Was he mean to you?”

“...No.”

“So you are just annoyed and feel unsure how to respond?” Melchior asked.

Isolde huffed. “He should not tease his betters,” she replied.

“If he managed to frustrate you so thoroughly without giving offense, perhaps he is your match in wit,” Melchior suggested. He glanced at Kirk with a laugh on his lips. Kirk struggled mightily to remain calm and appropriate. “What did he say?” Melchior prodded.

“That is not important. Tell me what errand you sent him on this morning,” she insisted.

“It was more than one. Why do you wish to know?”

“Because he will not tell me.”

Melchior looked at Kirk in surprise. Isolde's primary skill was collecting information. “Good job, Kirk. Isolde talks people out of secrets all the time.”

“Thank you, my lord. It was quite difficult,” Kirk replied.

“I thought our compliments were wasted on you,” Isolde muttered.

The boys giggled in spite of themselves. “I do think you should ask for her assistance. She will have an easier time conferring with Lord Haldis.”

Isolde's whole person brightened at the prospect. She would have liked to solve the mystery herself, but having it revealed would be just as nice.

Melchior considered this. Isolde was good at keeping secrets but she also wanted to start trends. She seemed likely to inflate this simple gift giving into a larger event than he had planned. “If you promise not to tell the knights and not to make it a big deal, then I'll tell you,” Melchior said.

She squinted. This was fascinating information and her last chance to solve the riddle on her own. If she entered into this game under her own power then she might be more free to blow things out of proportion, as was her want. “You did not mention Kolteruze this time which tells me this is primarily about the knights. That you brought Kirk instead of Sigsnyr tells me it involves him but it can't be a bad thing or you would tell him,” Isolde mused.

Kirk listened with as straight a face as possible. He didn't want to give things away with his expression. Melchior, meanwhile, reacted to every new twist and turn with surprise or evasiveness depending on how close she was to the truth. “You did tell her some things,” he mumbled.

“It was very hard, my lord. I told her that she could not go with me as per the temple rules, who you are primarily keeping this secret from, and that I could not reveal it,” Kirk explained.

“Do you remember our entire conversation?” Isolde asked.

“Word for word for the moment. Though, there are some things I won't soon forget,” he replied. She turned bright red and Melchior begged for more details. “First she…”

“Say nothing,” Isolde snapped.

“Lady Isolde, my lord has given his orders,” Kirk said with a false look of pain. “I ask your forgiveness but I must tell him what occurred between us.”

Melchior shivered. “Yes, tell me what occurred. Was she mean? She once bullied a prince you know.”

“I do not doubt it,” Kirk said with wide eyes. Isolde seemed fearless in that exact way.

“I was not mean. There is no need to speak of it,” Isolde insisted.

“It was the opposite. She told me I am a very good attendant and gave me a pat on the head,” Kirk explained.

Isolde hid her face in her hands while Melchior only blinked. “That is all. Isolde, why do you behave as though it was terribly shameful?”

“You will understand when you are older,” she said through her hands.

Melchior huffed. “I would like to understand now.” They were even already in his hidden room. He put on his best impression of the archduke. “Explain,” he ordered.

Isolde struggled against her twin instincts to respect authority and hide her shame. Kirk stared at Melchior. His jovial attitude receded. “My lord, I believe she was attempting to use flattery to convince me to reveal what I knew,” he said. “She is either uncomfortable with being reminded that she failed or that she was overly kind to a commoner.”

Isolde noted this sudden change. Her breathing eased and she could stand up straighter. She did her best to exude her own gravitas. “That is the case. It was inappropriate to touch him. I would not want you to think me unchaste, Lord Melchior.”

Melchior’s composure dissolved. “I would never,” he insisted. “In fact, I agree with you completely. Kirk is a very good attendant. He also has no older siblings to pat his head. If he does not mind and you do not mind then I will not stop you from offering worthy praise,” Melchior said.

Kirk did not feel like laughing even as his lord wholly misunderstood the implications of his proposal. He was still quite young and protected from the crueler realities of life. While his naivete was adorable and worthy of teasing, Kirk understood, perhaps for the first time, that it was not his place to do so.

Isolde was too embarrassed to take the opportunity. “This is taking us away from the topic at hand. I will not tell the knights. What do you need help with?”

Melchior explained the leather pouch scheme currently forming. “I am not sure what to request of Master Fred. If running the contest is a great deal of work, then there is no need to seek compensation. As Kirk described it, I am paying all the expenses and he is reaping all the rewards. Couldn't we coordinate this ourselves?”

“You could avoid all of this by commissioning Veremund's family,” Isolde noted.

He shook his head. “They do not need to be made from enchanted leathers. Using a noble craftsperson will incur three times the cost,” he replied.

“I suppose that's true. You seem very worried about money, Lord Melchior. Could you not ask your parents for assistance?” Isolde asked. He was a member of the richest family in the duchy after all.

“No. I cannot waste more of the people's taxes. I am hoping to use my earnings from the Royal Academy,” Melchior said. “I don't really need an exclusive leatherworker either. Perhaps I should just pick a shop for thi…”

“My lord you cannot treat this so lightly. This is a large order and there are things you will need later on. A new potion belt, more of the large leather bags, shoes, pouches. If your trend expands, you will want to make gifts to the Archduke and Lord Bonifiatus. I can think of many reasons to establish a relationship with a leather workshop,” Isolde lectured. She paced a bit and bounced excitedly in her dainty shoes.

“You are making it a big event,” Melchior grumbled.

“It is at precisely the scale you created. The details on your belt are unique to Alexandria. If Ehrenfest leather crafters begin to emulate those techniques, we can develop our own style and spread it at the Royal Academy and Archdukes Conference. It might not be revolutionary, but it will help to elevate our crafts as a whole.”

Ehrenfest’s youngest Archduke Candidate sighed. He did not want to think at this scale when all he needed was five leather bags nice enough to be gifts. The competition itself felt like too much, not to mention gaining country wide acclaim. “I will do the contest but I do not want it to become a large event involving many nobles and shops. Kirk was just hoping to ask the Plantin lehenges more about business in the lower city and about making a blank book bound like a traditional book,” Melchior said. He wondered whether Kirk was right about including her.

“That sounds like another wonderful new idea. Is this one just for you?” she asked.

“Its… I’m sure it has been done before,” Melchior replied. It felt like a very simple idea to arrive at. “I like my blank books but they are fragile. I’m hoping for something more robust.”

“I see. May I accompany Kirk to speak with the Plantin Company?” Isolde asked.

“No. You cannot go to the workshop. There are too many untrained children who could give offense,” Melchior explained.

“There is a special receiving room for merchants. Could they be brought there for this discussion?” she pressed.

Melchior looked at Kirk. He’d been standing to the side with a very proper bearing for a little while. He was also pretending not to listen so it took him a moment to realize he was still involved in the conversation. He made a slight face. It would be better if she wasn't there but she would not actually impede the work.

“Kirk will have a preliminary discussion at the workshop then bring them over. You will have to wait for a little while. Will that be alright?” Melchior offered.

Isolde nodded. She was happy to accept a bit of waiting to learn new things. “Kirk, please call Chet to attend Isolde while she waits. And ask about charcoal, I only have a few sticks left.”

They exited the hidden room to find Sigsnyr a few steps away once again. Third bell had also already rung as Trude was there with the harspiels. Gerianne and Nikolaus had begun without him. Melchior sighed. He glanced at Kolteruze who was playing Reversi seemingly against himself.

“Oh no,” Melchior muttered. “I’m sorry Kolteruze. I have neglected you again. He glanced to where Kirk would be but he was already off on his errands. Lothar was attending the room and wouldn't want to leave. Melchior was beginning to understand his request for more assistants. Thankfully, there were the two shrine maidens tasked with carrying the instruments.

“Lily, would you attend Lord Kolteruze for a short while. Sigsnyr, would you take him to the atrium,” Melchior ordered. Lily stepped from behind Trude. She was not excited to be given a task. She agreed to carry the harspiel for Trude so that she could hear music. Still, she was well trained and used to serving nobles so none of this showed on her face.

Melchior gave her the diptych and papers with the plant instructions and records. She followed behind Sigsnyr and Kolteruze as they exited and Sebastian stepped inside to guard the door. He watched the party curiously but asked nothing.

His music lessons were longer at the temple. Even more so now that he had a second instrument. Trude looked at his flute fondly. “Sister Christine also loved the flute. I used to play almost every day,” she said nostalgically. As something that entered his mouth, Melchior could not share this instrument. He considered buying one for the orphanage.

By the time Kolteruze returned, the flute lesson was nearly finished. Sebastian looked sad to go back into the hall but ceded his place to the apprentices. Kirk and Isolde had long since returned from their meeting so Lily could take up her place behind Trude once again. Sheila had also entered at some point and left a slate on Melchior's desk. She now situated Kolteruze back into his chair despite him very obviously waiting to say farewell.

“My lord, this is the menu for the midday meal,” she said once Melchior passed his flute to Kirk to put away. He said goodbye to Trude and the others then went over to look at it. It was a very standard lunch but there was a section at the bottom labeled: “for Lord Kolteruze”. It was an entirely vegetable based meal in three courses she’d created just for him. It was still early spring so only a few herbs and the last of the winter provisions were available. Melchior was sure she’d worked very hard to assemble this and would be disappointed if Kolteruze didn't stay for lunch.

“Kolteruze, we are having something special today. I would be oh so delighted if you would stay for lunch,” Melchior said with an entreating expression.

Having already spent his entire morning off hanging out in his boss’s room and tending his boss’s plants, Kolteruze didn't feel particularly inclined to extend his visit. Giving directions to Sigsnyr was agonizing compared to Kirk so he was also feeling annoyed. However, the last lunch he ate here was fantastic. “I would be honored to join you, if it is no trouble to host a surprise guest.”

“Not at all. I’m happy you're here,” Melchior replied. He placed down the slate and relocated to the seat across from Kolteruze. “Would you like to have a game in the meantime?”

“It would be nice to play against someone. This seems to be the only place where Reversi is played,” Kolteruze replied.

“It has not become as popular as Karuta even though they were introduced at the same time. Maybe we need a board for the Winter Playroom. I also hear commoners are much more interested in the game,” Melchior said as they cleared away Kolteruze's match against himself.

“It does not require mana and the parts do not look expensive. I must say that manipulating the tiles is difficult,” Kolteruze replied.

Melchior nodded. “I think they should be slightly smaller.”

“You could cut off the corners or use round pieces. They would not be able to interlock in the square grid as they do now,” Kolteruze suggested.

Melchior thought about how time consuming of a task that would be versus how much the playing experience would improve. “I might order a set of round tiles,” Melchior concluded. There were more than sixty squares after all.

Having only just learned, Kolteruze was not particularly good at the game but he was better than Melchior thought someone should be after just learning the rules. It was not hard to win the first game but it was noticeably harder to win the second. “I fear you will be very good at this,” Melchior muttered part way through.

“It isn't terribly complicated,” Kolteruze replied. Sigsnyr squeaked then returned to guarding as though nothing had happened.

“I think I will visit the plants later. How are they doing?” Melchior asked.

Kolteruze smiled in spite of himself. “The collection is growing rather quickly. I do not know what all of them are or if they will be happy in containers but it is fun to try to understand them. I think I will make sketches to show the greenhouse keepers and Father to see if they have any advice. There is this one…” he continued to talk about the ambassadors to the temple atrium happily. Since the beginning of spring, the group of five plants had grown to twelve. Kolteruze could describe each one in detail and was happy to report on everything from the soil saturation to the progress of their buds. “There is one I think is a tree sapling. It might be a bush but we will see how tall it wants to become.”

He continued to babble and Melchior continued to listen. Sheila brought the serving cart up, Lothar set the table. Their tea cups were moved and replaced. Not until fourth bell rang signifying that if Melchior did not begin eating he would delay everyone in the temple’s lunch and be late for training, did Melchior ask him to pause and relocate.

“I spent all this time talking. I apologize. I've been an awful guest,” Kolteruze said.

“Not at all, Kolteruze. I am just as interested in the flora as you. My knowledge of the topic is quite rudimentary I admit, so I could not follow everything. But I’m happy it brings you joy,” Melchior said as he took his seat next to Isolde.

She was less amused by the topic than that Kolteruze had displayed more than lukewarm interest in something. “You said so much about the atrium yet have not discussed the circles at all,” she noted.

Kolteruze, who was still pink with delight, smiled even brighter. “That's true. We added a bit more mana today. Sigsnyr suggested praying along with it and that seemed to improve the efficiency greatly. The white sand has begun to turn into red earth. I am not sure how much more mana it will take to become fertile ground but I’ve kept a record. It's just so difficult to measure mana expenditure.”

The first course was set while he talked. Melchior hadn't asked for anything fancier than normal. Isolde was now used to the simpler fair and the knights were not given to complaints. They were presented with a vegetable soup. The plants had stewed for such a long time at this point that they were able to be crushed and strained into a mostly smooth paste. It was a bright yellow green from the poms and spring greens. A flavored oil had been drizzled over as well. There was also Sheila's signature style of fluffy bread.

Melchior took a bit of soup and bread to commence the meal. Sigsnyr began eating quickly at the small table. Gerianne and Nikolaus had already been coaxed back to their rooms by the time Melchior and Kolteruze stopped for lunch.

Kolteruze paused his explanation of the theoretical effects of the circles to take a spoonful of food then his entire thought process stopped. He stared at the colorful liquid for a few more seconds before taking a second bite.

The soup was not exactly to Melchior's tastes. It was still very good but it had more salt and tang than he generally liked. Seeing Kolteruze’s reaction he understood that it was catered to his guest instead. How Sheila had learned enough of his preferences after one visit was a mystery.

Melchior took Kolteruze’s silence as an opportunity to introduce the dish. Kolteruze asked him to repeat himself once then tasted the soup again as though trying to pick out each of the many ingredients. “Sheila is on a quest to elevate vegetables to a luxury surpassing tschnitz. This was made with preserves of some of the special varieties grown in Hasse,” Melchior added proudly.

“I believe her quest is at an end,” Kolteruze said. “May I purchase this recipe? I do not think our chefs can recreate this but it is worth asking.”

“Is this a variation or a new invention,” Melchior asked.

Sheila stepped forward. She did not feel like this was a revolutionary dish. It also relied heavily on ingredients most kitchens would never have access to. “It would likely be a waste of his money,” she whispered.

“Have you ever had soup in this form? Do your chefs make broth from only vegetables?” Melchior probbed.

Kolteruze shook his head. He was fairly certain it always used bones at least. In his experience, dishes with only vegetables tended to be bland boiled grains or potatoffels with a bit of cheese.

“Sheila has used many rare things for this dish in particular but I can sell you information on vegetable broth and strained soup in general. Father has agreed to pay one small gold for such a thing,” Melchior explained.

Kolteruze nodded. “That seems wise. The list of ingredients contains several things we do not grow in Leisegang. Father will…” he paused. His father would appreciate such a recipe but Kolteruze did not live with his family any more. He lived in the castle and did not have his own chefs. Owning the recipe would make him no closer to enjoying this soup again. For just a moment, he felt like crying. “He will find this fascinating. I will make him a gift of it,” Kolteruze said.

No one could miss his sudden drop in mood even as he kept a smile on his lips. Melchior wanted to reach out and touch his hand but he was too far away. “Sheila will write out the instructions. I will also sell my Father a copy. Then it might be served in the castle,” Melchior suggested.

Kolteruze perked up a little. “I’m sure the castle chefs will create something delicious as well,” he replied. He then consumed his soup more slowly to savor every unique bite. He was not above using his bread to almost clean the dish at the end either.

The next course for Melchior and Isolde included roasted portions of faebeast meat. It was a lean animal so it was cooked with lots of fat and for a long time. It had been roasted alongside several storage crops which lent it a sweet complexity and benefited from its meaty flavor. In addition to his meal, Melchior was given a little tasting dish of grains boiled until just tender in a flavorful broth then mixed with legumes and vegetables. On Kolteruze’s plate it had been molded in a decorative tin then roasted so the edges were golden brown. It looked like a little loaf sitting in its buttery sauce. This reminded Melchior of the bone marrow and mushroom sauce and for which Rozemyne still hadn't given him a recipe to reimburse him for the ingredients.

Kolteruze was already in a fragile state. He thought back to the one and only time he'd asked for a meal without meat and received bland boiled grains. This was why he avoided telling people about his distaste and simply ate what was placed before him. His eyes grew a bit red as he struggled not to say anything.

Melchior took his poison taste and frowned. “It feels unfair to taste so many things I cannot eat,” Melchior noted.

“My lord, I will serve whatever you ask. It is just that your food regime requires very specific things and alcohol will make you quite sick,” Sheila explained.

Melchior sighed. “It is just so delicious. I am jealous now,” he grumbled.

Kolteruze watched his lord consume his luxurious lunch with a slight scowl. He struggled to process that Melchior seemed envious of his boiled grains. Kolteruze had delayed beginning while he nursed his woe and dipped bread into the butter sauce. He gathered his courage to take a bite.

It was nothing like that sad memory. The grains were not a soft mush but retained a bit of their chewiness. The other vegetables added sweetness, or crunch, or a complex bitterness and the beans were perfectly cooked and flavorful. He smiled and tried adding the sauce which enhanced the dish as well. The flavor of rigar mingled with butter and made the hearty grains feel decadent.

“So it is better than before,” Isolde noted.

Kolteruze looked up in surprise. “Is this a common dish here?” he asked.

“No. You just looked like you recognized it and were not happy to see it again,” she replied. She didn't press for details but her knowing smile irked Kolteruze all the same.

He was forgetting himself, he thought. Talking about the plants and atrium then having a meal prepared just for him and according to his tastes for the very first time had lulled him into a sense of ease he generally only felt around his friends while at home. He carefully set his expression to its normal, vaguely pleasant but not enthusiastic, smile. Kirk thought this was a shame.

“The promised special treat is a fluffy bread baked with honey, crushed walnuts, and spices,” Melchior declared. Since Fonsel and Dedryck refused jars, Sheila had much honey to play with over the winter. She’d developed this recipe with input from Kirk who was very dedicated as a food taster.

The buns served were still warm from the oven. Removing their cloche released a sweet scent into the room. Sigsnyr hadn't been given one just to preserve this moment. Lothar served a roasted root tea alongside. He added milk and honey for Melchior and Isolde.

“Lord Kolteruze, would you like milk and sweetener,” he asked quietly.

“Just milk, thank you,” Kolteruze replied absentmindedly. He stared at the dessert with wide eyed hunger. This was new and the swirl pattern made by the spices was pleasing to look at. Pound cake was occasionally derided for its simplistic appearance. This had a rustic feeling too but he could easily imagine ways to improve it like baking them separately and using different shapes of dough to make patterns rather than simply rolling it up. Fluffy bread was well known throughout Ehrenfest but it wasn't appropriate for tea parties and thus, hard to spread as a trend. This would not be.

He watched Melchior taste it. It couldn't be bad if the same chefs created it as had made his meal but he could not get too excited before he was sure. The High Bishop cut into his treat carefully. He took a bite then a sip of tea. Melchior looked happy with the taste if not amazed by its novelty. “Have you eaten this before?” Kolteruze asked. He also wondered how many treats were being kept secret. He’d received something completely new on both of his visits.

“This is my first time. It has a similar flavor to other things. I think Sheila has made more liberal use of honey in place of sugar or jam. The jam burns a bit but the honey takes on a new flavor. I also think the nuts are a great addition,” Melchior explained.

Isolde shared Kolteruze’s look of surprise. “How often does Sheila invent new things?” she asked.

“It is rare. Perhaps once per season. She is always creating variations however.”

“I think you should bring her to the castle,” Isolde said. A chef that could produce new variations week over week and new creations once per season could revolutionize Ehrenfest cuisine between Archdukes Conferences keeping them at the forefront of culinary endeavor.

Melchior scowled deeply. “Father already attempted to steal her and Lothar. Did he ask you to convince me?”

“My lord, I would never!” Isolde cried. “I did not know such a thing had occurred. Please forgive my ignorance.”

Kolteruze finished his bite and tapped his fork to his lips. “Lady Rozemyne brought her chefs to the Royal Academy. It took a good bit of convincing and explanation to get the chefs to make your desserts. If you brought your personal chef, you could do more for tea parties and she could learn more of the techniques from the castle,” he said.

Melchior looked at Sheila. Her expression was darker than normal but still appropriate for service. “I will consider it but do not plan for my assent. I would not like to lose more retainers.” He felt that it was time to speak with her.

Chapter Text

A Game Afoot

Kolteruze took his leave after lunch and Isolde gave a brief report on the conversation with the Plantin company. “Creating such a book would not be difficult. They do not do such work themselves but they have trusted binders who are accustomed to binding Ehrenfest paper now. It will be as expensive as a normal book. Maybe you should just wrap your books in leather or something. As for the competition, it's only become common recently. Archnobles like to give titles along with their exclusive business. They are generally hosted at their estates and they invite their friends to view them and make purchases. This helps to spread trends and disperse the cost. You know I would like you to make this as large an event as possible but you can host it at the temple for just yourself if you really want to,” she frowned as she spoke, thinking about the wasted opportunity. Kirk paled the longer she talked while Sigsnyr slowly moved closer and closer.

“You are planning a competition?” he said.

Melchior jumped and Isolde squeaked. “How could I forget,” she groaned.

Melchior turned slowly in his chair. “Yes, Sigsnyr. I am considering it. I do not want to make an event out of it.”

“Why not?” he asked with a tip of his head. “They are very good fun. My mother hosted works by embroiderers last year.”

“I only need a couple of items and won’t have to engage their services very often,” Melchior explained.

“Is this the secret you’ve been keeping all day? Why were you in tears? Why did you tell Isolde?” Sigsnyr wondered aloud. “What are you looking to buy?”

The three co-conspirators all looked away sheepishly. Too much had been said already. Melchior mentally added Isolde to the list of people who could not keep secrets. “My lord, you must dress for training?” Kirk said quickly.

Melchior sighed in relief. He would struggle not to tell Sigsnyr if he prodded too much or pulled on any of their mutual weaknesses. “How correct you are, Kirk. Isolde, if you wouldn’t mind assisting in the office tomorrow, I would welcome your assistance. Kirk will guide you to the gate.”

Sigsnyr regarded these orders with narrowed eyes. It was obvious that Melchior was hiding this from him. It was doubly annoying that Kirk and even Isolde were in the know. With Lothar dressing their lord, there was no way to force a conversation. Suddenly it felt oppressive to be tasked with standing silently by the door.

All his annoyance was swept away once they arrived at the courtyard. Zipporah stood with Nikolaus and Geriannne as they waited for training to begin. “You came again!” he cried and bounded over.

“I would rather be here than the Knights Order,” she replied. “How was your morning?”

He leaned in to whisper prompting Gerianne to lean in as well. “Melchior is keeping a secret.”

Zipporah broke into laughter. “A young man, keeping secrets, what a novelty.”

“Oh yes, I noticed that as well. He does not want us to know but it seems to be about us,” Gerianne added.

“Why do you say that?” Sigsnyr asked.

“He looked at us before taking Kirk into his hidden room. He also excluded you which is strange by itself,” Gerianne explained.

“He closed the door too,” Nikolaus noted.

“It is a hidden room. Of course he closed the door,” Zipporah said.

Nikolaus shook his head. “He almost never does. Only when he must endure a summer storm¹¹ or have a private conversation. Even when painting the secret painting, he left the door open.”

Sigsnyr regarded him for a long moment. Nikolaus would not normally explain his strange comments. Sigsnyr had long been of the opinion that he just said whatever dumb thing he thought about. “That’s a good point. He did seem distressed after leaving the first time and Isolde was upset before the second time. Perhaps the competition is merely tangential or incidental to those events. He did say he didn’t want it to become a large thing.”

Zipporah nodded with a knowing smile. “It makes sense that he would keep it a secret from you then,” she said.

“I can be discreet,” Sigsnyr argued with a scoff.

“Perhaps in the dead of night when you are sleeping,” she replied.

They went quiet and stood up straight as Sister Strieta entered the courtyard with one of her attendants. Melchior joined the others with his wooden sword in his belt and a determined smile. Last week, Streita promised to give them a break from archery. She set the older students to training with staves while she watched Nikolaus and the two first years perform their sword forms. As Melchior did his first swing, his posture and foot spacing were corrected.

“Gerianne. You know this form well. Where did you acquire this strange tendency to tip your shoulders?” she asked.

“I knew it!” Gerianne screamed. “That fool has ruined my sword work.” She rubbed the spot on her arm where she’d been struck by the new instructor repeatedly. Melchior stopped his practice as well.

“Such outbursts are unbecoming of a knight, Gerianne. What do you mean? Who has ruined your swordswomanship?” Streita asked. She walked over and squatted a bit to look Gerianne in the eyes as the girl stomped her little feet.

“Lord Brunschwarts is our new instructor at the Knights order. We do not like him,” Melchior explained with a less dramatic pout.

“I do not know that name. He must be young. So you have begun training at the Knights Order,” she smiled nostalgically. “I remember my first days there as a girl. I did not like my instructor either. She taught a different version of the sword forms than my mother.”

“What did you do? I want to come here instead,” Melchior grumbled.

“You cannot do as I did. The instructor was a mednoble so my mother came and talked to her. I was allowed to practice to the side. If your mother does a similar thing, the lad will lose his position.”

“That would not be the worst,” Gerianne said. “If he teaches everyone the wrong things, he should not be teaching.”

Streita sighed and looked back and forth between them. “It is not wrong, only different. It will be hard to progress if you try to learn both though.” She thought for a moment. “Lord Melchior. You cannot pout there as you are now. The other children look to you to see how to behave.” Melchior sighed. He knew this as a vague feeling but did not like hearing it stated. “It would be best to speak with him in private to explain your situation. You are learning a slightly different version of Ehrenfest sword work. He may study it himself to give corrections or else leave that to your other teachers. What does Lord Dedryck have to say?”

“He has not accompanied us to training,” Melchior replied.

“Ask him to come and watch. His word will carry more weight than your own. He was trained by the Sovereign Knights Order after all.” All three children’s eyes grew wide. Streita smiled. “He only just graduated a few years ago. Didn’t you wonder why you’ve never seen him before?”

Melchior hadn’t considered it at all. Dedryck was an Ehrenfest noble, supposedly, but it was true, he’d never been in the Winter Playroom. “He was in the dormitory so I never really noticed,” Nikolaus said.

“Yes, well you can ask him about it later. We must correct your form,” Streita said and told them to go through things again. Melchior almost felt comforted by her annoying taps. Compared to the painfully sharp raps Brunschwartd gave, they felt feather light. Their form reverted quickly.

Gerianne was a good way through the second forms. Rather than swings or thrusts, they were all guarding positions. It looked like a very strange way to hold a blade. Melchior had to hold the first position while walking in a small square then move his sword a bit forward over and over. Gerianne did something similar but moved through positions as she scribed the shape on the ground and punctuated each corner with her parries. All together it looked more elegant. Melchior felt excited to learn.

Once the young ones were occupied. Streita sent Sebastian to watch them while she instructed Zipporah and Sigsnyr. He’d foregone trying to be selected but now practiced with as much dedication as Zipporah. He also switched his style to the graceful one to better accompany her. As they’d learned all the motions and could keep time, Streita’s instructions were more about visualization and abstract improvements. Melchior was occasionally distracted by her poetic lectures. He was both confused and amazed that her students behaved as though it was all great advice. “Yes, like a flower, a flower covered in evening dew,” she yelled as she clapped. Melchior was sure dew only formed in the mornings. “Your blade is dangerous but it is soft. As light as a cloud and as heavy as death.”

“It makes no sense,” Gerianne whispered.

“You just haven’t lived or fought enough,” Sebastian assured them. He told them to switch hands. “It is hard to explain but such visualization can alter your dance a great deal.”

Melchior and Gerianne shared dubious looks while Nikolaus seemed more pensive.

After practice, Melchior was tired but excited, much as he was after the very first training session. He did not skip his massage nor did he run around the room wielding a scroll stick. Instead he forced Kirk to stand in the static poses while he drew. It was hard to see Kirk’s feet in his long robes but Melchior persevered. After the second pose and the last in a long string of times Kirk had to put his arms down, Sigsnyr signed from the door. “Why didn’t you just ask me to pose?”

Melchior and Kirk shared an amazed look. They hadn’t even considered that. “If you wouldn’t mind,” Melchior said.

As an added benefit to being able to keep his arms up for longer, Sigsnyr also knew all the poses so Melchior could get a head start on the ones he didn’t know yet. It felt harder to draw the moves he hadn’t learned but Sigsnyr was willing to give plenty of feedback. Melchior covered several sheets back and front in small drawing before beginning on the first page of the new book. He and Kirk carefully folded a few pages in half. The off center drawings from the previous book still haunted him. He left the first page blank as space for an introduction then began on what would be the second page of the signature.

Dame Streita bound her hair like all adult women so Melchior hadn’t needed to decide what to do about it. Sigsnyr wore his in a braid or ponytail most days. Today was no exception but Melchior hadn’t forgotten how pretty it was when left down. Unfortunately, it looked silly for a sword fighter to have long loose hair. Even the girls restrained theirs in some fashion while training. He would do a separate drawing of that so for the book he alternated between a braid for right handed stances and a low ponytail for left handed poses. He felt he spent too long perfecting the lighting on the dark silver locks but he was happier with the results. Melchior was not happy with the noticeable improvement in his skills over the first book. He considered redrawing everything.

As the blocking forms had less motion over all, there was less need for the transitionary flower petals so Melchior spent a bit of extra time drawing different angles and decorative borders. Since Sigsnyr’s hair was gray. He chose to use a mostly black and white color scheme so the Royal Academy Library naturally came to mind. He borrowed some of the motifs from its architecture and decided he would use gold as the only accent color on the eyes and uniform of the fighter.

“Do you think I should use gold dust paint for your eyes?” Melchior asked.

“For my eyes?” Sigsnyr asked.

“Yes. I think I will use it as the only accent color. You will look a bit like the shumils.” Melchior giggled at this though.

“My eyes are not metallic. I think it would look strange.” He walked over to look at the progress so far. The only finished drawing was the first large right-handed pose.

“Oh wow, you’ve gotten much better,” he muttered. “The yellow will look very striking. I only wish we’d found the tree.” He returned to his post leaving Kirk looking confused.

Melchior placed the manual aside for the night. He could not get the amusing image of Sigsnyr as a shumil out of his mind so he did a little sketch of Sigsnyr with shumil ears and a faestone on his forehead. He did several practice sketches with different expressions to the increasing amusement of Kirk.

The next morning, Zipporah was also greatly amused by the sketches. They were sitting on top of the manual on top of his desk when she arrived for guard duty. “If you make one full sized, I will buy it. Or would you sell me this sheet,” she asked. She held it and giggled at the increasingly absurd faces. “This one where he looks mad is the best but I do not know why.”

Isolde entered to find Gerianne looking over the older girl's elbow and pointing out her favorites with a serious face. “This one is the best. It looks most like the library’s shumils.”

“That one lacks emotion as the shumils do. This one is better. It is full or mirth,” Zipporah replied.

Isolde came over to find Melchior drawing while the others discussed their preferences. “You are drawing already?” she asked.

“It is a commission,” Melchior argued.

Isolde looked over his shoulder. “Sigsnyr commissioned a picture of himself as a shumil?” she asked. She could not help but smile.

“No,” Melchior said. “It is for Zipporah.”

Isolde smiled even wider and gave Zipporah a look that made the older girl blush. “I’m surprised he gave his consent. He is so fastidious about his appearance after all.”

Melchior paused his drawing and Zipporah frowned. “He didn't. I was so excited to draw it that I forgot to ask. I’m sorry Zipporah but I cannot sell it to you without his knowledge and permission.”

Zipporah looked at Isolde like she’d sold valuable intelligence to an enemy invader. Isolde only smiled deviously and offered her an ordonnanz. “I do not need it,” Zipporah snapped. She pulled one from her own pouch and formed the bird. Melchior explained the pouch and made furtive notes about its size and shape. “This is Zipporah, can I purchase a drawing of you?”

“Zip, I own so many. You can have one if you want.”

“Though he has improved so maybe you should get a new one.”

“Yes, you can sell her a drawing of me.”

“Use a sword pose not a blocking pose, please,”

Four ordonnanz came in rapid succession, the later ones talking over the first repeats. “Is this why you have so many?” Isolde asked once the cacophony quieted down.

Zipporah didn't answer but waited until a fifth bird appeared. “I would like one as well,” it said three times.

“I used to send them all back at once but he switches to sending them properly when he only has two left,” Zipporah explained. “Unfortunately, He just keeps brewing them,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Are you the only person he does this to?” Melchior asked. He couldn't imagine receiving such a reply while in the middle of something serious.

“It must be special treatment for Zip. He sends proper missives to me,” Isolde said.

Zipporah blushed and looked annoyed. “Do not call me that. And you need not worry, my lord. He both only sends them like this to a select few people and has an uncanny ability to detect the tone of the sender so as not to give offense during serious meetings. I have even tried to trick him, it did not work.”

“Have you considered asking him?” Gerianne asked suddenly.

Zipporah was already very red but turned an even darker shade. “I could not,” she whispered.

“He will never figure it out himself,” Isolde added.

Melchior tried to figure out what they meant but failed. He looked at Kirk who just shrugged his shoulders and Lothar who shook his head. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

All three girls smiled gently. “It is nothing,” Zipporah assured him. “I think the third pose of the first forms combined with this serious face would be delightful. The shumil’s tail would not go amiss either.”

Melchior was happy to let the matter go and return to drawing. No one stopped him or reminded him that he planned to assist Kazmiar until he remembered himself and hurried over at a quarter to third bell. The girls were sitting at their table working industriously.

“You did not remind me of the time,” Melchior said.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself and we are here to contribute in your stead,” Isolde replied.

Lothar brought over piles for Kirk, Melchior, Sebastian, and Nikolaus. “Please tell Trude our practice will be shortened today. We shall begin at half third bell,” Melchior whispered.

“I will inform the orphanage,” Lothar replied.

They worked for a while in diligent silence. The accounts for the winter expenses, the handiwork revenue, the book sale, and the window replacement were nearly finished. In addition, they had to double check the accounts of every blue clergy and the orphanage. Melchior was amazed by how little people seemed to spend compared to him.

“Where does it all go?” he muttered. He wanted to compare his own accounts but could not recall the numbers off the top of his head. He got the vague sense that he spent more on both clothes and food but less on wood or maybe a similar amount on wood despite not being present for most of the season.

“Is there a problem my lord?” Kirk whispered. Melchior quietly explained his confusion. “It is due in large part to keeping noble retainers as well. The knights’ room must be heated in addition to your own. You now host your noble retainers for lunch each day and you all eat more than most people.”

“There are hearths in the knights’ room?” Melchior asked.”

“Yes sir.”

“And there are two correct?” Melchior pressed.

“One for women and one for men,” Kirk replied. Melchior considered this along with the rest of the information. He could not help the cost of feeding his retainers unless he forced them to return home each day. Isolde was even accepting less than archnoble level refreshment already. The wood for the winter could not be reduced either unless they could substitute it for mana somehow.

“Isolde,” he whispered. “Is it efficient to use mana to provide heat?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said without pausing her work.

Melchior hurriedly went back to calculating as Kazmiar approached their table. “My lord, we will complete the accounts in a couple of days. We could finish our report to the Archduke earlier if we meet with you at the castle.”

“That sounds alright to me. Will Sister Streita and Sister Philine be coming?” Melchior replied.

“Sister Philine has completed her hand off. It will only be Sister Streita,” Kazmiar said. “Isolde, can you plan for a room and let me know when our meeting will take place?”

“I will make the preparations this afternoon,” she said.

“Your assistance this year has accelerated the process, Isolde. In fact, all of you have improved much and contributed greatly,” Kazmair complemented. Melchior beamed and shared a delighted look with Kirk. They worked with renewed vigor until it was time for music practice.

“You have been less diligent this year,” Trude noted once they sat down. “Today you were drawing, I hear.”

“It is as you say. I was distracted,” Melchior admitted.

“It is very good work,” Gerianne said in his defense.

“Is it now,” Trude mused. Kirk brought over the one finished drawing and its half finished friend. The one for Sigsnyr featured a different pose and lighter expression but still had shumil features. Trude could not suppress a giggle. “It is worthwhile indeed,” she said.

Nikolaus took a look at the pages. He gave them a mixed expression. “They are amusing though I’m not sure how I would feel if they were of me. What gave you this idea?” Melchior explained his artistic journey. “That is why there is the faestone on his head. Real shumils do not have that.”

Melchior blinked in surprise. It was only then that he realized he’d never seen a real shumil. He only knew what their tails looked like because the temple defense shumils did not have elaborate outfits when first deployed.

“I don't think it would have the same effect to mix you with an adorable animal,” Gerianne observed. Melchior was distracted from the earth shattering revelations to imagine Nikolaus with shumil ears.

“No, do not look at me like that. I do not want to be a shumil,” he cried.

“You look more like a fetze or wolfpaniel maybe,” Gerianne said. Melchior nodded. He did look more like a fetze.

“I don't want to be any animal,” Nikolaus muttered. He felt bad for Sigsnyr who hadn't gotten a chance to stand up for himself. “No boy wants to be an animal.”

Melchior had to disagree. He might not pick shumils for himself as his dark hair already made him resemble them too much. He also didn't want to encourage people to see him as adorable but he would be happy to be likened to a riesenfalke or alderbrise. He wondered if Gerianne would be happy as a schnestrum.

Trude forced them to practice all the way until fourth bell rang. He considered his large portions over lunch as well as the amazing variety he was given. It felt wrong to stifle Sheila's creativity by further constraining the budget for his meals. He also happened to be the largest contributor to the Divine Gifts so he couldn't reduce it all that much in good conscience.

He continued to consider the problem while shooting arrows into a target three steps away. Perhaps he would find ways to make more money instead of spending less.

After music and knight training he could finally get back to drawing. Sigsnyr followed everyone back to Melchior's room since he had nothing better to do that evening and wanted to see his sketch. Once inside he produced a small silver from a pouch and tossed it over and over in the air. Kirk had been enlisted to observe the knights’ chosen receptacles and take notes on them. He quietly marked down the size and special details about the ones on Sigsnyr’s belt. He had a few. Some were closed with a drawstring while others had flaps and ties. His ordonnanz were kept in a drawstring pouch for easy access while his money had to be extracted from one held closed by his sash.

Sigsnyr handed his payment over to Lothar then approached the desk. “It is not finished yet,” Melchior said and hid the drawing under some other papers.

“The manual pages aren’t finished yet either but I was allowed to see them,” he replied with a confused look. He’d seen many in progress works before.

“But this one is a commission for you. It is different,” Melchior insisted. Nikoluas frowned from his position by the door. He knew Melchior was simply nervous from their discussion earlier. He wanted to finish the drawing and didn’t want Sigsnyr to take it away before it was done out of embarrassment or dissatisfaction.

“Then can I see Zipporah’s?”

Melchior shook his head and continued to guard his prizes.

“Will it be finished tonight? Should I wait?”

“We will not prepare a special dinner for you,” Melchior replied. Sigsnyr was making himself a surprise guest after all. There was neither the time nor the budget to give him special treatment.

“I am more than happy to eat whatever Sheila cooks. Even the boiled wheat Kolteruze seemed strangely taken with.”

“The boiled wheat was very good,” Gerianne chirped from the door.

Melchior looked at her in surprise. She and Nikolaus were sent back to their own rooms for meals. “How did you get to taste it?”

“A bit of spring produce in the right hands,” she replied. He could not be upset about getting free food but he was amazed by how easy it seemed to be to bribe his chefs. While he wondered whether they could be convinced to do him harm, Sigsnyr settled into the chair by the Reversi board.

“Can I play against Kirk?” he asked. Melchior glanced at Kirk. Lothar would chastise him if he asked his attendant whether he wanted to play with a noble guest but he didn’t want to force Kirk to do something so tedious if he wasn’t up to it. Kirk returned both a smile and a look filled with determination.

“He will no doubt appreciate the blessings of Erwachlehrn you bestow upon him,” Melchior said with a smirk.

“I hear he is more skilled than you. The blessings will flow to me in that case,” Sigsnyr muttered. Kirk sat down and Lothar prepared tea for his lord and guest. Melchior noticed that Kirk was not offered tea and was reminded of the blooming tea he promised to share with him. His studying schedule had yet to properly begin so he would have time the next day for a little tea party with Kirk in the morning. He continued his drawing with these happy thoughts.

Sigsnyr quickly lost two games. Then they had dinner where he regaled them with his adventures in studying the attendant course. “I'm sure now that it's the hardest course. The instructors are so kind because they have empathy for our plight.” The sixth year focused on large events and managing estates. Archnobles were expected to learn rear support for battles and emergencies as well. “For Chambers I have to plan an entire closet arrangement from scratch and design clothes for an imaginary lord based on current trends.”

“That sounds like fun,” Melchior replied. Kirk also listened with excited eyes.

“It is but its also time consuming. There are also several schools of thought and they differ on men’s and women's closets but I have to learn both.”

“I would offer to let you redesign my closets but I think all my other attendants would be very cross,” Melchior said. Lothar brought them tea and Kirk brought over the finished drawing. “Here is your commission. May it please you.”

Sigsnyr took it with a big smile. He held it up and looked at it and his smile fell. He was silent for a long time before setting it down. “Why shumils?” he asked in his overly calm voice.

Melchior had felt confident in these drawings. Everyone except Nikolaus seemed very happy with them. Zipporah held hers and could not stop giggling. “I was drawing designs based on the library and noticed you have golden eyes like the Schwartz and Weiss,” he explained. “I thought you would look… interesting with more of their features.”

“Interesting?”

Melchior nodded. He could not explain his true feelings because he barely understood them himself.

“Not, adorable or cute or weak. Stop laughing at it, Zipporah. I look ridiculous,” he cried. She slipped the picture into her belt at lightning speed. “No, give it back. I revoke my permission.”

“You cannot do that!” she argued. “And why. They are fun.”

“If they escape into noble society, I will never live it down. People will call me ‘shumil knight’ until the day I ascend the stairs!” As he complained, his face twisted into the exact expression of Zipporah’s drawing, throwing both his lord and fellow knights into fits. “This is what I mean!”

“It is as I said,” Nikolaus interjected. “No man wants to be depicted as an animal.”

“No, I think its interesting. I take issue with the choice of animal,” Sigsnyr said. He glanced at his drawing again and frowned even deeper. “People already say I am too much in Efflorelume’s¹² way to be a strong knight.

“Who says this?” Zipporah snapped, her mood changing instantly from mirth to seriousness. “Tell me their names.”

“What will you do? You cannot duel everyone who speaks ill of me. It will only stir more talk.”

Melchior felt more confused than angry. “Why would that matter? You are a very good and very strong knight and that has nothing to do with you being pretty,” he insisted.

Sigsnyr sighed and smiled. “Thank you, my lord. Your praise honors me,” he said with a formal tip of his head. “I humbly request that you do not make any additional pictures of this nature and collect all those that exist.”

Melchior signaled to Lothar. “Since you do not like it, we will give you your coin back.”

Sigsnyr shook his head and pulled out more silver. “No, I will purchase all of them so I can ensure they are destroyed.”

“Noo!” Zipporah wailed quietly. “You cannot do this. They are so wonderful.”

“No one can see them,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Too many people have seen them already.”

“They seem to make people happy,” Melchior added. He did not want Sigsnyr to destroy them. Especially if he was going to promise not to draw anymore.

Zipporah stood behind her lord and nodded her agreement. “I will keep it perfectly safe. No one will ever see it. I just want to keep it,” she pleaded.

Sigsnyr shook his head as his ears turned pink. “You will see it,” he grumbled.

“I do not think you are weak. I know you are skilled and talented and capable,” she replied. “Please may I keep it?”

Both Zipporah and Melchior fixed him with pleading eyes. He glanced back and forth between them and sighed again. “Fine. But you must promise to keep them hidden. And, Lord Melchior, you must promise not to depict me as a shumil, or any other adorable prey animal, ever again.”

“I promise,” Melchior said instantly. He smiled broadly with Zipporah who gave a little cheer.

“Let me see it, Zipporah.” Sigsnyr ordered. Now that her treasure was safe from destruction she produced it happily. He shot her a smirk. “I thought no one would ever see it,” he teased.

“That is not fair. You do not count,” she replied.

He looked at her’s and compared it to his own. In both he was depicted mid sword stroke with serious expressions. Since Zipporah selected an angry face, her’s was scowling while Sigsnyr’s just looked focused. He looked over the pages at Melchior who was watching him with interest. How often does he watch me with similar intensity, Sigsnyr wondered. “Are there anymore?” he asked.

Kirk produced the practice sheets filled with 24 distinct expressions from joy to rage to sorrow. Sigsnyr had never thought of himself as expressive. Like any noble, he worked very hard to hide his emotions. To have so many depicted with what was likely near perfect accuracy was disconcerting.

“Do I really look like this?” he asked. Zipporah nodded. She pointed out a few faces “It has grown more subtle, but when you miss a shot you make this face. And when you return from training you make this face if it was good and one of these if it was bad. You…”

“Yes I understand. Thank you,” Sigsnyr said and slipped his two sheets away. Melchior wanted to reach out and demanded the return of his practice sketches but the heavy look in Sigsnyr's eye gave him pause.

“If I may,” Gerianne called out. They looked at her and Melchior nodded. “As someone who has not known you well and for many years, your expression is largely inscrutable. I could not identify even four of these faces as ones from my memory.”

Sigsnyr felt only a little better. He looked between his best friend and his lord but didn't speak. He suddenly felt very vulnerable between them with their probing gazes boring into him. After a few moments’ delay, he felt the only proper response was to leave. “The Goddess is departing for the night. Mother will worry if I delay any longer. I shall see you when the Goddess rises,” he said and rose from his chair with the assistance of Kirk.

“I wish you Schlaftraum's blessings,” “May our parting be brief,” Melchior and Zipporah said.

Kirk followed him to the Nobles Gate and Melchior was left to ponder all that had occurred. He wondered who could say such things about Sigsnyr.

Footnotes

11. Express or process strong emotions.^

12. Too feminine. A specific reference to “Efflorelume knows nothing of Angiff” a crude way to imply that a woman is overstepping ^

Chapter Text

Sheila’s Desires

Sigsnyr seemed to have forgotten all about the drawings by the next day. He arrived for guard duty along with Fonsel looking as chipper as usual. Melchior also didn't seem burdened by the prohibition against similar works. He continued to draw for the manual happily after Sigsnyr left and spent his morning planning for a delightful day. There were no plans for him to help Kazmiar but he would have to practice music for the normal duration.

Before that, he felt it was time to speak with his temple retainers about their futures and have tea with Kirk. After breakfast, he summoned Sheila to his hidden room. This time Sigsnyr was allowed to attend much to his delight.

“Sheila. I want to ask you what you want to do in the future. Kirk tells me you might want to get married and you didn't look happy when I offered to purchase you,” Melchior began. He thought it best not to waste time by speaking around the subject.

Sheila glanced at Sigsnyr who did his best to look both uninterested and austere. “I do not know what to say,” she replied. “I am a gray shrine maiden. We do not plan for the future.”

Melchior frowned. He tried to distinguish anything from Sheila's facial expressions but she was doing a good job of looking calm and pleasant. “Do you want me to purchase you?” he asked.

“It is not a matter of my desire,” she replied. She glanced at Sigsnyr again.

“Do not worry about Sigsnyr. He will not disclose our conversation to anyone. You have served me well and I want to reward you and support your dreams,” Melchior insisted.

“My dreams?” she asked. He nodded encouragingly. Sheila spent a few moments looking at her young lord. Like the High Bishop before him, he was known both for his kindness and how difficult it was to work for him. He was not picky but many people had input on his diet and all needed to be appeased. His recent habit of accepting spur of the moment guests was also difficult to manage. Now he was proposing making promises he could not keep. “I enjoy working with new ingredients and devising new dishes,” she finally said.

Melchior looked less than convinced. “I will not remain High Bishop forever, will you serve Henriette once I am gone?”

She smiled more broadly. Keeping her from being purchased away was within his power. “I would be honored to continue serving the High Bishop of Ehrenfest, whoever that may be.”

“You will not be sad being left behind?” He pressed.

She faltered. Such a phrase could only bring to mind Lothar who’d taken up composing sad songs for the harspiel he spent his limited free time learning. “So long as I am able to continue my craft, I shall be content,” she replied. She desperately wanted to believe that as well. Marriage was a silly thought in the first place. She just wanted to be like Ella and the famous Leise of the Othmar company, a woman dedicated to excellence and good food and free to explore its depths.

“And what will you do when Ehrenfest runs out of novel ingredients?” Sigsnyr asked suddenly.

“I’m not certain what you mean, Lord Sigsnyr?” Sheila replied.

“Just as I’ve said. We have a limited amount of land and limited trade resources. We will eventually run out of new things. Not to mention that your service to such an important personage means you cannot experiment freely. You must cater to his tastes and cannot use anything except what has proven to be safe to eat in quantity over long periods of time.

“I am asking, what you will do and how will you feel if the next High Bishop is not a child of Aub Ehrenfest but another blue priest? If the temple reverts to what it once was, your master may prefer for you to do the traditional work of gray shrine maidens.” Sheila shivered. Such a future was unthinkable. The older clergy once told her it was the best she could hope for but now, there were many other choices and she did not wish to be a mistress.

“I will do my best to help you accomplish your dreams,” Melchior promised. “You have done so much for me. I would like to repay what I can.”

Sigsnyr couldn't help but frown. What could Melchior owe a shrine maiden? Wasn't he already spending more than he wanted to provide her with novel materials? Didn't he pay for her every need and support her continued existence? It was as bizarre as anything else he did. As bizarre as allowing his head guard to go on pointless excursions.

Sheila worked hard to maintain her smile. She did not dare to dream for more than she already had. “You may not have faith in him,” Sigsnyr said. “Indeed, there may be little he can do to support you but he cannot even try if you do not share your vision with him.”

Melchior nodded. He was suddenly glad to have Sigsnyr with them even if he was intimidating. “My, lord, I only want to continue inventing new foods and tasting new things,” Sheila declared shakily. “I like the temple kitchen,” she added in a whisper.

“Is that all?” Melchior asked. Procuring new ingredients was something he also wished to do. He smiled brightly. “This should not be a difficult wish to grant,” he predicted.

Sigsnyr placed his head in his hand. It would be incredibly difficult once the easily available ingredients were collected. “If that is all my lord, I would like to speak with you,” he said.

Melchior looked to Sheila to see if she had anything else to add. She only blinked at him with an expression saying she was ready to assist. He sighed, “That was all I wished to speak about. Thank you for your fine service up to now and in the future.”

He opened the door for her and she left with a bow. The scholars had arrived during their conversation. She smiled calmly at Lothar who’s look said he would have questions later. Sheila didn't want to answer his questions about the strange conversation. It was an offer beyond imagining even if it was from a child. What could she have asked for, she wondered. There were few things she wanted besides pursuing her passion. It would be amazing to taste cuisine from other places. It was difficult to mimic something you'd never tried before and the imported spices and foodstuffs were never as good as fresh.

She shook these thoughts from her mind. Tasting rohers in Dunkelfelger or fish fresh from Alexandria’s sea would always be beyond her. Sheila sat down in the large kitchen. Reto looked at her curiously. She was often pensive but never idle.

“Are you all right, Sheila?” he asked. She glanced up at him and his breath caught just a little. He would never be used to how beautiful all the shrine maidens were.

“I will be fine,” she declared and stood. She tied on a gray apron and began turning the rested dough into loaves. After rounding a few she paused. “What is it like to be a normal citizen?”

Both cooks were taken aback. Uli paused his chopping even. “That's hard to say. I wouldn't call us normal. We come to the temple after all,” he replied then began again.

“I reckon its pretty similar except we have to work for all our own money and buy our own stuff. There's also fewer nobles to deal with,” Reto added. “I guess the main benefit is we get to find love and get married.”

“Only fools marry for love. You find a gal who knows how to keep house with nice enough inlaws and you make it work. Love's for minstrels,” Uli huffed.

Sheila nodded. There were many love stories printed in the workshop of nobles overcoming incredible odds to be together but none of commoners and certainly none of priests.

Melchior looked over the newest curriculum while Kirk prepared a tea cart. Isolde and Flautzeal were proud of this one. They'd even written out the in depth spring schedule. It was about as rigorous as Melchior was used to in the castle. He would need to find things to do in the temple but that flexibility would allow him to work in the High Priest’s office and work with his plants. He also had a few more rituals to learn surrounding funerals. It was rare that the High Bishop was called for a funeral. Someone in Melchior's family would have to die to command his presence. He didn't like thinking about that but he also didn't want to let them down if it happened.

“I think I can follow this. What materials will we need?” Melchior asked and took a wooden board from Kirk. He marked out the subjects and the books he could remember from the dormitory shelves then allowed Isolde and Flautzeal to add any they remembered.

“Is there a list of all the books?” Flautzeal wondered aloud.

“I believe Sister Philine has one,” Melchior replied.

Flautzeal said he would ask and took off into the temple to ask her or her attendants. Lothar watched him go with a slight scowl. “Lord Melchior, this is not the castle. Guests must be accompanied.”

“Flautzeal is not a guest. He is my scholar and he knows the way,” Melchior argued.

Lothar shook his head. “He is not a member of the clergy. You must send an attendant with him. A noble traveling through the halls without an escort cannot be allowed.”

Now Melchior frowned. He actually had four attendants but it would be a very bad time to call Chet or Paul since the end of year accounts were being done. He was even having his scholars over to do work they could complete another day. Pulling his attendants to serve his retainers who didn't need to be at the temple in the first place would delay much needed work. “He is a member of my retinue. He will not cause trouble. It can be allowed,” Melchior pressed. He tried to project what little authority his position as High Bishop afforded him to make determinations of this kind.

Lothar knew very well what could happen to rogue Archducal retainers in the halls. Lord Justus had a knack for encountering esoteric problems after all. But he couldn't argue with his master once they'd made their decision. It was only because Melchior was so young and usually open to advice that he'd spoken at all. He had never said so much to Lord Ferdinand.

“Very well, my lord. I will not bring it up again,” he replied. Melchior nodded gravely then dropped all performance to turn back to the boards he’d been reviewing with Isolde. Kirk watched this all with a deep feeling of unease.

“I am happy with this. Please submit it to Mother this afternoon when you return to the castle. How are the potions coming along?” Melchior asked.

Isolde contained her amusement to continue their discussion. “Benedikt is brewing them. He will have no less than twenty complete by the time you are to leave for Spring Prayer. They will be about twice as strong as the improved recipe taught at the Royal Academy,” Isolde explained. She did not seem happy to give a good report of Benedikt’s work but she did not hold back either. “It is his own recipe which he has agreed to share with you.”

“How do they taste?” Melchior asked. It was more important than one might imagine.

“I do not know,” Isolde admitted. “I have neither brewed one nor can I use your supply.”

Melchior thought about the brewing book from his uncle. He could understand a bit more, now that he'd done some brewing for their research. It would be good to have something intelligent to say. “Have Benedikt set aside ingredients for you, Flautzeal, and myself to learn. Perhaps it is time to set up my own workshop,” Melchior chirped. He considered which of his hidden rooms would be best to use.

“Your own workshop, my lord? Is it the custom for the Archduke to furnish his children with personal workshops?” Isolde asked. It wasn't normal for archnobles. Families had brewing rooms and Wilfred would have one at his estate but he was an adult.

“Rozemyne had two. Uncle Ferdinand prepared one for her at the temple then gave her his estate with a second one. He also had a workshop here at the temple. Charlotte must have one and Wilfred has his scholars brew all the time,” Melchior explained. It occurred to him that he wasn't exactly sure.

“I will write a request. Would you like it here or in the castle?”

“In the castle. My attendant’s room is currently empty. If it is there then even my retainers that cannot come here or enter my private chambers can use it.”

“That would be ideal. You may leave this to me,” she promised then took her leave to assist Kazmiar.

The Promised Tea with Kirk

Sigsnyr spent their conversation timing how long it took Kirk to return with boiled water and the tea service. There was tea or water available perpetually in Melchior's chambers but he’d asked for fresh water and the last honeyed apfelsige to be sliced. He smiled happily once the cart arrived then fell deep into thought. He looked primarily at Lothar but also at Nikolaus and Gerianne guarding. He even looked to the door where Flautzeal would re enter at any moment.

“I shall be in my hidden room. Kirk shall attend,” he declared and walked over past his bed yet again. Sigsnyr was more used to being left out now. He’d had time to consider his previous actions and come to the conclusion that he was being overly familiar and expressive. The sheet of expressions included one entirely too similar to the pout Theodore could not control when left out of guard duty. So, he merely nodded and remained at his post. Gerianne glanced at him quizzically. He looked just a moment too long to take in her countenance; the exact tip of her head and scrunch of her eyebrows.

Melchior had to send Kirk back out to retrieve a second chair. The entire room watched the apprentice collect it then disappear again. Kirk felt a shiver run down his spine as the door slid closed again. His lord, however, looked terribly excited. He rifled through a box or two before producing a roughspun handkerchief. It had a few scattered flowers embroidered at the corners that were nowhere near the normal standard for Melchior's things. He still held the bundle as though it were the most precious thing he owned.

“It has taken a while but I did promise to share this blooming tea with you. I do not think we will have time once I begin studying again so it must be this morning,” Melchior declared. He gracefully unwrapped the golden brown bud and placed it on the table.

Kirk watched and listened but did not sit down. He couldn't share in his lord's delight just as he couldn't share his tea. “Lord Melchior. Please allow me,” Kirk said and intercepted his lord's attempt to drop the bloom directly into the kettle.

Melchior sighed. “Yes, that is for the best. I have watched you serve tea so many times yet I still cannot do it.”

“That is why you have attendants, my lord,” Kirk replied. He produced a teapot, warmed it with hot water, and was about to wash the tea when Melchior stopped him.

“It is not clear. We won't be able to see the tea bloom.”

“I have never seen a teapot made of glass,” Kirk replied.

“Me neither. Perhaps we can use a bowl with a spout,” Melchior suggested.

“No such dish exists.”

Melchior was amazed. He wondered how Violet enjoyed her blooming tea and how Nikolaus and Sigsnyr had brewed theirs. He would ask. “Could I commission one from a ceramicist?”

“Most likely. Especially if you draw a picture.”

“But would it be expensive? Dishes are always expensive but perhaps that is because they are so decorated. I like Sister Philine’s pretty blue plates,” Melchior continued to babble until Kirk was happy with the tea. He poured a cup and added a slice of the fruit. Melchior accepted it happily and continued to talk about the possibilities for their new teaware until he noticed Kirk still standing beside him. “You may sit down. The tea is finished,” Melchior said and gestured to the other chair. There was only the desk and the cart so his tea was placed on the desk and the other chair was situated across from him.

“I could not,” Kirk replied humbly.

“What do you mean? I promised to share this tea with you, not give you the nearly spent dregs. We are in my hidden room. Lothar will not chide us,” Melchior said. He stood up and pressed Kirk into the chair then took a second cup and contemplated the cart. Kirk always added hot water first he thought. He placed the cup down and reached for the kettle.

“Please let me do it,” Kirk cried and leapt to his feet.

Melchior hunched over sadly and ceded his place. Kirk made a second cup of tea then stared at the chair meant for him. “My lord… Lord Melchior, this is improper.”

Melchior rose and very gently guided the boy and his full cup of tea to the chair. “It is all right,” he insisted. “Do you not want to have tea with me?” he asked. He was still standing in front of Kirk only a single step away. Looking up at his tiny lord was a rare thing. While kneeling or assisting with dressing, Kirk kept his eyes to himself.

Several emotions passed through Kirk's face as Melchior watched. He blushed, looked anxious, failed to project calm, tried to gather his thoughts, then looked away. “It is unnerving when you do that,” he whispered.

“I am just looking at you,” Melchior said.

“Yes, precisely, my lord,” Kirk replied.

Perhaps he’d been staring too intensely, Melchior thought. It wasn't pleasant when Hildebrand did it either. He looked away and noticed that Kirk's cup was devoid of fruit. Melchior picked it up and turned back to the cart. He took the little fork and lifted a slice of fruit successfully into the cup then added a bit more honey with the little spoon. After mixing it with slightly more clattering than a trained attendant, he turned triumphantly to hand Kirk his cup of sweetened tea.

Kirk could only shiver and rapidly shook his head. “I could never drink tea prepared by your hands,” he insisted. “It… it is unthinkable.”

Melchior also began to shiver. He placed the cup lightly into its saucer. “Yes, it is likely terrible,” he sighed. He was well aware that he could not make good tea or any tea. Perhaps there was a special art to adding honey he did not know.

“That is not what I mean. I am your attendant, your servant. I make tea for you,” Kirk explained.

Melchior took a sip from his cup. The added sourness and fruity notes from the apfelsige were an excellent complement to the tea. He would consider serving this combination at the Royal Academy as his new favorite. “Yes. That is normally the case. You neglected to add honey. Do you not want honey?”

“That is not what I mean!” Kirk wailed finally. He collapsed forward shaking. Melchior was taken aback. He placed down his cup and reached out to touch Kirk's hand where it held his head. It didn't hurt when Kirk slapped his hand away but he wanted to cry all the same.

Kirk slid from his chair with a look of abject horror. He knelt immediately and bowed his head. “I apologize from the depths of my heart. I didn't mean to do that. I’m… I’m sorry. I…”

“It is ok, get up. Do not think of it again,” Melchior said. He put a hand under Kirk's arm to lift him like the knights did one another but his attendant shrank away from his touch. “Kirk? Why are you doing this?” he asked. The tear that was threatening before dripped from his eye. “If it is so awful. We do not have to have tea. It is ok. I’m not angry. Please get up.”

“Lord Melchior, I have seen your father several times. He always seemed nice as nobles go, a touch eccentric, and a bit silly,” Kirk admitted.

“He is those things,” Melchior said with fresh confusion.

“Until that day, I had never seen… the Aub. He is terrifying and awful and he is still your father.” Melchior turned these words over in his mind. He knew his father fairly well. His performance of a stern ruler was mostly just that. If prodded correctly, his facade would crumble easily.

“It is just an act really.”

Kirk shook his head. “So long as I stand on Ehrenfest soil, I answer to Aub Ehrenfest. That is no act. And your mother? Is that an act?”

“I do not think so. Mother can be even more imposing but she only wishes to teach us the proper way of things. I assure you she is as kind and loving as any other mother,” Melchior said. He made another attempt to get Kirk to stand up which also failed.

“I do not have a mother anymore. I barely even remember her now. But your mother is the First Wife. Your father is the Aub. You may become the Aub one day.”

“Hopefully not,”

“I have seen it!” Kirk snapped. He finally looked up. “I have seen you become like that. I don't know how to describe it. I know only that it is terrifying.” He looked away. “It is as Lord Kolteruze says, your highness. You are so far above me that I cannot see you.”

*Of course you can see me,” Melchior huffed. “I am right here. Look at me,” Kirk looked up. Melchior moved as quickly as he could. He looped his hands under Kirk's shoulder and hauled him into the chair before the older boy could put up much resistance. “Sit. Drink.” Kirk shakily did as instructed.

“You say we cannot have tea together but we are. You say you cannot see me but I am right here and you are not blind as far as I know.”

“It is a figure of speech. It is not meant to be taken literally,” Kirk sighed. The tea was quite good but it was difficult to enjoy.

“Perhaps that is true but what I said is also true. You are my friend, Kirk. I can have tea with my friends.

Having fulfilled his instructions to drink, Kirk placed the sacred cup back in its saucer. “No one will accept the Aub being friends with a temple orphan,” Kirk said. He looked Melchior directly in the eyes as tears dripped from them.

“It does not matter. I do not wish to be the Aub anyway.”

“What you wish and what comes to pass may not be the same things.”

“I will make it so!”

“It will not change who you are or who I am.”

“You are my friend, Kirk. That will not change.”

“We cannot be friends,” Kirk whispered.

“You said you did not wish to be parted!” Melchior cried. “I promised I would not allow us to be parted.” He sank into his chair.

“We are already so far apart. It has always been so. Lothar tried to warn me but I did not listen.”

They sat in silence, neither drinking their tea, for a long time. The light on the door flashed. Melchior ignored it. Suddenly, Zargerecht’s words came to him. He was higher status than Kirk. He could issue unreasonable demands and people might target him in an effort to hurt or control Melchior. Hadn't his father just threatened his retainers to keep Melchior from sneaking out? He shuddered seemingly for no reason.

“My lord?” Kirk asked.

“I understand. I have put you in danger,” Melchior said. Kirk felt both confused and chilled by this statement. He knew his position and his life might have been lost after helping his lord go gathering but Melchior seemed to be alluding to a different danger. Melchior looked at his tea then at the opaque tea pot. “Will you drink tea with me, this once?” He did not get to say goodbye to the orphanage but Kirk was still here. The light flashed again and Melchior ignored it.

All the mirth and joy was gone. Melchior drank his tea quietly while Kirk drank his. “Tell me about the castle,” he asked at some point.

Kirk described it as he once might have. He explained every detail and shared his likes and dislikes. Melchior listened but his morose air never lifted. Would this truly be the last time Kirk spoke to him this way? Why were commoners forced to stay on the lowest floor when his noble attendants either received rooms in the main portion of the castle, at the Knights Order, or near his own. And why didn't it make sense?

To Kolteruze, it seemed self-evident. Even Sigsnyr, with his easy going nature, still upheld status as though it were second nature. Jochten treated Melchior like a prince, almost. Why was that so unpleasant, Melchior wondered. He allowed himself to look at Kirk while he spoke. This had been his friend and now they could not be.

“Do you still wish to follow me after I leave?” Melchior asked, cutting off a description of the basement hallways.

Kirk paused, he met Melchior's eyes then looked away. He’d said that in a groggy morning state. They were his true feelings then but he couldn't feel the same way now. What would it even look like for one such as Melchior to take him along. He was just a normal attendant and Melchior had plenty of those. Still, “I want to say yes but I do not know what that would mean.”

“It does not matter. If that is your wish, then I will make it so,” Melchior promised. He rose and placed his half full cup on the tray. “Tell Sheila she may do as she likes with the remaining honey and fruit. Kolteruze and Pepin devised a cake with the slices on top she might wish to emulate.” He stood up perfectly straight and did his best to look like a proper Archduke Candidate despite his tear streaked face. “I wish to have some time alone.”

Kirk lowered his head and placed his own cup on the cart. He looked into the mostly full teapot to see the flower which now blossomed there, sitting in its golden liquor, huddled in by the tall ceramic walls. “It shall be done, your highness,” he intoned and stepped towards the door. Of course it would not open without Melchior’s permission.

He floated over and opened the door. Lothar stood on the other side, his smile looking strained. Melchior didn't even look at him as Kirk exited. Once the attendant and cart were gone he slid the door shut with a loud bang.

Music class came and went. Lunch came and went. Lothar reminded his lord of both dressing for training and it actually beginning. Fonsel sent the apprentices to practice then stood inside the room waiting with Melchior's worried attendants.

Kirk refused to disclose what happened so everyone was left to wonder what could have occured between Melchior entering full of excitement and shutting himself away. The apprentices returned with Sister Streita and Zipporah. Both women tried speaking to him to no avail. As dinner approached they began to worry that not even hunger would force him to leave.

“He is the only person registered,” Fonsel grumbled. “We cannot even ask Lady Florencia to come.”

“Perhaps her voice would stir him,” Lothar suggested. He couldn't hide his worry after so many bells without a response. They considered calling the High Priest but this High Priest and High Bishop did not have the sort of closeness that might call each other out of hidden rooms.

Once Sheila brought up dinner Kirk tried again. “My lord, dinner is ready. Would you like to eat?” There was no response. “Lord Melchior?” … “Melchior, we are worried.” After a few moments the door opened to reveal Melchior looking fairly calm.

“You have seen me. I am fine,” he said then turned to go back inside.

“Please wait!” Lothar called. “Please eat something.” he stared into the relatively empty hidden room with a fearful expression. If Melchior passed out they would be completely unable to rescue him. He never wanted to drag his nearly expired lord, who’d barely crawled to the entrance, from his hidden room ever again.

Melchior paused his door slamming and sniffed the air. He didn't ask for his meal. “I would like paper.”

“Paper is not sustenance,” Lothar pleaded. “Please, there is tea and cake and a roasted bird.”

At the word tea, Melchior flinched then shook his head. “I would like paper.” No one moved. Kirk wanted to follow orders but Lothar's obvious distress gave him pause.

“Why are you doing this?” Fonsel asked. He walked over and knelt to look Melchior nearly in the eyes. He was also just close enough to block the closing of the door.

“This is the only place I can go,” Melchior replied. No one would be endangered if he didn't leave his room.

“Get the paper,” Fonsel said to Lothar. The head attendant moved slowly to the desk and returned with a few sheets of paper which Fonsel accepted. He then stood up and walked into the hidden room. Melchior was completely incapable of standing in his way despite his attempts. Fonsel merely put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him to the side. He placed the paper on the desk next to Melchior’s blank book and stood by the fake window.

“You do not need to attend,” Melchior said with a frown.

“I do. No one can enter this room but you. If something happens, we will have to wait for you to ascend to the distant heights so your mother can open the door.” They stared at one another for a long while. “Feel free to be upset,” Fonsel added.

Now that he couldn't be alone, there was no point in closing the door. Melchior sat at the desk and picked up his charcoal again. He flipped to a page in the blank book and began drawing a copy.

It was rare for him to use smudging. He avoided it entirely when wearing his High Bishop’s robes for fear of staining his sleeves. Now his hands were mottled with soot and his sleeves had stray marks. He used the entire page to draw Kirk as realistically as possible. Fonsel felt strange watching. Perhaps it was the loving detail or the precision despite the lack of a live subject. It was certainly the fact that Melchior covered all the papers, back and front, with similar drawings.

Seventh bell was faint even with the door open and it was hard to believe he was hearing eighth bell when it rang. This was much later than Melchior normally went to sleep in the temple. Fonsel himself would normally be asleep as well.

“Lord Melchior, it is time to sleep. You will feel terrible in the morning if you do not rest,” Fonsel coaxed.

Melchior had only a small bit of charcoal left. He placed this crumb down for a moment and considered the advice. “You may retire,” Melchior said then began again.

Fonsel muttered to himself as his charge continued drawing. He walked over. “Forgive me,” he said and placed a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. Melchior tried to pull out of his grip but failed both because he was sitting down and because he was tiny by comparison. “O Schlaftraum, God of Dreams, may Melchior be blessed with pleasant sleep and joyous dreams.”

“No!” Melchior squealed as his eyelids slid closed. Fonsel sighed. It really took a good bit of mana to put an unwilling Archduke Candidate to sleep no matter how tired he was. Fonsel cradled his charge and exited the room. To his surprise, the apprentices were still there.

“What are you doing? You should all have gone home long ago,” he boomed. Melchior didn't even stir. Kirk moved to clean up the hidden room. “No, have Lothar do it,” Fonsel said. The attendants winced as he placed Melchior down on the bed still dressed. Kirk could only stand around looking lost. He was as tired as anyone.

“We have sent messages to our parents,” Sigsnyr said. He had at least. No one else needed too.

“Oh and how about the Knights Order? Zipporah is currently missing,” Fonsel snapped.

She formed a bird and sent it off quickly to the nightwatch capitan.

“You are at the temple? At night?” came the response.

“Yes sir. I shall be returning shortly,” she replied. There was no explanation that wouldn't be misconstrued as a euphemism so she didn't try.

“We’ll keep an eye out for your arrival,” came the reply with tell-tale snickering in the background. Sigsnyr silenced it after the first repeat with a swift tap of his schtappe. The chain dangled and twinkled in the candlelight as the faestone crumbled into broken shards.

Fonsel was not in the mood to make jokes but the implications were not lost on him. “You didn't even flinch, Zipporah,” he had to say. Anyone would become defensive if someone swung a schtappe at their arm.

She shrugged. “If he takes off my hand, he will put it back,” she said. Fonsel shook his head while Sigsnyr muttered that he would try. “Now that he is preparing for bed I shall depart. I will return with Dedryck on the morrow.”

“As the Goddess rises,” Fonsel said in farewell.

“May our parting be brief,” Sigsnyr called.

Fonsel sighed heavily as they left.

Kirk and Lothar worked together to change and wash their unconscious lord. They took extra care to wipe the soot from his hands and lay him in a comfortable position under his blankets. Melchior was not generally still when he slept but he did not even toss his head once tucked in.

It was strange how good Lothar was at caring for an unconscious person, Kirk thought. He did not think it was a situation likely to occur frequently. Then again, Lothar was good at everything. He was also right about everything. He’d served three masters before Melchior, all with different personalities and needs. Noble society and customs were woven into his every motion along with the bone deep understanding of his place. Kirk wondered whether Lothar had ever tried to be friends with his master only to learn that it was impossible.

It was Kirk’s turn to take nightwatch and Fonsel would require help before the attendants could go to sleep themselves but Lothar sent him to bed anyway. Kirk didn't protest. He hurried from the room and down the stairs. The chefs had already cleaned up and put out the fire so the lower section was quiet. Kirk shuffled loudly in his wooden shoes all the way to his room. He stepped inside, closed the door silently, then fell against it and slid to the floor.

All the misery he’d been holding behind a noble smile released at once. He knew it was rude to make loud noises so late at night but he could not contain the urge to weep and cry out. Kirk cradled his knees and shook on the cold ivory floor in his still cold room and thought about his friend.

Melchior was good to him. He wept for his pain, cheered his success, listened to him talk even when it was rude of Kirk to keep babbling, and protected him from other nobles. Yet he could not banish his visions of Lady Florencia relaxing in her imposing chair, surrounded by men and women with obvious derision towards commoners, and her face fixed into an emotionless smile. He could not unsee Lord Sylvester standing before the host of clergy speaking with a voice that shook the ground. Kirk could not push those moments from his mind when Melchior transformed into a different person. He shivered as the faces of the Aub and his wife mixed and warped into the face of his lord every time he tried to consider them as separate people.

Kirk was an orphan while Melchior had extremely powerful parents. If he was remembering Melchior’s explanations properly, they were the sixth most powerful people in the entire country and Melchior was their son, much beloved, and highly prized.

Kirk tried to put it out of his mind and calm himself down but he was only visited by the faces of his friends from the lower city and the orphanage. He rarely got to see them now having given up his place among them to become the High Bishop’s attendant. It was supposed to be the highest honor a gray priest could receive. His chest was supposed to swell with pride and unassailable dignity but it just ached with loneliness. He missed them, all the more so now that his last friend was also gone.

It was not surprising to hear a knock on his door. He had been blubbering loudly for a few minutes. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet,” he called.

“Kirk,” Lothar replied. “Please open the door,” he asked. Kirk pulled himself up and his door open. He bowed his head in apology and sniffled. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“I should not speak of it,” Kirk replied. What happened in their lord's hidden room was his business to share or hide.

Lothar sighed. He walked in and closed the door behind him. “Sit,” he instructed with a gesture towards the bed. Lothar took the only chair in the sparsely decorated room and sat across from Kirk.

“What of Lord Fonsel?” Kirk asked.

“Chet has taken over,” Lothar replied. “He can tend to Lord Fonsel but I must find out what has occurred.”

Kirk hung his head. “Of course you are worried,” he huffed. Lothar was the perfect attendant who would do anything to protect his lord’s wellbeing.

“You were weeping loud enough to echo through the halls, so yes, I am worried,” Lothar replied. “It is so obvious that you are unwell, how could I not be worried.”

“I will recover and return to my work unhindered,” Kirk replied. If he didn't, that would make more work for his fellow attendants.

“Your work is not what concerns me, Kirk,” Lothar pressed. “It is your wellbeing that concerns me.” Kirk looked at Lothar expecting to see a calm expression fit for interrogation. Instead he was met with his own pain reflected back at him. “I know we are not close but you are my apprentice, I do care.”

Fresh tears pooled in Kirk's eyes. He found himself shaking all over again. “I… you… you were right,” he wept. “You warned me and I did not listen. I’m sorry.” Lothar waited patiently for Kirk to sputter out his explanation. “I thought we could be friends but I am just a priest… an apprentice priest… an orphan. No one even wanted me…”

“That isn't true,” Lothar interrupted.

“Then why am I here!”

“You parents died in an accident, they had no remaining relatives and you were too young to live with your employer. It is deeply unfortunate but it is not true that no one wanted you,” Lothar explained.

“Do you think it would be different… if I had parents?” Kirk asked.

“A great many things would be different if we had parents,” Lothar sighed. “As it stands, you are highly prized. Lord Melchior wants you by his side. We want you to be our apprentice. You…” Kirk was not comforted by these words. He burst into fresh tears and doubled over.

Lothar got up and moved to the bed. He rubbed Kirk's shoulder while he sobbed. “He doesn't need me,” Kirk muttered.

“What do you mean?” Lothar asked.

“He doesn't need me. He has more attendants. Better attendants.”

“You are a very good attendant, Kirk. Those boys do not outperform you.”

“They have mana,” Kirk squeaked. “I will never have mana, I will never be their equal, I will never… I will never…”

“That is true but you do not have to be. They are nobles who must survive in noble society. That is a blessing as much as it is a curse. You do not need to venture there.”

“So he will leave me behind. It is as you say. We are too far apart,” Kirk said.

“I said those things in an effort to protect you. You are young and idealistic and kind-hearted. I did not want you to grow despondent when your friend eventually left you behind.” Lothar said with a deep sigh. It had been years since he spoke those words. They were one of the first pieces of advice he ever gave Kirk. Since then he’d warned the boy about his overly intimate behavior. Such chastisements had been more frequent since winter but Lothar has long since given up telling Kirk that he could not be friends with Melchior especially when Melchior had to give up his other commoner friends on the castle’s orders.

Kirk continued to shake but his tears had run dry. “We are not friends.”

“What? When did… ah. So that is what happened,” Lothar felt his heart fall even farther. He’d been pained to see Kirk so upset and to hear him speak ill of himself but now he was disappointed. He expected better of this lord. “Did Lord Melchior say that?” he asked hopefully.

Kirk shook his head. “He says we will not be parted but how can that be so? Even you were left behind and you are perfect.”

There was a lot in this declaration for Lothar to untangle. “I am not perfect. Like everyone, I sometimes make mistakes,” he began. “As for you and your lord, Lord Melchior attempts to bind his promises in golden flames. If he says he will keep you by his side, I think he means it. You are correct that that will be difficult if you are just an attendant but that does not have to remain the case.”

Kirk looked up for the first time since Lothar entered the room. “What do you mean?”

“It is rare for a blue priest to return to noble society but when they do, they select those retainers that are the most valuable and skilled in things besides attending; personal musicians, mistresses, tailors, scribes. My only skills are in attending so I was left behind. My lords were not like Lady Rozemyne or Lord Melchior. They did not allow themselves to have anything more than a professional relationship with their attendants.

“As it stands, you are Lord Melchior's companion and confidant. To him that makes you valuable enough to take with him but to others you will appear superfluous. It will be easier to keep his bond if you have other skills to recommend you.”

Kirk pondered his words then nodded. “I will have to find a skill,” he declared. “Something noble attendants cannot do.”

“You can always become a mistress,” Lothar joked.

Kirk didn't laugh. Instead he considered this seriously. “I do not think I am pretty enough for that. It also sounds unpleasant from what the shrine maidens say.”

“It is harder than it looks,” Lothar agreed.

“I'll think of something,” Kirk decided. His shoulders fell, “but it will not be the same.”

Lothar rubbed Kirk's shoulder again. “But it might be enough,” he said.

“I’m sorry for crying,” Kirk said.

“There is no need to apologize. At times we are overcome. You are still young as well.”

“I’m not that young,” Kirk huffed.

Lothar smiled and moved to get up but Kirk stopped him by throwing his arms around his waist. “Thank you,” he muttered into Lothar's chest.

Lothar was taken aback. He spent several seconds sitting frozen before slowly lowering his arms to rest on top of Kirk. Despite assisting with bathing and dressing often, it never failed to surprise him just how warm people were. He allowed himself to relax and pat the child's head as the embrace dragged on. It was early spring and late at night so the basement rooms were deeply chilled. They would soon begin shivering if they didn’t at least put on a coat. Still, in the cold room that Kirk lived in by himself, for just a few moments, it was warm.

Chapter Text

Life Goes On

When he woke up, Melchior was unsure how he got to sleep. He felt gross, both like he’d skipped a bath and like the very act of waking up was cursed. The thought of returning to the castle was intolerable while staying at the temple would bring him no joy. Just looking at Kirk made him feel sick all over again but he struggled to compact his emotions. The nausea had progressed into a feeling like he needed to vomit both metaphorically and physically.

However, that would be worse than crying. For one, someone would need to collect it for testing. Then he would be interrogated about his recent meals of which there were too few which would trigger more concerned questioning. A report would find its way onto someone's desk soon enough but It would be better if he showed no outward signs of being distraught beyond belief.

His days in the castle seemed to slip by. While they were away, the other trainees had progressed in the sword forms. The little nine year old still struggled to get things right. But the instructor chastised anyone who attempted to help him. “We must all do our own jobs. If your fellow knight proves incapable, he will be replaced. Covering for his inadequacy will only reduce the quality of your own work.”

This was not consistent with the philosophy of the Ehrenfest Academic Consortium, Melchior thought. Gerianne also gave a deep scowl at this advice. Dedryck took a moment to speak with the instructor after the lessons but Melchior struggled to care. He was content to smile and feign enthusiasm while ignoring every word that came from Brunschwarts’s mouth.

His new curriculum was approved so he began studying with his scholars and while alone. Isolde was generally around but only rarely did their studies overlap. He had more in common with Flautzeal and Pepin so he studied with them. The only things that drew him away from his stupor were his visits with Henriette and his “siblings” tea party.

There was only one sibling at the tea party. Charlotte and Florencia joined him on Fruitday at the usual time. It was not needlessly fancy nor did they play at changing status. The game instead was figuring out who would be in attendance and what they would talk about.

“This week it's just us but I want to invite many different people. We will move the location to the main building as well. I’ll be hosting them for the most part but every now and then I’ll ask one of you to take over,” Florencia explained.

Melchior struggled to hide his disappointment. He didn't want to have tea parties with random members of society. He wanted to have tea with Wilfred and Charlotte. “I understand, Mother. I will do my best to be a credit to your teaching,” he promised.

“I’m sure you will do well, dear brother,” Charlotte replied.

They talked about the spring feast a bit and the trading season a little. If the topic swung to Melchior, he deflected with neutral talk about the temple’s end of year work and Spring Prayer preparations.

“I have been too busy to produce any new works,” Melchior said when asked about his art. This was not entirely true. He’d been working on Torsten's order and the second manual as well as a painting. Melchior just didn't have confidence that any of those works could supplant his painting endorsed by the Zent.

Once he’d slept and calmed down in true, rather than merely faking it, he lamented the extravagant waste of paper. He’d quintupled his collection of portraits of Kirk and didn't feel comfortable giving his attendant any of them. So he added them to the box with portraits of his temple retainers stored in the temple’s hidden room and tried to forget about them.

In an effort to save paper, he turned to painting with more gusto . He didn't feel like doing a portrait nor depicting the castle or its gardens. He chose to paint what he could remember of the street in front of Dorrick’s apothecary. On his visit there, he’d been more concerned with not getting lost and whether the shop would open to truly take in his surroundings but he and Nikolaus also had to wait for some time in front of the door.

Melchior remembered many of the signs and the paint colors of the buildings. He added the old woman from the end of the street who’d been sweeping and gave them a smile. In front of Dorrick's, just pulling open the door, he drew in Kirk instead of himself or Nikolaus. Someone might be able to claim he’d been there but he wouldn't include evidence of his misdeeds again.

After sketching out then washing the wooden board multiple times, Melchior grew frustrated. His memory of the day was marked by emotions and flashes of color not defined shapes in light and shadow. So, he sent his temple attendants out to sketch the street in question. Sheila was the best at drawing but Lothar focused on the details better. On the day he returned to the temple for the last few days of preparation for Spring Prayer, his industrious attendants provided their attempts.

This time they were careful to send the apprentice knights to guard outside. Sigsnyr and Zipporah had mirrored looks of betrayal while Sebastian was surprised to be invited in. Flautzeal left to assist Kazmiar also without question or protest. Isolde sat with a board for notes and a look of unrestrainable delight.

Sheila began with a report on her trip. Melchior encouraged his attendants to take care of their own business in the city while out on his. They couldn't leave the temple without his permission and Lothar wouldn't permit anyone to ask.

She mostly had stories of the market. Several young men were very nice to her and she obtained some ingredients at a better than usual price. The temple wasn't in the position to haggle nor did commoners offer them discounts. “Most things are the same price, more or less, but we purchase only the highest quality regardless of need. We might save money by being more flexible,” she suggested.

Lothar only did as instructed rather than taking any detours or excursions. The old sweeping woman spent a while chatting with him while he stood conspicuously in the middle of the street doodling. “She was very forceful and kept touching my arm,” Lothar said with a deep blush.

“It is because you are so polite. It makes you easy to tease,” Isolde chuckled. Lothar nodded and resolved to look less vulnerable in future.

By the third time someone came to their street to draw the scenery, people had questions. Thankfully, Kirk was more than willing to talk. “I said that my boss wanted to do a painting of the city but wasn't able to visit himself so he sent his employees to make reference sketches. People wanted to know what kind of business you were in, I just alluded to it having to do with nobles and everyone stopped asking. They were still amazed by the paper. Some people had never seen it.”

Melchior listened excitedly. He was surprised that some people had never even seen paper even if they didn't use it. It was expensive but he didn't think it was that unattainable. “Master Dorrick also came out to talk to me and Violet asked about Nik. They recommend a new sachet,” Kirk then brought out the box containing his spoils.

There were six herb sachets. The new smell was grassy and arboreal. It reminded Melchoir of the commoner forest and all that happened there. Violet’s emergency was scary but she was ultimately saved so that memory didn't detract from the blissful feeling. “Its wonderful, Kirk. Excellent work!” Melchior praised.

Isolde examined the pouches and smelled them. “Is this what we sent to Hauchletze? They seem so simple.”

“Kolteruze prepared them and sent them. I assume he used mine as a guide but I never got to see or smell them,” Melchior replied.

“We should have him make more when we return to the Royal Academy. It would be ideal to spread this as a trend before then.” Melchior sighed at the thought. He didn't know how to even begin spreading such a thing. There was little way to distinguish between rinsham, perfume, and the sachets once the scent was on a person. Plus, it was Sigsnyr's trend to begin with. “Sigsnyr told you about these? Are they already common then?” Isolde wondered aloud. Melchior assigned her the task of finding out then promptly put it out of his mind.

Kirk also brought gifts from Master Fred and the Plantin company. The tailor included a bolt of serviceable fabric in an awkward color along with a wooden board detailing his proposal. He would cover half the upfront commission fees for the leather shops and promised to purchase the pouches Melchior didn't buy minus five since Kirk said that was how many they were looking for. “How much are the commission fees?” Melchior asked. Kirk didn't know but he’d visited the Plantin company afterwards. One of the leherls noticed him on the street and brought him in.

“They asked to meet about the leather book. I told them we might schedule something after Spring Prayer. I also met Master? Mistress?... Mistress Milda, the nice woman who runs the Plantin company. She complimented my manners,” Kirk looked very proud to report. “According to her, the offer from Master Fred would be fair between merchants. She thinks you should take it as Master Fred doesn't seem to realize you are a noble and isn't over charging you. As to the commission fees, he’s agreeing to match whatever you offer but you should choose an amount between one and five small golds. She would also like to see the pictures you draw as reference.”

Melchior felt his head spinning. Kirk had done so much in one day. He was also so happy to talk about it that he was forgetting himself a bit in front of Isolde. Isolde didn't seem to mind. She listened and took notes. When he mentioned showing Mistress Milda the drawings she tsked. “I'm certain she does. The Plantin and Gilbertta companies are very close. I don't doubt that she's heard about your designs.”

“I wasn't planning to make reference pictures. We're also struggling to choose dimensions. Everyone seems to have different preferences and more than one pouch,” Melchior said. “I don't want to disappoint her,” he muttered.

“She is a commoner. Her disappointment is irrelevant,” Isolde sighed.

“Might I interjected,” Sebastian called from the door. Melchior invited him over and bid him keep his voice down. “Are you planning a competition based around leather pouches?” he asked. They nodded. “Why do you need so many?”

Isolde and Melchior exchanged looks. “You already know too much,” Isolde said.

Sebastian shivered. “Is it a secret? Why would it be so serious?”

“They are gifts. I intend to surprise my apprentices from last term,” Melchior explained.

“Only the apprentices and only from last term?” Sebastian asked. Neither his voice nor expression changed but Melchior got the impression he was disappointed.

“You may purchase one from the competition if you like. It is just that they all had to do work beyond the normal duties expected of knights,” Melchior explained. He was careful not to look at Isolde. So far, she seemed oblivious to her own incoming gift. He was hoping to keep it a secret until the very end if only to prove that he could.

“I will certainly have a look. I can give you some advice on what I might want and make some discreet inquiries,” Sebastian offered.

“Do not ask any questions. The knights are already suspicious,” Isolde said with a shake of her head. “I will just ask you later. For now, there is more in the box.”

Everyone’s attention fell on Kirk once again. He happily removed three smaller wooden boxes from the big one. Rather than opening normally, their lids were on hinges. Kirk began to open one then thought better of it. He chose the second one first. “These are wood encased pencils. They are made of soot mixed with clay then put into wood somehow,” Kirk explained. All three nobles picked one up.

There were six in total. Each was of pale wood with a coating of blue paint on the outside. Only one had a cone shape at the top which presented the dark pigmented section in a sharp point. “They hope to create a sharpening device but we must use a knife for now.” Melchior was given the sharp tube. He borrowed Isolde's wooden board to do a test. The mark was paler than charcoal but the pencil was easier to control.

Melchior couldn't help but smile. This would solve some of his problems with willow charcoal and would be safer to transport.

The next box contained narrow bars in twelve colors. “These are oil paint sticks. You can use them as sticks or dissolve them in oil to make a thin paint. Mistress Milda said you can even apply it to your surface then mix the colors with a brush. They come with a special, little plate for grinding them smoothly,” Kirk produced the plate from the box. It was rectangular with raised edges and a dip at one side. “You can only do one color at a time.”

This time, Kirk brought paper. The colors were as brilliant as well mixed paint. The pigment was obviously expensive. They were easy to smear and put up very little resistance. Melchior imagined using far more pigment than you meant to if you weren't careful.

“Why would the Plantin company give me such expensive gifts?” Melchior asked after replacing the purple stick in its place. Seeing them all lined up in a rainbow was very satisfying and highlighted the obvious quality of this product.

“She asks that you give your opinion as an artist and a child,” Kirk replied. “The Plantin company is also willing to purchase art created using them to add to their displays.”

“This Milda is suggesting Lord Melchior sell his art to mere merchants?” Sebastian asked with a frown.

“Presumptuous indeed but something tells me, she has reason to believe our lord would not be offended,” Isolde said. Indeed, Melchior seemed to be thinking it over. “The Plantin company has deep ties to Lady Rozemyne. Perhaps she encouraged them to ask.”

“Do you think?” Melchior’s eyes sparkled at the thought.

“If so, she should ask herself. A mere merchant does not have the standing to command your talents,” Isolde said.

“But it is her company,” Melchior argued.

“My lord, there is no need to humor merchants on the off chance they are on the orders of the Aub of another duchy. If Aub Alexandria wants to make a formal request, she will do so,” Sebastian replied. Isolde nodded along with this explanation.

“It is like Wilfred and your retainers,” Isolde added. Sebastian was doubly confused when Melchior seemed to understand her meaning. He was going to ask for more information but Kirk presented the last gift.

“These are their best offering for portable colors. They are made from wax and pigment. She called them ‘krea yawns’. They are supposed to be for children but are currently too expensive for that.”

Kirk opened the box to reveal the same twelve colors in squat cylinders along with a thirteenth that seemed to be of undyed wax. Each was sharpened and wrapped in a printed piece of paper that said ‘Roze-arte’ in script. Isolde and Melchior giggled while Sebastian just shook his head. “She always gives things the strangest names,” he muttered.

“I like it. You cannot forget who created it,” Isolde said.

The crayons themselves were great fun. They did not dispense color as quickly as the paint sticks. In fact it was hard to get a smooth block of color. They also didn't blend very well. The translucent stick seemed to aid in both these endeavors but it picked up pigment and could transfer streaks to areas they weren't wanted.

Melchior wanted to play with everything immediately but would have to wait. “I will have to try them after Spring Prayer,” he sighed. There was too much to do before then plus he was being forced to go to bed early either to ensure his health before the trip or as punishment for worrying his retinue. The signals weren't consistent.

“They are portable colors. You should take them on your trip to test how portable they truly are,” Isolde suggested.

Melchior beamed and clasped his hands. “Yes I should!” he cheered. He charged Kirk not to forget the colorful sticks then distributed pencils to those present. Isolde was also given pencils for Flautzeal and Benedikt and was allowed to play with the crayons since Kazmiar was busy helping Melchior pass out chalices and wave the blue clergy goodbye.

“Are you sure you're ok with me using them before you?”she asked.

Melchior nodded. He also produced a flower drawing from his boxes for her to add color too. “Be sure to make note of what you learned. Then I can avoid making the same mistakes,” Melchior said. He left her at his table then hurried away to meet the High Priest.

Kazmiar wasn’t happy he was late nor were his apprentice knights at being left out of something that had put him in such a good mood. They kept shooting Sebastian interrogative glances which he ignored. He’d recovered from his initial fear caused by Isolde's sharp look and intimidating phrasing. Being afraid of a little girl wasn't very knightly after all. Still, Lord Melchior commanded his discretion so he wasn't going to spill any secrets.

The first person to be entrusted with chalices was Sister Streita. “This is very exciting. I haven't visited the western provinces since I was a girl,” she said.

“The treatment of priests is very different to that of archnobles. Please do not expect the hospitality you received as a girl,” Kazmiar warned.

Melchior carefully removed the full chalices from their cupboard and stacked them in the box. Once they were lovingly packed, Streita's shrine maidens carried it away. “I wish you a safe journey and return. May Ordoshnelli guide your path.”

“Thank you, little High Bishop,” Streita said before bowing and leaving with her attendants. Both Melchior and Kazmiar frowned at this nickname but they didn't have time to discuss it. There were a few more blue priests leaving as well as Nikolaus.

“You are traveling quite far this time,” Melchior noted.

“That's true. But I’m excited to see new places,” Nikolaus replied. “Trude is forcing me to bring my harspiel. I cannot escape practice even on my journey it seems.”

Melchior shivered. He didn't know whether his instruments from the castle were sent to the temple. “Perhaps that is better than being chided for losing progress,” Melchior mused. Nikolaus nodded then received his farewell.

“May you be blessed as well, Lord Melchior.”

Dirk, Gerianne, and the rest of the clergy would set out the next day so Melchior locked the cabinet and returned the key to Kazmiar. “I feel less overwhelmed this year,” Melchior said.

“That is because you have more experience. I’m sure the day will come when you no longer need my help,” Kazmiar replied. He offered a chair and called for tea.

“I do not think that day will come. Or I will come of age the very next season,” Melchior said.

“I believe you underestimate your own abilities. Besides, this work is not very hard. Have you begun your studies?”

Melchior nodded. He was even planning to visit the bookroom. “I will be learning the funerary rites this evening or I’ll be reading the texts.”

“You likely won't ever need to perform a funeral,” Kazmiar said.

“I know, but I want to be ready if I do.”

They spoke briefly about their upcoming trips then Melchior returned to his room for lunch.

He found Flautzeal and Isolde huddled over his table testing the crayons. Isolde had employed a variety of techniques to apply color and create effects by rubbing. This was all on the back of the page. The flower was still in black and white.

“You didn't add color to the flower,” Melchior noted. Both scholars jumped a little, having somehow failed to notice the entrance of two knights, two attendants, and an Archduke Candidate.

“You charged me to test the wax pigment sticks,” Isolde replied. “I’ve discovered many things.”

“Yes but, I thought you would fill in the drawing,” Melchior said. He wondered whether people wouldn't like coloring others' drawings after all. It had seemed strange to apply color directly to a blank page so he’d proffered this half done work.

Isolde looked surprised. “You wanted me to add color to your drawing and were not simply offering me a less beloved sketch to mark on the back of?”

That wouldn't be possible, Melchior thought. He covered both sides of every sheet of paper except for those pieces he loved or was preparing to present. He was proud of this sketch. It was particularly clean and free of smudging. He thought it would be perfect to use the crayons on because it would be easy to avoid the lines for the most part.

“Yes. It is alright if you do not want to. It is strange to continue a piece begun by someone else,” Melchior replied. “In any case, it is time for lunch,” he gestured for Lothar to take the art supplies away. Isolde looked so sad to see them moved to the desk. She’d mostly recovered by the time Kirk wiped down the table.

“I’m fascinated by these new crayons. We use wax sticks to mark out areas we want to resist treatment or paint but I’ve never considered adding pigment,” Flautzeal said as he sat down. “Oh, and thank you for the pencil. I'm excited to try it.”

Melchior smiled as he sat down in his chair. He was excited to hear about their reactions. “It will be nice for times when ink is inconvenient to use. I also think I will be able to make sharper lines,” he babbled. Flautzeal and Melchior continued to discuss the possibilities until the food was delivered.

Thus freed from his post Sigsnyr immediately jumped into the conversation. He asked about all the new things and received a carefully constrained explanation about Kirk's adventures.

“You seem to visit Fred’s tailoring shop whenever you get the chance,” he noted.

“Yes, Lord Sigsnyr. I know one of the lehenges,” Kirk replied.

“Can he recommend a leather worker?” the knight asked.

The three co-conspirators all stiffened. This wasn't lost on the knight but it made so little sense that he let it go. “I’m looking to get one of those large bags made. Veremund says his family doesn't make things like that. They apparently have enough work just processing specialty leather and faeparchment. They do some small wares but the hardware needs to come from a skilled smith.”

“I can make inquiries if you wish. Please forgive me but I will not have the opportunity to visit the lower city before Spring Prayer nor can I leave the temple without my lord's permission,” Kirk said.

“You can't leave even when you have days off?” Sigsnyr asked in disbelief.

“We do not have days off.”

The non-temple nobles were amazed. “I see. Perhaps I should simply summon that girl's father,” he mused.

“What girl?” Isolde asked, a flame dancing in her eyes.

“A commoner I met while visiting the lower city. She invited me to look into her family's business if I ever had need of leather goods,” Sigsnyr explained nonchalantly then rose and switched with Zipporah and Sebastian.

Sebastian looked back and forth between Flautzeal and Isolde's stunned faces before slowly sitting down to his meal.

“When was this?” Zipporah asked calmly. She directed her questions across the room at Melchior.

“Last Autumn,” he replied just as calmly. His history of delinquency was known to most of his retinue by now. Or so he thought.

“He went to the lower city?!” Isolde squeaked. “When and why and how did he even. Who would speak to a knight randomly wandering the streets? Why is this the first we’ve heard?” She turned to her lord as well.

Melchior just sighed. “He was sworn to secrecy. Now that you all know about it, he is more free to discuss it.”

“We do not all know about it,” Flautzeal muttered.

“You excused yourself as I recall,” Isolde snapped. She sat quietly for a moment. “I would like to go to the lower city,” she declared

“No.” “That would be most unwise.” “Please excuse me for saying so, but I must advise against that,” the adults and Zipporah said all at once.

“It is a refreshing place,” Sheila whispered from beside the cart.

“But Sigsnyr has done it,” she argued. Her voice took on a higher pitch and her eyes became glassy.

“There are a great many things he has done that you may not,” Sebastian said. “Simply summon anyone you wish to speak to like normal.”

“Lord Melchior?” she pleaded.

“I cannot give you permission to do that,” he said. “Do you even own appropriately casual clothes?” he added over the rim of his water cup.

She caught his eye, so filled with mischief, and contained a smirk. “You are correct. There are so many considerations I haven't even considered.”

Zipporah watched this silent exchange but kept her expression impassive. She could ask Sigsnyr for details later but she was curious as to what her lord might say. As loudly as she might disavow, the prospect of seeing this forbidden place was deeply intriguing.

“You would need a guide and would have to accept less than noble treatment from the townspeople. We cannot allow nobles to harm the citizens over petty slights. Nor can we expect every commoner to understand our etiquette,” Melchior continued.

Flautzeal was not as skilled at hiding his suspicion. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you implying that she could go if she meets these requirements?” he asked.

“I couldn't say that,” Melchior sighed.

“Yet you are strategically not saying it,” Sebastian huffed. “This is a bad idea. The lower city isn't safe. You could be attacked or kidnapped.”

Melchior doubted this. Not only had people mostly avoided him in favor of completing their own business, but those he did interact with were quite nice. Besides, Isolde had a schtappe. No commoner could be more dangerous than her. He still couldn't say this. “It is as you say. There exists a possibility of those things,” he replied.

“Stop this talk,” Sebastian charged as he returned to his post.

Only a sixteen year old could think that such an order would be followed. It was not this order but the watchful eye of Lothar which gave them pause. They moved the topic to what Isolde learned about the colors then to his orders for while he was away.

“There is much we can do while you are not here,” Isolde encouraged. She turned over her note board to record his requests with her new pencil. Flautzeal looked at his cylinder sadly. Carving the tip properly would take practice. He would need to create blanks to use so he wouldn't ruin his only pencil.

“Would you like me to sharpen yours, Lord Flautzeal?” Kirk offered.

Flautzeal was startled out of his reverie by the offer. He looked at his tube and at Isolde happily writing with hers and nodded. Kirk took the pencil over to the small table. Lothar produced a little knife and brush. The shavings were quickly swept up and taken away and the newly sharpened pencil was returned. Kirk’s work was not perfect in this one thing. It was only the second pencil he’d ever sharpened after all. The cone shape was lopsided but the writing tip was sharp and usable. Flautzeal took it happily and began marking a sheet of paper he kept in his pockets.

Melchior didn't have very much work to give his scholars. All the brewing he needed was done and would be delivered the next morning. His schedule was written and the materials were due to be collected from the dormitory. Isolde was already forming and enacting a plan to add color to his wardrobe. What else could there be?

“I suppose it would be a good time to study and practice anything you want to get better at. You won't have to visit the castle or temple during that time so your progress won’t be disturbed,” Melchior suggested.

Isolde looked slightly crestfallen while Flautzeal looked excited. “I will practice my carving!” he declared.

“You are still learning to carve even though you will serve Lord Melchior for the rest of your life?” Isolde asked.

“Yes of course. Lord Melchior has already shown a need for craftsmen. I do not want to fail him again.”

“Again?” Isolde muttered. “It is not a scholar’s job to do such work. Our research with Veremund was done in that way out of necessity. You should not anticipate a repeat of similar events.”

Both boys now looked sad. Melchior didn't have immediate plans for more crafts but he’d enjoyed their research.

“But what about brewing? That’s a craft,” Flautzeal argued.

“That is different. Only nobles may perform magic so only nobles can brew. Nearly all other crafts can be done by commoners,” she replied.

For a moment, Flautzeal looked angry. “That isn't true at all. Veremund’s family makes enchanted leathers. House Blumschmidt works enchanted metals. We use magic tools for precision woodworking,” he said. “Every noble woman has to learn embroidery as well. There are many crafts which nobles do!”

“All of those things either are or require magic. My point remains,” Isolde replied.

“Isolde. Flautzeal has waited a long time to learn how to carve. We should be happy for him,” Melchior said.

“You do not think he should pursue skills better befitting an archductal retainer?” she asked with a surprised look.

Melchior wasn't sure whether she was actually surprised or pretending to be but he was annoyed. “He will learn those things too, but won't it be cool that he can carve as well?” It seemed like an obviously worthwhile venture to him. With such a scholar in his retinue he could do so many things. That nothing came to mind immediately did not detract from his conviction.

“If I might add a word?” Zipporah said. “Flautzeal will be able to develop the skills necessary to serve as a scholar in time. He will have to or he will lose his place. However, the chance to learn his family's trade will not come again. It is better to acquire knowledge when it is offered than to shun improvement out of pride.”

Isolde looked between them all with a pensive expression. She’d eschewed any skills or interests not immediately useful to her work or future as a wife. Her father insisted scholars had no time to be distracted by frivolities. Yet her lord was encouraging his scholar to do just that. Even though Melchior was still quite young and inexperienced, he was normally dedicated to usefulness.

“What if it proves useless to you in the future?” she asked.

“Whether it is personally useful to me or not, Flautzeal wants to learn,” Melchior replied.

Isolde frowned. A year before, she hadn't anticipated having such a strange lord but the possibility of pursuing her forgotten passions did sound tempting. Since lunch had been cleared away, Lothar placed the art supplies back on the table. Melchior said he'd be in the bookroom and invited her to stay and play for as long as she wished. The door closed softly behind him leaving Isolde and Flautzeal at their leisure while he went to work.

Chapter Text

More Preparations

Melchior awoke early the next morning feeling excited. He’d slept well after studying and exercising with his knights. Sebastian returned for a second day in a row since Dedryck and Fonsel were preparing for the journey. Sebastian was coming to switch with Fonsel halfway through.

Melchior rose and dressed and prepared to send off more clergy. A few priests were traveling rather far and had to leave early before breakfast. He made his way to the High Priest’s office with cookies for the unlucky few. He wasn't on great terms with these blue priests but he still felt bad for them. They even looked exceptionally tired.

After tasting three cookies for poison and sending them off, he returned to have breakfast. Sigsnyr and Zipporah were both there again. They allowed Sebastian to eat first so they could briefly chat while sharing their meal. Melchior listened to their conversation about Sigsnyr’s magic tool research and Zipporah’s sword dancing. It was difficult to follow as many sentences were left half finished as though that was all that was necessary to convey their meaning. Despite being completely baffled he was sad once they went back to quietly guarding.

After breakfast, Isolde arrived with the potions. She’d personally observed Benedikt drink one and drank a randomly selected one herself to prove their safety. Sebastian picked one up and examined it. “This is a new formulation, you said.”

“Benedikt claims to have developed it,” Isolde replied.

“You don't seem convinced.”

“I have not verified the facts myself so I do not want to present them as inviolable,” Isolde replied with a shrug.

Melchior moved to add one to his belt only to find that it was full. There were two potions from his uncle and one that was clear.

“Is this water?” Sebastian asked after spending a long while looking at it.

“It is a strength potion brewed by Henriette,” Melchior said.

“Is that a scholar?” Sebastian asked while Isolde giggled.

“That is sure to be powerful stuff. It would be best to store it in your hidden room until you need something so potent,” she said. Melchior joined her in chuckling.

“You wouldn't want to lose it,” Sigsnyr added causing even more mirth to erupt.

The potions were carried in and added to his luggage. He had Kirk bring a few with him to Kazmiar’s office.There were more clergy to see off.

Gerianne was bouncing with excitement. “I am meeting more new giebes this time. My parents tried to get me to meet most of their children over the winter but its harder to meet their parents,” she noted.

She took each full chalice from Melchior's hands and packed them into the box herself. Once they were safe, Melchior handed her some potions as well. It was a mix of those provided by the duchy and those brewed by Benedikt.

“You trust the ones brewed by him?” she asked.

“Yes. He doesn't have a reason to poison me and Isolde tested them too,” Melchior replied.

Gerianne looked unconvinced but didn't press anymore. “Then I will be going now. May your own journey be blessed by Ordoshnelli and may the people of Ehrenfest know Flutrane's power through your example.”

He wished with all his heart for her safety and comfort. “May your journey be blessed,” Melchior replied. A small yellow light floated out of his ring. “Oh! I didn't even pray properly,” he muttered.

“I thank you all the same,” Gerianne said with a smile. She made a proper entreaty to the Goddess of Couriers to return his blessing before leaving with a bow.

After a few more priests, it was Dirk’s turn. “Good morning, Dirk. Are you ready for your trip?” Melchior asked.

Dirk nodded. “I have all new places to visit this time. Will you be circling the Central District again?”

“Yes,” Melchior said without enough enthusiasm but without sighing. “My siblings will be helping as well so it won't be so bad. I also have my highbeast so I’ll have to spend less time in carriages.”

“That sounds delightful,” Dirk replied. “I will have to wait until next year to begin flying.”

“We can ask Father to give you your highbeast faestone early. Then you could be flying in time for the Harvest Festival. With a drivable highbeast, you can even transport your attendants,” Melchior encouraged.

“Dirk won't be able to create as large of a creature as you. Nor has he compressed his mana enough to support long distance travel,” Kazmiar explained. When both children fixed him with wounded expressions he hurriedly added. “It would still be ideal to begin practicing. You will need to travel to the castle to serve as Melchior's scholar.”

“Yes, that's true!” Melchior said happily. He gestured for Kirk to come forward with a sharpened pencil and two sheets of paper. “I am sharing the gifts I received from the Plantin company with my scholars. Please try this pencil and tell me what you think when you return.”

Dirk’s attendant received the items calmly while Dirk looked on in amazement. “Are you certain, Lord Melchior? I have yet to begin service.”

Melchior nodded. He also pressed two duchy potions into his hands. Benedikt’s would be too strong for a nine year old mednoble. “These are for just in case something happens. Be safe in your travels. O Goddess of Couriers, Ordoshnelli, of the Goddess of Wind Schutzaria's exalted twelve, may Dirk be blessed with your divine protection.”

“Thank you, Lord Melchior. May your journey be blessed as well,” Dirk said before leaving with a wave.

The High Priest balked at this lack of etiquette “I will have to instruct him,” Kazmiar muttered.

“Do not be too hard on him,” Melchior said. “He is still so young.”

“For you of all people to use such an excuse,” Kazmiar sighed with a shake of his head. “He will be an archductal scholar and a mednoble. He will have to prove himself worthy of the office.”

Melchior nodded gravely. He wondered if he wasn't asking too much of Dirk after all. His childhood would be filled with rigorous studying and hard work instead of play. Melchior's thoughts were interrupted by the final priests. After giving out the last cups and wishing them safe travels he joined Kazmiar for tea once again.

“If you truly wish to take Dirk into your service. He will need some support. I suggested moving into the castle to him but he does not wish to,” Kazmiar began.

“He knows almost no one at the castle and the people there are mean to him,” Melchior replied.

“It will be difficult to learn how to socialize if he never does it. He’ll also struggle to gather information without having made connections. Aside from the boy you ordered to spend time with him, he only speaks to your attendants and only if he has to,” Kazmiar explained. Dirk also knew Kazmiar’s family now. Kazmiar's widowed mother, younger brother, and his younger brother’s wife wouldn't be very useful. The old woman was long past her prime and the young couple had married rather late into their twenties, earning a black mark from noble society. The High Priest chose not to mention them.

“I didn't order Adaire to spend time with him,” Melchior said.

“You asked him to take care of Dirk and Bertrum. Even if he would do it as a favor owing to your friendship, a request from you is an order. That is how people saw it.”

“That wasn't my intention,” Melchior sighed. Was his every good deed destined to be misconstrued? “What should we do? He won't be happy in the castle.”

“He will need to learn etiquette, first and foremost. He cannot afford to embarrass you and himself by bumbling about. And, you don't want him to look out of place beside your other scholars.”

Melchior winced in spite of himself. Isolde frequently shamed his entire retinue with her superior poise. Even Flautzeal struggled to stand beside her. “Do you know what Father has planned?” It would be good if the castle was preparing resources.

“As his guardian, the Archduke is obligated to provide only the essentials.” Kazmair explained.

“But Father is his family now,” Melchior argued. Ferdinand did much more than provide the bare minimum as Rozemyne's guardian.

“That is more or less true,” Kazmair admitted. He felt unease at the sparkle this brought to Melchior’s eyes. “Be that as it may, he is under no obligation to treat him as a true son. As his lord, you will have to make up the deficit.”

Melchior nodded enthusiastically. “I will do my best,” he declared. He unhooked his diptych and made a note to ask Sylvester about Dirk's education and plans for the Royal Academy. “Will you have time to train him in etiquette?”

Kazmiar sighed. “Not as much as I’d like. I’ve also largely retired from political life to embrace my role as a priest. I don't have the connections to introduce him to society either. I can teach him the basics but you may need to rely on one of your other retainer's to refine him.” Kazmiar fell into thought. “Perhaps, Fonsel or Kolteruze. It should be someone with many connections and friends.”

Melchior couldn't recall Kolteruze having many friends. He didn't try to spend time with them in the Winter Playroom or at the Royal Academy that he knew of. Then again, Kolteruze remained mysterious in many ways. It would be better to ask someone with less work to do as well. To that end, Melchior considered his scholars. They mostly followed him around and sat nearby during the year. Outside of office work, he had little to task them with. Dirk was a scholar anyway. It seemed like a good fit.

Back in his room, the final preparations for his trip were complete. His attendants would take turns throughout the day packing their personal boxes. They had also been issued gray cloaks for the trip. Melchior hadn't thought much about these cloaks before. They were issued for guard duty in the winter and official trips but not for use in the cold halls. He wondered if there just weren't very many or whether some strange rule prevented the temple from providing these cloaks as part of everyone's uniforms. If it were the former, they could have more made, and if it were the latter, he could likely change the rule himself. He was the High Bishop after all.

Isolde sat quietly, studying and coloring on a rotation. Melchior didn't want to disturbed her but he was excited to have a new task to assign.

“Yes, my lord?” she asked once he'd been staring indecisively for far too long.

“I did not wish to disturb you but I have a new task,” he said.

She placed down her pencil, now noticeably shorter than the day before. The new writing implement left marks which were prone to smudging but her notes on this day weren't all that important. They would make for a good test of its capabilities after she heard the exciting news. “My skills are yours to command.”

“Beginning in the summer can you help train Dirk in etiquette and socializing?”

Isolde frequently looked happy to be given tasks. Now she looked radiant with joy. She enjoyed training Flautzeal though they didn't have much time to work together. The things he needed to learn were hard to teach directly and often came from experience. The basics of noble customs, however, were fairly straightforward. This she could do and it would be wonderful.

Melchior took in her bright expression and her prolonged silence. He wasn't sure if it counted as a yes or not. “Kazmiar says he will need more training to be an archductal retainer but he won't have time to do a proper job by himself. I thought I should ask my scholars to support him since he will be a scholar as well.”

“You may leave this to us. We will create a curriculum and ensure he is ready,” she declared. She pushed aside her other work and immediately began to work on her plans. Her excitement was so great that Lothar announcing it was time to meet the commoner soldiers tore her heart in half. They were just going to the back gate but it would be her chance to see a sliver of the lower city. However, she worried she might forget her ideas if she didn't write them all down while she was inspired.

In the end, Zipporah’s words pushed her outside. This was knowledge she could not gain any other way. Her plans would change so much after initial ideation that preserving their purity was pointless. She followed Melchior through the chapel and down the grand stairs. Despite being larger and decorated with statues of the seven gods, it was less opulent than the other entrances. The landscaping was simple as it flanked the ivory tiles. The gate to the lower city was open and guarded by two gray priests with polearms. As far as she knew, gray clergy weren't trained fighters. She wondered what they could hope to accomplish with their pointed sticks.

A group of common soldiers had assembled just inside the gate. They knelt in neat rows with their leader at the front. Melchior performed formal greetings with this man then offered his thanks for their work guarding the clergy on their trip to Hasse. They spoke very briefly about the expected weather and the captain expressed renewed commitment to keeping everyone safe.

Isolde looked past them into the city. There were many buildings densely placed and painted in bright colors. On one corner, facing the temple, was a large glass window. Windows were a luxury even for nobles. Whoever rented this building must have been exceedingly wealthy. Very few people went inside but a man was stationed by the doors to welcome anyone who did. The foreign merchants hadn't quite made their way to Ehrenfest so it wasn't as busy as it might be but she enjoyed seeing the passers-by anyway.

It was neither a long interaction nor strictly necessary but Melchior approached it with absolute seriousness. He accepted the soldiers salutes with a smile and waved them farewell.

“My lord are commoners always allowed onto the temple grounds?” she wondered.

“If they have business. Most commoners avoid the temple as much as nobles though,” he replied.

“And all visitors must pass the gray clergy at the gates?”

“Yes, they cannot stop most people from doing as they wish but everything will be reported, especially now.”

Isolde wondered how she would manage to bypass this hurdle. “Who is it reported to?” Sebastian eyed her as they walked.

“The High Priest unless he is not here, then it comes to me, then Sister Streita. If we are all absent, it falls to the blue priest designated by Kazmiar. For this Spring Prayer that is Kampfer.” Melchior didn't think very hard about his answers. He wasn't sure how she would manage to sneak out either. As he’d been caught immediately everytime. He was fairly certain it was impossible.

“I see, Brother Kampfer,” she muttered. She would only need to convince him to keep quiet. Melchior forbade intimidation so bribery would have to suffice. So long as knowledge of her trip didn't leave the temple, she could manage the consequences.

“Whatever you are considering, you should stop,” Sebastian said. They'd returned to Melchior's chambers by now. He came inside and stood before their table. “Nothing good will come of sneaking into the lower city.”

“Why should I need to sneak, Lord Sebastian? There is no law preventing me from visiting,” Isolde argued.

“There doesn't need to be a law. It is well known to be dangerous for nobles to travel there. Why do you think we use carriages?” he countered.

“I know you would like to go, Isolde, but it isn't something we can do,” Melchior said with performed sadness.

She took his meaning immediately and effected her own disappointment. “But it sounded so exciting. You should have brought me along.”

Sebastian shook his head. “He should never have gone. If there's something you are interested in, simply summon the merchant in question,” Sebastian advised once again. “Then you may learn anything you wish to know without putting yourself in danger.”

Isolde nodded as though she understood. Sebastian smiled and, with his work done, returned to his guarding position. Isolde continued writing down her ideas for training Dirk until Melchior passed her a bit of paper.

“Do not be mean to Kampfer,” it said. She contained her urge to smile and wiggle in her seat. This was as good as permission. If she could get Kampfer on her side, she would be one step closer.

Zipporah and Sigsnyr listened and watched this interactions without comment or reaction until Sebastian left. They exchanged a knowing glance. Once the slip of paper was furtively passed they exchanged another look. As Isolde was over compensating in an effort to hide her delight, they knew she’d received tacit approval and perhaps a clue from Melchior. Perhaps it would be worth folding her into their plans.

Dedryck made an evening appearance to train Melchior and his knights. He observed Melchior’s blocking forms and the older students sword dancing. Even Sebastian got into the dancing much to Melchior’s consternation. Dedryck made him face away from everyone so he wouldn't be distracted but he wanted to watch.

He was left to walk in a square by himself and block imaginary attacks.

“You have grown slack,” Dedryck said as he appeared suddenly behind Melchior. The young boy jumped a little and took the opportunity to turn around. “I feel like you don't really understand what you're doing.”

“I’m learning to block,” Melchior replied.

“Block what?”

“Sword swings?”

“Why do you phrase that as a question?” Dedryck asked. He went over and grabbed the spare training sword. “Show me your forms.”

Melchior held up his sword and took two steps forward as instructed. When he moved his sword forward, it met Dedryck's with a loud clack and flew from his hands. A second swing, aimed to stop short of his throat, came swiftly. Melchior’s entire body tingled as it never had before and some previously dormant instinct told him to duck. Dedryck’s blade passed over his head as he took a step away. “What are you doing!” he cried.

Dedryck was just as surprised but for different reasons. “I didn't expect you to dodge. I also didn't expect such a weak strike to disarm you.”

“You didn't warn me,” Melchior huffed. Weak strike or no, his hand stung from having his sword wrenched from his grasp.

“You should have a better hold on your blade at all times. You also should practice as though a strike will come or else your blocking form will suffer.”

“It is as you say,” Melchior grumbled and stood in the spot instructed once again. This time he expected a hit but none came. After three more points on the square he began to wonder if Dedryck was finished testing him. Just as his mind relaxed there was another clack. It was lighter and he had a better grip on his weapon but it stung just as much.

“That was better,” Dedryck praised.

They continued with Melchior doing his forms and Dedryck randomly striking at his guard until he stopped abruptly. “That hurts my hands,” he mumbled. He hadn't wanted to complain but the pain was becoming hard to take.

Dedryck took one hand and examined it. Blisters were beginning to form. “I will stop striking you but you must continue. You also can not be healed. These blisters will resolve into calluses which will protect your hands from further damage.”

Melchior grimaced as he took up his training again. The fine bones in his hands ached while his palms stung. After only one round he stopped again. “Must I endure this?”

Dedryck stared down into those teary eyes and felt terrible as he replied, “All knights must endure this pain and much more.” He presented his own hands to Melchior. They were clean and his nails were carefully manicured but prominent bumps accented the base of his fingers. It kind of tickled as Melchior touched them and pinched the calluses and squeezed the muscled digits. “All right, enough,” Dedryck said and pulled his hand back once the inspection dragged on.

“Does it make it harder to feel things?” Melchior asked, looking perfectly fine with having his newest toy taken from him.

“Um… no, I don't think so. I’ve had them since I was young so I couldn't say,” Dedryck replied.

Melchior looked at the painful and pale spots on his own hands. “Is it possible to avoid?” While developing big, muscley hands was an exciting thought, the rough little patches were unpleasant to touch.

“You could wear gloves but if you ever encounter an emergency where they aren't available, you’ll injure your hands at a less convenient time.”

“I will acquire gloves,” Melchior decided immediately.

For the remainder of training he was without protection for his hands. Once he returned to his room, he showed Dedryck the progress he’d made on the manual. His head knight was overjoyed once again. “You’ve presented the forms and motions very clearly. I noticed that you draw the hair differently to denote handedness. And the library motifs are interesting. I wonder what sword forms the shumils use. I heard they are very combat capable,” Dedryck babbled.

At the mention of shumils, Melchior and Zipporah smiled while Sigsnyr scowled.

“Do you dislike the library shumils?” Dedryck asked with a look of amazement.

“I have no qualms with either Schwartz or Weiss,” Sigsnyr replied.

“Then why do you look as though you've seen a grun?” Dedryck questioned.

“I suppose he disliked the illustrations,” Isolde mused from within her nest of papers.

“But they are so nice,” Dedryck muttered.

“Isn't it rather late for an underage scholar to be working?” Sigsnyr said.

Isolde looked up from her lists with a combative expression. “Lord Melchior invited me to stay as long as I wish. It is a shame I left too early when the shumil knight illustrations were being done. I did not get to see the final product,” she replied.

“Shumils knights?!” Dedryck cried. He fixed Melchior with such naked pleading that the boy could hardly bare to inform him that the pictures could no longer be viewed. “Sigsnyr bought all of them!”

Melchior nodded. “He also forbade any additional works in that vein.”

Dedryck was so sad he couldn't hide it. “Is there a prohibition on all knights being represented as shumils or only Sigsnyr?” Isolde asked.

Melchior and Dedryck’s eyes danced. Sigsnyr was the prettiest of Melchior's knights but it would be worth drawing almost anyone with shumil features. “Will you pose, Dedryck?” he asked.

Dedryck’s excitement was stilled just a little. “I don't think it will have the same effect,” he noted. He looked at the apprentices by the door. Sigsnyr was fairly petite and had golden eyes. It struck him immediately why the young man would shun comparisons between himself and the adorable faebeasts. No one would be able to forget it once the image was placed in their minds. “It would be worth a try,” he replied.

His lord looked transported by joy. He called for paper immediately but Lothar calmly reminded him that dinner was quickly approaching. There were no plans to host Dedryck, not to mention that the knight had his own plans for dinner at the Knights Order. “There will be time on our journey. You will even be able to test the new colors.”

Talk of Spring Prayer was powerful enough to depress everyone. “It will be something to look forward to. You likely won't be as tired this year,” Dedryck encouraged.

The High Bishop nodded sadly and sighed. Not being as tired would still leave him too tired to draw properly. There also wasn't a guarantee that he'd have a proper desk at every stop. Still, it was important work and the only work he felt competent at.

Mandatory Time Off - A Noble Interlude

Isolde had no excuse to go to either the castle or the temple. Her lord was off pouring his mana into buckets for the farmers of Ehrenfest while she was at home. She had studying to do and several plans in motion but no amount of convincing would make her mother believe she was busy since she was at the estate.

“I have a tea with my friend's sister. I want you to come and spend time with her son,” she declared at breakfast.

“Mother, I have a great deal of work this afternoon and must plan for socializing of my own,” Isolde insisted. This young man was endlessly tedious and never had valuable information.

“Oooh, I forgot you are a scholar now. You have duties. There must be so much to do in winter¹³,” her mother tutted. “You work everyday when he is here and are driven too exhaustion even when he's gone.”

Isolde stiffened in preparation for another suggestion that she leave Melchior’s service.
“It is yet the time for sowing¹⁴,” she countered.

“Wiegemilch preserve you. Yes the meeting of the breezes is important work,” her father joked from the head of the table. “Now, stop fighting with your mother. This meeting is for your benefit.”

“Liebeskhilfe needs no assistance,” Isolde replied.

“No but you do. I hear you've been speaking with every warm tunic,” her mother snapped. “It is time to learn gentleness, Isolde. You are coming to that age where your words mean something.”

“Received a letter from Isidore, did you?” Isolde asked. He hadn't stopped meddling even after moving to his lord's estate.

“Yes he spoke about the Royal Academy and his lord,” her father said. He didn't mention that Isolde spoke very little about these topics as a rule. School was her chance to escape her parents while her lord's business was his own. Even an attendant should know that.

“It seems he has forgotten his duty as a retainer,” she muttered.

“Perhaps you have forgotten your duty as a daughter,” her mother replied.

Isolde only smiled. “I would never,” she assured them. “What is it you hope to learn on this visit, Mother?”

“Oh it is just the usual preparations for the Archdukes Conference. I hear they will need more attendants than normal for the feast,” she said. Isolde turned this over in her mind. Melchior hadn't heard about a feast at the Archdukes Conference, or he hadn't told her about it. “Did you not hear? Hasn't Aub Alexandria awaited the blessing of the Supreme Gods long enough?”

So that was it, she thought. Perhaps Isidore learned something from Wilfred. He would be attending the conference for the first time after all. The Archduke was liable to give him more information. “How scandalous, she could not even endure for a year,” Isolde said with a shake of her head. She glanced at her parents. They didn't seem to be in the mood to give away information. A bit of derision was always good to pry out more from them.

“At least you know that,” her father grumbled. “Isidore tells us she hopes to read some book the priest is keeping from her. I don't believe that for a second. It is good that Jungereise protected Lord Wilfred. To think he was nearly forsaken by Liebeskhilfe.”

“Indeed, perhaps it is best that Ehrenfest can look to the future now¹⁵.” her mother added. She gestured for fresh tea and to have her barely eaten breakfast taken away. Isolde also didn't eat very much. She wanted to avoid as many lectures as possible. “Cuococalura’s favored you recently,” her mother noted anyway. “Will we need to have your dresses altered again?”

Isolde was well aware of this problem. Melchior ate an incredible amount, even for a growing boy, and the knights were just as voracious. It did not help that Sheila cooked so well and shot her reproving looks when she ate only a couple of bites. Her clothes were growing tighter slowly but surely. “I’m sorry to trouble you, Mother,” she replied.

“So long as you understand. I will call the seamstress this summer. Do not break any seams before then.” Her mother looked her up and down, then dismissed her from the table.

Isolde walked back to her room in low spirits. She would have to get her work done in the morning and plan more events to put her mother off. Melchior’s chambers were closed during his extended absence so all his offers to his retinue to visit even if he was away were useless. She could plan to meet the other scholars under the guise of work but spending any time with Benedikt was worse than being lectured about her expanding waistline.

She could not spend too much time with Flautzeal either. He was surprisingly good at noticing when their “work” was more pretext than necessity. He was willing to remain, yet and still, but always insisted on practicing his music rather than humoring her with polite conversation. It didn't help that he was a mednoble from a politically disinterested family. There was Veremund to take tea with but he couldn't afford to be seen too often in the company of a girl he had no intention to marry. If only she could accompany her lord, she thought.

She entered her room to find her servant, Koralie, quietly sewing one of her dresses. “What are you doing?”

“I am tailoring it. The lady doesn't order very much seam allowance but there is a bit of space for expansion,” the woman said. She also smiled warmly and placed down her work to attend Isolde.

“I did not ask you to expand my dresses,” Isolde huffed. She sat down at her vanity and allowed her hair to be set. Through the mirror, she could see the slightly darker than her own blue-green hair of her servant. It always made her jealous that this woman had stronger colors and softer features.

“You are a growing girl. It would need to be done either way,” Koralie said as she brushed and braided. She already knew about the upcoming tea and the lady of the house’s preference for understatement so the style please neither the servant nor her charge

“Where do you find the gall to call me growing!” her lady snapped.

“You are getting older, child. It is natural to gain size in all dimensions,” Koralie said patiently. She hummed softly. It was a tune that always calmed Isolde some. Her breakfast must have been trying to be so prickly, she thought.

Isolde’s mind latched onto her words. Her eyes naturally fell to the ample dimensions of her servant. This woman made no particular effort to constrain the size of her waistline but her generous hips and bosom preserved a feminine shape. It was not the current style to be so curvaceous. Isolde would have to work hard to avoid developing similar assets.

She touched her belly subconsciously. Three bites of food was a meager meal compared to the breakfast she enjoyed at the temple. As her dress was carefully pulled on and laced, it showed that it was clearly reaching the end of its forgiveness. How many months would she have to wait for new clothes? Could she manage not to grow anymore before then?

Hunt for the Spring Ingredient - A Noble Interlude

Gottschalk was tired of hearing about this hunt Zipporah was planning. She and Sigsnyr were always tittering about this or that during breaks and meals. Other people joined them for various things but they made considerable efforts to spend every waking moment together.

It was therefore easy to find them in the common areas of the knights' order, chatting and giggling. Sigsnyr was constantly surrounded by papers and boards which he never seemed to be reading while Zipporah sipped the tea he poured her and talked about hunting ad nauseam.

Some of the other girls liked to spend time with Zipporah. They had no qualms about Sigsnyr's presence since he attended them as well. Most people weren't blessed to have retainers following them everywhere so his assistance won him many admirers.

Gottschalk would never admit to being one of them but he took their professional relationship as an excuse to hang about. Sigsnyr didn't snub him and made good enough tea. His price was only a bit of mana to summon or heat water.

For several days now, Zipporah had been updating her best friend with the ongoing plans for a hunt. Gottschalk was having trouble discerning whether this hunt was planned for a few days hence or a week from now or while they were in Haldenzel. They spoke of each time period as though the hunt were happening then and made no distinctions between them.

Kolteruze was either coming or Isolde was, it would be just them or all were welcome, it was either for plants or leather or faestones.

“Have you actually agreed on a time yet?” Gottschalk asked one day. Helenwig was sitting by Zipporah sipping tea.

She looked at him quizzically. “It has been decided for ages. You won't be able to go if you aren't ready,” she lectured.

Gottschalk rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. But when is it? Please tell me again.”

“In two days at third bell, I have a reservation for the Noble's Forest. We will obtain the spring ingredient for Kolteruze. You are welcome to join if you wish only you must agree to keep killing to a minimum,” Zipporah said.

“I can do that, and I’d like to go, only, why mustn't we kill things?” he asked.

“It will attract more faebeasts. We need to protect Lord Kolteruze. He is only an attendant,” Helenwig explained in a high handed voice. “We would not want harm to befall him.”

“Oh? If he is so fragile, perhaps he does not belong in the domain of Schlageziel,” Gottschalk sneered. He was tired of hearing the female knights gush over the boring, brown apprentice.

“How can you say that? He has so much mana, he will have to be present to make a strong enough brew,” Helenwig argued.

“And it was the agreement,” Sigsnyr added.

“What agreement?” Gottschalk asked.

“He is tutoring Sigsnyr into an honors worthy attendant,” Zipporah said with a teasing lilt. Sigsnyr either didn't notice or didn't care.

“That you can accept his tutelage means you must be very skilled already, Sigsnyr. Your tea is quite good,” Helenwig said.

Sigsnyr sighed. “He says the same things the same ways, over and over again as though that is the only explanation. It is good that I only rarely misunderstand him or I should never survive.”

“Sounds to me like he isn't that skilled after all,” Gottschalk mumbled.

Helenwig looked scandalized. “He is excellent,” she chirped.

“He does know a lot. Its just hard to extract that knowledge,” Sigsnyr said.

The day of the hunt came two days later. All of Melchior's knights currently in Ehrenfest appeared including Sebastian even though he would be leaving for Spring Prayer soon. They met at the rally point near the Nobles Forest. Hunts large and small and the Autumn Tournament were centered on this open field and attached clearings. The group today was smaller than most but no less excited.

The knights wore their uniforms while Kolteruze wore a combination of his brewing clothes and woolen pants which were obviously not new. They were a bit tight and would doubtlessly be passed down soon. Gottschalk laughed to himself. It seemed not even archnobles could present flawlessly all the time.

“Your appointment is until fourth bell but you may continue through lunch if you wish. I ask only that you return by fourth and a half bell at the latest,” said the steward

“You may be assured,” Zipporah replied. She handed over her wooden board with their names and accepted a magic tool on a chain. She secured this to her belt, it denoted her as the leader and would serve as a beacon for search parties if the need arose.

“May Schlageziel bless your hunt,” said the steward with a bow before taking off back to his lodge.

“Shouldn’t Sebastian wear that?” asked Ortolf.

“I’m not the leader of our party nor did I make the reservation,” Sebastian replied.

Ortolf looked amazed. “Zipporah is truly going to lead this hunt! That wasn't a jest?”

Sigsnyr scowled. “Why would it be a jest? She is more skilled than any of us at leading hunts.”

“Its just… you understand,” he insinuated.

“We are losing time. If you are unwilling to follow my command, you are free to return home,” Zipporah snapped. Ortolf looked ready to say something else but she cut him off. She explained their quarry and reminded them of the rules. “Do not kill unless instructed. Aim for the mana organ directly. If you do not know where it is, aim to kill as quickly and cleanly as possible, we will deal with it after the threat has passed.” They were searching for a certain tree. Sigsnyr knew of several places it grew but it was of a type which lived its entire life over one season then died and dropped its seeds.

“Doesn't sound like a tree,” Cecilia muttered.

“Tree is a strategy more than a specific type of plant,” Kolteruze replied.

“Did you hear what I said?” Zipporah questioned the whisperers. Cecilia blushed but Kolteruze repeated her words verbatim. Zipporah smirked. “Eikestine and Helenwig, you are responsible for protecting Kolteruze. No orders fall to you other than to ensure his safety and comfort,” she said.

Cecilia couldn't look more disappointed had she tried. Eikestine beamed and Helenwig bounced over to Kolteruze. “We shall protect you at all cost, Lord Kolteruze,” she assured him.

He blinked in surprise. “I shall be in your care. However, you need not address me with a title,” he replied.

“She just has so much respect for you she finds it difficult to be professional,” Cecilia mused.

Helenwig looked betrayed while Kolteruze continued to be confused. “I do not know how I have earned it, but, thank you. We should prepare to go. Zipporah is losing patience,” he said.

“Perhaps you should ride on her highbeast, in case you need to flee,” Gottschalk teased.

Both archnobles turned bright red and sputtered. “There is no need. Kolteruze flies fast enough on his own,” Zipporah cut in. “Now we are going.”

Helenwig and Eikestine summoned their matching shumils with broad smiles. Kolteruze floated along between them looking a bit pale. The other knights formed a loose circle with one or two people for each side of a square. Sigsnyr and Sebastian flew at the front while Zipporah and Ortolf brought up the rear. Gottschalk stole glances at the girls stealing glances at the attendant and huffed.

The rest of his attention was on the forest. This was his first hunt in these woods. They were comprised of a different species of tree than the ones in Haseney. Here and there, faetrees and clearings of flowers broke up the dark greenish black. It gave a foreboding feeling compared to the bright teal and white forests of his home.

Footnotes

13. Winter, a time ostensibly for relaxing and catching up with friends. Used here to reference the “vacation” Isolde's on since her lord is away.^

14. Compliment to “Forsernte rewards the diligence or spring.” used to mean “we still have a lot of work to do,” or “its the time for working hard”^

15. She's implying that Rozemyne and Ferdinand leaving will be better for the duchy^

Chapter Text

Hunt for the Spring Ingredient- Part 2

How Sigsnyr knew where anything was in the dense foliage, Gottschalk didn't know. Eventually, he led them to touch down in a clearing. Kolteruze was instructed to remain mounted while the knights secured the space. There were a few small faebeasts around. Some loud stomping and yelling scared them away.

Zipporah stood motionless for a long while. Gottschalk shivered as he felt the featherlight touch of her mana filling the air like a mist. He shivered again when it snapped back to her. “There is nothing in the immediate area. Sebastian, stay here. Sigsnyr and Cecilia, with me, we are using enhancement magic,” she ordered.

The three disappeared into the trees leaving everyone else to wait patiently. Ortolf ran out of patience first. “I don't think you need to stay on that thing anymore,” he said to Kolteruze.

Kolteruze sat quietly with his head down and his hands folded. “She didn't say to dismount,” he replied.

“She probably forgot,” Ortolf said.

Kolteruze just shook his head. Gottschalk felt another surge of joy at how pale he looked.

“There's no reason to assume that, Ortolf. You will run into trouble if you ignore orders on such pretense,” Sebastian lectured. He gazed into the trees as he spoke, his shield already summoned. Gottschalk summoned his own shield and mimicked Sebastian's stance. He tried to enhance his vision but he couldn't see very far into the gloom. The trees formed a tight enough canopy that compared to the sunny clearing, it was impenetrable.

After Ortolf had talked enough for everyone, Helenwig suddenly turned toward a seemingly random direction. “They are back,” Kolteruze declared. Gottschalk stretched his perception to its limit but couldn't sense anyone except Eikestine. He felt sure he would be able to sense Cecilia when she eventually developed mana sensing. She was shockingly late on that front.

“We've found the tree. It is guarded by an eikampf pair. We will need to lead them off for a time so Kolteruze can collect his fruit,” Zipporah explained.

“Why don't we just kill them? They aren't very strong,” Ortolf asked. They were an evolved version of eifinte which were some of the weakest faebeasts around. The eikampf were larger and had vicious bites but they weren't that much worse.

“Were you not listening or are you bereft of memory,” Zipporah snapped.

She stared the fourth year down as though waiting for an answer. “I’m just saying,” he grumbled.

“So you are bereft of intellect then. Stay here with… Gottschalk. Do not die,” she ordered.

“What!” he cried while Gottschalk swallowed bitter words before calmly asking why he had to stay over one of the younger knights.

“He will not listen to them. If you instruct him well this time, you will not need to mind him again,” Zipporah said. She gathered the others and finally instructed Kolteruze to dismount. Eikestine offered him a hand which he didn't need but also didn't refuse. Helenwig looked taken by jealousy but only turned up her nose at the shameless display and summoned her shield. She held the hilt of her mana blade, ready to draw it at any moment and stood as close to the attendant as was safe.

Naturally, walking with someone who couldn't enhance their limbs, though dense undergrowth, in a dimly lit forest, took forever. Gottschalk and Ortolf stewed in their respective angst privately until the younger boy yelled out. “This is so boring!” he dropped into a squat.

“Don't complain to me,” Gottschalk sneered. “This is your fault. You couldn't just do as you're told.”

“How can I follow orders that make no sense? We are on a hunt but we can't kill anything. Not even eifinte!” Ortolf ranted. “Its because that girl is in charge. A man wouldn't be afraid of shedding a bit of blood.”

“Do you truly think Zipporah, of all people, is afraid of blood?” Gottschalk asked. He recalled the difficult sight of her green hair dyed brown with the stuff as she butchered a large faebeast. She might lack the grace and gentleness of a normal noblewoman but she had no fear of hunting nor qualms with killing. “She must have reasons.”

“Yes, reasons,” Ortolf spat. “I can think of three reasons and they're all obsessed with that attendant.”

This was the sort of complaining Gottschalk could appreciate. “You would think he's as pretty as Sigsnyr,” he muttered.

“Why doesn't he cut his hair? He can't want to look like a girl can he?”

“He doesn't seem to mind most of the time.”

“How peculiar. Its puts snow down my back¹⁶.” Ortolf said with a demonstrative shiver. “Anyway, why do you think it is?”

“She doesn't want to scare Lord Kolteruze, I imagine. Cecilia and company are knights but did you see how pale he is. Ahhh, he’s terrified,” Gottschalk said with relish.

“He looked pretty normal,” Ortolf replied.

“You can't be taken in by a smile. He was practically shivering,” Gottschalk laughed. “We are oh so far from Leisegang after all.”

Ortolf continued to contemplate the apprentice attendants appearance. He really had seemed to be in his usual affable mood. Then again, almost nothing altered his expression. Even when some of Melchior's other retainers showed contempt at his innocence questions, Kolteruze remained impassive. “If that's the case then he needs to toughen up.”

“I can't imagine that delicate lordling communing with Leidenschaft anytime soon,” Gottschalk said.

A twig snapped in the woods. Gottschalk instantly turned towards the sound and shushed the still oblivious Ortolf. It wasn't the gathering group as Gottschalk couldn't sense Eikestine. He tried to fan out his mana as Zipporah had done but found it was much harder than it seemed and used a lot of mana. He could only listen from behind his shield.

After a moment of nothing Ortolf began chattering again. Gottschalk was not as sure there was nothing to worry about. He sniffed the air but only the scent of wild flowers and tree sap met his nose. The dark woods were still too dark to see into. “Quiet,” he snapped again.

Ortolf was quiet for half as long as before then began grumbling again. Gottschalk took three long strides to stand mere inches from the younger boy. “I said be quiet. Do you really insist on defying Zipporah’s order not to die,” he hissed. Ortolf shrank into himself a little and was silent.

In the brief window where his attention was broken, whatever was in the woods had crept closer. He could now hear breathing just at the edge of his enhanced senses. The wind made it difficult to discern its location. He turned to the most likely source of the noise and ordered Ortolf to watch the other direction.

“There's nothing here,” Ortolf complained. He huffed and turned around after a cursory look.

Gottschalk couldn't afford to chastise his junior this time. Anything that would contemplate attacking two knights either had help or didn't need it. “Schwert,” Gottschalk muttered. He summoned a sword identical to the one from class. Though it was not the time to consider it, he couldn't help remembering his annoyance at Theodore's collection of beautiful ivory schtappe transformations.

As he wondered who had time to specialize all their weapons, he filled his blade with a little mana then sent a sword glare into the trees. He listened for the sound of retreat but the beast wasn't impressed enough by his display. Naturally, he didn't want to waste more mana, so he simply waited.

“How much longer do we have to wait!” Ortolf griped.

“As long as it takes! Now shut up!” Gottschalk yelled. The moment his attention turned to Ortolf and away from the woods he saw it. In fact, he’d been looking at it the entire time. It was a keilanne; an old one. Its pig-like face was nearly obscured by branching horns and tusks covered in needle-like hairs that made them look exactly like the branches of the conifers. This faebeast didn't need help to kill them both and it was charging from the other side of the clearing. “Fly!” Gottschalk screamed as he mounted his own highbeast.

^Skip?Ortolf looked around like an idiot instead of launching into the sky. When he saw the threat and decided for himself that flying was a good idea after all, he froze instead. Not only was a tree hurtling towards him but he was alone all of a sudden. It was surely the end.

Gottschalk swooped low and grabbed him by his collar, almost lifting him to safety but his boot lace caught on one of the horns and Ortolf was pulled screaming from his grasp. He slammed into the forest floor but thankfully wasn't dragged. The keilanne snorted and traced the edge of the clearing to prepare for another pass.

“Get up! What are you doing?” Gottschalk yelled.

The keilanne roared. The sound was deafening and made Gottschalk shiver all over. He felt just as frozen as the boy on the ground. Ortolf couldn't get to his feet, he couldn't even cry out. He just supported himself on one elbow and stared into the pale eyes of the beast. It reared up and began its charge. It would trample Ortolf for sure but Gottschalk could only watch from where he hovered a few feet off the ground. The keilanne was going to trample Ortolf, then it would slam into Gottschalk’s highbeast, knock him to the ground, and trample him too.

He could see it happening both before him and in his mind, from his own perspective and from behind the eyes of the faebeast. No amount of knowing would save him. This he knew.

“Fly!” came a booming voice from above. Gottschalk heard it, questioned its wisdom, and decided that avoiding his fate would be foolish actually. Not until two spears materialized in front of the beast with deafening claps did he regain some of his senses.

“Ortolf is down there,” he yelled but only strafed sideways so that the spears were no longer in-between him and the keilanne. It would be able to charge him unimpeded now, he thought. That this was the opposite of what he should have thought didn't come to mind.

“Gottschalk!” Sigsnyr yelled. Another pair of spears fell and arrows grazed the beast. It merely snorted, shrugging them off. Gottschalk politely realigned himself to be trampled despite a growing chorus of contrary advice.

The keilanne had learned that the spears would not hit it. It seemed ready to test if its horns could break them. This time it didn't stop when they landed. The grass and flowers flattened from the shockwaves but the keilanne was only slowed. It rammed directly into the spears, tearing them out of the ground along with clods of earth. One was entangled while the other spun off.

It would just need to injure one of them then it could drag away its spoils, Gottschalk thought. The little one would be easy to carry but the other had so much more meat and mana. As he contemplated the feasibility of dragging himself and his highbeast into the woods, a green and blue blur entered his vision. It landed over Ortolf and raised a plain looking bow. A multi-colored arrow appeared on the string.

The keilanne charged Zipporah. Zipporah stared it down and took a deep breath. Gottschalk felt momentarily glad that more prey had fallen into his lap. Then, he only felt indescribable pain. Nothing before had hurt as much as this. Gottschalk, Ortolf, and the keilanne all roared in pain simultaneously. Such was his agony that Gottschalk fell from his desummoning highbeast and heedlessly onto the ground.

He felt something grab his wrist then a pulse of foreign mana entered his body. His body repelled it on instinct along with another alien mana that managed to slip in at some point. His pain instantly dissipated and was replaced by a soreness in his tailbone and incredible fatigue.

“Don't worry, I’ve got you,” Sigsnyr cooed. He cradled Gottschalk’s head and pried open one eye then the other. He fussed about on Gottschalk’s belt for a healing potion but came away empty. “Where are your healing potions?” he asked.

Gottschalk couldn't remember. He wasn't even sure he brought anything other than rejuvenation potions. He was not in a position to answer either. Any lectures about his lack of preparedness would have to wait.

“Kolteruze,” Sigsnyr called. It took a while for the attendant to walk over with Helenwig leading him and blocking his view of the butchering with her cape.

“We are almost there. Do not even think about the keilanne. Cecilia and Eikestine will handle it,” she chirped.

Kolteruze still looked pale and shaky as he knelt beside Gottschalk. He placed his soft, uncalloused hand on the knight's forehead and muttered a prayer. Green light flowed over Gottschalk and he quickly felt like he could open his eyes. He was feeling recovered enough to be embarrassed about being held tenderly by another man with a third boy’s gentle touch on his brows. He sat up and coughed. “Thank you,” he grumbled.

Kolteruze said nothing but Sigsnyr patted him on the shoulder. “Why didn't you raise a Rott?” he asked with an intense smile.

Apparently the lectures would not be put off. “We might have flown high enough to avoid it had Ortolf not dallied. By the time I thought it was necessary, I couldn't seem to bring myself to do it,” Gottschalk explained. He didn't like being chided by a boy a season younger than him but there was no way to argue that he hadn't messed up.

“You are blaming the child?” Sigsnyr asked in a sing-song voice.

“Well, not entirely. But it is his fault.”

“I see. Next time, mount up the moment you sense danger. Nothing incapable of killing you both was going to attack,” Sigsnyr said. He stood up and offered Gottschalk a hand. The advice felt so self evident he wanted to scoff. Of course that would have been the right move. He thought back to the strange daze he’d been under and wondered if the faebeast had been clouding his judgment even earlier than he thought.

“If you hadn't left us here, this wouldn't have happened!” Ortolf yelled from the center of the clearing. Zipporah fixed him with the same intense stare as she’d looked at the keilanne. It made Gottschalk shudder since that had just been the last thing he ever saw, for a few moments there. Perhaps Ortolf was less present during the encounter.

“Are you not a knight? Is one faebeast so much of a challenge? I just killed it with one arrow,” Zipporah said nonchalantly.

Ortolf was red with rage. “I’m a fourth year mednoble. You can't expect me to do what you do yet,” he snorted.

“So you acknowledge your inferiority?” Zipporah asked.

“I acknowledge that you don't know how to lead a hunt. Who splits up their hunting party? You left us here to die!” Ortolf yelled. Gottschalk didn't notice Sigsnyr leave his side but he witnessed him slap a child two years his junior clean across the face. Ortolf staggered. “What was that?!” he whimpered.

“If you don't shut up ten seconds ago, I swear I will slit your throat,” Sigsnyr hissed.

Sebastian was at their side immediately, “Calm down, Sigsnyr. There's no need for violence between us,” he said while placing a hand on each boy's breastplate.

“Why did you hit me,” Ortolf blubbered. A large red handprint bloomed on his already red face.

“Because you have deserved it for years now,” Sigsnyr growled.

“How do I deserve it? It's her who ruined our hunt,” he cried.

Suddenly, Sebastian’s hands were empty and Gottschalk could feel the Crushing from his place many paces away. “It seems you are too stupid to live,” Sigsnyr whispered. He was perched over a writhing Ortolf and holding the boy down by his hair.

Zipporah placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are Crushing everyone,” she said. The painful air receded but Ortolf continued to struggle and whine. “That is enough. You are going to kill him,” she added after a moment.

By now Sebastian had made it to their side. He hauled Sigsnyr up only to immediately regret it since the apprentice’s hand was still laced into Ortolf's hair. The younger boy was dragged screaming into a half kneeling, half sprawled position at Zipporah’s feet.

Summary“Sigsnyr, that's enough. You cannot behave this way,” Sebastian said and pulled him away. He knelt by the blubbering boy and rubbed his back as he coughed and sputtered. “That was too far,” he declared.

“Was it?” Sigsnyr mused. “Perhaps you should have stopped me when he began yelling ignorant drivel.”

“You were over with Gottschalk when this argument started,” Sebastian sighed.

“Precisely. It should not have fallen to me to correct him when all of you were standing here already,” Sigsnyr said and glanced at each person in turn. “Why were all of you so passive?”

“Are you blaming us for you nearly killing him?” Sebastian asked.

“Is that not what we are doing? Laying blame before the most capable when the incompetent get themselves into danger?” Sigsnyr replied. He affected a confused look and placed a hand on his cheek.

“I’m telling my father,” Ortolf cried.

“Excellent. Then maybe someone will talk the smallest bit of sense into your head,” Sigsnyr spat.

“Actually, you aren't. The only people here are Lord Melchior's retainers. We will speak to him when he returns,” Sebastian ordered. “Until then, you are not to speak of this.” He looked Ortolf directly in the face. “Do you understand?”

Ortolf continued to cry without answering.

“He asked you a question,” Sigsnyr said.

Ortolf looked at him with a sneer. “Why should I stay silent when I’ve been harmed?”

“Because I’m telling you to,” Sebastian said. “Or, would you rather I allow Sigsnyr to send you up the towering stairway?”

“I understand,” Ortolf muttered.

“Good. Let us return. Our time is nearly at an end,” Zipporah said. Cecilia made one last stab at the keilanne corpse. It dissolved into mire and a faestone as pale as its eyes tumbled out. Its various parts were strapped to different people's mounts while Kolteruze faced into the forest and listened to Helenwig tell some story about her adventures in bridal arts.

Ortolf stayed very near to Sebastian while everything was cleared up and the butchering team stepped through a Waschen. As they launched into the air, Gottschalk realized that he didn't even know whether Kolteruze had collected his ingredient successfully.

Spring Prayer

Melchior flew in his Lion-pandabus and hoped beyond hope for the day to be over. He might have been happy to be sailing through the skies with Kirk but both of them were too exhausted to converse. It was only the fifth day but he felt sure he wouldn't be able to go straight into a sixth.

He was used to the cheering crowds by now. At first it excited and invigorated him but now he couldn't help but feel anxious. All these people were watching so he couldn't make a mistake. They were also counting on him to provide the mana for a good harvest.

On the first day, Melchior made the bold choice to use his own mana for the blessings. It was fine for the first town but the third town required more mana than he had to give. Unlike mana replenishment, using the support faestones for rituals still required him to use much of his own mana. With the assistance of potions and decompression, he made it through the day.

Having learned his lesson, he paced himself better on subsequent days. Now it was Fonsel who was at the end of his good will. The mayors attempted to wine and dine and bribe him but, in his words, the food was worse than the mess hall and the wine might as well be poison even if it wasn't poisoned. Still he endured since Dedryck was so ill suited to the task that the one time it fell to him he returned so drunk he couldn't fly. He proved wholly incapable of declining drinks even from commoners.

They landed to the now ubiquitous giggling at the fat lion highbeast. Melchior didn't find it insulting at first but it was beginning to grate on his nerves. It was Kirk's job to carry the chalice to the stage while Melchior only had to trot gracefully behind. His new boots were already caked with mud while the base of his white robes were lightly splattered. Kirk had raised the hems in preparation so he didn't have to fear tripping nor drag them across the ground. Still, each night Dedryck cleaned them with Waschen and each day they were speckled again.

Melchior knew he could not appear as tired as he was before the crowd. He took a deep breath, fixed the smile that was his birthright to his lips, and opened the side of his highbeast. Those close enough to see gasped predictably. Kirk exited first with the chalice then Melchior stepped out with a hand from Fonsel. He walked behind his attendant and before his knights up the path left for them.

On either side, people cheered and smiled. The denizens of the farming towns were less restrained than nobles or Ehrenfest citizens under the sound dampening magic tool. Calls about how adorable the priests were mingled with less innocent shouts at the knights and whistles. The procession focused on walking forward without breaking poise.

There was a different kind of crying mingled with the excitement. Melchior heard a kid wailing terribly and felt a bit bad for the little one. He wasn't in a position to help until the child darted from one side of the aisle to the other. Perhaps they saw their mother or sibling and couldn't wait to reunite. They didn't make it to the waiting arms of their loved one as the mud and stones conspired to trip the small human and scrape their knee as they fell.

Kirk walked past with only a brief glance at the wailing child. Melchior knew he should keep walking but he stopped and reached out a hand. They looked into his smiling face and ceased wailing until they remembered their pain and began blubbering again. Melchior took the child’s muddy and snotty hand and pulled them up with a murmured prayer.

As their pain disappeared in green light, the little kid beamed and tried to hug the High Bishop. Fonsel grabbed them by their collar and pulled them back. He pointed to the mortified woman kneeling and trying to call for her baby to leave the nobles alone. The child gave one last look at Melchior and tottered away, oblivious to their good fortune.

Dedryck could only sigh as he took in the state of the High Bishop's robes. The fine white fabric was streaked with mud. Melchior held his hands daintily before him in an attempt to avoid further staining. With his hands full of the chalice, Kirk was in no position to assist his lord. He waited patiently for Melchior to gesture him forward and follow along.

They traveled halfway to the stage again when a woman, shaking from head to toe, stepped forward with a determined expression. She knelt just to the side. Dedryck gave Melchior a little nudge. He absolutely should not stop his procession for this. “I must complete the ritual,” Melchior whispered as they passed. He caught the woman's fervent gaze and nodded. Dedryck and Fonsel sighed in unison.

Completing the ritual was more complicated than normal. For one, he was muddier than ever before. He also had grime on his hands this time. Would it be wrong to touch a Divine Instrument with dirty hands, he wondered. They were all but impervious to erosion but that didn't seem like a good excuse to get mud on Geduldh's Chalice. He stood on the platform opposite Kirk for a moment while his attendant placed down the golden cup. Kirk then produced a handkerchief and began swabbing Melchior’s hands.

“It will not be perfect,” he muttered very quietly.

“It will have to be enough,” Melchior whispered back. Once he was more clean than before, he knelt and placed one hand on the base of the cup. In the other he clutched a faestone which happened to be filled with his own mana this time. “O Goddess of Water Flutrane, bringer of healing and change. O twelve goddesses who serve by her side. The Goddess of Earth Geduldh has been freed from the God of Life Ewigeliebe. I pray that you grant your younger sister the power to birth new life.

“I offer to you our joy and songs of glee. I offer to you our prayers and gratitude, so that we may be blessed by your purifying protection. I ask that you fill the thousand lives upon the wide mortal realm with your divine colour,” he intoned.

The faestones on the chalice glowed with green light as liquid mana bubbled up within the grail. Once it was halfway full, the first man with a bucket stepped forward. Kirk helped tip the mana out as Melchior continued to chant. The strain was terrible this time. As he filled the third of five buckets he felt sure he would run out or collapse before finishing. He was simultaneously nauseated and breathless. There was no stopping though. People would starve if he failed here.

In a final push, he decompressed as much mana as he could. At no point had he considered how to get mana out of the mental apparatus he’d constructed. It was made primary out of faestones though, so rapidly draining them wasn't very difficult. It made him feel lighter and alleviated some of his nausea.

After an agonizing few minutes, the buckets were full. Somehow, only the proper amount of liquid mana was ever generated. The final drips fell out of the chalice and sent ripples across the surface of the mana in the bucket. Melchior sighed with relief.

It was difficult to stand up but he got to his feet somehow. Whether it was with the appropriate grace, he couldn't be sure. Kirk collected the chalice and bowed to the mayor. There was less cheering than normal as he trudged back down the aisle. Everyone was waiting so see what he would do with the woman who had remained kneeling in the mud the entire time.

Melchior paled even further. It hadn't been his intention to force this show of servility. “Please rise,” he said once he was close enough. He nearly apologized but remembered that was taboo.

The woman remained kneeling and bowed her head. “I… apologize for my simple words,” she began. “I don't know the right way to speak to your grace,” she continued.

“That is to be expected. Please make your request. You will take ill kneeling in the cold mud,” Melchior replied.

“Thank you, my lord. I… I know it is beyond me to ask. My husband fell this winter. He broke his leg. He…” her voice caught on a sob. “He will never walk again.”

Perhaps because he was so tired, this made no sense to him. He didn't know what she wanted him to do or whether she just needed to share her tale of woe. “I am sorry to hear that. Please give him my condolences,” Melchior said.

The tears the woman was valiantly holding back burst forth. She put her muddy hands to her face and wept. Melchior moved to pat her head or shoulder but Dedryck grabbed his arm. Melchior looked back at his knights. They looked grave and exchanged several looks in silent conversation. After a moment, Fonsel sighed. “She is hoping you could heal him like the little boy,” he said. Perhaps it was meant to be a whisper but it seemed to carry over the entire assembly.

Healing was fairly mana intensive and Melchior didn't have much left but he looked at the weeping woman. “What happens if he cannot walk?” Melchior asked.

“Then he cannot work and cannot support his family,” Fonsel explained. He couldn't be more specific and didn't want to say anything that would push Melchior to accept this brazen foolishness. One man in one farming town wasn't a problem for an Archduke Candidate to solve.

Melchior was beyond considering whether or not he should and on to figuring out whether he could transport Kirk and heal the man in question. “Can you carry Kirk?” he asked Fonsel.

Fonsel froze. The question seemed to have nothing to do with the current predicament. He could carry the gray apprentice but why would he need to.

“Mending bones with magic is incredibly painful,” Dedryck said. “If it has already healed incorrectly we will have to break his leg again and hope his body does not recognize the improper configuration as it's normal state.”

The woman looked up. Her face was streaked with tears and mud and contorted in agony. “If it will let him walk, we will do anything,” she promised.

Dedryck handed Melchior one of Benedikt's potions. “Lead on then,” he ordered.

She nodded and got to her feet. She slipped in the rut left by her knees but managed to catch herself. Dedryck frowned. Everything was filthy. His boots, his lord, and this woman especially were caked in mud. Melchior opened the vial and drank his potion while he followed the woman to a chair. The crowd parted for them and the people stared. Even though the normal events had passed, no one made to disperse.

The man was a good bit cleaner on account of being carried rather than walking. His chair was flanked by a young boy and an older girl. They looked both terrified and surprised to see the fancily dressed boys from the stage approach them. Melchior gave a reassuring smile to the kids then greeted the man with a nod.

The woman made some clicking sound and gestured in a universal signal of mothers chastising children. The kids stood up straight and began to kneel. “Please rise,” Melchior cried before more mud could accost the good people of Ehrenfest. “Is this your husband?” he asked.

“Yes your highness,” she replied then turned to the man. “The Little Bishop will heal your leg,” she explained.

^Skip? The man was skeptical of this very common practice. “Excuse my saying so, but how's a little one going to set my leg? Two grown men couldn't get it straight.”

The leg in question was bundled with sticks and twine and noticeably shorter. The foot was also facing the wrong way. Melchior winced while Dedryck frowned deeper. “It would be best to pull it straight then cast healing. This will be the greatest pain of your life. Can you endure it?” the knight asked.

“What are you going to do, sir? I'm not trying to be ungrateful, you see. I just can't understand,” the man said.

Dedryck explained in detail. He and Fonsel would pull the man's leg back into alignment. This would be very painful but would make the next step shorter and less painful. Then Melchior would cast healing, the bones and muscles would knit back together, and the man would be able to walk in a matter of minutes. “In that time you will know pain worse than Entrindunge brings. Can you endure it?” Dedryck asked again.

“Your saying its going to hurt real bad then I’ll be good as new?”

Dedryck signed. “You will wish for death,” he said flatly. “And we have nothing to dull the senses with us.”

The man and wife conversed quietly for a few moments. Melchior caught her apologizing and assuring him she could support them if he didn't want to go through with it. The man argued that they couldn't back out now while the children looked on with worried faces.

“Ill do it,” he declared.

Dedryck nodded, he turned to Melchior. “Are you certain? This will not be pretty.”

“I can endure,” Melchior replied and did his best to look resolute.

“You should send the children away,” Fonsel said.

The parents and kids looked loath to be parted. “Go over with Kirk,” Melchior ordered. They glanced back and forth long enough to get a click from their mother before scurrying over to the gray priest. “Please take care of Kirk. Go to the other side of the stage and do not come back until you are called,” Melchior added. This time he received immediate obedience. Kirk was dragged away with a protest on his face.

Another man from the village arrived with a hefty stick about as long as a hand. “Thank you Clive,” the man said and took the stick. An old woman brought a blanket and laid it over the mud while a group of men lowered their injured friend onto the ground. He hissed and sputtered as his injured limb was jostled about.

Fonsel knelt near the man's torso while Dedryck knelt near his ankle. He summoned scissors and cut the pants away from the affected limb. Several people gasped at the flagrant destruction of a valuable article of clothing and the horrible sight it revealed. Melchior had to look away before he vomited.

With a featherlight touch, Dedryck examined the leg and foot and bruised flesh. “I thought you were silly for taking all those medicine courses,” Fonsel muttered.

“There won't always be doctor’s around when you need healing,” Dedryck replied. “Alright we are going to begin… No, don't hold his hand. He’ll break your fingers.” Dedryck confirmed with Melchior one last time then pulled.

Melchior found himself shutting his eyes and covering his ears before he even knew why. Even the cries heard during ditter could not compare. It was somehow worse that the man's screams were partially impeded by the stick in his mouth.

“Melchior, now,” Dedryck yelled over the din. The High Bishop stood frozen by terror. “You will prolong his pain every second you spend!”

Melchior steeled his little heart to step forward and touch the knee before him. His leg was held preternaturally still by the knights while every other part of the man flailed “O… O Goddess of Healing Heilshmerz,” he began. Once the name of the goddess left he mouth he couldn't think of the next word as the screams filled his mind.

“Flutrane,” Fonsel growled. Sweat beaded on his brow. It wasn't the first time he'd held someone down in this way yet he’d somehow forgotten how much mana and stamina it took.

“Of the Goddess of Water Flutrane’s exalted twelve, pl… please hear my prayers. Lend me your divine power and grant me the power to heal those who have been hurt. Play the divine melody and cast the blissful ripples of your pure divine protection.” Melchior prayed with his whole person even as he shivered. The light was thready and weak but it still flowed out. He watched in fascinated horror as the leg muscles writhed under the skin. The bruising bloomed dark on the man’s pale calf then, as his cries quieted, slowly disappeared.

Summary It only took the better part of three minutes but to everyone it seemed like a bell had passed. Dedryck sank to the ground, heedless of the mud. His chest heaved and he stared at his hands silently for a long time.

Clive’s friend was the only person in good spirits. He wiggled his toes and laughed. “Ha, ha! I can feel my toes,” he cheered. He got up and took several steps without his shoe but with delight. A tear dripped down his cheek as he smiled broadly. “I didn't think I’d ever move so free again. I might be better than before.”

He went over to his wife and hugged her. She tried to avoid it as she was still recovering from the awful scene and he was covered in mud. Nearly everything was covered at this point. The blanket had failed to protect anyone or itself from being soiled. The man's movements had tossed mud over the knights and managed to mark Melchior’s golden sash.

“Thank you Little Bishop!” he cried and strode over to take Melchior's shaking hands. Dedryck and Fonsel snapped out of their respective dazes and immediately moved between them. “Ah… yes, I’m sorry.”

He knelt in the mud. “Please rise,” Melchior said instantly. Attempting to prevent further dirt from accumulating was pointless but he'd said it on instinct.

Instead the couple stood together and bowed their heads. “We are so grateful. You’ve saved us,” the woman said with fresh tears in her eyes. She moved to wipe them with her filthy hand.

Dedryck had had enough. He summoned his boring schtappe. “Please hold your breath,” he said. The couple interrupted their heartfelt thanks to look puzzled.

Before Dedryck could consume them while they still breathed normally Melchior pulled on his cape. “If we are Waschening, may I go first?” he asked. He felt itchy but more than that, he knew from his experience in the orphanage that Waschen could be both exciting and scary for the unprepared.

“Oh, of course my lord. My apologies,” Dedryck said. Melchior took a deep breath and daintily held his nose before being consumed by a ball of water. It was his habit to attempt to swim to the top of such bubbles. He managed to contain the urge this time and so only floated a small bit off the ground.

Once he landed, freshly clean in bright white vestments, the crowd erupted into awed murmuring. Since the couple now knew what to expect they excitedly huddled close together and held their breath. Before Dedryck could cast his spell the woman gestured wildly for him to wait then picked up the blanket.

Their clothes came out a different color. Instead of lightly tinted browns they wore pale pinks, yellow, white, and dark grey. If not for the meticulous patching, they might have looked new. The old woman received her blanket with joy. “Wonder if they got magic for folding too,” she muttered. Melchior was fairly sure they didn't. Even Kolteruze, who would use mana to avoid even small amounts of labor or wasted time, would carefully fold everything by hand.

Once they were also clean, the knights began ushering Melchior away. “Thank you, again!” Yelled the man. He’d recovered his shoe and pant leg. It had missed the cleaning so it no longer matched the rest.

Footnotes

16. “Its creepy” or “it gives me the heebee geebees” ^

T-Drop Summaries

1. Gottschalk and Ortolf are attacked by a Kelainne, a faebeast I invented. It looks like a wild boar with horns and a mustache of treebranches and can use mana to brainwash its targets. They are saved by the return of everyone else. Sebastian, Sigsnyr, Cecilia, and Eikestine try to hit it with spears. Zipporah lands in the clearing and finishes it off. Kolteruze and Sigsnyr heal Gottschalk while Zipporah and Sebastian tend Ortolf. Ortolf loudly criticizes Zipporah earning violent retaliation from Sigsnyr.^

2. Dedryck and Fonsel use enhancement magic to hold the mans leg in the proper orientation. Melchior struggles to say the healing prayer but manages. The man is healed.^

Chapter Text

Taking a day off

Clive’s friend was the only person in good spirits. He wiggled his toes and laughed. “Ha, ha! I can feel my toes,” he cheered. He got up and took several steps without his shoe but with delight. A tear dripped down his cheek as he smiled broadly. “I didn't think I’d ever move so free again. I might be better than before.”

He went over to his wife and hugged her. She tried to avoid it as she was still recovering from the awful scene and he was covered in mud. Nearly everything was covered at this point. The blanket had failed to protect anyone or itself from being soiled. The man's movements had tossed mud over the knights and managed to mark Melchior’s golden sash.

“Thank you Little Bishop!” he cried and strode over to take Melchior's shaking hands. Dedryck and Fonsel snapped out of their respective dazes and immediately moved between them. “Ah… yes, I’m sorry.”

He knelt in the mud. “Please rise,” Melchior said instantly. Attempting to prevent further dirt from accumulating was pointless but he'd said it on instinct.

Instead the couple stood together and bowed their heads. “We are so grateful. You’ve saved us,” the woman said with fresh tears in her eyes. She moved to wipe them with her filthy hand.

Dedryck had had enough. He summoned his boring schtappe. “Please hold your breath,” he said. The couple interrupted their heartfelt thanks to look puzzled.

Before Dedryck could consume them while they still breathed normally Melchior pulled on his cape. “If we are Waschening, may I go first?” he asked. He felt itchy but more than that, he knew from his experience in the orphanage that Waschen could be both exciting and scary for the unprepared.

“Oh, of course my lord. My apologies,” Dedryck said. Melchior took a deep breath and daintily held his nose before being consumed by a ball of water. It was his habit to attempt to swim to the top of such bubbles. He managed to contain the urge this time and so only floated a small bit off the ground.

Once he landed, freshly clean in bright white vestments, the crowd erupted into awed murmuring. Since the couple now knew what to expect they excitedly huddled close together and held their breath. Before Dedryck could cast his spell the woman gestured wildly for him to wait then picked up the blanket.

Their clothes came out a different color. Instead of lightly tinted browns they wore pale pinks, yellow, white, and dark grey. If not for the meticulous patching, they might have looked new. The old woman received her blanket with joy. “Wonder if they got magic for folding too,” she muttered. Melchior was fairly sure they didn't. Even Kolteruze, who would use mana to avoid even small amounts of labor or wasted time, would carefully fold everything by hand.

Once they were also clean, the knights began ushering Melchior away. “Thank you, again!” Yelled the man. He’d recovered his shoe and pant leg. It had missed the cleaning so it no longer matched the rest.

Kirk stood with the chalice behind the stage. Many more children had been sent over and now surrounded him asking questions.

“What's it like without parents?” “Can you do magic too?” “I heard all priests can read. Can you read too even though you're just a kid?” “Do you ever drink out of the fancy cup? Can you drink the magic liquid?” Some kids didn't even wait for a real answer before launching their next salvo. Kirk clutched the chalice for support as his eyes darted around and he tried to answer.

“Come along Kirk, we are leaving now,” Melchior called. The group stopped their interrogation and turned to look at him. Even before Kirk could follow his new order, the gang sighted fresh prey and scurried at the chance to surround him. While two archkights could fight off thirteen or so commoner children, Melchior felt sure there would be casualties. He stood as straight as he could and put on his archduke face. “Stop!” he ordered. They actually stopped. “You are frightening the knights.”

They looked up at Dedryck and Fonsel who did look anxious. They'd lowered their stances and were halfway to summoning weapons or shields. “We're sorry,” said a little girl. “We didn't mean to scare you.”

“Just stay back,” Dedryck barked.

Fonsel relaxed. “It’s very dangerous to charge at nobles as you were. Had you gotten too close we would be forced to use our swords,” he explained.

The bold little girl looked them over. “You don't have swords.”

A sword magically appeared in Fonsel's hands. The kids gasped and shuffled back just a little. “We always have swords… and bows, and axes.”

“What about saws?” called out a boy with eyes shining.

“And saws… wait what? Saws? Saws are tools not weapons,” Fonsel replied. The boy looked disappointed. Fonsel dismissed his blade. “It is time to go, my lord. Do you feel well enough to fly on your own?”

After the potion, his stamina felt much improved but after healing, his mana was weak. He didn't even have any left in compression. “I will need another potion,” he replied. Dedryck grumbled about him using so many in one day but handed over a duchy grade vial all the same.

“I’ll carry Kirk so use your regular highbeast,” Fonsel ordered. The lion lept from Melchior’s medallion to more oohs and ahhs than Dedryck and Fonsel received combined. It stretched and tossed its mane. “You’re wasting mana,” Fonsel grumbled. He lifted Kirk and the chalice onto his mount despite the size and weight of the nearly twelve year old apprentice. Some of the kids watched the knights with amazement and the priest with envy while the others shook from the effort not to approach the big fuzzy cat.

Melchior stood before his mount in a bit of a predicament. In his formal attire, mounting his highbeast while they both stood ran the very real risk of him falling into the mud. It also felt rude to ask his friend to kneel in the mud. Another girl, older than the little bold one but with the same sap green hair, stepped just a little closer. “Do you need help?” she asked and made a cradle with her hands like the temple orphans did to help each other into the trees.

First Melchior smiled and nodded then his face dropped into a pensive frown. “You will get mud on you,” he noted. Dedryck began to walk over. He could just lift his lord onto the cat. There was no need for this commoner to touch him.

“We can use the stage,” she suggested and, not shockingly enough, Melchior agreed. Dedryck patted along behind in a daze of wonderment as Melchior passed by an equally shocked Fonsel to collect the handkerchief Kirk offered then climbed the stage stairs.

They were only partly amazed by the situation. What was more distracting was that, without the touch of its master, the highbeast followed behind. It skulked and glanced around as though its blank carved eyes could see the children. Rather than take the exact path Melchior took it approached the stage directly and jumped up with a little beat of its wings.

Even though there was now no need for her help, the girl approached solemnly and knelt next to the High Bishop. The lion positioned itself next to them and she readied her hands to assist. Melchior contemplated wiping off his shoe for half a second before gingerly placing the cloth over her hands. “Please excuse me,” he said, then stepped into the cradle and onto his lion. He smiled since he’d managed not to kick the wing. “I thank you ever so much for your timely assistance.”

“Any time,” she whispered. She clutched the embroidered white handkerchief, with its brown boot print, so besottedly that Melchior lost the nerve to gesture for it.

“It would be best to back up lest the wing knocks you down,” Melchior said with another gentle smile. The girl retreated with her prize and the nobles launched into the air.

*

Melchior was so tired it ached by the time they landed next to the carriages. Lothar quickly hid his look of concern behind a smile and gave his greeting. “Dinner has been prepared, my lord. As you have arrived so late, the lord of the manor has already retired. There will be no reception.”

Fonsel sighed with relief. Kirk handed Sheila the chalice then slipped from the winged horse. “My lord, I know you are tired but we must speak for a moment,” Fonsel said.

“Please come inside, my lord. There are enough chairs for you all to eat at once,” Lothar pressed with a smile.

Melchior nodded, gave his highbeast a pet, and desummoned it. They all followed Lothar inside where their collection of slippers waited next to Lothar's wooden shoes. He’d slipped them off and changed over so smoothly that Melchior hadn't had time to see him do it. Removing his muddy boots would be much harder but he only had to lift his robes while Kirk undid the laces. Seeing his hands dirtied reminded Melchior that he’d given away Kirk's handkerchief.

“I will purchase you a new handkerchief when we return to Ehrenfest. I would like you to acquire one for me as well,” Melchior said.

“There is no need, my lord. I have several,” Kirk replied. Melchior knew for a fact that he had three, now two, handkerchiefs and each was selected from a limited time design run at Fred’s Tailoring.

“It is time you had one with your name,” Melchior insisted. It was the only way he could imagine replacing what was lost with something of similar value.

Kirk paused with Melchior’s second shoe half way off. Melchior didn't totter on one foot but he had to think about remaining still. “Thank you, my lord. I will treasure it,” he replied.

Melchior gestured to Lothar for one of his own. “For now, you may use this,” he said and handed over the pale blue square. “Be sure to bring your soiled one into the Waschen.” It would be so terrible if it was stained after he’d lost one.

Once seated and served, Fonsel began his talk. “First, the lecture.” Melchior straightened up immediately. “There was no reason to have a commoner touch you. I understand that you didn't want to get your highbeast covered in mud but once on the stage you could have made it kneel.” Melchior nodded. He’d stopped considering things once the plan with the girl was decided. “Next, I know you have a compassionate heart but that toddler would have been just fine had you ignored him. We would have walked passed and his mother would have collected him and everything would have proceeded smoothly.”

“That is true but then the man would not have been healed,” Melchior mused. Lothar listened with interest while glancing between Kirk and Melchior. Kirk didn't have time to explain while the lecture was still in progress.

“Perhaps,” Fonsel replied.

“Are you going to chide me for healing his leg?”

“No,” Fonsel said. He shook his head. “You did well considering the circumstances. You are not the sort of person to walk away from such a request. You would have to change too many good things about yourself to correct that tendency.”

The knights heaved out deep breaths. “I’m sorry I could not prepare you better for what happened. You did well,” Dedryck said.

“It was scary,” Melchior muttered as he stared at his plate. “I have never heard such screaming.”

“Hopefully you never will again,” Fonsel said. “When you remember them, also remember the man’s smile and joy. You saved him.”

Melchior nodded and forced his own smile. “I will,” he said. Fonsel reached over and patted his head. He then turned and patted Dedryck's head too.

Being only a few years younger, Dedryck shot him frown. “What? You did well too. No harm in a little praise,” Fonsel joked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dedryck said with another heavy sigh. His eyes held the same far away look Melchior saw in his Uncle's eyes.

Melchior touched his hand. “It is ok now. He is well and we are ok too,” he said.

This time, Dedryck looked slightly conflicted. He looked down at his lord's obviously fake smile and forced a smile of his own. It was his job to comfort this little boy, not the other way around. “Ahh, you are right. I am ok. Thank you, Lord Melchior.” Melchior left his hand on Dedryck’s fingers for a little while longer before pulling back.

The next day, Melchior was in no position to perform rituals. He lay in bed feeling too tired to be awake and too achy to continue sleeping. Kirk rested in a chair near the foot of the bed with his knitting in his lap. Lothar bussied about carving a trench in the wooden floor.

“Please relax, Lothar. He is not in danger of ascending the towering stairway,” Fonsel said from his own chair.

“There is much to do, Sir Fonsel,” Lothar replied. He took out then refolded some of Melchior's clothes.

“If you must be moving, consider assisting Sheila,” Dedryck called. He was looking over the sketches for the second sword manual and drafting his explanations. The page layout was designed to feature them in a box next to the drawings while the facing page would contain Sister Streita’s poetry. He therefore needed to make his text both expository and concise.

Lothar looked over at the bed where Melchior dozed. He didn't want to allow the boy out of his sight but making everyone anxious with his fretting would impede their rest. “I will see if she needs help,” he agreed.

For this trip, they brought Sheila and one of the cooks. They were busy making soup for Melchior’s breakfast and solid food for everyone else. Lothar sank onto a stool. “He will be fine,” Sheila assured him as she chopped.

“I know. I know its just… no, I know.” He sat for a few moments quietly. “Can I help in any way?”

Sheila smirked. “I suppose you could fetch water and the like,” she teased. Looking around, the meal was nearly finished. Their process had also reached a level of sophistication that excluded the assistance of the novice.

“I will draw water. Shall I make tea as well?” Lothar asked, unfazed.

“Tea would be lovely, Lothar. Thank you.”

The well wasn't all that far away but it was a busy place. The lord's servants needed a lot of water in the morning for both cooking and cleaning. These servants were without mana and couldn't use the magic pitchers. Lothar gathered his courage then joined the que. The servants paused their conversation as he approached. He smiled affably and breathed a sigh of relief. The brutish stable hand from the day before was missing. That particular man seemed to have no other work than to flirt with the washerwomen and cooks.

“Good morning, Lothar. Did your master rest well?” asked one of the younger women.

“Yes, thank you. Was all peaceful with your lord?” he replied.

His response provoked giggles for some reason. “Oh we had a grand time. Most of the dinner was passed down after all. If you're staying a second day, perhaps we'll have to prepare another,” called a different woman.

“If you have any sway with your lord, I ask that you dissuade him. Lord Fonsel would prefer a night of rest to a night of festivities.”

“Lord Fonsel is it?” called a loud voice. Lothar shivered in spite of himself. He shuffled forward with his bucket and hoped against observable reality that his turn would be next. “Morning, Graybum. How's the chef girl getting on?”

Lothar shrank back from the overpowering smell of horses as it looped an arm over his shoulder. “Sheila is well. Also, my name is Lothar.”

“Yes I know. But your bum is always covered in gray isn't it. Its a good nickname, yeah?” He directed the question at the women gathered around the well.

“Goodness, leave the poor boy alone, Jack,” chided the oldest washer woman. “You're making him uncomfortable.”

“Me?” asked Jack. “We've become fast friends, Milva. Haven't we, Gray?”

Lothar thought about Lady Isolde’s words. His instinct was to give a lukewarm partial assent then gently imply he would like to be called by his name. If the young scholar was to be believed, his instincts made him easy to tease. So, he decided to be more direct. Lothar stepped out of Jack's grasp, losing his place in line, and shot him a stern look. “I would not say so. I would also reiterate that my name is Lothar and I prefer not to be touched.”

Jack laughed and put his hands up as though he were being threatened. “Alright, alright. I get it.” He took a long stride and sat on a currently unused part of the well. “So, Lothar,” he said slowly in a deeper voice, “You don't refer to normal priests as ‘lord’ do you?”

“We do not,”

“Then your… master, must be someone important?”

“Yes. The blue clergy fill the land with mana such that the farmers may grow food for all our people,” Lothar replied. He moved to go to the end of the line but the girls that had been behind him pulled him back into his previous place.

“Careful now,” Jack said. “He prefers not to be touched.”

“Perhaps not by filthy stable boys,” snapped the woman two places behind. “Don't you have work what needs doing?”

Jack performed a look of surprise. “You don't mind girls touching you? Only boys?”

Lothar didn't dignify this with a response. He wanted nothing more than to collect his water and leave. It was unfortunate that this well didn't have a pump and that he had to get closer to Jack to draw water.

“Need help?”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything,” Jack teased. “You seem pretty strong actually.”

Lothar preserved his expression even as he shook minutely with indignation. “Gray clergy are responsible for many tasks which require strength,” he replied as he tipped water into his first bucket then lowered the dipper back down a second time.

Jack leaned just a bit more into his personal space. “A great many tasks, I’m sure.” He chuckled at Lothar's glare but backed up all the same. “Is Lord Fonsel a cruel master?”

“I would not know.”

“Wha… isn't he your master?” Jack asked with genuine surprise this time.

“I serve him only on occasion,” Lothar replied. That those occasions could occur fairly frequently, he didn't feel compelled to mention.

Jack stroked his stubbly face, “I see. So he is just using your services for the moment.” He played with some doodad from his pocket. “Is that expensive?” he ventured.

“Jack!” yelled the old woman. “Where are your manners, asking a thing like that?”

“I didn't even mean it that way,” he snapped. “I didn't mean like that,” Jack said more calmly to Lothar.

“Sure you didn't,” teased one of the younger women. “You don't have the coin either way.”

Lothar sighed. Another lord might accept such an offer, some even from a stable hand. “Were my lord so inclined that would be quite expensive. Somewhere in the realm of a small gold. To purchase a gray clergy for general attending currently costs one large gold at a minimum and upwards of four depending on their skills. I myself would command closer to one.”

Jack looked more and more shocked the longer he spoke. He ran a hand through his dusty hair and looked Lothar up and down. “Surely you're one of those four gold sorts,” he huffed.

“I have no special skills,” Lothar muttered as his face grew hot.

“Well if you ever visit again, I’ll teach you enough about horses to command a second gold,” Jack offered with a grin.

Lothar picked up his buckets and began to leave. “I could not abandon my lord to engage in frivolities,” he replied, then hurried away.

Jack watched him walk away quietly then turned to the other users of the well. “Did he say anything else?” he asked.

The women shook their heads. “He’d only just come by when you made him shut up tighter than a locked cupboard.”

“What are you trying to find out anyway?”

“The lord wants to know who’s staying in his shed, is all,” Jack replied. He begged a cup of water from the old cook. “Are all the priests like him?”

“Are you asking me to engage in generalization?” asked the old cook. “You’ll have to be specific.”

“I can't put my finger on it, Granny. They just seem different somehow.”

“They're all that clean and pretty,” she tutted. “Can’t marry though. And they’re always focused on their work too. So you won't be seeing much of them nor the blue one.”

“Alright, I get it,” Jack said and returned the cup. “See you all at lunch,” he called over his shoulder as he walked off.

The Lord, as he was more or less affectionately called, listened to Jack’s report with his creepy smile. No matter the circumstances, that calm but cold grin never faded. “Lord Fonsel isn't a priest,” he said after hearing the recounting of the conversation. “This is all you’ve learned after two days?”

“They're pretty cagey, the whole lot of them,” Jack replied. The Lord stroked his chin and sighed. He flipped open a leather bundle of papers which always sat close at hand. After selecting a much worn sheet of parchment, he squinted and traced a finger over the tightly packed text. “He’s one of the important ones?”

“His name is familiar. He’s an archnoble at least.” This list was of important nobles. It included every archnoble debuted in the last few decades, the Archductal family, and some very influential mednobles. A great many slashes had been added several years back. The side that Jack could see was nearly entirely crossed out. It was the older side so Jack assumed those people were either dead or retired.

His scholar and brother, another noble, looked over his shoulder. “Fonsel is a knight, if I recall,” he noted.

“Ah! That's right. That means it's one of the children. How unfortunate.”

“It must be the youngest or else they would have collected greetings.”

The Lord put back the paper with another sigh. “Another useless year. Perhaps we should accept that this will be how things are now,” he mused.

“The boy is still young but he comes of age in just five winters. Even if a child is born this spring, there will be a break in Archductal High Bishops. Besides, he hasn't developed his politics yet. He might yet be open to persuasion.”

The Lord nodded. “Next year then,” he declared. They spoke a bit more as though Jack wasn't in the room before noticing him again. “You may go. Report anything else you learn.”

Lothar returned to the kitchen still bright red. “Did the washerwomen tease you?” Sheila asked.

“I do not know what continues to inspire people,” Lothar replied. He poured his haul into the storage vessel and began making tea.

Reto laughed good naturedly. “If this is a new problem, I’d say its your newfound liveliness. You always seemed too cold before,” he offered.

“Have I really changed?” He asked Sheila. As far as he knew, he was the same as always; calm, competent, patient.

“It would be hard not to. Like servant, like master, as they say,” Sheila replied. Lothar had had several masters by this stage. The two he served longest were a quiet shut-ins and a raving lunatic but Lord Melchior was gregarious and social. That the quiet shut-in, Lothar, was becoming open enough to invite interaction from strangers wasn't surprising.

“That does not apply in this case,” Lothar argued. “I was not selected by him. That would apply to you and Kirk whom he hand picked.”

“It really does apply to Kirk,” Reto mused. He looked at the head attendant though. Last year they could not have had this conversation. Perhaps it was because Kirk was more reliable now, but Lothar didn't like to take his eyes off his lords and he certainly didn't loiter in the kitchen looking for ways to be helpful.

The tea and breakfast made their way to the main chamber. It was not quite a shack but there were not enough beds for both nobles and servants. Sheila was generally given the last one in honor of her sex and that she did more work than anyone. It had a small table and exactly four chairs.

Melchior got out of bed to join his knights. At first he was a touch jealous of everyone else's food but after a few bites of soup, he felt full. “Take a couple more,” Fonsel coaxed. “You need energy to recover.” The little Bishop did as asked. Rather than using his spoon he lifted the vessel to his lips and drank several large swallows. “Good boy,” Fonsel said and gave him a pat.

“I will go lie down,” Melchior replied and left his place at the table. It was rare for him to feel so awful. He wondered how the knights could endure so many exhausting days and be mostly fine.

In truth they weren't quite fine. They discussed whether to report the healing, referring to it as obliquely as possible. Melchior couldn’t be said to be in danger and hadn't asked them to keep it secret. Fonsel was of the mind to report it along with their usual notes on his health while Dedryck was reluctant.

“This is likely to damage his disposition going forward. Lady Florencia will want to know what caused it,” Fonsel argued.

“The more people who know, the more people will refer to it. We can't predict whether this will be a non-incident or taken very seriously nor whether they will read the report and file it away or send every doctor in the castle to examine him.” Dedryck rested his throbbing head in his hand. It hadn't been all that long since his first and only real battle but even more than his harrowing experience, he remembered the fretting over his health and the flowers shoved into his face and the gentle looks of concern he received for weeks when he chose not to partake.

Fonsel frowned. As one of those people with gentle looks of concern, he was of the opinion that it shouldn't be ignored. “His parents have a right to know and its nothing shameful. Keeping it hidden will communicate that it was wrong,” he said. Dedryck just glanced toward the bed where the boy in question was curled up. He didn't say “It was wrong and we both know it” out loud as they couldn't be totally sure Melchior wasn't listening.

“We should let him decide whether to include it in his own report or not,” Dedryck said. Had his lord been an adult, they would coordinate reports so as not to give contradictory information. Thus far, the Archduke expected Melchior’s head knight to handle it on the boy's behalf. “He’s old enough now.”

He’s barely eleven, Fonsel thought. Archduke Candidates tended to mature faster than most kids but you couldn't trust the word of a child to give a full and considered picture of events. “We will ask him,” Fonsel conceded. If the effects turned out to be terribly damaging, then they could reassess. For now, he could accept that his duty was to watch over his lord.

Spring at the Monastery

Melchior only had two days worth of towns between his sick day and the midpoint of his journey. Lothar planned for two sick days since that's how many Charlotte needed at his age.

“I am stronger than Charlotte?” Melchior asked with glee.

“Well, you're a boy,” Fonsel replied.

Melchior was confused. “Are boys always stronger than girls?” he asked. For nearly his entire life Charlotte had been stronger than him. Gerianne was stronger than him even now but she also spent more time exercising.

“Yes,” Fonsel declared confidently. Kirk failed to restrain a small shake of his head. Both Melchior and Fonsel caught this. “You disagree?”

Kirk nodded more confidently. “In my observation, that will soon be true but you are too young still,” he would have liked to tell his stories about being antagonized by the girls in the orphanage for his inability to shut up, but just disagreeing was disrespectful enough.

“What do you mean? What changes and when?” he asked.

Kirk began to explain but was stopped by Fonsel. “That's something for your father to explain.”

Melchior looked wrathful but Lothar took his silence as an opportunity to continue his explanation. “We will end our day at Hasse Monastery. We will be a day too early to meet the knights because of your enduring health.” Melchior decided to stay for an extra day in that case. Two full days of Hasse sounded fantastic. There was so much to see and do there after all.

Or so he assumed. When he awoke on his first full day he remembered that nothing had been planned last time. At first he was excited by the prospect of another walk in the woods then he remembered his promises and began considering something else. Hasse was just a smaller version of the orphanage and chapel without an attached noble’s section. Were this a noble estate, there would be plenty of socializing and garden viewing to do but without his work or studies, there was nothing to do in the temple.

“We can assume you’ll want to see the river again,” Fonsel grumbled during their breakfast planning session.

“Twice if he can,” Dedryck added.

Melchior dearly wished to see the river but the woods were dangerous and Fonsel was already suffering from reduced pay. “I would like to remain close to the Monastery,” he said as convincingly as he could manage.

No you don't, Fonsel almost snapped. He looked into Melchior's carefully controlled expression and stopped before the words could tumble out.

“Are you certain? We will have time to scout and secure the path ahead of you this time,” Dedryck said. If they went on just the second day, Dedryck would have plenty of time to allay his own fears and plan a slightly more ambitious route than before.

Melchior mournfully shook his head. “I would still like to tour the fields,” was all he could muster.

The knights exchange a look. Having witnessed his blessing filled jubilance the previous year, they knew this had to be a difficult lie to tell. But if he was going to maintain it, they had to pretend not to notice.

“I will speak with Thore,” Kirk declared. “Shall I speak with Marthe or would you like to speak with her yourself?”

Despite having stayed on multiple occasions, the knights weren't familiar with the names of Hasse's permanent residence. They also didn't know why he might want to speak with a shrine maiden personally. Melchior seemed to understand though.

“I believe you can relay my wishes. If she has questions for me then I am willing to speak with her,” he replied. His mood seemed to lift a little too.

Kirk set off on his errands while the nobles finished their breakfast. Though Melchior and company had nothing to do, Hasse Monastery was very busy. There were spring seeds to sow, and new animals to welcome. The gray clergy returning to Ehrenfest needed to finalize their packing along with any winter handy work set to be delivered.

There were mountains of paper and boxes of books. Hasse acted as an extension of the temple workshop so they only printed additional copies of those texts. They produced much of the paper used in the castle. In autumn, it could be teleported by the tax official but in spring, it needed to travel by carriage.

Since preparing the fields was such hard work, the oldest and strongest people were outside. Those remaining split their time between cooking and hauling and serving the knights. They'd been surprised by Melchior's sudden appearance but the arrival of Sheila and Reto salved any discontent.

While Melchior hemmed and hawed over how to spend his day, the denizens of Hasse worked feverishly. Kirk had to have his conversation with Marthe out in the sunny morning while dodging clods of earth.

“I’ve heard my whole life about some magic sheep they have up north who produce wool both impossibly warm and strong. You can spin and weave it fine enough to draw through a ring and all that. I don't know how true it is but the mayor's wife used to have a thin floating scarf. I thought it had to be magic when I saw it as a little girl,” she said. “I reckon I could spin anything by now. I could be even faster if we had a walking wheel,” Marthe paused to give Kirk a fervent look.

“I can't make any promises. If they aren't expensive, Melchior can approve the use of funds on his own. If not, we will have to ask the High Priest and send a reply by letter,” Kirk replied.

“Ho, ho, calling your lord without a title these days?” Marthe joked. Kirk blushed. It wasn't like him to forget but recently he struggled to use proper address for some reason.

“It was a mistake. Please do not mention it. Lothar will scold me again.” He took a moment to enjoy the crisp morning air and the rich smell of the fields. “I’ve been practicing my knitting. I can keep even tension most of the time now.”

“That's wonderful. Do you get much time to practice? Temple clergy don't get days off do you?” Marthe replied.

“We don't but Lord Melchior began school this year. He was gone all winter. Well, he usually has to attend the Winter Playroom but it felt like he spent even more time away.”

“Do you miss him when he's gone?” she asked.

“I…” It would be inappropriate to say he did. They were master and servant not friends after all. “It is much quieter without him.”

“I see.” She thought back to his joyful babbling the year before. That young boy would easily have admitted to missing his friend. “So the realities of life have asserted themselves,” she mused. It was as unfortunate as it was inevitable. “There will always be ways to show each other you care.”

Kirk struggled to contain his tears. “It is as you say,” he replied. “Do you have any more information on fine wools? Will the sheep here be able to produce anything special?”

Marthe laughed. “We’ve only just acquired them. We won't get anything until next year and even then it will only be of normal quality. It would be better to ask a trader about specifics. I’ve lived in this small region my whole life, you know.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes. I feel most like myself here. The few times we left, it was exciting but I just feel more at ease in this place and with these people. Its home,” she replied.

Kirk left their conversation with official answers and personal questions. He wasn't sure when he felt most like himself or what that would even mean. He used to feel most at ease in the orphanage. Now, he couldn't avoid the looks of envy or sympathy every time he visited. His old friends were growing up and changing. The little babies were walking now. The forest where he once gathered so happily had become a place tainted by fear. Now, he couldn't even feel his usual sense of contentment around his lord. He couldn't share in his joys and woes nor discuss his own in the same way.

Thore was farther afield than Marthe. He worked next to Rick while laughing and chatting loudly. “Excuse me,” Kirk called out as he approached.

Both men stopped their work to greet him. “Does the High Bishop need our assistance again?” Rick asked good naturedly.

“He would like a tour of the fields again. I believe he would also like to discuss your report on the paper improvements,” Kirk replied.

Thore leaned an elbow on Rick’s shoulder “There isn't much to see when nothings grown yet but if that's what he wants,” said the priest. He wasn’t wearing his gray robes at the moment. Kirk felt a bit embarrassed to see the better part of his arms and upper chest. At least Thore was wearing a whole shirt. “If this afternoon would be fine, I can even make myself presentable,” he chuckled.

“I will let him know. He tends to be flexible. Can we see the new animals too?” Kirk couldn't help but bounce with anticipation.

“Yes of course.”

Kirk returned with a bright smile. Melchior was happy to hear about his impending meeting with real sheep. He was dressed in his training clothes as it was decided he would do some of the things his day would normally consist of.

“They are planting the fields?” he asked. A dangerous glint entered his eyes. “Is it difficult? Does it require special skills?”

Dedryck caught his intentions immediately. “My lord, such work is beneath you,” he sighed.

“Isn't it important to understand the work done on my behalf?” Melchior argued. He worked his brain to think up more reasons why he should be allowed to do manual labor.

“Where is your grace and dignity?” Fonsel grumbled. Painting consumer goods with shrine maidens was bad enough. Farming was beyond the pale.

Melchior’s shoulders fell. Fonsel was right. Charlotte would never attempt to convince her retinue to allow her to plant crops. She might not even want to pet the sheep. “Very well. I will not require much assistance, so you may assist if you have time,” Melchior told his attendants.

Lothar and Kirk looked at each other. This was somewhere between an order and a request. They would have time especially in the morning while Melchior trained and played his instruments. Lothar didn't want to leave his lord alone but he couldn't make enough excuses to remain either. Contributing in his stead was one of the primary tasks Melchior gave his retinue.

“I will see if the workshop requires extra hands,” Lothar conceded. While Kirk looked like he desperately wanted to disappear among the busyness, he was liable to forget himself entirely. It would be better for him to stay near his lord.

“Thank you, Lothar,” Melchior said and trotted away before he could be corrected. The gray clergy in the workshop all stopped and knelt when they entered. “Thank you all for your hard work. My attendant Lothar will assist you as well. I leave him in your care,” Melchior announced then continued outside.

The shrine maidens watched him leave then eyed Lothar hungrily. There were many heavy things to lift and forms to fill out. “We thank you ever so much,” they said before putting him to work.

Chapter Text

Relaxing and Meeting with the Mayor

Kirk fetched water for the training nobles. He grumbled to himself about be excluded from the fun but found he wasn't as disappointed as he predicted. Melchior never liked exercising by himself and enjoyed people lowering themselves to his level even more. Thus, Kirk was impressed into service as his training partner for running and exercises.

Kirk didn't run with any frequency but his life of manual labor meant he was in relatively good shape. He was also a year older and free from the enfeebling effects of mana compression. Melchior had more stamina for pure cardio but Kirk was stronger.

“It feels unfair,” Melchior grumbled as they slowly caught their breath. “You would be faster than Gerianne if you trained even the smallest amount.”

“I have reached the age where boys become stronger than girls,” Kirk replied.

Melchior moved a bit closer and passed Kirk the cup half full of water. “What were you going to say about that?”

Kirk blushed. Lothar's explanation had been so embarrassing he couldn't bear to remember. His increased laundry requirements aside, he’d begun noticing everything and everyone in new and strange ways.

“I was only going to say that when you get closer to coming of age your body changes. You have to wash more and boys grow bigger and stronger while girls get bumps on their chests,” Kirk whispered.

“Bumps?” Melchior questioned. He naturally noticed the differences between adult women and men. “Is that actually what they're called?”

Kirk shook his head and grew even more red. “I really shouldn't be the one to explain,” he said.

“But no one else will. And you obviously know more,” Melchior challenged.

“Are you recovered?” Dedryck called. Both boys jumped. Dedryck gave them a reproving smile but didn't ask any questions.

There was only one practice sword but Dedryck found an appropriately robust stick. Melchior still didn't have gloves so they kept his live practice to a minimum. Kirk stood to the side until he grew bored. He found his own stick and began performing the first sword forms.

Between watching the knights and apprentices, watching and listening to Melchior’s excited rambling, and reviewing the drawings for the sword manual, Kirk had a fairly good grasp on the basics. Fonsel watched him make a good show of it with a conflicted feeling in his chest. The boy only needed the smallest bit of correction. He was fit enough to be an apprentice knight if a bit late in starting. He would also never be one. He had no mana and no reason to take up the sword. But, no child wouldn't look delighted to swing a stick like a blade. Fonsel felt his heart melting at the sight. Before his better judgment could stop him he called out. “You're doing it wrong!”

Fonsel matched over and corrected Kirk's posture. He observed and corrected until Kirk could perform the motions according to Sister Streita’s criteria. It would be even more useless for him to learn something different from his lord. Kirk kept a focused expression but inwardly smiled delightedly. All these new movements were quite fun and Fonsel was a kind teacher.

Though it was still early spring and a bit chilly, both boys had sweated a great deal in their exertion. Lothar was saved from his toil only to be asked to draw a bath. He and Kirk carried and heated the water while Melchior practiced his flute. Setting his harspiel down on his moist clothing made everyone anxious. The music floating out of the chapel drew the busy clergy in whenever they had the opportunity to pass by.

Since he was actually quite dirty and Kirk would need to bathe as well, Melchior was wiped down before stepping into the tub. His hair was rinsed then set while Kirk took his own bath. There was no mirror and Melchior was faced away but he took a furtive glance all the same.

Kirk claimed to be past the age where boys started getting bigger in some way that differed from the normal way all people aged and grew. So far he seemed no different from Melchior himself. He was thin but well fed with some muscle but none of the impressive thickness of knights. Melchior shrugged. It would remain a mystery for now.

For lunch, everyone was served more or less, at once. Melchior and the nobles ate with the first rotation of people while being served by his attendants. Sheila and Reto had better access to fresh wild greens and early produce. The last of a smoked animal was also available for their meals over the next two days. The bulk of the meat would be saved for a celebratory meal with the soldiers and new clergy but fattier bits had been used to accent this lunch.

It was delicious and Shelia was obviously proud of her work. She served Dedryck with a satisfied smile as she described their meal in great detail. “Hasse has so many interesting ingredients,” Melchior observed.

“I learn new and fascinating things every time we come,” Sheila replied.

“Have you ever stayed for a season?” Melchior asked. He also looked at Lothar.

“I have been in continuous service since the monastery was established and Sheila was too young,” Lothar explained. Only adults were sent to Hasse and Sheila had come of age under Melchior’s service.

“Would you want to?” Melchior asked.

Lothar paused his refilling of their tea. “If you wish to send me here, I will follow your orders,” he replied. Melchior was beginning to wonder why he ever asked Lothar for his opinion. He looked back at Sheila who didn't answer. They exchanged a glance. Her eyes were filled with curiosity and excitement at the prospect. Melchior smiled a bit wider. He hoped to communicate that he would send her if the opportunity arose. He might have to create one and it might not be for the entire year but he would try.

After his turn, his attendants were served by the Hasse clergy. Melchior didn't know why it was so fascinating to watch them eat, perhaps because they always did so in another room. Lothar’s manners were amazingly graceful. Neither Kirk nor Sheila would embarrass themselves but Reto looked like holding a fork was hurting his hands.

Melchior sent Fonsel for his harspiel and asked the nearest priest for a chair. Lothar looked ready to abandon his meal but Melchior made sure to send him reassuring smiles. He needed nothing and wasn't going anywhere.

After playing his scales and warming up his voice, he began to practice in the corner. Any conversation died as he began to play. Those visiting from Ehrenfest Temple knew that Melchior was fairly skilled but hadn't heard him play for some time. The denizens of Hasse, meanwhile, had almost no opportunity to hear music and had certainly never heard a noble play over their meal. Traveling mistrals occasionally visited Hasse on their way to Ehrenfest city. Their music was lively and baudy. This was sweet and elegant.

Melchior’s attendants were more used to his playing. They could eat at their normal pace and finished quickly. Reto hadn't eaten another bite since the music began. He was left alone with his attending shrine maiden to bask in wonderment.

Fonsel frowned. He knew deep down that Melchior was just practicing and hadn't wanted to leave his attendants behind. That they hadn't coordinated such that at least one would be available at all times annoyed him. That his lord appeared to be providing accompaniment for commoners annoyed him. The disrespectful staring and cooing of those commoners also annoyed him. This event should not have happened, he thought. He glanced at Dedryck who wore only his normal guarding expression. Zargerecht’s proselytizing about their lord’s lack of ego couldn't have been supported any better.

The gray clergy had much work to do. That Melchior would continue playing for the better part of a bell made it difficult to leave the dining room but they had no choice. The meal was concluded and cleaned up and Lothar was dragged away to work in the fields with the other priests. The indoor workers were sad to lose him but they didn't have much left to do anyway. Besides, Rick would be touring the High Bishop rather than working.

The fields were largely long, neat waves of dirt. They had a distinctive odor of earth enriched with fertilizer. Rick explained that they used a combination of manures and compost. “If you leave enough plant matter in a large enough pile, it gets hot and turns into rich dirt,” Rick explained.

Melchior took notes in his diptych before being reminded that he had attendants for that. He gave Kirk his tablets and focused on asking as many questions as possible. He wanted to know what they were planting and why and how the bees were doing after the winter. “I read that most bugs die in winter,” he said sadly.

“Some die but many go into a sort of hibernation,” Rick explained. The bees, it seemed, spent their winters huddling together for warmth and eating honey. “We collected most of our honey in early summer after there's flowers for the bees to harvest. Then they don't need as much honey for themselves. Our bees don't make very much to begin with but it's a nice bonus.”

Melchior wondered how much was “not very much” and whether they'd given him nearly all of it the year before. “Is beekeeping difficult?”

“It's not hard to learn. The bees know how to live so all you really only need to do is make sure they can access enough food,” Rick explained.

“How much is enough food?” Melchior wondered if they could keep bees in the atrium or a corner of the temple grounds.

Rick stroked his chin. “If we planted our fields entirely with flowers, we could feed one hive,” he replied. Melchior looked out. There would be more flowers here than in the entire temple's worth of landscaping. Indoor bees wouldn't be possible. “We are fortunate to have the forest nearby.”

Melchior beekeeping dreams would have to remain a reverie but the ugly little trees seemed much less ugly. They were covered in new growth. Only a very small group of tiny bushes planted in rocky soil weren't brisling with lush sticks. “They all grew so much!” he cried.

“We're just as surprised. Normally winter isn't a good time for coppice. Many animals like to nibble on them. I think something about the ivory building keeps them away,” Rick explained. He reintroduced the varieties and explained how the paper they made was developing. The bark from the white tree could be used to make a dye or burned to make high quality soot for ink. Melchior wondered how soot could differ from other soots but was more interested in the dye. It produced a golden color a bit lighter than the duchy ochre. A fixing agent was required but the color fastness was very good so far.

His favorite paper was made from the rock-eating-tree, as it was locally known. Neither of his knights knew of such a fae plant. “Paper made from just that tends to be strong but brittle. It creases like good linen,” Rick explained.

Melchior knew of linen’s tendency to wrinkle but couldn't explain the difference between good and bad quality. Rick and company had experimented with mixing the rock-eating-tree fibers with others. It tended to add strength which allowed for thinner paper and more sheets per batch. They were adding it to volirin paper to increase yields while maintaining the same resistance to tearing as heavier sheets.

“Unfortunately, establishing a tree takes around fifteen years,” he pointed to the saplings currently growing out of large rocks. “Putting down taproots in stone must be difficult,” he noted. Most faeplants defied normal plant behavior. One that grew on rock begged so many questions about how it obtained nutrients and water. Melchior was wondering if any spells could speed up the process when Rick mentioned something earth shattering. “They turn rocks into clay. Near the wild growth we can collect some fine stuff. It sells for a lot and the villagers give us free pottery in return for clay.”

“You have clay here?” He asked.

“Ah yes, its useful for a few things even if we never fire it.” Rick considered the little Bishop’s obvious excitement. “We can send some back to the temple for you,” he offered.

“Please do,” Melchior replied. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” He thought about the figurines he could make. He’d never worked with clay before but molding his highbeast faestone wasn't all that hard. Another word stuck out to him. “What do you mean by ‘if we never fire it’?”

Rick explained how clay became pottery through heating it in a very hot oven called a kiln. Melchior already knew it could be shaped into bottles and cups and things but he let Rick explain while he considered the feasibility of adding a kiln somewhere.

“We can ask a ceramicist in Ehrenfest to fire your pieces, Lord Melchior,” Kirk suggested. His lord had clearly stopped listening and therefore missed the description of a kiln. His face said he was about to decree the creation of an oven large enough to fit a grown man that burned entire trees every time it was used.

“That is good thinking Kirk. I do not need very many pieces made,” he noted. Even if he made a small army of clay animals, the kiln would sit mostly unused most of the time.

One such animal he vowed to create was the sheep. “These are one year old ewes,” Rick explained. Unfortunately, they weren't docile enough to accept pets. “They're still mostly wild animals that can be coaxed into temporary cooperation.”

Melchior and Kirk stared into the pen with glittering eyes. They were just as fluffy as Melchior always dreamed. That he could not touch them wounded his heart. That they smelled fairly unpleasant could be forgiven.

In the pen was another animal. Its body was about as tall as a sheep but it had a long neck and long ears. It nibbled the grass, decided that grass wasn't very tasty and spit it out, then saw the sheep eating happily and tried again only to find the flavor had not improved. Melchior giggled at its perturbed expression. It looked at him and slowly approached. Melchior remembered Rick’s warning and backed away from the fence.

Nora appeared with fruits in a small basket. “That’s a rudelhute. It's good that you're meeting it while it's a baby. It considers anyone it meets while it's young a part of its herd and protects them. This one will protect the sheep from wolves and other predators,” she said and handed each boy and both knights a fruit. “If you feed it, it will be your friend,” she encouraged.

Melchior needed no additional coaxing. He stepped forward and offered his fruit. The rudelhute was cautious but interested and came forward too. It sniffed the fruit then ignored it to bite Melchior’s wrist. The knights moved to eradicate the beast but Melchior raised his hand. It didn't hurt. That it ignored the fruit in favor of his arm was puzzling. He gently stroked its head then tried to get it to eat the fruit.

It was as soft and silky as it was stubborn. It wouldn’t take fruit from any of the nobles but consumed Kirk’s happily and even did a little dance. “It doesn't like me,” Melchior muttered with tears threatening his eyes.

Fonsel also looked upset. “Maybe it has something against mana. It's a feabeast after all. They can be particularl.”

Dedryck allowed it to nibble his hand while he squeezed the fruit. They were underripe and therefore, quite hard. This creature had enough bite strength to hurt them but was choosing not to. Its mana tickled his hand as its tongue licked his fingers. He pooled a bit of mana in his palm which disappeared into the animal. It let go of his hand and did its little dance then trotted away.

“I think its full,” Nora sighed. “It normally eats this whole basket.”

Dedryck turned the fruit in his hand into a faestone. It took barely any mana. The underripe fruits must have been nearly bursting with it already. “What are these?” he asked.

They were fruits of the rock-eating-tree. They were too hard for humans to eat, which was unfortunate since they matured in winter. As it turned out they were overripe not underripe and just happened to be incredibly hard. The bright red faestone proved they were strongly skewed toward earth as well.

“How many more do you have?”

They had a good few. With great effort, they could be processed into a slimy juice which made paper resistant to water when used in place of edile fruit or shram bugs. If left out it dried into a solid block which could be shaved then heated to melt it and used in production. It could otherwise be stored indefinitely so their meager production still managed to produce excess.

“I’ll feed the animal for the next two days. Give me all the fruit it would eat in that time,” Dedryck ordered. Everyone looked confused. “It wants our mana, the fruit just happens to have a lot of it. It's largely earth as well,” he explained.

Fonsel frowned. “You were going to hog it all yourself, eh.” High purity earth stones were hard to come by. Not many beasts or plants were pure earth since Geduldh was so accepting by nature and mixed readily with everything else.

Melchior, meanwhile, wanted to make a friend. “I want to feed the rudelhute,” he said.

“It eats once per day. Why don't you feed her tomorrow,” Nora suggested. Melchior smiled and nodded. Dedryck took the rest of the basket full of fruit and added it to his luggage.

Melchior turned the one in his hand into a faestone. It was of a medium size, smaller than his fist but larger than a coin. He and Kirk spent a while admiring its rich color and sparkle. It's sides were so regular, it was nearly faceted unlike normal faestones which were like small translucent rocks.

After his tour, he was gifted more paper. There were a few of the large waterproof sheets and a couple dozen of the improved version of his favorite kind. It was lighter thanks to the addition of other kinds of wood. Rick couldn't say exactly what kinds or in what ratio as this paper was made from leftover bits and bobs. They threw and left over pulp that came out of the strained water into a vat. At first, they were sure it would putrefy before they could manage to use it but one of the trees resisted decay so well it was preserving everything.

“We will conduct some tests this summer to discover which it is,” Rick promised.

He delivered the promised report on their research. Melchior understood why they’d asked for so much time to prepare it. It was thick and very detailed. This was the total knowledge they’d accumulated over all their years in operation. It included their profit reports year over year combined with how many bells of work they dedicate to each part of the process.

“Thore developed a passion for data the moment he learned how to write,” Rick explained with a laugh.

If their trade secrets were worth money, then this would be worth a lot. Melchior thought. He had no idea how to go about selling it but Alexandria and Ehrenfest would want such detailed records. He gave them to Kirk to read while he thought about it and drew a large picture of the view from the edge of the fields on one of his new, uncut sheets of paper.

Eventually, the question of profits fell out of his mind as he focused on using his three new tools to depict the scene. The crayons and paint sticks applied color in different ways and intensities. Kirk hadn't forgotten to pack brushes. He found that he could use a bit of oil on a brush to move the color around the page and even blend it with the crayons. The paper resisted liquid so the paint moved easily making it prone to smudging but easy to lift off with a cloth.

All his time from evening and after dinner was spent at a table working.

He had time to finish the next morning. The new clergy and soldiers would arrive just before lunch. If he trained then he would be out of everyone’s way so he spent the morning at the table. Kirk had yet to finish reading the incredibly long report. He paused every now and then to share an interesting fact with Melchior.

The painting was more or less finished a bit before lunch. It had a strange quality being not quite a painting and not quite a drawing but displayed the fields of Hasse tinted through the exuberant joy of their young visitor.

It also couldn't be moved. Melchior had a very real fear that the paint would slide right off if it were hung vertically. Without the drying box, oil paint could take weeks to properly cure. Not only would he have to leave it here, it would make the table unusable until it was safe to store it elsewhere.

“I did not think things through,” Melchior admitted as they considered how many people would need to be seated for the next three meals. He could eat in his room to free up space but this was his once per year opportunity to have candid conversations with the gate guards. Rozemyne learned many important things this way. He couldn't waste his chance. Attempting to coordinate his Harvest Festival schedule to meet them then was very difficult for reasons he didn't understand, so it was spring or never.

“If we move it to a board, we can keep it flat but move it around as needed,” one of the clergy suggested. They had large drying boards for the paper. One could be sacrificed for a few weeks since their paper production wouldn't begin in earnest for some time. “We will have it delivered once it is dry,” they promised.

Melchior was disappointed but he understood the importance of patience. It would be better to leave it here and wait than to destroy it in a misguided attempt to take it with him. The portable nature of the oil paint sticks was called into question. Unless he found a way to safely transport wet paint or also brought the right magic tools, all they did was remove the need to mix paint. That wasn't a small thing, to be fair, but it was important to consider.

He was not allowed to stand outside and greet the new arrivals. In fact, he was told to remain in his room for a bit to allow the carriages to be unloaded. He delayed just long enough to see the first gray priest enter the chapel and greet Thore with a big hug. “You have returned!” he cried.

“Of course I did. When the chance arose I fought with all I could,” replied the priest. Melchior knew this priest to be a frequent chaperone on gathering trips and a diligent paper craftsman. That he loved visiting Hasse wasn't surprising at all. As Melchior practiced his flute in his hidden room, he wondered whether the priest would like to live there permanently. There was obviously work to be done and space for more people.

His practice was interrupted by a visitor. The Mayor of Hasse had been waiting for the arrival of the Ehrenfest clergy as it generally marked the presence of the High Bishop. He might have waited until their Spring Prayer but Melchior tended to visit on his way to the next winter mansion rather than on his way to the monastery.

“I apologize for coming without an invitation,” Richt said after giving his greetings. He knelt before Melchior in the chapel while boxes and supplies were shuffled around behind him.

“This is rather sudden. May I assume you have urgent business,” Melchior replied. A commoner attempting to meet even a normal High Bishop who wasn't the son of the Archduke would be tossed out immediately. He was very fortunate that Lothar was assisting the Hasse clergy and not around to turn him away.

“Yes, your highness. I’ve agreed to broker a trade between another village and the temple. We were approached owing to our strong relationship and windfall from last year,” Richt explained. Another nearby village hadn't fared as well in the autumn storm. Rather than a stand of trees, they were gifted with the destruction of a granary. Then the winter had proven harsher than expected. “They asked us to purchase some children from them. We had plenty of food and are able to purchase some from the city if we must. So we agreed. However, we don't need more orphans at this time. Most are boys after all.”

Melchior wasn't sure why boys were less desirable than girls but this wasn't the time to appear ignorant. “You wish for us to purchase these children from you?”

“That is the case.”

“You said the other village was forced to sell. Don't their parents want them?” Melchior asked. Taking them into the temple would make reclaiming them impossible for a commoner.

“Their parents are not in a position to care, being as they are in the distant heights,” Richt replied awkwardly. Noble euphemisms were strange no matter how long he studied them but he felt sure this was the right one for the moment.

Melchior turned to Kirk. This wasn't actually his job after all. Sister Streita or Kazmiar actually made decisions about the purchase or sale of gray clergy. He knew very little about the requirements. “The temple prefers young children as they adapt better to our way of life. We also will not accept children who do not wish to join,” Kirk explained. Kirk hadn't had anywhere else to go after his parents died but the other girl who almost joined him had relatives willing to accept her. They weren't very nice to her but she’d chosen them over a life of constant toil under nobles who she’d been taught to fear.

“I have been informed of this. These children are too young to make such decisions. The boys are three years old while the girl is three seasons old. I believe that is within your criteria.”

“We will consider it and send you our decision at a later time,” Melchior replied. He needed to consult with Kazmiar at least.

“We thank you for your consideration,” Richt replied then left.

Melchior ignored his knights urging looks in favor of sitting where he could see some of the activity. “Were you purchased, Krik?” Melchior asked after some time lost in thought.

“I was very young and do not remember if money was exchanged,” Kirk replied. “I am not from a farming village so I do not think that was the case.”

“Orphans from Ehrenfest are given up for free?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Why do we have to purchase those from farming villages?”

“Because they are the property of those villages while Ehrenfest orphans are given to the temple because they are unwanted,” Kirk replied.

Melchior looked him over. That someone hadn't wanted Kirk was unthinkable. “You are wanted now,” Melchior assured him. Kirk felt a bright warmth well up in his chest as he followed his lord back to the hidden room.

Melchior took the small bit of time left before lunch to write a magic letter to Kazmiar. He explained the request from Hasse's mayor and the newly acquired information. Fonsel took it outside the hidden room to send it. He reported upon his return that it was time for lunch.

This time Lothar ate with the first rotation so he would be available to serve. Fonsel and Dedryck also chose to take turns. There were so many commoner soldiers that they couldn't feel as comfortable as before. The soldiers were both tired and hungry, they ate with their hands and chatted loudly. As annoyed as Fonsel was by this display, he knew that it was always like this. The previous High Bishop allowed it to maintain a relaxed atmosphere which made it easier to extract information.

Once Melchior was finished eating he walked over to their table as he always did. “I am glad we can meet once again,” Melchior intoned.

The soldiers were mostly done with their food and turned to look at him. Their captain gave him a bright smile. “Lord Melchior, how good to see you again. I see you've gotten taller since we last met.”

Melchior beamed. It had technically only been a couple of weeks but he was certain the captain meant since they last properly spoke. There was little pressing news to share so he began with the only thing they had in common. “Lady Rozemyne is getting married this year. We will be celebrating during her yearly visit,” he declared.

“Wow! That's incredible. I remember when she was knee high. To think she's a grown woman now,” the soldiers cheered and smiled.

“She isn't much taller than that now,” Melchior giggled.

“Ha! I’m not surprised. Who's she marrying anyway?”

“Lord Ferdinand,” Melchior replied.

No one looked surprised. “Ah good for him. Who couldn't be jealous of a man getting the girl he loves, eh. Are they moving their visit to the middle of summer then? That will make things busy,” the captain mused.

“I do not think so, Archduke’s and Archduke Candidates have their stars bound at the Archdukes Conference. Their visit will be at the same time as always,” Melchior explained.

“Perhaps we should have a parade or something,” the soldiers briefly discussed the feasibility of such an event. Apparently, coordinating with the merchants guild to plan for street access would be a pain.

“Did anything occur with the merchants last year? It was unfortunate that we could not meet in the autumn nearer to when things might have occurred,” Melchior asked.

“After the first few years, we saw a decrease in trouble. There are fights and such but that comes with having more people in the same place. Having things spread between Ehrenfest and Groschel has helped a great deal.”

“It is good that we have had so few problems,” Melchior replied with a smile.

“I’d say the problems aren't with the merchants. We had a criminal gang attempt to steal lumber and some farmers upset by the price of food caused a bit of unrest at the port. Something about the agreed price changing in transit. The guilds worked things out but someone was tossed into the river.”

“Did you report this?” Melchior asked.

“Sure we did. But… you know… the Archduke is very busy.”

Melchior nodded at this as well. Having spent time in his father's office, a report about trouble at the river dock was very likely to be glanced at, then stored away, then burned after a couple of years. “Are you in need of more support?” Melchior asked. “If there is increasing unrest, won't you need more soldiers?”

Fonsel tapped his shoulder. Creating solutions wasn't Melchior's place. He shouldn't promise anything. “In all honesty, we likely couldn't hire more people even with more support. We need to raise wages in the city again before we take on more men.”

“I can only relay your information. I can't promise any concrete changes. If you think of anything else, we can speak again at dinner or breakfast,” Melchior promised. He gave his goodbyes and received them in turn.

Had the carriages been ready to leave after lunch. Everyone might have set off. Unfortunately, there was much to pack. The gray priests paused their farming to help but even with all the soldiers and clergy, it still took the better part of a bell by which point it was too late to leave. There was a minor mistake of accidentally filling one of Melchior's carriages but the drivers sorted things out before things went too far.

Melchior and company went about their training. Since Kirk knew the first forms, he could replace Dedryck for live practice. This was the first time Melchior saw the connection between the first and second sword forms. All the guards were choreographed to block the sword swings. He and Kirk moved in a square, punctuating each corner with a solid thwack. It was like a dance, and Melchior couldn't stop giggling and smiling.

“You are training for battle. Be serious,” Fonsel snapped. Kirk looked quite serious. He hadn't spent as much time practicing and had to focus properly not to mess up. It was hard not to be taken in by Melchior's mirth but the moment his attention slipped he missed a step or swing. “Thats it!” Fonsel yelled after another square. “Move aside Kirk.”

He took the stick and faced Melchior who set his face into something more serious. They did a full set at double the speed. On the last move, Fonsel switched his strike, sending Melchior's sword flying. He then swung to tap the boy’s shoulder. His intent was to make firm contact, enough to smart but not bruise. His swing met empty air and Melchior looked at him in shock.

Fonsel had to swing again. He paid closer attention this time as his lord moved faster than ever before. As Fonsel increased the speed and varied the placement of his strikes, it became clear that Melchior wasn't seeing then reacting but had some strange sense of when and from where he was in danger. People said the Archduke had goddess given luck and Lord Bonifiatus’s intuition was legendary. As far as he knew, Wilfried showed no supernatural skill though his penchant for roping people into the most ridiculous duels was impressive.

He was so lost in thought that he missed the growing panic on Melchior’s face. Fonsel was already ignoring his squeaks so didn't hear their increasing pitch. As a trained knight, Fonsel could continue this dance for quite a long time. Melchior was reaching the end of his endurance. That he knew where he would be struck if he failed to dodge would not save him if fatigue kept him rooted in place. As much as he wanted to concede, there was no time between attacks to fall to his knees.

The stick clanged against a shield. “Enough,” Dedryck said. “You’ve made your point.”

What had he been trying to say again, Fonsel wondered. Melchior meanwhile doubled over. His chest burned as he struggled to catch his breath. “It's amazing, isn't it,” Fonsel said to Dedryck.

“I really thought there would be a limit,” Dedryck replied.

“It seems to be only constrained by his stamina. I didn't use the full strength of my enhancement though,” Fonsel noted.

Kirk brought over some water while the knights discussed. Melchior thanked him, drank half, then returned the cup. Kirk rubbed his back. “How do you do that? Do they teach that at the Knights Order?”

Melchior shook his head. They taught him nothing at the Knights Order. “I don't know,” he replied. “But I cannot stay still and allow myself to be struck,” he added.

“It is quite useful,” Kirk said.

After this intense clash, their training was brought to a premature end. Since everyone was still busy working, Melchior requested a Waschen rather than a bath. With the abundance of extra time this granted him, he chose to draw the fields again. He used a smaller piece of paper and the crayons. They also placed a table outside for him to occupy. Only once dinner was nearly upon them did he remember the rudelhute.

“I fed it when I banished chaos earlier,” Fonsel said with a smirk. Both Melchior and Dedryck seethed at being outsmarted. “You can give it a snack in the morning.”

At dinner, the soldiers mostly had comical tales about their various adventures in keeping the peace. The new nobles from Old Zaugsuas continued to be annoyed by the gate protocols but didn't do more than grumble. Apparently, Zaugsuas city, now Vogtwerk, didn't have walls let alone two separate gate inspections to pass.

There had been a couple of small trombe incidents. One of the soldiers was having his spoils turned into a chair while another insisted storage boxes were the only choice. “A box protects the stuff inside while a chair won't even protect your bum,” he joked then apologized for being crass.

“I find that I agree with you. A fireproof storage box seems most wise,” Melchior replied. The man gave a smug laugh while his chair-having friend defended his choice by noting the daily use he got out of his chair vs the vanishingly small likelihood of fire.

“My building’s well maintained,” he argued.

“Some of us don't have rich wives supporting us,” complained another man. “We can't all afford the wood.”

“You cannot afford to repair your homes?” Melchior asked. Ivory buildings needed mana, not money, to maintain. The concept of one's wages impacting the security of a dwelling was a foreign concept to him.

“Well, wood’s gotten so expensive with all the new buildings. Fixing the old buildings is too costly.”

“Its not just buildings, its carriages and carts and ships and cribs. People start making money, they have more kids.”

“That's just you. Most people aren't meticulously planning the conception.”

“Watch it,” the captain snapped. Melchior smiled calmly as the man apologized for being crass yet again. They talked about the reoccurring merchants and the seasonal romances that came with them. Many a young person could be seen crying at the gates in autumn then again in spring when their promised love never returned.

After dinner, Melchior went back to drawing in the evening light. The soldiers walked around and even helped a bit in the fields. No one attempted to approach him but they sent him smiles or waves. Once the sun finally set, Melchior spent some time comparing his two works. His memory of the fields and his depiction from reference differed slightly. Some objects were in different places or different sizes in actuality. He seemed to focus more on colors in his memories but shadow and shape during live sessions.

While he stood over the wet piece, Marthe approached and stood at a respectful distance. It took Melchior a while to notice as his attendants didn't disturb his focused observation. “Do you have something to report?” Melchior asked when he did realize she was there.

“Not as such, High Bishop. I hoped we might discuss wool,” she said.

“Oh, yes. The wool. Kirk tells me you can spin the yarn,” Melchior replied happily.

“I can scour, spin, and dye,” Marthe assured him. “I wished to discuss the acquisition of a wheel. It would greatly speed up the process allowing your piece to be completed much sooner.”

“A wheel?” Melchior asked. He thought about the carts. How a cartwheel was going to make yarn, he had no idea. But, Marthe knew more about this than he ever would so he had to take her word for it. “I believe the carts all have spare wheels. You may request one from one of the drivers taking the short trip back to Ehrenfest.”

Marthe covered her mouth to giggle just a little. “It is not that kind of wheel, my lord. These are made by carpenters specifically for spinning fiber, though they do have a part which greatly resembles a cartwheel.”

Melchior blushed. He felt very silly all of a sudden. “I see. How much do they cost?” Marthe said they could be expensive. They were often passed down from mother to daughter but a new wheel would not be cheap especially with the price of wood.

“We have a good relationship with the carpenter in the village and he has a lathe,” Martha noted. “One with all the newest innovations will need to be ordered from the city. I predict the cost being close to one or two small gold.” Melchior paled. He didn't need the tunic made that quickly that badly. “We would be able to spin the wool of our sheep much faster and could rent time to the farmer's wives. We could earn back its expense in a matter of a few years.”

Apparently, they could speed up the spinning process tenfold. Hasse Monastery didn't do much spinning to begin with as their clothing came in the form of Divine Gifts but the farmers had a great deal of spinning and weaving to do. A wheel was so expensive but so useful that they would happily pay if given the option. Melchior considered his desire for knitted garments. If Kolteruze's tunic turned out well, he wanted one for himself. Even if it didn't, he wanted one. Marthe was already making his yarn for free, well, as an extension of her duties as his shrine maiden.

“Is yarn that valuable?” he asked.

Marthe smiled as she gestured to all the cloth around them. “Much is created and much is used. It has value so long as people need cloth,” she replied.

While that wasn't a hard number, it did make sense. He wondered how much it would cost to have his custom yarn spun by a craftsperson compared to this wheel and compared to the paper Marthe could be making instead. He also had the funds to make this purchase. “I will order a wheel and have it sent here. Give a list of your specifications to the returning clergy tomorrow,” Melchior agreed.

“My lord, they may be purchased pre-owned on occasion. We do not need the newest model,” she assured him.

“I see. I will consider your advice,” he replied. Marthe thanked him profusely and all but skipped away humming.

“Lord Melchior,” Fonsel said once she was gone. “What are you planning?”

“A great many things,” Melchior replied. He went back to comparing his drawings.

“With this shrine maiden. Why have you agreed to purchase something so expensive?” Fonsel pressed.

Melchior paused. He considered whether he should tell his knights about Kolteruze’s gift. He wasn't sure how good they were at keeping secrets but Dedryck at least would be present for negotiations in Haldenzel or anywhere else he attempted to acquire specialty wool. “I am preparing a gift for my attendant. He did not receive a fur at the Royal Academy, so I am preparing something else to keep him warm,” he said.

Fonsel and Dedryck looked equally confused. Melchior made no effort to explain further until they sat him down for a proper interrogation.

“You want to buy wool in Haldenzel, have it spun here, then hire a knitter to make a tunic for Kolteruze because he declined a fur from your research project,” Dedryck repeated. “He chose to decline. You don't have to make it up to him.”

“I also wish to see a knitted garment of the highest quality,” Melchior admitted.

“Then why not order it for yourself,” Fonsel sighed. This was sounding incredibly expensive for a gift to one's apprentice retainer.

Melchior simply didn't think he needed it. He’d grown so little, his current mantles were likely to work for a second year not to mention the new fur lined cloak in his future.

“Your reasons aside, are you sure you can acquire this wool in Haldenzel? We will be traveling there in less than two weeks. Will it be ready for your arrival? If you do not transport it, it will be extremely costly to have it delivered, not to mention time consuming,” Dedryck noted. He was neither an attendant nor a scholar but even he could see the flaws in this plan. “You should have your retainers coordinate everything before you arrive. You do not even know how much it will cost.”

“It is as you say,” Melchior replied. He’d vaguely considered these things but also assumed wool could simply be purchased like fabric.

“Most fabric is custom woven to order. The merchants just bring samples of what's possible,” Fonsel explained.

Melchior hadn't known that. That all the blue fabric he’d been subjected too was woven just for him somehow made it worse. Very commonly ordered fabric could be purchased outright but it was generally used for underwear.

He began writing his second magic letter of the day. This time he asked Zargerecht to speak with Haldenzel on the topic of specialty wools. He was looking for something that could be spun extremely fine but was very warm. Its existence was unconfirmed so other high quality options were acceptable.

Sebastian arrived the next morning to relieve Fonsel. He looked chipper and well rested compared to the knights midway through their journey. He also brought a response from Haldis. Zipporah knew of no such product available in Haldenzel but would make inquiries all the same. If it could be found in any neighboring provinces, they would have some ready for him.

“It doesn't surprise me that they know nothing of fine wools in Haldenzel. They hunt all their winter clothing,” Sebastian said with no small amount of smugness. “If you want fine stuffs, Herzfeld is the place to look.”

“What kind of sheep do you have in Herzfeld?” Melchior asked. Anyone else would have regretted this immediately but Melchior was genuinely interested in the dozen or so varieties Sebastian could name. Several farms raised their own special breeds for a wide variety of traits. Color and quality were the general motivations. One family had been trying to raise ochre sheep for two hundred years but dark yellow pigmentation continued to elude them.

“That’s so long to work toward anything,” Melchior muttered in awe.

“We have no idea why it hasn't worked.” Sebastian replied. His breakfast was cold by the time he remembered to eat it earning his first reproving smile from Sheila. He apologized and wondered if all the women in Melchior's retinue were terrifying or if he’d just manage to offend the two who were.

Fonsel gave his farewells while Melchior's room was cleared out. Lothar handed him the pouch with the silver for the soldiers so the High Bishop could give his customary reward.

“I thank you ever so much for your continued good work. It brings me great peace of mind knowing the clergy are well taken care of,” Melchior said. He went up to each soldier and placed a small silver in their hand. He paused in front of the captain. “I will pass on your requests and information to Father. I cannot promise that he will be any less busy at the time.”

“We appreciate your listening to us. We will be ready to welcome Lady Rozemyne and her new husband for their visit. Please convey our congratulations,” he replied.

“You may be assured,” Melchior said and pressed the coin into his waiting palm. “Please be safe on your return,” he added. He prayed for a blessing from the Goddess of Couriers then waved goodbye.

“Lord Melchior, shouldn't you be saving your mana to enrich the land?” Dedryck asked.

“Oh, that's true. I also need to feed the rudelhute,” he cried. He rushed toward the sheep pen before anyone could stop him. Nora was tending the sheep when they arrived. She was porting buckets of water over to their drinking trough.

Melchior was allowed to offer the faebeast a bit of mana and pet its soft fur. It was not all that hungry but it still did a little dance. Sebastian watched in wonderment.

“They will consume pure mana?” he muttered. “I’ve seen them among the sheep many times but I had no idea they didn't eat grass.”

“They don't really like grass,” Melchior replied. Nora still gave him a couple of fruits even though he wasn't replacing a full meal. Sebastian would have to save his questions about them since it was time to go.

The clergy of Hasse assembled to see him off. “I leave the monastery in your capable hands,” he declared before mounting his highbeast. “I shall return for the Harvest Festival.”

Chapter Text

Time to Recover and Prepare

Melchior spent his first day back in Ehrenfest lying in bed in the castle. He was whisked from the temple almost the moment he arrived both to be seen by his doctor and mother and to give his temple attendants time to rest.

“How was your trip?” Florencia asked as she sat beside his bed. It was rare now that she entered his rooms so she took the opportunity to look around. Her son was feeling tired but not sick so he had the energy to tell her about his trip.

He spoke mostly about Hasse and the information shared by the soldiers. He’d only gotten sick once and was able to recover quickly. It seemed best not to talk about the man and his leg so he skipped that part and only complained about the incredible quantity of mud everywhere. “It is much better in autumn,” he noted.

“I am sure it is,” Florencia replied. “There is something we must discuss.” Melchior sat up and prepared for a lecture of some kind. “This year, Charlotte and I have been preparing wedding gifts for Rozemyne and Ferdinand. We will not have time to prepare their usual return gifts.”

Melchior went pale. “I have not prepared anything for their wedding,” he admitted.

“You have yet to come of age. The work of Liebeskhilfe is not yet your domain. However, we would like you to oversee the return gifts. It is alright if they are not as elaborate as usual considering all the other things they will receive,” she said. She chuckled a little at his rapidly changing expressions. He didn't know whether to feel delighted for being entrusted with the task, terrified by the enormity, or panicked by the lack of time.

“I will do my best,” he promised.

“I know, my dear. We will have a formal meeting about this after Spring Prayer. You can secure more support if you bring concrete ideas,” she advised.

Melchior nodded. He would think of some things. It was lucky that his family had been trapped in this cycle of gift giving for a couple of years now. Having given so many portraits at this point, he wondered whether he should even include his usual contribution.

“Do you have a list of what you are gifting for the wedding?” He didn't want to create too much overlap.

“We will bring it to the meeting. See how much information you can collect in the meantime,” Florencia suggested.

“I will see what I can do. Would you like to see my drawing of Hasse?”

They looked over his drawing and he described the larger work left drying at the monastery. He tried to discern whether she liked the subject matter well enough to accept that painting as a replacement. I was unclear from her expression. She asked for more details about the portable colors which he could only explain since they were still with his luggage at the temple. Isolde was able to show off her pencil and share all she knew about it so far. Mother and son listened to her explanation attentively and asked a couple of questions.

After less than a bell, Florencia rose to leave. “We shall meet again soon,” she assured him.

Melchior reached toward her hand. “Will you come for tea after I return,” he asked.

She smiled her same gentle smile. “Do we not have a standing arrangement,” she replied.

“Yes, but I mean, just us two,” he said. He couldn't hide the pleading in his eyes.

She took his hand and gave it a brief squeeze. “I will try to make some time,” she promised.

Melchior watched his mother leave then gave a huge sigh. Isolde stood near him still holding her props. “I will try to discover what gifts have been collected for the newlyweds,” she began.

“Yes, thank you Isolde. Did anything occur in my absence?” he asked. He handed the picture back to Pepin who was stopped from putting it away by Kolteruze. They spent a good bit of time looking at it together.

“A great deal occurred. There was a hunt for Kolteruze’s spring ingredient. I’ve probed a couple of fashionable people about their willingness to assist you in taking over your clothes ordering. I’ve also heard there will be a feast at the Archdukes Conference in honor of the Archduke's brother’s nuptials,” she replied. She talked calmly about a disagreement the knights were having but refused to elaborate on. After covering the basics, she passed him a sound blocking magic tool.

“You look very excited,” Melchior observed.

“We went to the lower city,” she declared with a triumphant giggle. “Brother Kampfer proved pliable enough.” Melchior confirmed that she hadn't intimidated him into silence or otherwise harmed him then asked about their trip. She, Zipporah, and Sigsnyr went from the temple to the lower city. Neither girl had appropriate clothes but Sigsnyr left and came back with some. “They did not fit perfectly but I was amazed anything could be acquired on such short notice.”

Having just learned about the incredible journey fiber took to becoming his sad blue wardrobe, Melchior was also amazed. Isolde couldn't stop blushing as she explained how he’d helped them dress since he was the only attendant nearby. The dresses closed down the front instead of the back so Isolde thought she might be able to do everything herself next time.

They visited the leatherworker to inquire after a large leather bag. “The shop girl Sigsnyr met is engaged to one of the boys who works for her father. Oh you should've seen how sour he looked to find out that Sigsnyr was a real person and ‘just as pretty as promised’. Zipporah was no better. And those two saw nothing amiss as they chatted and chatted about her engagement and how happy and lucky she felt.”

Isolde paused to bask in reminiscing. Melchior didn't stop her but couldn't feel as enthusiastic about this idle gossip. He wanted to hear more about the lower city. So far it sounded entirely too similar to a tea party. “Of course there is something else you must know.” She suddenly became more serious. “Their workshop was asked to join your competition. It is a topic of great interest in the lower city. She told Sigsnyr all about how some noble is requesting a dozen hip pouches from many shops and that they'll receive the dimensions in a couple of weeks, that is to say, after Spring Prayer. I don't think the knights have put it together yet but they know more now than before.”

He grew pensive. Who could have predicted that Zipporah and Sigsnyr would find out the details of his contest in this way. He hoped their upcoming trip and the excitement of sneaking out would eclipse whatever interest a random noble's competition might bring. “But this tells me something else. The commoner craftspeople do not see our orders as a secret to be kept. If you order your hairpin through the Gilbertta Company, it is highly likely they will tell Charlotte when she asks.”

“Don't you mean if she asks?” Melchior wondered.

Isolde shook her head. “You are hiding something which has to do with her betrothed and therefore her graduation. What could it be other than a hairpin? She will ask. What's more, I do not think we can hide it if we attempt to hire a different shop either.”

“If we can't have it made in Ehrenfest then how will I fulfill my promise? Perhaps I will have to accept defeat,” he sighed. They were
doing so well too.

“There is another place which makes thread flower hairpins and they have the greatest craftswoman in the world,” she hinted.

“We can ask Sister!” Melchior cried with glee.

“No, we cannot ask Aub Alexandria. She cannot keep a secret, doubly so when it pertains to romance. She will reveal both your gift and the engagement if given the chance,” Isolde replied. “However, Lord Ferdinand is well known for his skills in subterfuge. If we can convince him to assist us, I do not think the secret would escape.”

Melchior giggled. “It is as you say. We must find something to trade.”

“There is always gold,” she noted.

“Uncle has transcended the need for material wealth,” Melchior said gravely. “We will need something else to persuade him. Something he cannot acquire any other way.”

As Isolde turned this over in her mind, Kolteruze gestured that he needed to speak with his lord. “Yes, Kolteruze.” Melchior placed down the magic tool.

“If you are well enough, Benedikt would like to see you,” he announced.

“He is here?” Isolde grumbled.

“Yes, he would like to discuss your brewing training.”

“Was he able to secure brewing tools for Lord Melchior? It was such a simple task,” she said.

“I cannot say. I have not been informed of a need to secure a space for them so, I do not think so,” Kolteruze replied.

Isolde clicked her tongue in frustration. She only sent him to the negotiations because the castle scholars would listen better to a nearly adult boy than a little girl.

“I believe we are nearly finished, so I will come and speak with him in a little bit,” Melchior said.

“I will inform him. Also…” Kolteruze turned a bit pink. Melchior encouraged him to go on. “May I purchase this,” he asked in reference to the drawing of Hasse.

“It is my only copy but I can draw another for you. Or would you prefer a painting?” Melchior asked.

“There is no need to go to such trouble. I understand that you would like to keep the only copy,” he replied. “Shall I have it displayed?”

Melchior shook his head vigorously. Having his art staring at him from random corners of the castle was deeply unpleasant.

“Not even within your chambers?” Kolteruze insisted. If it was hidden away in a storage box he would never get to see it.

“Oh, if that is what you meant then I do not mind. It is a very simple piece so please select a simple frame,” Melchior said. Kolteruze all but glowed with joy as he promised to find the perfect place and frame for it.

Melchior returned to his private conversation with Isolde. “I received an interesting fruit while in Hasse. It has very pure earth mana. Perhaps we can extract seeds and give him those or is there anything in the Nobles Forest that could be gathered.

“Unfortunately, these are questions for Benedikt. It shames me to admit that my knowledge of brewing barely exceeds your own,” she replied. Melchior felt sure this couldn't be true. Scholars were taught much more brewing than everyone else and Isolde was beginning her fourth year. “My skill is in gathering information. Of course I will apply myself to learning how to brew to whatever standard you need, it is just…” she paused. “Well, I will improve, my lord.”

“We all have our strengths. I do not need all my scholars to be masters of brewing. Then who would deliver to me the secrets of Yurgenschmidt,” he teased.

They laughed together then Melchior stopped abruptly. He shivered just thinking about the last time he'd made light of Flautzeal's sincerity. “I should not have said that,” he sighed. “I do appreciate Flautzeal’s dedication.”

“I know, my lord. His earnest nature makes him easy to tease. It makes one question your own sincerity, the solution for which is to degrade the object which shames you,” she explained. “Flautzeal is used to people belittling his passion.”

Melchior felt even worse. He didn't want to add to his scholar's burden of cruelty. “I will take him more seriously,” he declared.

“Oh there is no need for that. He does need to cool just a bit. Brennwarme consumes as well as Angriff¹⁷,” Isolde played with her hair a bit. “Did anything happen during spring prayer? Something you did not wish to discuss with Lady Florencia?”

He averted his gaze. Talking about it made him remember. It was difficult to persuade himself that everything was fine since the man had been successfully healed. It was just so awful. Thankfully, Isolde wasn't attempting to draw secrets from him. He got the distinct sense that she wanted to delay speaking with Benedikt. “There is nothing more I wish to discuss. Let us go speak with my other scholars.”

Isolde sighed. She took back her sound blockers. “Is Flautzeal also here?” she asked.

Haldis said he was at home preparing for Melchior's visit the following day. “I am visiting Flautzeal tomorrow?!”

“I have not been able to relay your schedule due to successive visitors,” Haldis explained. His lord had been dragged into the castle in a near limp state the previous night and the First Wife and doctors insisted on seeing him the moment he awakened. “Your schedule for today includes only rest. Tomorrow you must transfer the chalice in the morning. In the afternoon, I have planned a visit to House Klavier since you were curious about their workshops. They have agreed to give you a tour but ask that you do not bring any additional scholars who could steal their trade secrets.”

Isolde's person deflated. She wanted to argue that she had no reason to steal the secrets of House Klavier but not even she could believe that. All she really wanted was their client list. How useful knowing how much someone could spend on instruments would be, she didn't know, but she was curious all the same.

Melchior and Haldis shared sly grins. Whether it was true or not that Isolde wasn't allowed to come on account of trade secrets mattered less than that she didn't ask further questions. If he could hide his intentions and his embarrassing miss handling of the situation he would. This also reminded him that he needed to finish Isolde's personal mark. He had to wonder why Flautzeal hadn't asked for it yet but it would be good to bring it with him.

Benedikt was similarly devastated to find out he couldn't go on the trip. He also only had middling news. “The Archduke seemed surprised that you wanted your own workshop. It seems your siblings did not make similar requests.” Melchior was shocked to his core. Benedikt didn't seem surprised. “Most Archduke Candidates assign their brewing to scholars so they have no need of personal workshops. They are also rather expensive to outfit.” The bowl and scales alone could command large golds. “Not all workshops have apparatus of that quality but you will want the best you can get.” Breaking a brewing cauldron through mana overload was very possible with lesser equipment.

“Where will he practice then?” Isolde asked. Melchior had every intention of passing his classes on the first days. Waiting until they returned to the dormitory was out of the question.

“The Archduke has given his permission for us to use the brewing room in the castle. A new one was recently commissioned to accommodate preparations for the invasion so the older, smaller brewing room is little used. We can monopolize it for your training,” Benedikt explained.

“I see. Is that where you've been brewing until now?” Melchior asked. He’d made a great many potions after all.

“I used our brewing chamber at home,” Benedikt replied.

Isolde and Melchior were amazed. He hadn't planned to impose so much on Benedikt’s family. “I apologize for my thoughtlessness,” Melchior said. “And, thank you for your hard work. Your potions were a great boon during Spring Prayer.”

“I am happy to have been of assistance. It was no burden at all. Using a familiar space helped greatly with efficiency as well,” Benedikt said. He spoke briefly about some other brews he was developing. He was trying to create mana replenishment potions as strong as Rozemyne once shared. “It recovered a great deal of mana very quickly. I have never tasted its equal either before or since. That Heilshmerz would bless me to achieve even a fraction of that magnificence.”

“I do not think Uncle will tell you for free but it would not hurt to ask for his advice,” Melchior said. If Benedikt could prove himself talented enough, Ferdinand might bless him with pointers.

“It was invented by Lord Ferdinand!” he cried. Isolde tapped the table but didn't break poise. An incredible potion brewed by Lady Rozemyne but not of her invention could so easily be traced to Lord Ferdinand's influence. How he hadn't figured that out before was astonishing.

Melchior just nodded. “He sent me a book about the basics of brewing. Veremund found it refreshing if not enlightening. You are welcome to read it if you like,” he offered.

Benedikt accepted the book happily and began reading. As little as Isolde wanted to spend time with him, she also didn't want to leave. Though Melchior was supposed to be resting, he began studying the recipes Benedikt had brought with him. They covered everything from the second year to fifth year basics with a few additional potions Benedikt felt should be taught but weren't. Melchior and Isolde split the stack of boards between them. She took the later years while he examined the second year list.

They would only be required to brew ordonnanz and a simple rejuvenation potion. Those were frequently used and acted as examples of the two main types of brewing. The magic circle for ordonnanz looked quite simple. It included instructions for the tool's function, sigils of Ordoshnelli and Grammaratur, and the name of a bird. Presumably this was the bird ordonnanz were based on. It was not a bird depicted in the Ehrenfest Encyclopedia of Common and Uncommon Fowl. Though, it was possible that the name had changed at some point. He wondered whether altering the name of said bird would affect the look of the ordonnanz or even its function.

His curiosity could not be sated that day. He could study as that didn't require much stamina but brewing and trekking around the castle were not allowed. “You do not want to be too sick to travel to Haldenzel,” Haldis reminded.

Melchior didn't think he would collapse from so little exertion but didn't fight. He wanted to spend his time drawing anyway. There was little time to indulge in his favorite hobby during his travels. He did a couple of doodles of the rudelhute and a Winter Mansion before remembering his resolve to save paper and retiring to his hidden room to paint.

Isolde took the opportunity to follow him to the private chamber while Benedikt grumbled. Pepin helped her transport the wooden boards so she could continue doing exactly the same thing as before. The morning was thus passed in quiet diligence.

Benedikt took his leave to have lunch at home while Isolde and the attendants remained. Melchior asked Kolteruze about his gathering.

“It was harrowing,” Kolteruze said with a far away look. “Perhaps it is best to hear this from a third party observer,” he began. “There was a clattering of spears between two subordinates of fire¹⁸.”

Melchior stopped eating while Isolde merely smiled. “Between them?” Melchior asked. What could possibly have caused an altercation between his knights. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered.

Kolteruze explained the events as he remembered them. Ortolf insulted Zipporah and Sigsnyr attacked him. “These subordinates were not your choice as I recall. You cannot blame yourself for failing to predict this outcome,” he added.

Melchior couldn't continue his meal as the implications whirled in his mind. Would he have to punish Sigsnyr for being violent with a junior? Would it be right to ignore the events? Sigsnyr superior status meant Ortolf couldn't advocate too strongly for himself. That he would speak as he had to an archnoble was amazing in the first place. Melchior didn't want to punish his head apprentice knight but he couldn't abide such behavior either.

“I will have to speak with them both. Sigsnyr is preparing for his trip so summon Ortolf this afternoon,” Melchior decided. He spent a bit of time calming himself down before finishing his lunch.

“Would you excuse a mere scholar to give counsel?” Isolde asked after the dishes were cleared and the attendants could begin their lunch. Isolde was generally quite harsh. Melchior felt sure she would call for swift and decisive punishment but allowed her to speak anyway. “I think you should seek more perspectives,” she said with a glance toward the knights guarding. With the exception of Dedryck, Fonsel and the clergy. All of his knights had been there.

Fonsel, Gottschalk and Cecilia were on duty today. He called the two witnesses forward. “Please tell me, in your own words, what occurred,” Melchior ordered. He leaned back in his chair and smiled calmly. It would be better to seem both affable and unruffled, he thought.

Isolde passed sound blocking tools to Melchior and Cecilia, signaling that she could go first. “I didn't see as much as I was focused on moving the keilanne. It seems that Ortolf shared some poorly informed opinions which drew ire from Sigsnyr.”

“Do you remember what he said?”

“He questioned Zipporah’s ability to lead our hunt. Considering our success with no casualties, I would say he was incorrect in his assessment.”

Those weren't exact words. It also didn't make sense for him to question her abilities out of nowhere. “Was there any other reason for his discontent?”

“He and Gottschalk were attacked by the keilanne after being told to wait in the initial clearing. Had we not returned in time they might have climbed the tower stairway. They needed only to fly away but Zipporah was forced to intervene and kill it despite wishing for a bloodless excursion,” she tossed her hair and gave an unimpressed glance toward Gottschalk.

“Was that reason enough to vent ire against him?” Melchior asked. He was having trouble thinking of anything someone could say that would provoke him to punch them, especially if they were younger than himself.

Cecilia put on her guarding face. “The grain planted in spring ripens in autumn¹⁹. This is a lesson Ortolf has yet to learn.”

Melchior nodded and gestured for her to pass the sound-blocker to Gottschalk. He gave his own recounting of events which had much more information about the faebeast attack and Ortolf's opinions. Gottschalk seemed uninterested in protecting his junior but equally unwilling to justify Sigsnyr’s actions. “To think a knight-son has so little self control.”

“You say Sigsnyr yelled about wishing to discipline Ortolf for years, did you not. It seems to me that he's shown great restraint,” Melchior replied.

“My apologies, my lord, I did not mean to speak ill of your friend. I know it will be difficult to wield authority over this case²⁰,” Gottschalk said. “However, you are well known for your distaste of those who use status to intimidate. I believe you will come to an appropriate decision.”

Melchior felt angered by these implications but didn't quite know why. Of course Sigsnyr was his friend and he didn't want to punish him but that didn't mean he wouldn't perform his duties as his lord. That Ortolf had managed to incense such an easy-going person made Melchior hesitant to absolve him of all responsibility. Hadn't he charged him to be kind to the women in his retinue? Loudly decrying Zipporah’s judgment mid-sortie felt like a violation of that order.

He called Kolteruze back over. Gottschalk watched the attendant approach with a coldness in his eyes. Kolteruze took the sound-blocker without so much as glancing at the knights.

“Do you remember their exact words?” Melchior asked.

“I remember Ortolf muttering then Zipporah snapping at him to speak his mind. He eventually yelled that he would not have been endangered had she not left them behind. She insinuated that the two boys could have managed by themselves as she was able to defeat their foe single handedly. I’m not sure how true that is but I believe it was an intentional provocation because when he noted that a third year mednoble cannot be compared to a fourth year archnoble, she asked if he would admit his inferiority to her. He replied that she was inferior to her current position as the leader at which point… Sigsnyr entered the argument.”

Could anyone be so stupid, Melchior wondered. Ortolf’s impressive ability to ignore implications aside, it seemed like a strange choice to split up. Wilfried had often counseled him not to divide his forces in Gewinnen. “Why did she choose to leave them behind?”

“I cannot speak on her behalf but she did not trust Ortolf to follow her instructions nor did she believe he would listen to any of the other female knights but could not leave him by himself. So she tasked Gottschalk with minding him and took the rest of us to the gathering spot. I would like to note that the gathering was a delicate thing. I understand why she wanted only those who would follow her instructions.”

“Why not leave him with Sebastian?”

“We needed his assistance. This entire incident is, perhaps, my fault. Were my requirements not so out of the ordinary, there would be no need for such care,” Kolteruze admitted.

Melchior didn't believe that for a second. “If she had so little faith, perhaps she should have left him at the Knights Order. I wonder why she allowed his inclusion at all,” Melchior mused. It might have looked bad for him to be the only one of Melchior's available guard knights not invited but why would Zipporah care about his feelings or reputation if she disliked him that much.

It was a confusing mess. He sent everyone back to work and lay down, suddenly feeling too tired to paint.

At dinner that evening, he tried to ask for advice without spilling any of the details. “Father, if one of your trusted knights, such as Lord Karstedt, engaged in a clattering of spears with a newer recruit, what would you do?”

Sylvester narrowed his eyes. He hadn't heard about any fights between Melchior’s retainers but the fact that so many new knights had been added made the possibility of friction far too high. “That would depend on who was at fault and other extenuating circumstances,” he replied. Who or what had suffered damage in the process would also be taken into account.

“Melchior, did something occur?” asked Florencia. She hadn't been happy about forcing knights onto her son but they hadn't been in a good position to refuse.

“I am only speaking hypothetically, Mother. Please do not be worried,” he replied. He certainly didn't want her to begin asking more pointed questions.

Charlotte watched his expression from her place across from him. He looked too concerned for this to be a mere hypothetical. “Dear brother, such an event would be very impactful to one's retinue. Smooth cooperation between your knights is essential to ensuring your safety. The loss of the Knight Commander would have very far reaching consequences.”

Melchior paled. She was implying he should distance Ortolf after only just hiring him. His future job prospects would evaporate alongside his marriage prospects. It would be better to avoid that if possible.

Lady Florencia looked over his guards. They didn't seem particularly disturbed by the conversation so it was clear they weren't personally involved. Fonsel even looked as curious as Sylvester so he likely hadn't heard about the incident in question. Haldis continued to attend without a change in demeanor but he was so well trained that this communicated nothing.

“It is important to listen to every side of a story. I will only remind you not to be rash and to say that we are here to support you if you need us,” she concluded. She would have to question some people and send out her scholars if he didn't choose to inform her.

“Thank you ever so much for your enduring wisdom, Mother. I will remember your words.”

It was more difficult to remember her sound advice when faced with Ortolf’s testimony. The young knight was rather open with his annoyance at being summoned so late in the day.

“Tell me about the incident,” Melchior ordered. He had Fonsel stand guard inside for this interrogation. Gottschalk and Cecilia made no resistance to being sent out.

“The incident?” Ortolf asked.

Melchior sighed. “I heard you were attacked by a faebeast and subsequently received the ire of a subordinate of Leidenschaft. I would like to hear what happened in your own words.”

It took Ortolf a moment to process his meaning. Things only made sense if his lord meant faebeast literally and subordinate god figuratively. He wished people wouldn't mix euphemism and candor in the same sentence at least. There was only one recent event where both things occurred close together. He felt his hackles raise at the memory. “Oh yes. When I was viciously attacked by Lord Sigsnyr on behalf of Lady Zipporah.”

“They are your coworkers. You need not refer to them with titles,” Melchior corrected. He had a lot more to say about Ortolf's delivery but kept it to himself.

“As you wish. Sigsnyr punched me then held me to the ground and Crushed me,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I spoke up about Zipporah’s failure to properly lead our hunt. No one else would say it even though Gottschalk and I nearly lost our lives due to her incompetence.”

Melchior sighed. He couldn't imagine what Sigsnyr would do had he heard this. Zipporah was his best friend. He all but worshiped her abilities. “That was unwise. Let us imagine for a moment that everyone shared your opinion. From other reports, they did not, but let us assume that they did. Do you know why they might be hesitant to say such things in the presence of my knights?”

Ortolf fell deep into thought. Melchior previously had the fewest knights of any member of his family. The chances of him firing one for any reason were quite low. He would therefore be forced to take their side against any complaints. “Because they fear your reprisal?”

“Wha…? No,” Melchior lost his serious face for a moment. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders again. “No. It is not my reprisal one need fear. My retribution is neither swift nor violent,” Melchior said. Ortolf looked confused. “For one, Zipporah is well known for her skills as a hunter. She is also well known for her close friendship with certain other knights. To insult one is to invite the wrath of the other. There are many things people will endure when they are the victim that they will not abide being done to those they care about.”

“You are saying that everyone is too afraid to tarnish her reputation because there is a group of people who will defend it regardless of observable reality?” Ortolf asked.

Melchior was, once again, confused by this logic. “You assume her reputation is undeserved?”

“I have not seen proof of it myself,” Ortolf replied.

“Then perhaps you should withhold comment until you are sure,” Melchior suggested.

“I see. I will continue to observe her hunting skill. Shall I report my findings to you?” Ortolf asked.

Nothing could be more worthless, Melchior thought. He’d heard countless tales of her heroism from Sigsnyr and several others from Cecelia by now. “Let me know what you discover,” he said. He read a great many useless reports from Isolde. Getting more from Ortolf wouldn't be burdensome. “Now. Zipporah is both older and higher status than yourself. She has also served me longer than you. In all areas, she is your superior. You must show her more respect.”

Ortolf grimaced. “Why do you elevate her so much? She will leave your service in a few short years. Is there a reason you aren't encouraging her to be more demure?” he asked.

“I require her skills as a leader and archknight,” Melchior replied immediately. Asking her to defer to his male knights would impede their research and gathering in addition to being laughable stupid. He wasn't as adept at using and raising retainers as his sisters, but the fame of Lady Lenore alone was reason enough to encourage as much excellence from his female knights as his male ones. “Why would I waste great talent?”

“If you put the same effort into your male retainers, you would not lose your investment when they retire,” Ortolf argued. “Girls only need to know enough to be good mothers.”

What about when they returned to service after raising their children, Melchior wondered. He could see many reasons why he should aim for retainers capable of more than being good parents. “When you select your own retainers, you may raise them as you wish,” Melchior replied. He was growing exhausted by this entire debacle. “I will consult with the other parties involved and deliver my decision at another time. You may go.”

“Thank you, my lord. I knew you would be willing to dispense justice for me,” he said.

Melchior released his magic tool with a sigh. He received Ortolf's farewell and, once he'd exited, placed his forehead on his table.

“Are you alright, Lord Melchior?” Fonsel asked.

“I do not want to think about this anymore,” Melchior grumbled.

Thankfully, Melchior had plenty of things to occupy his mind for the next few days. He rose early and returned to the temple to transfer the chalice to Charlotte. Kazmiar was still off on his trip so he was assisted by Kampfer and Gerianne. Gerianne looked rather tired. She’d rushed her journey to return in time for Haldenzel.

“What do you mean I cannot go, my lord? Won't you need protection and assistance?” she cried.

“You are an apprentice. You cannot work outside of the Nobles Quarter and the temple. I also do not need a second clergy member attending,” he said. As much as he would like to bring her, no amount of pouting from either of them would change the rules.

She knelt before him. “My lord, Spring Summoning requires the participation of women, as you yourself will be unable to sing, would it not be wise to bring someone who can contribute in your stead,” she pressed.

“They do not require my assistance. Haldenzel has successfully performed this ritual without outside help many times now. I am sorry, Gerianne. I cannot bring you along.”

Her dark circles looked even deeper as she wailed and clasped her hands. “What great cruelty that I was born so late.”

“You would have been imprisoned had you come of age much earlier. It is likely that you would never have joined either the temple or my service,” Melchior noted.

She calmed herself with several deep breaths. “I see it is not woven into my threads of fate. I will find a solution for next year,” she declared.

“I have no plans to visit a province next year?” Melchior replied. He was only going this year in an attempt to secure better gifts than Charlotte. Witnessing Spring Summoning was mere pretense.

“You aren't going to follow in Lady Rozemyne footsteps and pilgrimage to all the places she visited? Don't you want to experience her legacy first hand?” Gerianne asked.

He motioned for her to at least stand up. “Though a pilgrimage sounds nice. She only visited those places to spread the printing industry. It was not a consequence of her sainthood. I would like to see more places but I have to fill the Central District. I do not have time to go to so many other provinces.”

Gerianne stroked her chin. There had to be some reason for him to visit at least a few giebes each year. “It does not have to be for Spring Prayer. What about the Harvest Festival or during another time of year?”

“I have ceremonial obligations here at the temple and the routes are planned to give everyone income. I would complicate things by randomly taking destinations for myself,” Melchior said.

“Lady Rozemyne and Lord Ferdinand often traveled together. Perhaps we could combine our routes,” she suggested.

That did sound tempting but it would just mean he had to travel more. Gerianne couldn't assist with the farming villages and he would be required to greet the giebes as the person of highest status. “Uncle was her doctor and sisters health was poor. He could not afford to let her travel alone. Neither of us needs such care. I will also look for a solution. If the need arises for me to take another trip, I will attempt to include you.”

She accepted his promise and took up a place next to Fonsel. He gave her a pat on the shoulder. “There's no need to rush growing up,” he said.

“That is easy to say from the comfort of adulthood,” she grumbled. Fonsel chuckled but restrained the urge to dispense more sage wisdom.

After a brief session of studying, third bell was upon them. Melchior traveled with the chalice to the Noble’s Gate. Charlotte waited with her knights in her ceremonial robes. One gray shrine maiden had been assigned to accompany her to manage the rituals. Besides her, Charlotte was bringing three knights, one noble attendant, one scholar, and her personal chef. She had three carriages worth of things to Melchior’s two but she was proceeding straight to Groschel after her trip. With more mana and stamina, she would accomplish the same feats as Melchior in half the time.

“I offer greetings on this morning ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane the Goddess of Water,” Melchior intoned with a hand to his chest and a slight bow.

“I accept your greetings. Are you well after your long journey?” she asked.

“Yes, dear sister. I feel wholly recovered. I pray that your own journey is not trying,” he replied.

“Our hearts are one in this. Please entrust me with Geduldh's Chalice that I might enrich our lands with the power to bring new life,” she intoned.

Melchior gestured for Lothar to pass the chalice to Charlotte’s shrine maiden. “We entrust this Divine Instrument into your care. Protect and use it as ordained by the gods,” Melchior replied.

Once the business was out of the way, the siblings spent a few minutes chatting about their upcoming trips. “I will be doing final checks on the paper making in Groschel. It has taken them some time to establish pure enough water sources for this production. Will you take a look at Haldenzel’s presses for me? I know I was just there but it would be best to identify any problems before they become serious,” she said.

“You may rely upon me,” Melchior promised. “What is Haldenzel like? I’ve heard some stories from my knight but I am still curious.”

“The only way to know is to see for yourself. Personally, I am always encouraged by the warmth of the people there. It was also where I saw my first true ritual. Spring Summoning is an awe inspiring sight. It was just as delightful the second time though Sister did add great presence.” As she spoke, Gerianne’s face twisted into deeper and deeper envy and despair. “Your little knight seems deeply distraught, dear brother,” Charlotte observed.

Melchior sighed. “She hurried her journey in hopes of accompanying me to Haldenzel but she is still an apprentice and therefore cannot go. Your glowing praise extols Schneeahst in a blizzard²¹.”

“I recall bringing some of my apprentice retainers on our trip,” Charlotte mused. “I do not believe it was special treatment either. Perhaps parental permission is required.” She smiled as a look of determination filled the little knight. Even though her lord was leaving the next day, leaving no time to prepare to accompany him, Charlotte wished her good luck in her heart. “It is time I take my leave,” Charlotte said.

“You would not want to arrive late to your accommodations,” Melchior said. He gave his farewell and renewed his good wishes then struck the praying pose. “O Goddess of Couriers, Ordoshnelli, of the Goddess of Wind, Schutzaria's exalted twelve, may sister be blessed with your divine protection,” he prayed and yellow light spilled over Charlotte and her retinue.

“I thank you ever so much,” Charlotte said. She gave him a gentle pat on the head then mounted her highbeast and flew away.

The moment she was gone Gerianne fell to her knees, “My lord, please allow me to accompany you,” she entreated once again.

Left with no more reason to refuse Melchior gave his permission. “You must acquire permission and prepare to leave by tomorrow morning. We will be traveling by highbeast as well.”

“I will be ready. Nothing will prevent me from accompanying you. Only, may I be excused for the day to prepare,” she asked.

“Yes, you will need it,” he said. She jumped up and began to leave before returning and looking pleadingly at Fonsel and Sebastian.

“You need me to send an ordonnanz?” Fonsel sighed.

“Yes please,” she replied.

He pulled one out then sent it to her father once she’d spoken her message. “Yes of course you can go. Do you need anything from home?” her mother's voice returned.

“I have all I need. Thank you. You are the very best parents,” Gerianne replied.

“Be a good girl on your trip,” her father replied with naked delight in his voice.

“You weren't kidding when you said they give you whatever you want,” Sebastian muttered.

“If it is within their capabilities,” Gerianne corrected. “My brother is the same, though his capabilities are considerably less,” she bragged.

“That seems very easy to exploit,” Fonsel noted.

“You will meet my spear if you even attempt,” Gerianne replied with a serious expression. She couldn't look intimidating but Melchior felt her sincerity.

“I mean for you, though its true that others could exploit your relationship as well,” Fonsel corrected.

Gerianne calmed. “Yes. That's very true. I try not to ask for too much, especially now that our income is greatly reduced.”

“Your income was reduced?” Melchior asked. He knew they committed a few small crimes but this seemed like a long time to endure punishment.

“Embezzlement is lucrative,” Sebastian scoffed. “I imagine there are also some fines involved.”

Gerianne nodded her agreement. “Yes there is nothing you need worry about, my lord. It is our due consequence,” she declared. She then disappeared into the temple to begin her preparations.

“Do you think she'll make it?” Sebastian wondered aloud. His own preparations had taken at least a week.

“She is already packed though most of her things will need to be washed, I’m sure,” Fonsel replied. “Without a schtappe she can't use Waschen either,” he said with a laugh. His mirth died as he locked eyes with Melchior. “We cannot reduce your guard,” he said.

Melchior frowned. Their assistance would be a great help.

“Don't worry about Gerianne, worry about what Isolde will say when she finds out,” Sebastian joked.

Melchior felt the blood drain from his face. Not just Isolde would be upset once they found out. He would have to think of some justification.

Fonsel chuckled at his fretting. “Just tell her the truth. You found out less than a day before leaving and will bring her along next time. There's no need to stress so much.”

“Could she prepare in that time?” Melchior asked.

“Even if she could, you haven't budgeted for another noble. Bringing another priest is one thing, but Isolde would need proper accommodations. She can't share your room either,” Fonsel explained.

Melchior sighed for them both. He would have to make it up to her some other way. Between this and the Society, his debt to Isolde was mounting steadily.

“You don't need to consider her feelings so much,” Sebastian added. “She's your retainer, your employee. She does the work you need her to do and nothing more. No matter how much she wants to come, if you don't need her, there's no reason to bring her.”

Melchior knew this. He was told that his retainers were not his friends by default a number of times already. But, the thought of her carefully veiled disappointment made him sad all the same. He returned to his room to change back into clothes suitable for his visit to Flautzeal's house.

His temple attendants were finished unpacking and repacking for his trip so he sent Kirk into the city to obtain handkerchiefs and deliver invitations for his meetings with the Plantin company and Fred. They were for over a week away so everyone would have time to prepare themselves. Kirk accepted his task with joy and promised to return with bountiful treasure.

“Do you have any business in the city, Lothar?” Melchior asked. As he recalled, Lothar spent his last excursion drawing and being accosted.

“I have no business except your business, my lord,” Lothar replied.

“I see,” Melchior sighed. He thought up a reason to send Sheila out then returned to the castle for lunch.

Footnotes

17. Passion can be just as destructive as violence.^

18. A fight between the knights^

19. “You reap what you sow” that is “you receive the consequences for your actions”^

20. He’s implying that their friendship will prevent Melchior from being objective.^

21. “Pours salt on the wound” or “adds to her misfortune”^

Chapter Text

House Klavier

Melchior hadn't sat in a carriage in a long time. He’d forgotten how bouncy it could be. The view from the road felt novel as they passed the forest and estates. The mednoble mansions were approximately halfway between the temple and castle. They turned up the drive of one Melchior couldn't have picked out on his own.

House Klavier had no sign visible from the road. Its landscaping was pristine but nothing special. The only indication that this was Flautzeal's house was that he was standing at the foot of the stairs next to a servant. Melchior and his knights alighted from their carriage with Haldis.

Flautzeal and his servant knelt and gave greetings before leading them inside. In the entrance hall, Flautzeal's entire family knelt in waiting. Melchior felt strange for having called so many people away from their work. They formed a perfect arch framed by the grand staircase. On the first landing was a complicated looking carving composed of many smaller carving. There was one missing, leaving a glaring white hole. Above the stairs was a large banner with their family motto: Perfection Through Practice.

Flautzeal’s father spoke as their representative. He had the same dark hair as his son but his eyes were a soft bronze color. “May I pray for a blessing in appreciation of this serendipitous meeting ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane the Goddess of Water,” he intoned.

“You may.”

“May our magnanimous patron be blessed,” he said and a shower of green blessings rose in unison from the assembled relatives. Melchior was amazed. He wondered if they practiced in advance or had simply welcomed so many people that they were used to this by now. “I am Glockenfried, the head of House Klavier and Flautzeal's father.”

“I am oh so delighted to meet you, Lord Glockenfried. Please allow me to express my deep respect for your family’s crafts and craftsmanship. It was never my intention to imply anything else,” Melchior began. He wanted to kneel and apologize but kneeling before mednobles was taboo. “Please rise everyone.”

“Lord Melchior, allow me to apologize once again. I assure you that Flautzeal will be ready to perform any carpentry you might need,” Glockenfried replied. “Until then you may rely upon us,” he declared and began introducing his family and fellow craftspeople. He began with his two wives. The first wife he introduced as an exceptional singer and engraver. They then introduced Flautzeal's mother together as the beating heart of their home. “Zarefina hosts most of our clients. She oversees all our orders from start to finish and ensures perfect quality. Her flute playing fills these halls with both elegance and beauty,” Lady Matilda beamed as she spoke. Both she and her husband looked at the second wife with an expression Melchior recognized from his own parents.

“You flatter me as always, Matilda. Lord Melchior, thank you for taking our son into your service,” Zarefina said. Her deep blue eyes were even more stunning than Flautzeal's next to her brassy hair. “I hope my son has served you with proper diligence. Do inform us if he is ever in need of correction.”

“Flautzeal is excellent,” Melchior replied. He assured them that he was more than satisfied with his service.

Melchior greeted his former harspiel tutor when he came to introduce his wife and Glockenfried’s sister, Leiertrud. “I have heard great things about your development,” she said.

“It is due to your husband's expert tutelage that I have progressed so far in my studies,” Melchior insisted.

Leiertrud looked surprised while her husband only looked smug. “I did say it had nothing to do with my performance,” he muttered.

“Indeed. I wished to offer opportunity to the next generation of Klavier that the bond between our families remains strong,” Melchior added. He noticed Flautzeal's brother and cousins listening to this very speech.

Leiertrud took this opportunity to reintroduce her daughter. “Adalgeige, will graduate next year. She has been selected to play the drum for graduation.”

Melchior smiled brightly. “Drums are so rare in Ehrenfest. We must find more opportunities for you to play. I hope you would be willing to indulge me one day,” he said.

Adalgeige said that she would be happy to show him their collection of percussion instruments. “We do not make many drums. As you've noted, they are not so popular here in Ehrenfest. However, we have compared our work to that of Lembruck and Dunkelfelger and can promise absolutely quality.”

“If we are to show him our collection then you must see the flutes, my lord,” Flautzeal interjected. He brought over his grandparents. “Grandfather has made two harspiels for Lord Ferdinand. He is the greatest carpenter in all of Ehrenfest, perhaps in all of Yurgenschmidt.”

The man was only a bit younger than Bonifiatus. He had dark hair and the signature, nearly metallic, light brown eyes of his house. “I cannot say that, my boy. I’ve so much yet to learn to be the greatest carpenter even in this house.”

“He is just being humble,” Flautzeal's other aunt said as she sashayed back to work. “None of us can even mimic his work.”

Once Melchior had met and learned the various talents of Flautzeal's family he was brought to a room filled with instruments of all kinds. Some were made by their ancestors but most were collected from other duchies and countries. Lady Zerafina explained the history and origin of each piece Melchior asked about. He was allowed to tap the drums and strum the various stringed instruments.

Flautzeal was capable of playing most things but his mother occasionally took over. Adalgeige was called to demonstrate a particularly difficult percussion instrument composed of a shaker attached to a wooden ball by a string. It was played by shaking the instruments then flicking the ball back and forth to make clacks. Adalgeige was able to weave complicated rhythms much to her guests' delight.

They were taken from one room full of instruments to a second. This one was mostly harspiels and flutes as those were the primary work of House Klavier. Hanging on one wall were twelve nearly identical harspiel in graduated sizes. Melchior was encouraged to test three near in size to his own. The difference was so subtle he couldn't say what size he preferred.

“I think it will be best to use those we already have,” he concluded. The Archductal family still had two sizes for him to grow into before he might need to order his own adult sized piece. He considered buying one for Hasse's monastery as he’d noticed their lack of instruments on his most recent visit but was terrified to ask how much one would cost.

“We also rent our instruments for a seasonal fee. Using one closely fitted to your size will improve your play,” Zarefina explained. The fee depended on the instrument but was in the realm of one large silver for most things. It was common for families to rent the very small harspiels their children would need to practice before their debut then swiftly out grow.

Melchior was amazed by the collection of flutes. Most were made of wood but one was worked from silver and another from zaubertine. The rainbow finish on the zaubertine flute made his eyes sparkle but he declined to play it. “I could not ask you to clean it just that I might sully its beauty with my amateur playing,” he said.

“I would be willing to play a short piece if you wish to hear how it sounds,” Zarefina offered.

“I would be deeply grateful,” Melchior said. He readied himself to be amazed but was still unprepared for her incredible playing. He wasn't sure whether the flute had some magical property or if she was just that incredible. “That was truly the most beautiful thing I have ever heard,” he said once she finished.

“Your praise is deeply felt, Lord Melchior. Flautzeal tells me you have a great passion for the flute,” she said with a gentle smile.

Melchior shook his head. He merely liked the flute before. “I did not but you have shown me what is possible. I fear I will never play so well but I am inspired to improve,” he replied.

She sighed and clutched her necklace. “Oh, you are the most precious thing,” she cooed. She took a different flute from the wall. “Won't you play just a short piece,” she asked.

Melchior paled. How could he follow such a performance? “I wouldn't dare,” he muttered.

“Do not be shy. We all played our first notes once²²,” she insisted and forced the instrument into his hands.

He resigned himself to his fate and played one of the few songs he was confident in. It was hard to breathe properly while he was so nervous. It was not bad but by comparison it was not worth hearing.

“There is no need to be nervous, Lord Melchior. I hear that you have developed your breath and know all the notes. All there is left is to play from the heart,” she encouraged. Melchior glanced at Flautzeal who gave him an encouraging smile and gestured for him to play again.

Melchior was pressured by their inviting smiles to play the same song twice more. Zarefina had both notes and praise each time. She seemed prepared to listen to him play this song all day. “I must return in time for dinner,” he said as he offered back the flute. There was still more than a bell’s worth of time until he would even need to consider getting ready but she still accepted this excuse.

“Ah, yes. We should continue or you will not be able to see everything,” she agreed and took the instrument. She explained its origin and features while she carefully cleaned and oiled it by hand before returning it to its place. She pointed out a few more which were both appropriate to the size of his hands and would complement the energy of his playing.

As the temptation to purchase a flute continued to mount, Haldis redirected their tour back to the reason for his visit. “You predicted that Lord Melchior's order would be ready after Spring Prayer. Do you believe that will still be the case?”

Flautzeal blushed. “I have not been happy with my results thus far. I hope you will give me more time,” he said.

“There is no particular rush. I would like to begin decorating by this summer however,” Melchior replied. Flautzeal sighed with relief but his mother raised an eyebrow.

“If you promised them by next week then it must be so. We do not want to squander the trust placed in us. You may be assured we will have them finished,” she promised.

“Lady Zerafina, we need not force a meeting between Gebordnung and Steifebrise²³. Flautzeal is just learning this skill. I am prepared to support him and patiently await work of which he is proud,” Melchior insisted.

She looked pensive. “There is no reason why Flautzeal must complete them himself,” she replied. “He is not the only carpenter we have.”

Melchior looked at Flautzeal to try and gauge whether he should insist the work be done by him specifically. Having managed to insult this family twice now, he was at a loss for what to say. Flautzeal looked sheepish. Melchior resolved to keep the work in his hands but Haldis spoke before he could.

“There are many fine carvers here, my lord. I can personally attest to their skill. Do not feel you can only trust your own retainer,” he encouraged.

Melchior slowly turned to look at him. Haldis seemed to be scheming. He caught his lord's eye and gestured discreetly around the room. Lady Zerafina and her son were not the only people here. Various members of Flautzeal's family were floating in and out. They all looked busy and Melchior was used to being watched so he hadn't paid them any attention. Now that he looked, their eyes seemed to shine at the mention of assisting with his order.

This was baffling. He’d ordered something so simple. Why would career artisans look so interested in carving something so basic?

“Why don't you and Flautzeal continue your tour,” Haldis recommended as the silence drew deeper. He gave his lord a little push towards his scholar who was happy to lead him deeper in while Haldis remained to speak with Zarefina.

Melchior was whisked away before coming to a decision. Flautzeal walked him through a side building with a metal workshop where his uncle and grand uncle made small pieces to finish instruments or inlaid silver. There were a few servants bringing materials or assisting with furnaces. It was very hot owing to all the fires. Many faestones and magic implements Melchior couldn't guess the use of were scattered around as well. In one corner was a brewing forge as wide as his outstretched arms.

As they walked, Flautzeal explained that his great uncle had made the metal flutes. They were unfortunately too expensive for most people's taste so the craft had to be abandoned. “The materials are too expensive to support it ourselves,” he explained mournfully. All ideas Melchior had about acquiring one were quietly put away in the back of his mind.

The great uncle in question spoke passionately about the superior sound and beauty of metal. He’d wished to create metal strings or a whole metal harspiel. The closest he’d come was a seven string lyre which was his personal instrument of choice. The surprisingly spry old man pulled them out of the workshop to an adjoining practice room. The walls were lined with shelves displaying the various metal parts available and a few instruments belonging to the metal workers.

“Occasionally one gets the inspiration for a song or the urge to play. We have this room near at hand so we do not disturb the work in progress.”

Though Melchior could not relate, he was happy to listen to the old man sing in his deep voice which only slightly quivered with age. He performed a personal composition about the glittering brilliance of silver that reminded Melchior of Rozemyne’s song for the Royal Academy library.

Melchior clapped and gave a small blessing at the end which the old gentleman waved away. “I am out of practice. It is nothing deserving of such praise,” he grumbled.

“I have never heard its equal,” Melchior replied and glanced around at his knights who gave nods of agreement.

“It is your first time hearing such an instrument, so that is to be expected.” Even though that was true, Melchior was amazed that such an incredible musician would refuse compliments.

They left the metal building and entered the first of several carpentry shops. In this one they seemed to create the large parts of instruments. Great slabs of wood were in the process of being cut and carved into the bodies or arms. There were few magic tools in this room as most of the work was done using mundane methods.

He was then taken through each shop in order of fineness. From the rough outline of the largest pieces, through the refining stage, passed where all the decorations and tuning pins were carved and added, to a small room with nearly complete instruments where Flautzeal’s grandfather sat carefully inspecting pieces for flaws and tuning. “Grandfather checks the sound of each piece as well as the aesthetic perfection. If it does not pass at this stage, a piece is likely to be remade from the beginning. Mother generally ensures that is not the case but it has happened,” Flautzeal explained.

The old man ignored their entrance as he tenderly stroked a harspiel with pegs carved to look like Gewinnen pieces. It was decorated with paintings of gathering with a distinctive blue and light gold color scheme. “I do not mean to imply that there is only one person to whose tastes this would appeal but is that for my uncle’s wedding?” Melchior asked.

Flautzeal nodded while his grandfather murmured about being unable to comment on the precise nature of their clientele. Melchior covered his mouth. The old man was clearly listening even if he seemed to not be paying attention.

“We cannot divulge our client’s personal details,” Flautzeal replied hurriedly. They shared sheepish glances as they listened to Flautzeal's grandfather play a short song about the God of Darkness and his subordinates.

“Is that from the orphanage?” Melchior asked. He also blushed as he remembered that he'd yet to write out all the lyrics to the seven songs he promised Flautzeal.

“Yes it is. We’ve found them quite delightful. They are simple enough to play in any key so for the last few weeks, we’ve been using them to test instruments,” Flautzeal declared happily.

His grandfather looked up finally. “This is the young man who taught you these songs?” he asked.

“I did not create them, nor have I had the chance to teach them to Flautzeal. Indeed, I am wondering how he acquired them,” Melchior replied with honest curiosity.

“I learned them from Trude. She had already transcribed them for harspiel as well,” Flautzeal chirped.

Melchior tried to remember when he’d had a second lesson with Trude after pledging himself as her student. “When did you have time for that?”

“Before Spring Prayer. Neither Sister Streita nor Kazmiar required assistance so I went to offer my help to the orphanage steward, Wilma, but she had no work so I stayed to practice with Trude and the orphans,” he explained proudly.

Melchior sighed. “We do not permit nobles to enter the orphanage for safety reasons. There are too many untrained younglings who might give offense and subsequently arrest their careers before they have begun.”

Flautzeal gazed at the floor. “I was not aware. But I am used to children. I understand that they cannot be expected to comprot themselves,” he replied.

“What if they give offense? Will you demand satisfaction?” Melchior asked. Flautzeal shook his head. “Not even if they break a harspiel in your presence?” Both Klavier men shivered visibly but Flautzeal shook his head resolutely.

“I am a guest in their home there to receive the gifts of my master. I would not disturb their peace,” he promised.

“Very well. If you will forfeit your right to complain you may be allowed to practice there on occasion,” Melchior conceded.

Flautzeal knelt. “I forfeit my right to complain or seek recompense regardless of the treatment I receive from the orphans or gray clergy,” he declared without hesitation. Melchior’s guards stared at him in shock while his grandfather only nodded and returned to his work.

Flautzeal happily ignored his coworkers' amazement to show them to his work station. It was right next to his grandfather’s at a smaller set of tables identical to the old man's but sized for Flautzeal's smaller body. Rather than hundreds of small tools with mysterious uses, Flautzeal’s work bench had a few chisels, a saw, some abrasive tools, and stacks of wooden blocks cut precisely to five different sizes. His pencil also sat to the side next to several others made from different kinds of wood with slightly different pigment colors.

“You have so many pencils,” Melchior observed.

Flautzeal grabbed the stack and held them out. “Once we devised the method for their creation, we had to attempt to create them ourselves,” he explained happily. He pointed out his own contribution which was carved into a triangular tube. There was another by his grandfather which had been carved all over in an elaborate pattern and was unsharpened. The others employed various techniques for decoration or improved usefulness. “Uncle is creating a magic tool to cut perfect tubes out of a soft stone which makes very similar marks.”

Melchior gazed at the collection in astonishment. Flautzeal had owned his pencil for a little over two weeks. “It is amazing that you managed to recreate these so quickly.”

“It was much simpler after Father noticed the glue seam. For the first day we had a competition to see who could drill the deepest and smallest hole only to realize we had no idea how to get the pigment into it. Now we are working on formulations. I believe colored pigments are possible but it will take me some time to experiment. However, if you need more gray pencils we are able to provide,” he said proudly.

Melchior knew he couldn't say he would prefer to avoid the Klavier mark up and buy his writing implements from the Plantin Company. He resigned himself to making less use of the new tool than previously anticipated but agreed to purchase a set of twelve for one small silver.

“We thank you for your patronage,” Flautzeal said happily. “Now, you came to view your order in progress. I admit it has caused me some trouble,” he began. He showed pieces from the first pile. He was beginning with his own diptych so he could refine his technique over time and would end with Lord Ferdinand's after developing his style.

“One is for Lord Ferdinand?” his grandfather called from his bench. “That explains why you asked for his measures,” he grumbled. Melchior caught a similar look to others of House Klavier. This master carpenter seemed far too excited at the prospect of carving shallow depressions into blocks of wood.

“Yes, grandfather. Lord Melchior intends to paint pictures across them as a gift to his uncle,” Flautzeal explained. The old man stroked his graying beard and looked across his collection of tools. Flautzeal handed Melchior a perfectly serviceable set of mirrored tablets. The edges were rounded and comfortable to hold while the finish was very smooth.

“I think these are excellent. What are you unhappy with?” Melchior asked.

“I cannot decide how deep to make the wax receptacle. It depends on the wax formulation but the temperature has been unstable making it hard to know whether I’ve gotten it right. I think you should consider switching waxes seasonally to preserve writing performance,” he said.

Just the thought of that annoyed Melchior. He would sooner own four diptychs and change between them than send his away for a couple of days every season. That was if he even found switching to be worthwhile in the first place.

“I also don't know whether the connection placement is as good as it can be. I haven't made much use of diptychs before and my lack of experience makes it difficult to decide. Perhaps you have some insight, my lord.”

Melchior held the two tablets and tapped them together as he thought. All the diptychs he’d used so far were connected at the sides. He’d never found this to be an impediment to anything nor did he consider other options. The only thought he'd ever had on the subject was, “Sometimes the knots get in the way of laying it flat on a table or flipping it completely open.”

Flautzeal nodded with a serious expression. He took the tablets back and set them next to a small collection of similar pieces. “Are those all tablets?” Melchior asked.

“Yes. I’m not happy with them,” Flautzeal replied.

Melchior asked to examine them and found each set to be perfectly usable. They differed ever so slightly in size and a couple had small imperfections in the wood but Melchior felt Flautzeal could have moved on to Isolde's by now. “I think they are all serviceable. Unlike an instrument, these are tools. Small imperfections do not detract from their usefulness and can make them feel more personal.” He unhooked his own diptych which had slightly miss matched sides and a little dent from his dropping it. In fact, there were little signs of wear appearing at the holes and where he tended to hold it.

Flautzeal turned it over and over and examined it. “The tablets are two different sizes,” he muttered with poorly veiled contempt. He touched the dent and the scratch Melchior's metal stylus had put across the crest when he’d made the mistake of storing them free floating in a pouch together. “May I see your stylus?” Melchior proffered this as well. He looked this over with similar care. “May I borrow these for reference?”

“If you give me one to borrow,” Melchior replied. He grabbed his favorite set from Flautzeal's collection of failures. “Can you fill these with wax? Haldis can find a cord to connect them and I have a spare stylus so wax is all we need,” he declared.

Flautzeal looked shaken by the request. “But they are not right,” he cried. He looked from Melchior's usual set, so filled with useful knowledge, to his collection and weighed the value of allowing inferior work into the world against learning more to improve his craft.

“I like them,” Melchior said. He clicked them together. “This wood makes a nice sound when they click.” The light of inspiration filled Flautzeal’s eyes. “Whatever wax formula you are most happy with will be acceptable. I am only using them temporarily,” Melchior added.

Flautzeal shook with indecision. He wanted to keep Melchior’s diptych but he didn't want to allow him to use his poor work which wasn't even sized to his hands. It was an impossible choice.

Melchior sighed as they shared a pained look. “They will be an improvement to what I am currently using. See, they are larger to hold but have a smaller writing area and, as you say, are slightly different sizes,” Melchior pressed. Flautzeal still looked unconvinced. The failure of others wasn't an excuse to fail yourself. “If you lend them to me I will give you the mark I designed for Isolde,” Melchior teased. It was a part of his order which he should have included from the start and thus, not really an incentive but Flautzeal responded as though he'd been promised a great treasure.

“I will fill them at once,” he said and raced away with both the chosen tablets and Melchior’s diptych.

Melchior waited by his workbench awkwardly as time dragged on. Grandpa Klavier set down his work and walked over. He examined the reject pile and the stylus. “See here, the width of the bevel isn't consistent,” he muttered. He pointed out some other all but invisible mistakes to Melchior on the pieces before taking one set back to his own workbench to refine.

The knights and their lord stood for a long while listening to the sound of tinkering and awaiting Flautzeal's return. Melchior floated over to watch the old man work. He made a collection of mysterious changes using the equally mysterious tools. Melchior felt happy to deduce that one was for measuring small distances while another refined the rounding on the edges. He finished before Flautzeal returned and replaced the tablets in exactly the place and configuration he’d found them in with a conspiratorial grin.

Flautzeal returned to find his lord and grandfather giggling together. “I have finished the wax. It has cooled. I also added your crest so no one will take your diptych by accident,” Flautzeal announced. He brought his offering forward on a handkerchief and presented it gracefully. Despite Melchior’s insistence that he had string at home, Flautzeal had connected the pieces with continuous loops of leather.

“How…?” Melchior muttered as he tried to understand how such a thing was possible. “Thank you. Now no knots will get in the way,” he said. He opened the tablets to find a soft purple wax and smiled. Flautzeal watched his every expression. He beamed with pride and delight and Melchior fawned in abject pleasure. “I see where the additional two parts of value come from.”

“What do you mean, my lord?” Flautzeal asked.

Melchior snapped out of his trance. “Please think nothing of it,” he said and hooked his new diptych to his belt. He wiggled just enough to make them clack. Haldis and Zerafina appeared with similar looks of satisfaction. Haldis handed over Melchior's design sketches to Flautzeal who took them greedily.

“How wonderful. You’ve captured Lady Isolde precisely,” he said. The crest was built around a stylized tulip rather than a shield. It was flanked on either side by nachaaher, a faebird with five eyes which could mimic human speech. Above was a banner saying “Words Well Tended”. Within the flower a needle and thread were depicted embroidering a partial map of Yurgenschmidt focused on the northeast but without duchy borders. Instead, land formations and the Country Gate were suggested. The needle was positioned to stab into Ehrenfest’s capitol as it embroidered the river which flowed through Leisegang on its way to Alexandria's ocean. “What did she say when she saw it?” he asked.

“It is a surprise so I haven't shown her yet,” Melchior said.

Flautzeal shook his head. “It is to be a personal symbol. You should show her now, before it is emblazoned so that she can make any edits without feeling like she must accept it as is,” Flautzeal said. He gingerly passed the papers back. “Please ask her to approve each version, the full one and all reduced forms.”

Melchior promised to ask her and send back the revisions. Haldis and Zerafina spent a bit looking at the drawing before he stashed them away. “Did you create this from nothing, my lord?” Haldis asked.

“Isolde gave me a list of things she values. Femininity, language, scholarship, that sort of thing. I felt I should include her hobbies and an animal which embodies her beliefs like the lion embodies our… our courage? I think,” Melchior froze as he realized no one had explained why their crest featured the animal it did.

“You do know that nachaaher are vicious predators which draw in prey by mimicking the sounds of their distressed fellows?” Haldis asked.

“They are also very beautiful,” Melchior replied.

“I suppose they are fitting. Perhaps too fitting,” Haldis mumbled.

With his rented diptych and new mission, Melchior trotted away happily. Flautzeal accompanied him to the entrance though he seemed like he wanted to begin working immediately. “We must be both good hosts and good craftsmen,” his mother reminded.

“It is as you say,” Flautzeal whispered. “Lord Melchior, is there anything else we can offer you?” he asked. He attempted to pressure them into staying for tea but they had already stayed for over a bell.

“I could not impose upon your hospitality. It seems Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has woven this afternoon’s threads with exceptional grace and speed. I really must be going,” Melchior replied.

“Thank you for coming to our humble home, Lord Melchior. We always appreciate a customer with a discerning eye,” Lady Zarefina said.”Please feel encouraged to come again even when you have no order to view. We would be delighted to hear you play anytime.”

Melchior felt an incredibly intimidating pressure. He felt sure he would be forced to play every time he visited. “When our threads are woven together such that our schedules allow,” Melchior said noncommittally.

“I shall come to see you off tomorrow, my lord.”

“Then may our parting be brief,” Melchior said and took his leave.

Sebastian and Fonsel looked exhausted once they were all in the carriage. “I have never met such people,” Sebastian muttered.

“They are truly incredible,” Fonsel replied.

Haldis meanwhile looked very satisfied with his time. “They have agreed to take their time with the work but Flautzeal will not be the only craftsperson,” Haldis reported.

“It sounds like you have forced them to make every concession,” Melchior sighed.

“Not at all, my lord. They find the project very interesting. Its simplicity creates much space for ingenuity and personality,” Haldis explained. “Lady Zerafina fears discord should her in-laws be denied the opportunity to contribute.”

Melchior couldn't help but smile. It reminded him of his father's tendency to pout if excluded from anything new or interesting. He wondered whether his mother was similarly burdened by containing and feeding his curiosity.

He returned to his chambers to find his apprentice attendants studying with Isolde. They all stopped and stood to greet him. “You did not send word of your arrival, my lord,” Kolteruze chided. He began to task Pepin with putting away their work but Melchior stopped them.

“I have some time before dinner. You do not need to attend at the moment. Only, would you prepare tea, we are a bit parched.”

“As you command, my lord,” Kolteruze said and hurried away to brew.

He’d been studying on his own while Isolde tutored Pepin in the fourth year combined classes. He was struggling to learn a list of additional schtappe transformations for useful everyday items.

“When I can read them I can summon the tool, it is just so hard to remember the incantations,” he sighed.

“Just keep using them, you will remember something you use everyday,” Isolde encouraged him.

Melchior joined them at his table after retrieving the design drawings from Haldis. “I have finished the first draft of your mark, Isolde. Do you like the motto ‘Words Well Tended’?”

She took the sheets and looked them over. Pepin also took the opportunity to avoid a bit of studying. “It is very interesting. I’ve never seen a crest with birds or without any weapons.”

“House Klavier's crest has no weapons,” Melchior noted. He’d only just been looking at it.

“Speaking of, how was your trip?” Isolde asked. She didn't lift her eyes from the papers.

“It was both incredible and terrifying. They have recreated pencils. You may order them for one silver per dozen. If you have preferences for line quality, be sure to include them in your order,” he said.

He glanced at Kolteruze’s abandoned materials. He was reading about how to provision troops. “Your tea, my lord,” Kolteruze said suddenly.

Melchior sat up straight and invited him to place the cup on the table. After serving everyone he returned to studying.

Isolde finally looked up. “That cannot be everything. What did you say? What did you see? Do they truly have a drum covered with human leather?” she asked.

Melchior paled. “Who has said such things?” he gasped. Then he thought about it again. They had so many instruments from foreign lands. It wasn't that far-fetched to imagine one came from a place where use of such goods was not taboo. “They might,” he admitted.

Isolde wiggled in her seat. “Do tell me everything,” she begged. He described as much of his visit as possible without revealing its true purpose. “It does not sound like I could repeat their craft even if I stole their secrets,” she mused.

“That was obviously a pretense,” Haldis called out.

Isolde transitioned from shock to anger to annoyance and back several times. “If you did not wish to bring me, you might have just said so,” she huffed.

“It is not that I did not want you to go, it is that I could not bring you. Haldis created that fabrication on his own,” Melchior said with a pointed look at the treacherous attendant. “You can come along next time. If I ever build up the courage to return,” he said.

“Fear not. I will be with you,” she said with a look of burning ambition.

“How do you like the design,” Melchior hurriedly changed the subject.

“What are these birds?” she asked.

“They are a faebeast with light green plumage and five black eyes. They hunt prey by mimicking its cries,” Melchior explained.

“Black eyes?” she asked. “Don't most birds have black eyes?”

“It is more accurate to say they have eyes of darkness. They are not dark-fae but they are believed to be able to draw in mana with their eyes to get stronger. They remind me of the ways scholars use their senses to collect information and how you alter your mannerisms to match your interlocutors.”

“Is it that noticeable?” she asked.

“No.” “Not particularly,” Kolteruze and Pepin replied in unison.

“I suppose it is quite subtle. You are more coquette with Dedryck because it makes him uncomfortable but sweet to Fonsel because he likes children,” Melchior offered as an example.

Pepin looked amazed while Isolde grew pensive. “You are very observant,” she replied.

“Sigsnyr said something similar, it is just that I know your faces so well. I could not make any similar claims about my new retainers,” he assured them.

“What about me?” Kolteruze asked.

Melchior didn't want to admit how little he knew about Kolteruze. Though he'd technically been in his service for years, he’d only just begun direct service. Combined with the fact that he was almost always outside of Melchior's field of view, Melchior didn't have much opportunity to observe him. “I have not done as many portraits of you, Kolteruze. I therefore do not know your face as well.”

Kolteruze considered whether he should keep things this way. Melchior was anything but opaque but never seemed to be paying as close of attention as he obviously was. Except for at this moment where he was observing Kolteruze more closely than ever. His bright blue eyes flitted to each feature in turn.

He’d been of the opinion that Kolteruze was neither beautiful nor ugly but something in between that gave a comforting feeling. As the older boy turned increasingly red under scrutiny, Melchior was left with the impression that he was nice to look at and his usual performance of boring affability was what disguised that fact.

“Please stop,” Kolteruze gasped and turned to hide his face. He caught Isolde's teasing grin and felt even more embarrassed even if he could not blush any deeper.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Melchior said. “I got carried away.” And Kirk had just recently warned him that his attention could be oppressive.

“What is your impression?” Isolde asked. She did her best not to sound gleeful at the attendant’s expense.

Before Melchior could respond Pepin jumped in. “She is goading you into teasing him,” he warned. “I would advise that we simply change our focus.”

Isolde glared at him but he didn't cow. Melchior nodded. “My apologies once again, Kolteruze.” He turned back to the designs. “Would you like me to make any changes?” he asked.

Isolde reluctantly released her quarry. “I feel like it will be difficult to embroider. It is so detailed.”

“It is usually done at a large scale such as on surcoats or temple robes,” Melchior argued. “Perhaps it is too colorful,” he sighed. He then thought about how small it would be on a diptych. “Though, perhaps you are correct. I will try to make it simpler.”

He spent the time before and after dinner attempting to refine and reduce the complexity. He considered switching tools as scissors had a more distinctive silhouette but Haldis argued needles were more like Isolde herself. “She just brings to mind pinpoint precision over shearing force,” he mused.

Melchior wasn't sure he agreed and decided that Isolde could choose for herself. The tapestry details were omitted in smaller designs which made the needle and thread read less as themselves.

He hemmed and hawed and eventually had to go to bed without creating anything he was happy with.

Footnotes

22. We were all bad players at some point^

23. “He doesn't need to be both perfect and fast” or “haste makes waste” ^

Chapter Text

To the North

His trip to Haldenzel would not be long. At most he would stay for two nights and one full day. Spring Prayer was planned for that evening. It felt strange thinking about how far from home he was going and how different things might be when he arrived. He flew to the temple with his three adult knights to collect his things and change into his robes.

Lothar greeted him alongside Paul and Chet. Kirk and Sheila were performing final checks. He was cleansed before being dressed despite the very long delay before he was set to perform the ritual. For flying he would wear his normal High Bishop robes then change into the ceremonial version after arriving.

Kampfer had been entrusted with the key to Kazmiar’s office and the chalice cabinet. He went with Melchior who was the only person who could actually open the cabinet to retrieve the last three small chalices for Haldenzel. They were carefully packed into a small box and given to Lothar. This box and his luggage were then taken to the nobles gate.

More people than just Flautzeal had arrived to see him off. His knights’ attendants came with their luggage and assisted with strapping it to the highbeasts. Dedryck and his attendant bantered good naturedly. “They have very fine flowers in Haldenzel. Do not waste your chance to view them,” said the man with a light slap to Dedryck’s hand as the knight attempted to assist.

“You say that about everywhere I go,” Dedryck replied.

“It is always true. Ehrenfest is a blessed place,” he insisted.

Melchior formed his Lion-pandabus, sparking various versions of surprise from the uninitiated. He calmly ignored them and opened the haunch to allow his attendants to pack his things.

“You can make it so large, Lord Melchior. I struggle to provide space for more than myself and my things,” Flautzeal said as he observed everything.

“It takes a great deal of mana but once it is formed it isn't so bad. This will be my longest flight yet though. I am a bit nervous.”

“Do not worry, Lord Melchior, we will catch you if you fall,” Gerianne assured him. Her schnestrum looked unhappy to be so burdened by both her luggage and her one shrine maiden. She was bringing an apprentice to further conserve weight. Her head attendant was lecturing the girl with final warnings.

“Would you like me to carry your things?” Melchior asked.

Her response was cut off by the arrival of Sigsnyr and Zipporah. They were accompanied by a young man with purple hair who looked an awful lot like Melchior imagined Pepin would one day.

“You are bringing Gerianne?” Sigsnyr asked in surprise.

“Charlotte informed me yesterday that I could bring apprentices. Please do not tell Isolde just yet,” Melchior pleaded.

“She will know when she arrives,” Zipporah teased.

“Maybe you should ride inside as well,” Melchior suggested to Gerianne.

“There is no need for me to hide. Circumstances did not favor her this time. That is all,” Gerianne huffed.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to ride with him actually. Everyone else is an adult and mostly archnobles. You may struggle with so much baggage,” Sigsnyr said. It seemed they'd split his attendants luggage between himself and Zipporah. “Plus you can add additional mana to that thing, reducing Melchior’s burden.”

Everyone looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean she can add her mana. It has been dyed by an Archduke Candidate. She cannot hope to overcome his resistance,” Zipporah said.

“Highbeast faestones are magic tools not faestones. It isn't as efficient as using your own but you can power someone else's,” he placed a hand on Zipporah's causing it to jump forward a couple of steps.

She looked unhappy to have her highbeast used thus. Melchior realized that he’d neglected to notice how cool it was. “What faebeast is this?” he asked and hurried over.

Sigsnyr grabbed him and pushed him back towards the Lion-pandabus. “I do not wish to know what happens while there are people inside,” he warned.

“Oh, thank you. How could I forget,” Melchior said.

Zipporah drew her mount closer for him to see. “It is called a schirjack. It is one of the possible evolutions of the shumil. They occur when a shumil has acquired enough mana through normal foraging or if fed a blenrus fruit or something similar,” Zipporah explained. It looked like a large shumil with oversized back legs and undersized forelegs. It had the normal long ears but also an impressive rack of antlers. Zipporah’s saddle sat back on the large rump, behind where the wings attached while her luggage was strapped to the chest. It could stand up on its rear legs to give her better access to her things.

“I love it,” Melchior declared. He obtained permission to touch it and made liberal use of that permission.

“As I was saying, you should ride in the lion,” Sigsnyr reiterate to Gerianne. She thought things over for a bit before conceding. Her carefully packed luggage was moved inside along with her apprentice shrine maiden.

While they discussed these logistics, Flautzeal had struck up a lively conversation with the Sigsnyr's purple haired attendant. “Is that Pepin's brother?” Melchior asked.

“Oh, yes, Lady Florencia recommended him,” Sigsnyr replied. He was a bit confused by Melchior's outsized reaction. “Have you never met?”

Melchior shook his head so Sigsnyr called him over. “May I offer a blessing…” he asked in a calming voice. Melchior gave his permission and received his green light. “I am Fridegern, Pepin is my younger brother.”

“It is delightful to meet you. Pepin speaks very warmly of your care,” Melchior said.

Fridegern blushed but maintained his expression. “That is heartening to hear. Please convey my appreciation to your mother for recommending me. I have never been to Haldenzel before.”

“It is a beautiful place. I am certain you will find it so wonderful you will not wish to leave,” Zipporah said.

He introduced himself to her as well. “I have heard nothing but praise for Count Haldenzel’s daughter. To think I should travel to that province beside her.”

“You shall be treated warmly. That I can guarantee,” Zipporah declared.

Once Gerianne’s things were all packed, Dedryck did a last walk around everyone. “If you grow too tired on the journey, speak up. It is better to arrive late than not at all.”

As he spoke, the Nobles Gate opened to reveal the flushed faces of Isolde and Pepin. They hurried over to give greetings and farewell.

“I have prepared some questions for you to ask. And this is a gift for Lady Nantfelda. It is loose flowers,” Isolde said as she pressed a box into Sheila's hands.

“Mother will love that. How very thoughtful, Isolde,” Zipporah said.

Pepin buzzed around his brother with joy written across his face. “I hope you have a wonderful trip. Be sure to have lots of fun.”

“I am working, Pepin. This is not a trip just for fun.”

“Yes, you are working. You are working! Yes, of course. I know you will do well,” Pepin fawned. He even gave a blessing to prove his excitement.

“We must be off. Maintaining our highbeasts takes mana too,” Dedryck ordered.

Everyone gave their final farewells and prepared to leave. Everyone’s retainers stood together to wave them goodbye. Gerianne’s attendant shrieked and clutched Sheila as they leapt into the sky. “It is all right, everyone is frightened on their first ride,” Sheila cooed.

Gerianne sat in the passenger seat with her hands on the desk. “This is more pleasant than braving the wind,” she admitted.

“It is quite nice. Though, even I admit it lacks the gravitas of a normal lion,” Melchior replied.

Gerianne giggled. “I think it is cute.”

Melchior asked about her Spring Prayer journey and listened to her talk about all the provinces she visited. It was not as difficult as before since she’d secured a better carriage this year. The giebes also knew her to be his knight and were more respectful. “I still do not receive additional niceties but they are not openly derogatory now,” she explained.

He told her about his own trip and Hasse. He talked about the man, which drew wide eyed amazement from Lothar, and wondered aloud whether he could have avoided getting sick by being more careful from the start.

Eventually, they ran out of things to talk about so Melchior asked for reports on Kirk's and Sheila’s trips. Sheila happily announced her success in attaining the fruit he asked for. She also shared knowledge of which vegetables were coming into season and which ones seemed like they would be the best.

“You sent your attendants to acquire ingredients in the lower city?” Gerianne asked.

“It is an excuse to give them leave,” Melchior whispered back.

“I see. Is the lower city that interesting?”

Melchior shrugged. He's only been once and for a very specific task.

Kirk reported on his adventures with less candid language. The meetings were planned. Fred had begun to realize that Kirk served a temple priest rather than a wealthy merchant. How their request to hold the competition in the temple hadn't been enough of a clue, he wasn't sure.

The Plantin company had new ideas for his blank book. They were developing a system of interchangeable covers. “You desire more blank books?” Gerianne asked.

“I find them very convenient. I am not looking forward to purchasing one at the proper cost however,” he replied.

“Have you considered starting your own paper workshop?”

“Many times. I do not know where or how to begin.”

Melchior considered the prospect for a while. He gazed down at the land falling away behind them. They were traveling more quickly than usual. He could see their collection of highbeasts all around him. Sigsnyr and Zipporah floated close together chatting while his adult knights scanned their surroundings with unbroken vigilance.

As he watched Sigsnyr and Fridegern’s sleeves blow in the wind, he considered how silly they were for long distance travel and wondered whether they made it harder to fly. He couldn't recall feeling any significant drag from his ceremonial robes. He asked Gerianne.

“I would say that it does. But there is nothing for it. There generally isn't time to change once you arrive at an event.”

“It is good that the knight uniforms do not have such long sleeves,” he observed. “Are you adding mana?” he asked. It didn't feel any easier than usual to fly.

“I was not. You have reminded me,” she said. Suddenly they shot past Dedryck. “Oops.” They both pulled back and rapidly fell behind.

Dedryck floated close to the left side and Melchior opened a little hole. The wind roared so loudly he couldn't hear Dedryck at first.

After a bit of gesturing back and forth, Dedryck called their party to slow down until the noise wasn't as bad. “What happened? Is something wrong?”

“We were experimenting with having Gerianne add her mana as well. It was a bit too much then a bit too little,” Melchior explained.

“Please conduct your experiments at slower speeds and near to the ground,” Dedryck said. Melchior assured him they would take care. The head knight moved back to the head of the group and signaled for them to continue.

“Add as much as you normally would to fly. I will make up the difference,” Melchior whispered.

Gerianne nodded and powered their acceleration along with everyone else. “This is my limit,” she said after a few moments.

“Do not strain yourself,” Melchior reminded as he added more mana of his own.

The flight took half the day from the temple to Haldenzel. Melchior watched the land grow snowier and more forested. He tried to think of where he was on the map of Ehrenfest which hung near his parents’ chambers. He noted the streams and hills he expected but only really knew once they reached the beginning of a great conifer forest. They were a slightly brighter green than the ones of the Nobles Forest and seemed taller as well. In the distance was a massive clearing. Their party slowly descended as they approached. Melchior saw a large ivory building all but grown out of the ground. It glittered just as brightly as the patchy snow as the wind sent ripples through the yellow grass and young wildflowers.

“Its incredible!” Melchior murmured.

“Many things about Zipporah make more sense now,” Gerianne added.

There was no time for Melchior to inquire after her meaning as they swooped down to land before the grand entrance. Many knights, the count, and his first wife stood ready to greet them.

Zipporah stepped forward to give the greetings. While Melchior’s attendants began unloading quickly and quietly. As a mere priest, Melchior thought it best to stay to the side.

“This is the Lord Sigsnyr I’ve heard so much about?” Claudio asked.

Sigsnyr knelt to give his blessing. “Indeed, Giebe Haldenzel. I have had the honor to call you daughter my friend.”

“Yes. She tells me you are a skilled knight. Can we count on you to join the first hunt of spring.”

“I would be delighted. Thank you for the opportunity to return your kindness with the application of my humble skills,” Sigsnyr replied.

After a bit more back and forth and warm familial banter, it was the clergy's turn to step forward with the chalices. “Welcome to Haldenzel, Lord Melchior. We are honored to receive the High Bishop once again.”

“Thank you ever so much Giebe Haldenzel for your generous hospitality. I have brought the three chalices promised to the people of our northernmost province. By the grace of Flutrane the Goddess of Water, the bringer of healing and change, and the twelve goddess who serve by her side, Geduldh the Goddess of Earth has been granted the power to birth new life. I pray from the bottom of my heart that the countless lives upon this mortal realm are filled with Flutrane's divine color,” he orated.

Having managed his speech. Melchior breathed a furtive sigh of relief as the count replied with his own ritual acceptance. “And so Geduldh the Goddess of Earth has been freed by the power of Flutrane the Goddess of Water. Blessed be the melting of the snow!”

“Praise be to the gods. Glory be to the gods,” Melchior and Gerianne replied in unison. The assembled nobles looked at them a little skeptically but the scholars came forward and accepted the chalices from Gerianne all the same.

They were led into the great building. Zipporah and Sigsnyr were quickly separated and taken towards the giebe’s summer estate while Melchior and Gerianne continued deeper into the labyrinth. It was dark and the walls were a bit close but Melchior was excited. “It is like an underground city,” he chirped.

“They have those in Klassenberg right? I didn't know we had one here,” Gerianne replied.

“The ones in Klassenberg are built inside large natural caves. They are quite different and brighter I think.”

They were brought to two neighboring rooms at the end of a hallway with many other doors. Melchior sent Sheila over to assist Gerianne while the men in his party moved to enter his room. “Spring Prayer will begin at sixth bell. Dinner will be served at that time. An attendant will come to retrieve you a little before then,” said their guide before leaving them in their rooms.

The room wasn't very large but it also wasn't all that cramped. Melchior wondered how large the other rooms were with the limited amount of space available in an underground city. The apartment was fitted with four beds begging the question of where his attendants would sleep. There was water but nothing else.

Melchior tried to stand out of the way while his attendants prepared the space. As Gerianne had fewer things and people, her room was finished first. She attempted to come over but Lothar sent the nobles over there instead.

Melchior and Gerianne were given chairs while Sebastian and Fonsel sat on the beds. Dedryck chose to keep watch in the hall. “They are treating you like a priest,” Gerianne grumbled.

“I am a priest,” Melchior replied. He accepted the cup of water only then realizing how thirsty he was. He was also hungry and wondered whether they would be given lunch or even a snack.

“Do you think they treated Lady Rozemyne this way?” she hinted.

“Sister is Count Haldenzel's niece and she saved their people from starvation. I do not expect to be loved as she was,” Melchior replied.

“You are the son of the Archduke,” Fonsel sighed. “At the very least you should have equivalent treatment to Sigsnyr.”

Melchior considered whether this was true. He was here on a religious trip as a normal priest. Asking for special treatment when he didn't need to come himself felt wrong. He was annoyed by the bed situation. “Should we move one of these beds to my room?” He asked. It would make the small space even tighter but then they would only be one bed short.

“You shouldn't have to consider that. That you haven't been provided with enough sleeping spaces is ridiculous.”

“Maybe I bought too many knights,” Melchior mused. He normally traveled with two after all. Had he also only brought one attendant, there would be enough space. “And why did I bring a chef?” he wondered aloud.

“If you are hungry, I can acquire refreshments,” Sheila offered. There were no cooking facilities but perhaps she could find something by asking around.

“I smelled food on the walk here. Maybe there’s a dining hall,” Gerianne suggested.

“We don't want to get lost by wandering around. This place is a maze of identical hallways,” Fonsel argued.

Sebastian looked increasingly annoyed. “Just send an ordonnanz. They should have provided both appropriate accommodations and food,” he snapped.

Melchior turned over the possibilities in his mind. He could send a message to Zipporah with his complaints but that felt rude. They needed more places to sleep certainly but that could be discussed at dinner. While he was hungry, staying locked in these small rooms felt suffocating after spending all morning in his highbeast. “Let's go explore,” he declared. This was a winter mansion not a forest. It couldn't be all that dangerous.

Fonsel and Sebastian were shocked while Gerianne jumped up in excitement. “I just warned you about getting lost,” Fonsel said.

“Just because we don't know the way, doesn't mean no one does,” Gerianne argued. “We can ask someone for directions. Plus I have a very good sense of direction. I go exploring at the Royal Academy all the time.”

“While I am trapped in my room even,” Melchior mumbled. That was all the more reason to take this opportunity.

“You should stay here while we look around,” Fonsel said.

“No, I will not be left behind,” Melchior insisted.

“We know nothing about this place. If something happens we can only run around blindly,” Fonsel replied.

“Why would the people of Haldenzel attack us? I do not want to be stuck in my room until dinner.”

“Then let us summon your retainer. This is Zipporah’s home. She should be here to show you around,” Sebastian grumbled.

“What if she is busy? How long are we to wait? There is no reason why we cannot go by ourselves!” Melchior felt deeply annoyed. This place was so like the castle or the dormitory it made no sense in being so overly cautious.

“Please calm down, Lord Melchior,” Sebastian said.

“I am calm. I am also hungry and we are wasting time,” Melchior snapped. He turned to walk out. Sheila moved to open the door but Fonsel stood in front of it.

“Please think this through. We are in an unfamiliar place. We cannot wander around nor can you simply consume food prepared by commoners.”

Melchior looked at Sheila then back at Fonsel. “Half my meals are made by commoners.” He set his shoulders and tried to project authority. “We are going,” he ordered.

Fonsel didn't budge. “You are both tired and hungry. This is a bad decision and you need to reconsider.”

Sebastian offered an ordonnanz. “Just contact Zipporah,” he coaxed.

Melchior didn't want to contact Zipporah and complain like a useless child. He wanted to explore and find buchlettes or something equally exotic. Suddenly some of Wilfried's stories came to mind. Hadn't he escaped his retainers by just running around the castle.

“Let us consult Dedryck,” Melchior suggested. He looked at Gerianne. She didn't seem to catch his meaning but she never left her position at his shoulder anyway.

“Yes fine, he’s just going to say what I’ve been saying,” Fonsel sighed. He stepped away from the door and allowed Melchior to file out with Gerianne to discuss with Dedryck.

Dedryck looked down at him with curiosity. “I would like to go on a walk,” Melchior declared.

Dedryck looked at Fonsel then back again. “You will get lost. It also isn't safe when we know so little about this place. We should summon a guide.”

“I thought you might say this,” Melchior said with a frown.

“I did warn you,” Fonsel laughed. Before the sentence had fully escaped, the High Bishop disappeared from the doorway.

“Stop,” Dedryck bellowed but neither child heeded him. They ran at top speed down the hall. In an open field and without Gerianne between them, Dedryck might have caught his lord in a few strides. His first grab was parried by her small shield and his second whipped through empty air as Melchior pulled her away before continuing to sprint.

It was hopeless, in truth. Melchior didn't know where to go nor could he out run trained adult knights but it was also thrilling and fun so he continued running. Just before he turned the corner he felt ropes wrap around him. Melchior had never been caught by bands of light. He expected them to feel very restrictive being as they were made of another's mana. It was kind of comfy for the split second they survived. He tried to wriggle free and they immediately snapped. However, Gerianne squeaked as she was pulled to a grinding halt.

Melchior ran back but with nothing to channel his mana into a cutting force, he couldn't save her. “Leave me, my lord,” Gerianne pleaded with shining eyes as his three knights moved to surround him.

“She's right,” Dedryck said as he calmly released her. “Also, never do that again.” He reached out and bundled Melchior under his arm.

“No!” Melchior yelled and kicked. “I want to explore,” he wailed.

“Then we will summon a guide,” Dedryck replied, exasperated.

“I want to go now,” Melchior wailed. He felt his face growing hot as his frustration mounted.

Dedryck stopped and put him down. He grasped Melchior by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Contain yourself. What is this tantrum? How old are you?”

Melchior thought for a moment that he was being a touch unreasonable. What was possessing him, he wasn't sure, but it felt important to hold his ground. “I want to explore,” he said again.

“Yes, you’ve made that clear,” Fonsel said as he dragged Gerianne along by her arm. “Why are you opposed to calling for assistance?”

“I am not a baby,” Melchior grumbled.

“You are acting like one.” Melchior growled and averted his gaze. “I think you are hungry and tired and perhaps a bit perturbed at being treated so poorly. There is no reason to vent those frustrations at us,” Fonsel coaxed. “Now we…”

A door opened and a little old woman hobbled out. “Would you gentlemen be a bit quieter? An old woman is trying to get a little rest in here,” she asked. She squinted to try and get a better look at the assembly.

Sebastian looked angry and moved to chastise her. Melchior saw the sharp look in his eye and spoke up first. “We deeply apologize for disturbing your rest. Could you point us in the direction of the nearest dining hall?”

“What a little gentleman. What a foolish choice to dress a little boy in white. You must not be from here. We don't have a dining hall. That's for the nobles,” she replied.

Dedryck released Melchior and moved to take over the conversation. “We are…”

“Yes we are from Ehrenfest city. We are visiting to see your Spring Prayer ceremony. I have heard it is a sight to behold,” Melchior interrupted.

“From the city?” the old woman muttered. “Are you the priests then? Oh they always leave you all here to starve. I understand. Nord!” she yelled and tottered to a different door. She knocked loudly. “Nord, dear, are you home?”

A young man slowly opened the door looking extremely tired. “What is it? Did you drop your needles again?” he asked. If this boy had just been sleeping, Melchior wondered how their racket hadn't woken him. He suddenly felt embarrassed by his earlier conduct.

“No, no. It's the priests. They need someone to show them the market,” she explained.

Nord looked at their party and went deathly pale. Melchior tried to give a reassuring smile. “Those aren't normal priests,” he whispered. “The white ones the High Bishop remember?”

“Oh, she's a grown woman by now. He’s just a little thing,” she insisted.

“It's a title they pass it around. Granny, those are nobles,” he added.

She paused and squinted at them again. Melchior stepped forward. “Master Nord, was it? Would you guide us to the market?”

“You wish to go yourselves?” he asked suspiciously.

“We have spent all morning sitting and would like to amble,” Melchior said with another reassuring smile. He glanced back at his knights.

Dedryck looked exasperated while Fonsel was amused. Sebastian seemed unable to contain his indignation. “Sebastian please guard our rooms, send Sheila out to us,” Melchior ordered.

Sebastian began to protest but Melchior gave his most authoritative smile. He glanced at Dedryck who gestured for him to get moving. He stalked down the hall and curtly ordered Sheila out before taking up a guarding stance.

Nord did not look happy to be impressed into service but he couldn't deny a noble. He shuffled granny back into her room and retrieved a coat. “Please follow me,” he said.

“We thank you ever so much,” Melchior said and proceeded to follow.

Nord took them past several hallways filled with doors to an intersection. “The main plaza is being prepare but food has been set up around the wells,” he explained.

They walked until they came to a larger room with a high ceiling. There was a well much like the temple’s in the center of the room. It had been fitted with a pump which dispensed water into waiting receptacles or a groove which led to a drain. Around this well were various tables with stools and fire pits. Nord wasn't quite as well dressed as the people here. He’d obviously brought them to a well populated by a more affluent sort. Sheila broke away to speak with a couple of the chefs.

This place reminded Melchior of his visit to the lower city plaza. There weren't as many people and the artificial lighting couldn't compare to the sun. People also had less to do and more time to stare.

There were little kids running around their mothers’ skirts and men chatting over their half full buckets. There was a lot of talk about the upcoming feast and festival. Nord stood nervously to the side. “Master Nord, can you tell me about the upcoming festival?” Melchior asked.

“I am not the master of anything…”

“Melchior,” Melchior said and gestured to himself.

“Lord Melchior. The festival is held every year. We sing and dance then watch the nobles whirl and do magic,” he explained.

Melchior felt himself growing excited. “You do this every year?”

Nord nodded. “For as long as anyone can remember. The magic part is new though, only a few years old.”

Sheila returned and led them to a particular stall. “They do not have cutlery, my lord. I’ve selected the easiest food to eat without utensils,” she explained then guided them to a table. She offered the small silver that was the smallest denomination Melchior had. She negotiated for both their meal and more for those back in their rooms until the total was high enough that the owner could make change. She returned with a pouch busting with copper which she entrusted to Dedryck before bringing over their meal. It was roasted meat with cheese between slabs of hard brown bread.

“Would you like one as well, Nord,” Melchior offered. He looked both surprised and hungry and readily accepted. Sheila gave him one of the extra she got under the assumption the knights could eat more than one. He stared at her for a long moment before sheepishly accepting his sandwich.

Fonsel forced Melchior to wait until Nord had swallowed his first bite. Then the knights took bites of their own. Fonsel grimaced but confirmed it wasn't poisoned. When Melchior finally took a bite he understood. The bread was unpleasant and the meat overly salty but he was hungry. He swiftly decided that eating the cheese and meat separately was ideal and took one half of his bread for each. As he could take smaller bites this way, it was easier to process the bread as well.

“Are you going to eat,” Nord asked Sheila after he’d swiftly devoured his share.

“I am working,” she replied. She also stood beside their table despite all the open stares.

“What kind of work do you do?” Fonsel asked their guide.

“I’m a hunter. My tribe moves around lands to the northeast,” he replied.

“You don't do any winter handiwork?” Fonsel pressed.

Nord scratched his head. “My wife repairs or makes our clothes. I work on our weapons. Recently we haven't had much time for that though. We’ve been taking turns staying up with the baby,” Nord explained.

“You have a baby?!” Melchior gasped. This boy didn't look old enough to be a father.

“Yes, a little girl. Born this past autumn.”

“Congratulations!” Melchior cheered. Then he paused. “Oh no, have we taken you away from her?”

“That's what attendants are for,” Dedryck said.

“You have attendants even for babies? That sounds like a dream,” Nord muttered. “She is with my wife. It was my turn to sleep since I was up all night.”

Melchior paled even more. They'd imposed so much on this poor man. “I apologize for disturbing your rest,” he said.

“Its all worth it. You gave me a venison sandwich,” he said with a smile.

“Would you like another,” Melchior offered.

Nord shook his head. “Oh no, I couldn't. But thanks.” He watched them consume their sandwiches unenthusiastically “I suppose you must be used to finer fare,” he said.

“Is it so obvious?” Dedryck asked.

“Well that's one of the nicest things available. But you look unimpressed.”

“It is just that Sheila makes such incredible meals. I fear anything else fails to compare,” Melchior replied. He glanced at Sheila who gave him a gentle smile.

Nord looked at her again. “Beautiful and a good cook. Her husband is a very fortunate man.”

“Shrine maidens are not permitted to marry,” Dedryck replied. He finished his first sandwich and declined a second. “Is there anything to drink here?”

Nord gestured toward the well. Next to the pump sat a cup which people took turns drinking from. The visitors shared a collective but private grimace. “We should hurry back anyway. We have interrupted your rest,” Melchior declared. He nearly fell as he struggled off of his stool but allowed none of his embarassment to show on his face. They waited while Sheila cleared away their crumbs. She produced a handkerchief which could wrap only one of the sandwiches they needed to transport. The knights each only had one. Nord watched their struggle while trying desperately not to laugh.

Eventually, the remaining sandwiches were stacked neatly atop the wrapped ones and carried by Sheila. Fonsel Waschened their table causing a sudden silence to fall. “I should have started with that,” he murmured as the wood looked cleaner than ever before in its existence.

Nord also starred. The nobles proceeded out of the large room as though nothing amazing had just occurred. Nord hurried after them. Perhaps he didn't need to. Gerianne took the opportunity to show off her superior sense of direction. She only has to pause once to try and remember which nearly identical hallway was the way. After a brief return journey, she triumphantly stopped before Nord’s door.

“Excellent work, Gerianne. Your sense of direction is truly a boon,” Melchior praised. Dedryck and Fonsel gave him annoyed glances but said nothing. “Thank you once again Master Nord. Your timely assistance was deeply appreciated. May your hunting season be blessed by Schlageziel and your dear child beloved by Weigemilch.”

Nord listened to this long farewell awkwardly. He did a sort of half fold at the waist then said gravely. “It was my honor. Be well.”

Melchior gave him a final smile before turning back toward the way they’d come. Nord slipped into his room as quickly as possible while Dedryck grabbed his lord's shoulder. “Our rooms are in the other direction,” he said with a smile.

“Oh yes, how could I forget. Sheila please deliver the provisions. We shall aim to return before our host summons us for the festival,” he ordered.

“We would not wish to chance missing our guide's arrival, my lord. Think how worried they would be to find us absent,” Dedryck said.

Melchior placed a hand to his cheek. “They do not seem terribly concerned about us,” he sighed. “It is a festival for the entire province and all those gathered at this winter mansion. I do not doubt we might find our way even should we miss them,” he argued. He stood as tall as possible and looked pleadingly into his head knight's eyes.

By this stage of their conversation, Sheila had been replaced by Kirk. He slipped in beside Gerianne and added his own watery stare to the other children's. “Aren't you hungry?” Fonsel asked upon noticing him.

“I could not allow my lord to explore without an attendant,” he replied. As dinner had been promised, the thrill of adventure would be an adequate lunch. A sandwich could not be worth more than the opportunity to see a new place.

Dedryck sighed. They really didn't need to consider their hosts as much. Finding the son of the Archduke had disappeared on your watch would be a fair punishment for snubbing him in the first place. He also felt that between Kirk, Gerianne, and the narrow halls, Melchior could slip away if he proved willing to leave them behind.

“Very well. Do not run off and do not touch anything or anyone,” Dedryck instructed.

Melchior bounced in celebration alongside Kirk and Gerianne. They turned immediately and hurried into the maze.

Chapter Text

Losing the Aub’s Youngest Son

The main plaza slowly filled with people. The young commoners brought blankets and cushions and marked out space for themselves while the elderly either brought their own stools or had chairs carried by younger family members. They formed an arch across the back of the stage as they filed in from many entrances.

Lady Nantfelda would have liked to spend more time with her daughter and the boy she’d brought home. He was both intelligent and well mannered and seemed to like her daughter very much. It was a weight off her mind as finding an appropriate match for the girl had been a challenge. Zipporah had rejected so many options with seemingly no consideration. It was clear now that she simply had someone in mind already.

Rather than socializing with the young man and probing his suitability, Nantfelda was performing final checks and welcoming the nobles of Haldenzel. As the second wife, it had been her job for years to stand in the background and ensure things went smoothly. Spring Prayer especially could not encounter any problems. So she was overseeing things directly, as she always did.

It was therefore deeply troubling to see her attendant leading one knight and a small collection of gray priests into the plaza from the main door. She showed the assembly to their seat then hurried over with a smile perfectly tailored to hide her terror.

“Torswitha, how are our guests?”

“They were comfortably retired after their journey. They have alighted since then,” the attendant replied.

Nantfelda greeted another couple before turning back to Torswitha. “We need only guide them back here. Where did we find them?”

“We have not.”

Nantfelda froze. She looked over at the knight as he sent and received ordonnanz. “Sir Sebastian, will the rest of your party be joining us?”

Sebastian returned a less than courteous flat expression. “Indeed. Lord Melchior asserts that he will arrive before the festivities,” he replied.

Nantfelda looked at her attendant. The woman had great command of her countenance but even she grew slightly pale. “That is heartening indeed. I wished to exchange a few words with my daughter’s lord.” She couldn't ask him outright to hurry up his Archduke Candidate, but he might convey her desires and thus bring him back sooner. Having never met him, she couldn't send correspondence herself.

“It is unfortunate that we missed you during our few moments in the summer estate. The High Bishop is sure to have time to speak over breakfast before we depart in the morning,” Sebastian replied. His expression had fallen from merely uninviting to openly hostile.

Nantfelda could not blame him. This was the first she heard that Lord Melchior hadn't been given rooms within the giebe’s portion of the city. “Yes, I will see that an invitation is sent over tonight,” Nantfelda replied.

She stepped away from the noble’s tables and entrance and placed a sound-blocker in Troswitha’s hand. “Why wasn't he given proper rooms? Where did you take him?”

“Lady Zipporah did not introduce him as a noble. He performed his greetings as a priest. We assumed he was here only in that capacity,” she replied.

Nantfelda quelled the urge to scream. “Was Claudio informed?” Troswitha assured her that both he and the first wife were consulted. “Ah, that explains it. She has never forgiven Sylvester for how he treated his brother. Yes, she will say that it was good enough for Ferdinand.”

Even if she understood the urge to bully Sylvester by proxy, she could not condone it. “Return to the estate. Prepare proper rooms and ensure the kitchen is informed that Lord Melchior will join me for all subsequent meals. What was he given for lunch?” Troswitha paled even further. It was past lunch time when they arrived. A normal guest would have been invited to tea with light refreshment but the priests were expected to wait until dinner. “How deeply does she wish to offend him?” Nantfelda sighed. She took back her magic tool and hurried over to one of the many knights milling around. “You attended the Royal Academy with Sir Fonsel, no?” she asked a knight of approximately the correct age.

“Ah yes, Lady Nantfelda. We were great friends,” he replied gladly. “Has he come with his lord?” he asked.

“Indeed. Perhaps you would like to engage him in conversation,” she suggested.

The knight smiled and looked around for his friend only to realize he was not there. “Excuse my poor sight. It is always so dim. Where is he?”

“It is not your sight,” Nantfelda replied. He took her meaning at once and walked off quickly. He launched an ordonnanz and was about to follow it out of the main doors but it flew in the opposite direction. To be in that direction, Sir Fonsel, and by extension his lord, would have to be in and around the most unsavory portion of the underground city.

It was generally said that no one starved when there was food in Haldenzel but some residents were of a cruder sort than others. Those who were too ill to leave after winter or too old to gather and farm found themselves left with nowhere to go but the deepest reaches of the winter mansion. It was not a place nobles went.

The knight gazed after his messenger with a conflicted expression. If Fonsel really was where the ordonnanz suggested, he surely needed help but sending a knight into that place would cause a massive stir right before a very important event. He looked at the second wife for confirmation and received an insistent smile.

Thankfully for him, his ordonnanz returned swiftly. “This is Fonsel. We shall arrive momentarily, I’m told.”

Lord Melchior and his retinue did arrive momentarily and at the rear door. A little girl was pulling the hand of his attending gray priest while doing her best impression of a sword dance. Melchior smiled brightly as he listened and looked around. His eyes grew wide at the sea of people around the stage.

Nantfelda was relieved to see him unharmed and in time even as his journey through hundreds of commoners tightly packed began. The little girl received a pat on the head and something shiny, a coin Nantfelda assumed, then rushed away to join her friends or siblings.

Melchior’s party stopped before the sea of bodies. Many people were already sitting. No proper walkway had been left. Those that were arriving late had to jump and squeeze past everyone. The High Bishop seemed to be trying to convince his knights that they could shuffle through or possibly fly over using excited gesturing.

“Go over and bring them around through the hallways,” Nantfelda ordered. The knight snapped out of his daze and sent a message announcing his imminent arrival before speeding out the door. Nantfelda moved back over to Sebastian. The young knight looked ready to cut a path through the citizens. “I’ve sent over a guide, Sir Sebastian. There is no need to worry.”

“That is good. It is never too late to hear the wisdom of Mestinora²⁴,” he replied but didn't sit down. The three gray priests in attendance also looked slightly worried.

Melchior, by contrast, looked delighted. He returned the greetings of anyone bold enough to say hello while he waited by the door. Most commoners didn't have the gall to even look at them for long. However, the very young and the very old were more free with their fascination. Neither his knights nor attendant allowed any of the oblivious children or near sighted elderly to actually touch him. Still he chatted happily and even gave a few blessings before the knight of Haldenzel appeared to lead him away.

Nantfelda watched this feeling faint. She sent one servant for damp cloths and another for sweet smelling oils to discreetly fan around. She checked that their food would be of the proper quality and that a seperate table was prepared for his attendants. Only after triple checking that no further offense would be given did she realize that his seat was still at a table to the side rather than at the center.

The servants guided him over as she paled and the giebe arrived.

Everyone else was seated now. Moving someone would cause a huge fuss. The best solution she could see with only seconds to decide was to send her daughter to sit with her lord. It would draw less attention and seem less like targeted antagonism if all their guests were together. Claudio swept in with an expansive gesture as he introduced the plaza to his guest. Sigsnyr oohed and aahed politely and must have made some witty comment as Zipporah laughed.

Nantfelda’s worries were lifted for just a moment. She’d hoped but never expected to see such a look of bliss on her daughter's face. They were reignited by twin glares from Claudio and the Countess as his daughter and her love interest were steered away. Nantfelda steeled herself as she moved to take her seat with them.

*

Melchior was not upset about being seated so far from the stage. He was too busy regaling Sigsnyr and Zipporah with tales of his adventures.

“Not even I have been there,” Zipporah grumbled.

“You didn't invite me!” Sigsnyr cried.

“I imagine you were busy visiting with the giebe. We had more free time here in the lower city,” Sebastian nearly spat.

“How did you come to enter the lower city?” Zipporah asked. She was sure the guards would have turned them back.

“Lord Melchior's rooms are there,” Sebastian replied.

Zipporah clutched her dress in disbelief. “My lord, I had no idea. That is where we generally house the common priests but you should have been given proper rooms,” she said. “I will inform the steward. You will be given proper accommodations this evening,” she promised.

“I had a wonderful time. There is no need to inconvenience the giebe on my account. Only, why don't you send refreshment to the clergy visiting you?” Melchior asked.

“You haven't eaten?” Sigsnyr asked. “Are you certain you did not miss the delivery during your excursion?”

Lothar asked for permission to comment. “No one came between when we were guided to the rooms and guided here.”

Zipporah rose from her seat then knelt before Melchior. “From the very bottom of my heart, I apologize for the failure of our hospitality. This is not how Haldenzel treats her guests,” she said.

“Please rise, Zipporah. You are not to blame,” Melchior said. “I should also say that the people of Haldenzel have been most welcoming. Nord guided us to a well market and Lila showed us the way to the plaza. I was even given a bracelet,” Melchior declared and produced a woven leather band from his pouch.

The surrounding tables watched and listened in amazement. Zipporah shuddered under Sebastian's cold stare. “We have neglected you,” she replied and bowed even lower. It felt difficult to breathe as she saw her career dissolving before her eyes. Her father wasn't happy with her decision to serve Sylvester’s son and move to the city but she’d begged and pleaded and pushed. She never imagined that he would relent only to interfere in this way.

Melchior reached out a hand and touched her. “Let it be as spring rain²⁵,” he said gently then offered her a hand up. “I should not have met with the warmth for which Haldenzel is known otherwise.”

Zipporah sighed with relief. Even Melchior would find it difficult to forgive such a slight to his honor, she thought. She would make this up to him and gracefully endure his retribution so long as she could remain in his service with her friend.

“It isn't you who should apologize,” Sebastian mumbled.

As he grumbled, the Count and Countess ascended the stage and blessed the melting of the snow. “Sing so that the gods might know your gratitude. Dance so that the gods might hear your prayers,” he declared.

Zipporah’s complexion had only just recovered when she paled again. “Father is upset²⁶,” she whispered.

In spite of the giebe’s mood, the festival began with raucous cheering. Dinner for the nobles was brought out on steaming platters. Large roasts were carved right next to their tables as the commoners sang, played instruments, and danced.

Melchior felt the drums in his heart and hummed happily with the flutes. The songs were very similar to ones played at the farming villages. He didn't often have time to stay for such festivities but the few occasions he was were treasured memories.

“You already know the songs, Lord Melchior?” Zipporah asked.

“Not these specifically but similar music is played all over Ehrenfest.”

“How delightful,” Sigsnyr chirped. “Will I get to see more of these celebrations when I accompany you next year?”

“You want to go on Spring Prayer?” Dedryck asked.

“As Lord Melchior’s skill improves so will his mood. I’m sure this year was not as bad as the last. The next may even be enjoyable,” he argued.

Fonsel and Melchior scowled. “You want to join only once the fun begins,” Fonsel grumbled.

After a couple of songs the commoners were replaced by nobles. “These are the leaders of the hunting tribes,” Zipporah explained. Lay and mednobles would lead the commoner tribes out to hunting lodges then travel around killing as many faebeasts as possible. “The more diligent our efforts, the weaker the Lord of Winter will be.”

“Is that how you learned to lead hunts?” Melchior asked. He could imagine her sitting proudly in the big chair before her tribe of hunters.

Zipporah giggled. “Oh no. I only occasionally lead the apprentices or women on excursions near the estate.”

“What manner of hunting tribe would follow a little girl?” Fonsel chuckled.

The hunters gave way to sword dancers. There was a large disparity in skill between those up front and those behind. There were also very few girls. “Did you sword dance before you moved,” Melchior asked. Zipporah watched with a longing expression and shook her head.

“You’ll be chosen for graduation. I’ve seen the other fifth years and you're already better,” Sigsnyr encouraged.

“You flatter me,” she replied.

They watched the sword dance end and the whirling begin. Gerianne, who’d never seen whirling, gazed at the dancers with amazement and envy. “What magnificent worship. I must learn to pray in this manner such that Ewigeliebe can know my sincerity,” she said.

“They are praying specifically to weaken his power,” Dedryck sighed. “He really isn't someone to venerate.”

“All life comes forth from the mire through his blessing. What could be more worthy of praise?” Gerianne argued.

“I do not like the God of Life but I will teach you to whirl if you like,” Melchior promised.

“Thank you, my lord. I will apply myself with diligence.”

“Weren't you offering your sword work?” Dedryck asked.

“It was arrogance on my part to imagine my sword worthy to give exaltations,” Gerianne admitted. “When I have trained enough, I will begin again.” Dedryck rested his head in his hand.

Once the whirling concluded, the Countess rose and invited the women of Haldenzel to summon spring. “Let us offer our prayers to the Goddess of Light and the Goddess of Water whose power banishes the ice and snow,” she declared from the stage. The few archnobles moved first. The mednoble men made great shows of offering faestones with their mana to the mednoble women going forward while the laynobles prepared instruments and gathered in front of rather than on the stage.

Zipporah rose as well. “Wait,” Sigsnyr said and fished a large yellow faestone from his pockets.

Zipporah blushed as he pressed it into her hands. “There is no need,” she whispered.

“I know you have plenty of mana but you said the men can participate this way. I want to contribute,” he insisted.

“That is not it, it is only…”

“Do not dally,” said Lady Nantfelda as she appeared suddenly to pull her blushing daughter toward the stage.

Gerianne rose and began to hurry after. The men still at nearby tables eyed her suspiciously and whispered about whether she even had the mana to perform the ritual. “Give me two silver if she collapses,” chuckled one man to his neighbor.

Melchior gestured Kirk over and had him transfer the support faestones over to her. “Take these. We can then tell Lady Brunhilde and Lord Bonifiatus that they helped to summon spring,” Melchior said.

“I will not fail them,” Gerianne declared and hurried to Zipporah’s side. Some of the women eyed the shrine maiden still in her normal robes but said nothing as they all kneeled down. Melchior realized that he also hadn't had time to change after getting a bit too lost on their adventures. It was a good thing that his normal robes were rather fancy already.

“I am one who offers prayers and gratitude to the gods who have created the world,” called the countess in a clear voice. The lay nobles began to play their harspiels and flutes. Melchior only had a moment to consider the lack of drums before the singers stood up all together. He was impressed that Gerianne didn't miss a beat despite receiving no cue that he could see.

“Grant an end to this world of pure white. Smash the all consuming ice and free our Goddess of Earth!” they sang. “Bring our lady back to the shining lands of her creation.”

Melchior and Sigsnyr shared glances filled with anticipation. They listened to the beautiful chorus and watched for the precise moment when the blessing would begin. The song concluded and the singers raised their hands in the praying pose. “Praise be to the Gods?” roared the entire hall. They didn't have time to be disappointed at missing it as the magic circle glowed to life and lifted into the air. It hung majestically for a few moments before flying into the chalices and producing three great pillars of light.

“I thought that only happened at the Royal Academy,” Sigsnyr muttered in awe.

The women held their pose until the pillars began to fade then descended the stage to cheers and laughter from the commoners and polite clapping from the nobles.

“That was incredible!” Melchior chirped. “I am so happy to have witnessed it.”

“We are truly blessed that Lady Rozemyne restored our ritual to its true form,” Zipporah replied. She placed the now empty faestone on the table between her and Sigsnyr. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. I am honored to have played even a small part,” he replied.

Gerianne arrived shortly after and returned the chain still half full. As the person of lowest status, she had to wait for everyone else to descend before her. She all but floated back to her chair. “That was the greatest experience of my life. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for teaching me the song, Zipporah.”

“You are most welcome.”

The count mounted the stage for the last time. “The Goddess of Water Flutrane's pure rivers have washed away Ewigeliebe the God of Life. Blessed be the melting of the snow!” There was a final cheer and the commoner band struck up again.

The nobles began to give their farewells and return to their part of the mansion. “Now the common citizens will continue their celebration,” Zipporah explained. “Please accompany me back to the estate for tea. I fear you have yet to experience the second treasure of Haldenzel.”

They made their way back through the dim hallways. It felt strange that the light hadn't changed with the time. As they approached the nobles section it grew brighter. “It was quite dark at the far end of the city,” Melchior noted. “Are there simply fewer lights?” he wondered.

“I believe they are tuned to be dimmer to use less fuel and mana,” Zipporah explained.

“It makes it difficult to treat the sick,” Melchior said.

Zipporah looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“We met Mistress Twila the apothecary. She said that much of her work is just cleaning wounds and that the dim light makes it hard to see how good of a job she's done. She grows glowing flowers that eat bugs which helps but brighter lights would be better,” he explained.

Sigsnyr looked taken by jealousy. “To think you left me behind again,” he grumbled.

“Didn't you have fun with Zipporah and the Count?” Fonsel teased.

“How could more noble socializing compare to a novel adventure. You have been somewhere not even I’ve gone despite growing up here,” Zipporah answered in his stead. “I’m sure we could afford to increase the light in one distant room. I will speak with Father. Such a small price can be paid for the health of our people.”

They came to an open area with another well. There were no food or bracelet vendors and one adjoining hall was staffed by guards. Melchior felt bad that these men had to miss the rituals.

“Greetings Lady Zipporah,” one said.

“Blessed be the coming of spring,” she replied.

The giebe estate was much like the rest of the city except that there were stairs leading to above ground living space. Zipporah guided them up into a grand entryway much like those in any other estate. “The doors will be unsealed tomorrow,” she noted as they passed the imposing wooden slabs carved with scenes of hunting. They wound up the stairs to the eastern wing where Zipporah had grown up under the second wife’s care. “After I was baptized I moved to the main section with my half siblings. Mother dearly wishes to have tea with you and will host us in her receiving room.”

The noble children sat while Melchior's adult knights lined the wall. Melchior amused himself by looking at the casual clothes of his retainers. Sigsnyr wore yet another tunic in a new color. This time he’d opted for a nearly identical emerald green as Zipporah with gold embroidery matching his eyes. A little bit of lace peaked out of the top of his collar and accented his wrists. It was both an uncommon choice for men and highlighted Zipporah’s lack of lace. Instead she had dense ruffles carefully pressed into waves under her generous sleeves.

“Weren't you coming on this trip as a guard, Zipporah?” Dedryck asked suddenly. The whole room looked at him.

“Oh that's true!” Melchior cried. “We forgot.” He giggled and soon everyone was laughing softly.

“I apologize once again, my lord,” Zipporah said. “I will go change.”

“No, no. I have enough knights,” Melchior insisted. “Besides, I intended to release you to spend time with your family anyway.”

Their mirth was cut short by the arrival of Nantfelda and her husband. Count Haldenzel and Lady Nantfelda wore pleasant smiles but the white knuckles grip she had on his arm suggested they'd recently had a disagreement. Everyone except Melchior stood to greet them. Sebastian failed to hold back a smug grin as the Count knelt before his lord.

“I offer greetings, Lord Melchior, on this evening ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane, the Goddess of Water. Blessed be the coming of spring,” he intoned.

“I am pleased beyond words that Dregarnuhr, the Goddess of Time, has woven our threads tightly together and allowed us to meet once again. Thank you ever so much for allowing me to witness your sacred ritual. Sister spoke so passionately of its beauty and I must agree with her opinion,” Melchior replied.

The giebe rose with his wife and sat across from Sigsnyr and Zipporah while Melchior kept his seat at the head of the table.

“High Bishop, we are happy to welcome the leader of the temple once again. Will you tell me how your charge has fared since my niece’s departure?” Count Haldenzel began as tea was prepared and falloid tarts were placed before them.

Melchior considered this question for a moment. He had no time to prepare for this meeting so, other than Isolde's list of questions, he had nothing to rely on. “The temple continues to nurture the candles lit by my dear sister. Gebordnung blesses us to move more and more closely to the proper ways once practiced. Just this year, Lady Elvira so kindly offered mana for the dedication ritual. I believe that the nobles of Ehrenfest will continue to live up to our reputation in Yurgenschmidt as a most devout people.”

“Elvira participated in a temple ritual?” asked Claudio in utter disbelief.

“Yes. You seem surprised that a daughter of Haldenzel would be a pioneer in ritual participation?” Melchior replied. Nantfelda stifled her squeak with a sip of tea to prove it was not poisonous.

Melchior looked into the cup placed before him by Lothar. The liquid was golden, much like chrysanthemum tea, and seemed to faintly glitter like metallic paint.

“This is our second treasure, my lord. The blenrus tree grows only in Haldenzel. We hold it sacred and hope that this tea, brewed from its leaves, warms you as much as the kindness of our people,” Zipporah said.

“Then I shall partake gladly,” Melchior replied and happily sipped the beautiful drink. It was sweet in a new way. Unlike sugar or honey it had a spicy quality that seemed to fill him with brightness. “It is incredible. I see why you hold it so dear.”

“For many generations we could only watch as they slowly went extinct. Now that our ritual has been restored. Many trees have sprouted. We hope to share this joy with the entire duchy once we are able,” bragged Claudio.

Melchior listened to the denizens of Haldenzel extol the virtues of their various faeplants. He didn't expect to have Isolde's question about the state of the blenruses answered so quickly. He decided to try the next question.

“I imagine that the nobles from Lindenthal and Drewanchel must be delighted to explore so many novel ingredients,” he began.

“Oh yes,” replied Nantfelda. “We have also been much enriched by their unique perspectives.”

“We expected our Zipporah to bring home a groom from the Royal Academy as well,” Claudio added.

Zipporah flashed him a pointed smile. “Oh, but Father, there are so many fine options here in Ehrenfest.”

“It is the Archduke who requested we be more open, was it not. We would not defy the Aub,” Claudio replied. They're gazes grew so intense that Melchior felt he should abandon his quest to find out about the new immigrants.

“Is it not most important that the match be a benefit to Zipporah’s future?” Sigsnyr interrupted. “Aub Ehrenfest’s position is to support those who wish to search farther afield not to force our people apart.”

“That is interesting to know, Lord Sigsnyr. Perhaps living nearer the seat of the lion allows one to gather more nuanced perspectives,” Nantfelda replied.

“So long as it does not engender assumptions,” Claudio grumbled.

“I can second Sigsnyr's observations,” Melchior said, drawing the questioning gazes of the feuding family. “Father wishes for all to be as beloved of the Spring Goddesses as himself²⁷.”

Nantfelda glanced at her husband with a complicated expression. “May Dregarnuhr, the Goddess of Time, weave it so²⁸,” she said.

The awkward tension hung in the air until Zipporah forced an excited smile. “We shall have the very first hunt tomorrow. I feared I would not be able to participate this year,” she said.

Sigsnyr lent himself to her efforts. “The famous First Hunt of the Haldenzel Knights Order. How I long to join.”

“We welcome anyone who can shoot a bow and follow orders,” Claudio replied. He looked around at Melchior's knights. “Would you honor us to join as well, Lord Melchior. We always visit one of the last, well now they are just the oldest, blenrus trees.”

Melchior’s eyes sparkled. He dearly wished to see the famous golden tree for himself. “I did not see it as we flew in. Is there one in the gardens?” he asked.

“They are rather deep in the woods, actually. My great grandfather was not able to save the one on our plain after it was struck by lightning,” Claudio said.

The knights watched his joy fade before their eyes. “I see. It would not be safe for me to travel so far into an unknown forest. I have yet to begin the knights course or acquire my schtappe. I should be nothing but a burden. Though I am fascinated by the history you speak of. Do you have a record of that incident?”

The giebe looked surprised. He did not expect Sylvester’s son to turn down the opportunity to see something novel. He wondered if the boy took more after his mother. “We have records going back nearly four hundred years. They contain stories about the last twelve trees we know of.”

“Since you cannot go on the hunt, perhaps you would like to hunt for stories,” Nantfelda suggested.

Melchior’s eyes danced again. “I would be ever so grateful to view your book room. Would I be allowed to transcribe?”

Nantfelda giggled behind her hand. “Your sister asked the very same thing. She said she wished to offer hers as a gift to Lady Rozemyne? Is that your intention as well?”

He blushed but resisted the urge to look away. “I admit to my lack of creativity. I hope to improve upon her offerings if I can,” he admitted.

Now Claudio relaxed and gave his first warm smile of the entire visit. “You are competing to see who can best shower my niece with gifts?” he asked.

“Sister and Uncle send us supplies for school. Often paper and ink in large quantities as well as potions and charms. We cannot be slack in our gratitude,” Melchior said.

“Indeed you must show proper thanks,” Claudio replied. “Is the wool you seek also for these ends?”

Melchior glanced around then remembered that Kolteruze was back in Ehrenfest. “That is for thanks of a different nature as well as to satiate my personal interest. I could not offer something of yet unproven quality.” The Haldenzel nobles eyed him. “Though I have faith in the sheep of Haldenzel,” he added hurriedly.

“That is more than we have,” chuckled Claudio. “Haldenzel does not produce much wool ourselves. There are some farmers that keep small flocks but it is more of a Herzfeld pass time.”

“Sheep are also shorn in mid-spring. We have found some fleece from last year however,” Nantfelda added.

The wool in question was then presented in a small box. Lothar and Dedryck looked it over before showing but not handing it to Melchior. “It is not clean, my lord,” Lothar whispered.

Melchior looked at the little pile of brownish gray fluff with as much understanding as he might unlabeled flour. “There is so little,” was all he could manage to say.”

Zipporah shook her head. “There is enough to hide you in. We could not bring it all here,” she explained.

The mental image of being buried in fluff amused him greatly. “I see. I thank you ever so much for your generous assistance. Lothar shall redress an inconvenience you have had²⁹,” Melchior replied brightly. While the color was not what he hoped. Dye or bleaching was always an option. If everything failed he could also keep the tunic to enjoy as a house article or something. He wasn't sure what to give Kolteruze in that case. Perhaps a normal mantle, he thought.

“Please consider it a gift,” Nantfelda said, interrupting his thoughts. A servant walked over to her attendant and whispered in her ear. She made some signal to Zipporah who signaled her mother in turn. Melchior was amazed by their coordination.

“The God of Darkness grows in strength³⁰,” Nantfelda said. “Please allow my attendant to show you to your rooms.”. Everyone waited for Melchior to agree before rising to give farewell.

He followed the tawny haired attendant only a little ways down the hall. It seemd they would stay in the east wing. Sigsnyr insisted on following despite having his own room in the main portion of the house.

The new room was more spacious but had larger beds as well so only four managed to fit in any decent arrangement. “Gerianne, there is space for you in my room,” Zipporah said. Before whisking her and the shrine maidens away.

Melchior and the men surveyed the room. There would be nowhere for the gray priests once again. “Do you have extra beds Sigsnyr?”

“I have one. I guess most guests come in sets of three,” he surmised.

“Child, chaperone, and attendant,” Fonsel elaborated.

“It is amazing that your parents allowed you to come by yourself,” Dedryck noted.

Sigsnyr shrugged. “Perhaps I am not terribly precious.”

“That is not true,” Melchior cried. “You are most precious; a treasure to all.”

“Ah… thank you, my lord. You flatter me. In any case, shall I assist with your baths? The distribution of wells would make it difficult to carry water here, not to mention heating it,” he gestured toward a partitioned section of the room which likely hid the bath and chamberpot if his own rooms were anything to go on.

Lothar gave him a rare look of skepticism. “I am a trained attendant!” Sigsnyr insisted. Lothar glanced down at his beautiful clothes and voluminous sleeves. “I’ll go change. Whoever is taking my spare bed should retire and have their bath while Fridegern is not occupied.”

It was decided that Fonsel would stay in Sigsnyr's room. While he was away, Lothar whispered with his lord. The apprentice knight returned quickly and dressed in his knight uniform without his armor. They were the only practical clothes he’d bought.

Melchior nodded to his head attendant before turning to face the excited apprentice. “You must listen to everything Lothar says,” Melchior charged. “And you must assist everyone.” Lothar and Kirk were equally incapable of handling their own baths as their master's.

“You are phrasing this like a negotiation,” Sebastian observed. He was going to say that Sigsnyr was already lowering himself by doing attendant work until he saw the look of unhinged elation on the boy's face.

“Anything you command, my lord. I am delighted to have this opportunity to attend,” Sigsnyr replied and leapt over to Lothar’s side.

Footnotes

24. “You're a bit slow on the uptake” or “took you long enough.”^

25. “Forgot about it” or “let it be swiftly forgotten”^

26. Claudio said his lines wrong; the same lines he’s been saying every year in exactly the same way^

27. He hopes that people can marry someone they love.^

28. “I hope that happens”^

29. Feels like an appropriately high handed way to say “my attendant will give you the money”^

30. Its getting late^

Chapter Text

Thunderstorm in Haldenzel

That night, a little before first bell, Melchior's room awoke to great rolls of thunder. At first, everyone was on high alert but after two or three peals they relaxed. Everyone relaxed except for Lothar.

Kirk sat on their bed and held his hand as he jumped at each sound. He whispered his apologies every time he flinched despite Melchior's insistence that he was not offended.

“Do not apologize again,” Melchior ordered eventually. He got out of bed and moved toward the window to watch the lightning.

“It is alright, we are here,” Kirk cooed softly. Dedryck suggested covering his ears while Sebastian tried his best to ignore him.

After ten minutes of storming and a quiet whimpering he lost all patients. “Be quiet!” he snapped.

Melchior walked over and stood between his knight and attendants. Dedryck placed his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. He whispered a warning under the cover of the thunder. Sebastian looked back and forth between Melchior, who now stood in the middle of the room facing the windows, and the gray clergy.

“My lord, perhaps he should be sent to another room,” Sebastian suggested. A sputtering attendant was both useless and unsightly.

“I am not bothered,” he replied flatly.

“He is correct, my lord. Please allow me to retire elsewhere,” Lothar said between claps.

Melchior didn't even know where Lothar would go. He also didn't want his temple attendants out of his sight with so many nobles around. “Would you prefer to sleep through it?” Melchior responded.

“I… yes… I,” Lothar was not in a state to consider this deeply. Melchior walked over and sat next to Kirk. “My lord?”

“Lay down,” he instructed. Lothar did as ordered with confusion on his face. Melchior’s words were cut off by the rumbling as white light passed over his attendant. “That takes very little mana,” he mumbled.

Sebastian found himself too amazed to speak while Dedryck just shook his head. An ordonnanz arrived while they were frozen. In it, Sigsnyr yelled over the sound of high winds that they were viewing the storm from the tower and Melchior was invited to watch.

“Yes, absolutely,” Melchior replied. He attempted to charge straight out of their room but Kirk pulled him back and forced him to dress first. He bounced around impatiently while the knights were put into their uniforms.

“Stay here with Lothar in case he awakens,” Melchior ordered.

“You will be without an attendant,” Kirk replied, still in his night clothes.

“Sigsnyr will be there and you cannot go out dressed as you are,” Melchior insisted. The gray priest had only just said the same thing to his lord. Kirk looked terribly frightened for a moment and Melchior realized that he would be practically alone if they left.

He turned to his knights. “We cannot reduce your guard,” Dedryck said before the words could leave his mouth. Not only was it an unfamiliar place but it was night and Fonsel was already elsewhere.

Melchior trotted back into his room and sat in the chair by the window. “Lord Melchior, you need not amend your plans on behalf of a commoner servant,” Sebastian said in exasperation.

“They are attendants,” Melchior replied without moving his gaze away from the storm.

Dedryck sent an ordonnanz with their change of plans. Then sat in another chair.

“Would anyone else prefer to sleep?” Melchior offered.

“There is no need to spend your mana on our account,” Sebastian replied.

“We cannot sleep while you are awake,” Dedryck said.

“Then I must impose upon you,” Melchior said and continued watching the storm. Kirk stood behind him feeling bolder now that he wasn't to be left alone.

Melchior dozed a little despite the booming. He eventually ordered Kirk to sit down after he yawned one too many times. They sat quietly together until the sky brightened and the sun peaked just over the horizon. For only a moment, while he was still half asleep, Melchior heard the sound of a horn.

Lothar also awoke at this moment. He managed not to cry out but was still embarrassed to find he was the only person in bed. As the storm had passed he was able to think clearly. He got up as though nothing had occurred and began arranging Melchior’s room.

It was a rare thing for his lord to be awake and dressed while he completed his tasks. He was torn between attending him directly and finishing the morning preparations. Thankfully, or perhaps, strangely, Sigsnyr arrived with the sun to assist once again. He was annoyed to find nearly everyone dressed but contented himself with assisting Kirk and Lothar.

Melchior hadn't slept much but, as a wild sleeper by nature, still had some light tangles. Sigsnyr undid his braid carefully and began combing.

“Doesn't your hair form knots as you sleep?” Melchior asked.

“I do not flail about as you do,” Sigsnyr replied.

“Do you ever wear your hair simply down?”

“That isn't generally appropriate. If I am not working than I am either brewing or attending a formal event,” Sigsnyr explained.

Melchior thought this was a waste. He looked at his own shoulder length hair and wondered how long it would take to be as long as his father’s. “How often do you cut your hair?”

“I don't. If you wish for your hair to grow long, do not arrest its progress.”

Sigsnyr was not as gentle a hairstylist as either Pepin or Kirk but Melchior was well accustomed to having his kinks wrenched and managed to keep a straight face. It was worth it to have his hair set into a new style, a single braid with front hair dangles. He tipped his head back and forth to make them wiggle.

“Do you like it?” Sigsnyr asked. Melchior nodded, both to agree and to play with his tassels. His braid was secured with a golden cord to match his sash and he was ready for the day.

By breakfast, the storm was all but forgotten. Sigsnyr and Zipporah briefly recounted their experiences in the tower then began a thorough discussion of Sigsnyr's first time attending his lord.

“I learned so much! Theory is one thing but a true understanding can only come from doing.”

“I am happy for you. You have awaited this chance for a long time,” she said.

“And each person is so different. And the things one learns. I have more secrets than a scholar after only a single night,” he added.

They continued chatting back and forth as though neither Melchior nor Zipporah's mother were there. “They are quite lively,” Nantfelda said quietly.

“I have never seen this before though I’ve heard about it,” Melchior whispered back. He’d listened to brief conversations but the sheer volume of private euphemism shared between Zipporah and Sigsnyr over this breakfast was staggering. They seemed to involve both words and gestures with a few non language sounds thrown in for flavor.

“This is why they almost never guard together,” Dedryck mumbled.

“If my daughter is slack in her diligence do not hesitate to chastise her. Zipporah has always learned well from correction,” Nantfelda assured Melchior.

“If you’d excuse me my lord. Neither one lacks vigilance. Their communication can become too efficient and then require translation,” Dedryck said.

“You could always learn our code,” Sigsnyr suggested upon hearing talk about himself.

“How are we to learn your collection of grunts and clicks,” Dedryck snapped. “I mean… I apologize, Lord Melchior.”

Melchior giggled along with Nantfelda. “Your knights seem very earnest, Lord Melchior. You are most fortunate.”

“I am Lady Nantfelda. They are also very skilled.”

“Would you be willing to lend us any more skill, Lord Melchior?” Nantfelda asked. He could spare at least one more, she thought. Another archknight would be a great boon.

Melchior looked at Dedryck who considered the request. Drawing away Melchior’s guard would create a chance to harm him but there was little to gain and much to lose from doing so. He didn't think Zipporah’s mother wished his lord ill but the nobles of Haldenzel had already displayed hostility. He shook his head minutely.

“I cannot reduce my guard while I am so far from home and in a new place. My head knight can be quite anxious,” he replied.

Nantfelda glanced at the young man and nodded. It was just as well. Keeping the two eligible knights in Melchior's service where they could easily be accessed by the women of Haldenzel would be useful in its own way. Melchior was even planning to remain stationary in the library all day.

“My lord, I cannot add much to your security,” Gerianne said suddenly. She’d thus far remained quiet at every meal unless spoken to directly.

Melchior narrowed his eyes. She only pointed this out when she wished to do something fun without him. “You have not acquired a schtappe either,” he replied.

“Zipporah has agreed to lend me one of her bows.”

“As I recall you are equally skilled in archery as myself. At three paces you should use a spear instead.”

“Only two people can transcribe at once and Kirk has neater handwriting than me.”

“What will you do to contribute to the hunt?”

“I will bring back new skills and knowledge to share with you.”

“I still know precious little about the layout of the Royal Academy.”

“I am unlikely to have another chance,” she pleaded.

Nantfelda watched this conversation unfold in amused silence. She looked at her daughter who was quietly carrying on a similarly baffling discussion and smiled. She did not have much opportunity to socialize with the Archductal family and none to meet their children. That Zipporah’s lord was able to banter with his retinue like any other child filled her with warmth. She still felt the need for a bit of motherly chiding.

“Is this not something to decide later?” she hinted.

Melchior and Gerianne blushed. “My apologies to our gracious host. We have been thoughtless,” he said and sat up straighter.

After some time to consider things and calm his irritation, Melchior agreed to let Gerianne join the hunt. “Listen to directions the first time they are given and do not stray from the group. Do you have your flares,” Fonsel reminded and fretted over her.

“I will make wise choices and will not allow hubris to consume me,” Gerianne promised. She’d gone back and forth and eventually decided to wear her blue robes with her armor. Fonsel mumbled about this too and stressed that she was to stay near Zipporah and Sigsnyr.

“It is deeply abnormal for a shrine maiden to go gathering. You will be treated as the same status as the commoners. This will do nothing to recommend you to the men of Haldenzel,” he warned.

“A shrine maiden needs not the affection of mortal men,” she replied and he sighed.

“Just be safe,” he charged.

“We will ensure her safety,” Zipporah promised and guided her over to the assembled knights.

Zipporah’s group consisted of apprentices and older women while the giebe led the Knights Order. Her little brother complained quietly about not getting to lead this year even though she’d moved away.

“You will get another hunt with your sister. isn't that wonderful?” Sigsnyr asked.

The boy regarded him with mild hostility. “She is always so shouty,” he grumbled.

“I must be heard over the sound of your poor aim,” she teased. “Let us see how it has improved in my absence.”

Once everyone was prepared to leave, Melchior waved goodbye. “O God of Hunting, Schlageziel, of the God of Fire, Leidenschaft's exalted twelve, may the First Hunt be blessed by your divine protection,” he chanted. The assembled crowd was not much larger than the alberbrise hunt but the First Hunt of Haldenzel technically included all the commoner tribes setting out that day in addition to the Knights Order. Melchior felt nearly all his mana drawn out at once along with everything that remained in his support faestones. He did everything he could to remain standing and smiling as the hunters cheered and set off.

The moment the attention turned away from him he grabbed a potion and drained it in two great swallows.

“My lord?” Kirk whispered.

“It will be alright so long as I do not move for a moment,” Melchior replied. He pretended to watch the highbeasts take off while not moving his head too much.

“That was quite the blessing,” Fonsel chided.

“I was feeling expansive,” Melchior replied. His vision was slowly evening out.

“I must once again remind you to keep it narrow,” Fonsel said.

Nantfelda and Countess Haldenzel chuckled. “Thank you ever so much for blessing the hunt, High Bishop. We are sure to see great success with the god's aid,” the countess said.

“I am always happy to bless the people of Ehrenfest,” he replied.

Lady Nantfelda guided them directly to the library once they were back inside. Lothar and Fridegern were already there with stacks of paper, ink, and pens. A female scholar calmly explained the sorting system to Fridegern while finding excuses to touch his sleeves or shoulder.

“They are sorted by date of acquisition. We considered switching to the Rozemyne Decimal System but this is an archive rather than a true library. Instead, we are in the process of adding acquisition numbers and restoring old texts. The ones kept on these shelves are safe to handle if not transport. Anything too fragile for the lay researcher is kept in a separate area but is available if you find you need even older documents.”

Melchior walked in as quietly as possible but the conversation was still interrupted so they could offer him morning greetings. He took a seat in front of his materials and began to consider what would be the best thing to transcribe. It needed to be something short enough to finish in a single day. That Rozemyne would be happy with anything wasn't helpful either. Though, since she cared more for novelty than content, he was free to pursue his own interests.

Principally, he wanted to learn more about the unique plants. The scholar showed him an encyclopedia with beautiful illustrations from several generations of Haldenzels. It was fun to see the evolution of drawing techniques but coping pictures would slow their progress considerably.

“Can I read the accounts about the blenrus trees?” he asked. The count mentioned having records predating Ehrenfest as a duchy after all.

“The oldest records, those from more than one hundred years ago, are too fragile to store here. I can bring them but the more recent records are easier to read and quite long already,” she advised.

“Do you have a specialist on ancient languages?” Fridegern asked.

“We have only one at the moment. Most people from Haldenzel become knights. There are not many scholars to spare on this archive.”

“Lord Melchior is something of an expert. He received praise from the Zent herself in fact. This would be an opportunity to translate some of those texts that have become unreadable or at least have them transferred to an easier to handle form,” he argued.

The scholar seemed to look at the boy with fresh eyes. “I see. They are a collection of short accounts so you would not need to commit to a lengthy text. Ah, this is a fine idea, Fridegren,” she praised.

Melchior readily agreed to look at the text. Kirk collected some paper and ink and they followed the scholar down a set of stairs. The air grew slightly drier and magic circles lined the walls. She touched each one as they descended causing them to glow slightly brighter. Melchior added a little mana of his own and found it consumed almost none so he powered them as well.

At the bottom of the stairs was a table with a raised section for the text and a slightly lower shelf for transcribing tools. Kirk placed down his goods and set up the table for the two of them to write together then sat beside his lord while the large book was brought out.

It was supported on a velvet lined, wooden tray. The scholar used Waschen on her hands before touching it. Using a velvet covered, wooden block, she supported the cover as she opened it. She had a dark sheet of parchment that confused Melchior until he saw that instead of printed text, there were letter shaped holes in the page. The archivists had been so careful as to never rip the leaves so the strange holes were readable using the dark parchment.

“We are fortunate that they only wrote on one side,” she said. “Well, it would be better to have intact pictures.” She gently turned the page to reveal a painting covered in letter shaped holes.

Melchior felt he might cry. It was only just recognizable as a golden tree but so much had been lost that there was no way to restore it even with the help of a skilled artist. “How tragic,” he whispered. Kirk patted his hand where it shivered in his lap.

The scholar returned to the first page with its beautiful illuminated first capital and slipped the parchment behind it. Melchior looked it over.

“I am deeply grieved to disappoint you but I can not translate this. I can only read half of what is here at most,” he said.

She sighed. “It is very old,” she said.

“I have translated text from the Archduke's Archive. Those slates are likely older than this. It is more that the ancient Haldenzel scholars used a slightly different system to record their records. For common words they've omitted vowels. The spelling and diction is also different. I would not call this a different language but it is far enough removed that I cannot read it. With the time I have, I cannot study this new style and therefore cannot translate it,” he explained.

She smiled. “I see your knowledge is not surface level, Lord Melchior. This is precisely the problem we have encountered. We have more time than yourself, but other records have needed our attention.”

Melchior beamed under her praise. He was still disappointed but it was nice to know he was not alone. “I can still transcribe it. The letters are mostly the same. With enough time and a transitionary text, I should be able to translate it and send what I’ve learned back here.”

“I will give your other attendant appropriate texts. We thank you for your assistance,” she said. “Please call me to turn the pages. If you touch this faestone, a light will come on upstairs.”

She waited for Melchior to complete the relatively short first page then left him with his knights.

“Will you encounter any problems?” Melchior asked Kirk. They'd read all the same texts from the temple book room but Kirk had no experience from the Archduke's Archive.

“We are just copying the letters. I can manage that,” he replied.

So they began. It felt odd to summon the archivist for every page turn, especially as they grew more used to the light and text and needed her help every fifteen minutes. Kirk and Melchior sat close enough to touch in order to write on the same folded sheet of paper for the middle of signatures.

While sitting on the right side, there was no comfortable way for Kirk to keep his arm out of the way. He mostly twisted it behind his back and stuck it in his sash unless he stopped thinking about it then he placed it on the bench behind Melchior. Not once had Melchior complained but after a quarter bell passed in this pose Sebastian felt he had to speak.

“Is that not an overly familiar way to sit,” he said, shattering the silence.

Melchior glanced over quizzically. “It is the fastest way,” he replied. While making an unbindable stack of papers would allow them to sit farther apart, having the transcription in a book format would be easier to read and look nicer as a gift.

Sebastian felt lost as Dedryck shook his head again. These gray priests were commoners and orphans. Dedryck’s warning that they not be insulted made no sense. He could not understand why the future archduke would huddle so intimately with a commoner even if they were relatively clean.

“Do you see how he sits?” he whispered to the head knight.

“Naturally. As he says, it is the fastest way to transcribe a book. You see why Gerianne begged off,” Dedryck replied.

Sebastian agreed that it would be more scandalous to treat a blue shrine maiden/ knight apprentice thus. Her status continued to baffle him. She was a woman, a priest, and useless as a knight. There was no world where she should be an active member of his lord’s retinue. No amount of observation seemed to illuminated her purpose yet she stayed closer to Melchior than anyone else. He even seemed anxious when she was not there between him and his new knights.

That Melchior was willing to endure the proximity of his servant just to transcribe dusty text for his adopted half-sister, was strange beyond reckoning. Still, Wilfred had tasked him to protect his little brother and Sebastian wanted to see what kind of Archduke he would become.

The boys worked with unusual focus and stillness until lunch time. Once the scholar realized that they were going to maintain their steady pace, she moved her own work downstairs. A little before fourth bell, Fridegern came to announce that it was time for lunch.

Lady Nantfelda was waiting in the library to guide them to her wing of the mansion. “Lady Gertrude would you like to join us?” she asked the scholar with a pointed glance toward Pepin's brother. He caught her look and smiled at Gertrude.

“My charge is currently out hunting. I am at liberty until he returns,” he said.

She blushed. “So you are not a retainer of Lord Melchior?” she asked as they traveled.

“I am not. My younger brother serves as his attendant so I was recommended to accompany his knight on this holiday,” he explained. Gertude glanced at Melchior in his robes. “Only Lord Sigsnyr is on holiday.”

She suppressed a giggle once she caught his meaning. “He so dearly wished to visit our young mistress’s home, no doubt.”

They continued to chat through lunch. As mednobles and because the second wife was a generous host, they were placed together.

Lady Nantfelda took a moment to talk about Gertrude. “Lady Getrude is such a skilled scholar but she did not wish to leave Haldenzel. She takes great joy in gently caring for fragile things.” She had also canceled an engagement with a young man who was planning to marry her then move her to Ehrenfest city once she could no longer refuse. “It is hard to come back from such a thing. And now she is twenty-one.”

“That is rather late to marry,” Melchior observed. “But does she wish to wed?” he asked. The romantic life of this mednoble was surprisingly fascinating.

“Oh yes. She once told me that she hopes to share her love of history with her children. I warn her that children will find their own passions but one must become a mother to learn these things,” she said.

“I am still a child and I know that already,” he replied.

“We forget many things as we age. The wisdom of Weigemilch gives way to Mestinora and Dauerleben.”

“I will try not to forget,” Melchior said.

She laughed. “We all try but even here, so far from the capitol, where it is so easy to escape politics, there are many things to distract us.”

“You speak the wisdom of the ages, Lady Nantfelda. I feel my view has expanded,” Melchior said.

An Urgent Request

As much as he wished to resume transcribing immediately, Lothar suggested he take a bit of time away. Looking at the young mednobles disappearing into their conversation was enough for Melchior to understand. He announced that he would return to work at fifth bell before returning to his room.

What awaited him was his flute. Being smaller than a harspiel and in honor of his recent declaration to Lady Zerafina, Haldis told Lothar to bring it. “You have already missed a day,” the attendant noted.

Melchior could not grumble. He did not like being surprised with music practice but his new passion for flouting had not cooled. He did his breathing warm up then played his scales. Before he had a chance to begin on a song a servant arrived with a letter.

It was addressed to Sebastian. His family in Herzfeld tried to send an ordonnanz but it refused to fly. They knew he was in Haldenzel and, choosing not to believe the worst, sent a magic letter to the office of the giebe. The room of men and boys watched as he read. His face went through a collection of microexpressions before setting on a scowl.

He looked at Melchior, sighed, and sank to his knees. “My lord, though it is beyond me to make so extraordinary a request, I must. On behalf of the people of Herzfeld, I beseech you to travel to our home and teach us to summon spring.” He offered the letter to his stunned lord.

Kirk took Melchior’s flute so he could read the letter. It inquired after Sebastian’s health then proceeded with the assumption that he was alive but somehow inaccessible. They had attempted yet again to use their ceremonial stage and the ritual instructions purchased from Haldenzel, only to fail once again. They were not technically in danger of starving their people but the yearly sickness that plagued their winters was especially fierce this year. They hoped the warming from spring and fresh air would help to alleviate their problems.

“It causes coughing and low fevers. People do not usually die but prolonged lack of sun makes the body weak,” Sebastian explained. “An extra harvest and time to clean the lower mansion would help a great deal.”

“I believe Brother Blenkreek visited there this year. Did they consult him?” Melchior asked, then thought better of it. “Never mind. That would not have helped.

“Unfortunately, I am not an expert on this ritual. I cannot read the full text from this page of the High Bishop's bible and this was my first time witnessing it performed. You should ask someone from Haldenzel to assist,” Melchior suggested.

Sebastian failed to hold back a grimace. “I do not think they would help us,” he said.

“Why not?”

“They do not think highly of us sheep tenders. Countess Haldenzel will not soon forget how we allied with the former First Wife. That our Count did not give his name means little.”

Melchior thought about the enduring grudge held by the Leisegangs. He struggled to believe they would leave an entire province's worth of people to suffer because of it. It was one thing to vent their frustration on Veronica’s grandchild but why punish a count who chose to protect his people the only way he could. “Wouldn't they take it as an opportunity to extract a favor? It might be worth paying depending on what they ask,” Melchior noted.

Sebastian scowled again. “I’m certain it would be very dear. They do not miss chances to remind us of their superiority and untarnished pride.”

“There seems to be enmity in both directions,” Dedryck mumbled.

“Naturally. They would prefer we forget how they prevented us from ascending to archnobility. We would prefer they let Lady Veronica rot in her tower rather than invoke her name at every meeting,” Sebastian replied.

“When was this?” Melchior asked. His knowledge of Ehrenfest history was fairly extensive. Such a feud was bound to be written down yet he had never heard about it.

“It has only been three hundred years,” Sebastian replied.

“You hold a grudge older than the duchy but complain about grievances less than a decade old?” Fonsel asked in disbelief.

“You are even an archnoble province now,” Dedryck added.

“How long will Groschel remember Gabrielle?” Sebastian countered.

Dedryck could only frown.

Melchior still couldn't see a solution that didn't involve asking another province for help. Perhaps they could entreat Cremer or Asmann but they were already visiting the experts on the ritual. “I will ask as a favor to myself. If Haldenzel refuses then I can bring Zipporah to offer advice,” Melchior offered.

“It would be best not to bring Zipporah,” Sebastian said in a noticeably lighter tone. “The young giebe has not yet recovered from her rejection.”

Fonsel laughed. “She was very straightforward,” he added.

“It is to save his people,” Melchior sighed. Surely a leader of a province could put aside his personal problems for the greater good.

“Bluanfah makes one petty,” Fonsel said with a shrug.

Sebastian shifted his weight as the prolonged kneeling was beginning to hurt his knee. “Thank you, Lord Melchior, If you must bring your knight in the end. I will speak with my cousin and calm his rage.”

They sent an ordonnanz to the second wife. She invited them over as Melchior’s chambers weren't fit for meetings. Fridegern and Gertude had gone off to walk around the still fallow garden. Melchior explained the plight of Herzfeld and asked for assistance.

“I realized that a request from me may often be misconstrued as an order. However, I know of the long standing enmity between your provinces and would not wish to stir additional distrust. If Haldenzel cannot bring herself to assist her neighbor, we will find another way,” he assured her.

Nantfelda was not from Haldenzel originally. She understood the long standing rivalry between the northern provinces to be more good natured than bitter. “Allow me to send the request to my husband,” she said and excused herself.

“We gave them the same instructions as everyone else,” Claudio’s ordonnanz replied. It was clear from his tone that he thought the Herzfelds both stupid and a nuisance.

“It would be little trouble for much gain,” she sent back.

“Are you not hosting Lord Melchior,” he replied. She wanted to scream. This was obviously something to discuss between giebes. A mere second wife was not in a position to handle the problem alone. He knew she could not negotiate without him.

She returned to Lord Melchior with a performed look of sadness. “The giebe has encountered some difficulties on his hunt. I do not think he will be able to engage in discussion with Herzfeld,” she said.

“I see. We could not ask Lord Claudio to endanger himself,” Melchior replied.

Nantfelda was a little taken aback. Count Haldenzel had enough titles that calling him merely lord was never done by strangers. “I apologize from the depths of my heart. We are naturally deeply moved by the suffering of our sister province.”

“Are you, Lady Nantfelda, deeply moved by the suffering of Herzfeld?” Melchior asked. His large blue eyes held on her face.

“Who would not be to hear such tragic news,” she replied. She actually wondered if it was even true. The High Bishop of Ehrenfest had never visited Herzfeld since the office was passed to the Archduke's children. Perhaps they were jealous and this was a contrivance.

“Perhaps you do not believe that the people of Herzfeld are in any real danger,” Melchior began. They only had the word of Sebastian’s father to go on after all. Melchior chose to believe but not everyone would. He tried to interpret her facial expression but as most noblewomen, she was inscrutable.

Nantfelda froze, she felt his eyes looking through her after he spoke the words hidden within her. “I do not think that all of Herzfeld and all of Haldenzel agree that your feud should persist. It is the place of giebes to carry the pride of their province much like Father carries the pride of Ehrenfest. Those of us who merely serve them must carry the humility of our people as well as their generosity.”

Melchior thought about all the times his uncle and granduncle apologized on Sylvester’s behalf or how his mother quietly made reparations to Pepin's family. Hadn't Zargerecht’s family died for a prince they didn't believe in because of their lady’s loyalties? He was not above begging an archnoble if it meant protecting the people of Ehrenfest. He rose and prepared to kneel when Nantfelda spoke up.

“You speak with wisdom beyond your years. In truth the giebe has left this task to me. I am not in the position to negotiate with the giebe of another province but I can offer my assistance to you. If you are going to Herzfeld, I can accompany you,” she agreed.

Melchior smiled brightly. He hadn't been excited to explain his behavior to his mother and now he didn't have to. He also wouldn't need to bring his knight into contact with a count she supposedly had a poor history with. “I thank you ever so much. You have saved me and Zipporah from some very serious conversations.”

“How have I saved Zipporah?”

“I do not know the precise details only that Bluanfah danced in the heart of Count Herzfeld only to be chased away by Stiefebrise’s exacting gales³¹,” Melchior replied. He sat back down.

“If you can tell me more about this I will consider it payment for my help,” Nantfelda said.

Melchior looked at his knights. They swapped some hand signals before Dedryck spoke for them all. “Between us we can relate six such tales,” he promised. Both mother and lord regarded him with wide eyes.

“It seems this will be a lucrative endeavor,” Nantfelda said.

The Art of the Hunt - A Noble Interlude

Scouting was a fine art. One needed to know how far ahead to look and what to report back. As the leader of the hunt it was not Zipporah’s job to scout but she wanted to give her little brother a chance to learn. Not much would happen with so many knights and apprentices around him but he would feel important and the older knights could get a sense for where he needed to improve.

Of course, Zipporah had another objective for leading Sigsnyr into the woods alone. While his methods for scouting were both effective and more thorough than most others, they could also be unnerving.

She watched his eyes cycle through their sequence of colors. When Crushing, all of ones elements mingled in the irises. This was different. By filling his eyes with only one color of mana, he could detect other things of that color. He could enhance any of his limbs in this manner but it wasn't as useful.

“There is a lot to see but I don't really know what I’m looking at. I believe there are blenrus sprouts in that direction. Could it be anything else? Light mana is very rare after all. Is there anything other than blenrus which produces it in these forests,” he asked.

She didn't answer his questions. Instead, she looked at his cape. It had a small tear from catching a branch earlier, a tell tale sign that it had no protective circles. “Your cape is still blank,” she noted.

He sighed. She brought this up once per season. “Embroidery takes time,” he replied.

“I know how long it takes better than you do. I cannot imagine your mother is content for you to go gathering while so exposed.”

He said nothing.

“So you still haven't told her,” Zipporah stated. She was not so much surprised as she was elated. Her mother's advice had given her strength. There were many avenues she’d yet to explore and many hints she’d yet to drop.

“That would be like telling her I have no intentions to wed,” he replied. His eyes returned to their normal golden hue. “She will be devastated.”

“So you’ve said,” Zipporah hummed as she looked down into them. She’d been worried about growing taller than him until it happened. Now the ability to draw his gaze up, to see him tip his head or else stare through his eyelashes, filled her with glee. “You still require protection.”

He sighed and looked away. “I’ll think of something. Enchanting ochre paint can’t be that difficult.”

“Paint may flake or chip,” she argued. “Embroidery is the best way to ensure longevity.” She paused to collect herself. “If you have circles you wish to use, I will apply them for you.”

“Zipporah! That's…” he took a step back. “That is so much work. I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“You are not asking. I am offering, no, insisting,” she pressed.

“Zip, that is incredibly generous and very tempting but we have very different elements. They would not be very effective.”

“If you dye the thread in your own mana, the loss in effectiveness from my influence would not be great,” she argued.

“But you have more mana,” he countered.

“There are gloves.”

“That sounds like a new kind of torture. Could you really do hours and hours of such fine work in mana blocking gloves?”

She considered for a moment a future where she did. It was not what she wanted. “Then the only solution is to mix our elements,” she declared as flatly as possible.

He looked shocked all the same. She sighed in her heart. No amount of careful lead up was going to make it sound any less risque.

“What about your jureve? Your siblings won't be able to use it.”

“Mother has at least two. And its already done,” she replied.

“Really, that's quite impressive,” Sigsnyr said. “You haven't even taken the class yet.”

“We live more dangerously here, there is no room for delay,” she explained. “Completing your cloak will not affect the possible access of my siblings to life saving potions.”

He cradled his chin. “What will your husband think?”

“Whatever he wants. He was not a factor when the decision was made. In fact, it will not take me so long that my potential future betrothed will even know,” she said. “You, however, are here now and in need of assistance.”

Sigsnyr leaned against a tree, deep in thought. Zipporah tried to gauge his expression but he’d become much more guarded after seeing Melchior’s drawings. She wondered if it was worth having her shumil knight sketch if it meant seeing less of his emotions.

“There is no way anyone will believe us if they find out,” he said.

“How would they find out? I have every reason to keep silent and no reason to speak,” she said. She stepped closer.

“Your father would be very angry. He would force me to take responsibility.”

How cruel and how tempting, she thought. But she didn't want to use such a weapon against Sigsnyr. He was her friend. The most sincere friend she could hope for. As much as she wanted him bound to her, she would not do it that way.

“You have my word,” she promised. “Shall I give you something of equal sensitivity?”

He held her gaze but didn't answer. She was always surprised by the intelligence in his eyes. Sigsnyr was always looking at something. Never once had she caught him merely staring into space. This time was no different. It was both joyful and thrilling to be the thing under inspection.

“As I have no intention to wed, that wouldn't work,” he noted. He took a deep breath and looked away.

“It is precisely because you have no intentions to wed that you should take my offer. Besides, I am doing this for me. I cannot collect on your promises if you are not here.” She stepped closer. He didn't move away. It was very rare now that he even acknowledged her presence if they weren't actively engaged in conversation or something similar. She could just be near with no obligation to justify her proximity.

“They are very complex,” he said in a final attempt to dissuade her.

“Do you lack faith in my skills?”

“No. I have absolute certainty of your capabilities only… its so much work,” he said.

“Then we should begin as soon as possible,” she said and stepped close enough to touch him. She pooled mana in her palm and offered it.

He gazed into the writhing mass of colors. “We will become omni elemental,” he noted. After what felt like an entire bell he reached out and covered her hand in his. The mana slowly seeped into him and he shivered.

“Do you dislike it?” Zipporah asked. She’d ask after his feelings on the subject in hypotheticals many times. At first, it was with a child's curiosity. Later, she hoped his opinion had changed but for as long as she’d know him his answer was the same. He had no interest or desire to mix mana or anything else. Now that he had done it, she had to ask again.

He didn't answer but offered his own palm’s worth of mana. They were still holding their first set of hands. She lowered her left over his right. There was a great deal of resistance. Her mana did not like being invaded by another's. After several seconds of trying she huffed. “How did you do it?”

“Very carefully.”

Footnotes

31. He fell for her but was swiftly rejected^

Chapter Text

Answering the Call

Melchior was assured that Nantfelda would prepare everything while he continued his transcriptions. He assigned Lothar to assist anyway. Before he returned to the underground vault, he gave Sebastian parchment to write a magic letter ensuring his family that he was still alive and explaining the plan. The knight made sure to include the size of Melchior's party as well as advice on possible compensation. He was then made to wait upstairs so that any correspondence would reach him.

Melchior and Kirk arrived a little before fifth bell to finish the page they were working on. Once that was done they ruled a few more sheets then looked around. There were quite a few magic circles. Dauerleben and Verbergan were invoked frequently along with Mestinora. Having only studied the first two and a half years of magic circle writing, Melchior struggled to discern what they did. He spent a few sheets of paper copying a couple before Gertude returned looking radiant.

“Oh, excuse me, Lord Melchior. I didn't know you had returned early,” she said and moved to turn the page. The boys sat back down and began again.

The hunt returned for dinner as the sun set. The denizens of the estate all exited to greet them through the newly unsealed entrance doors.

The Countess led the group welcoming Count Haldenzel’s party while Nantfelda waited with Melchior to greet Zipporah’s. Sigsnyr looked a bit strange; at once ill and more alive somehow. He was doing his best to hide this so Melchior dutifully ignored it. Their party had a greater quantity and variety of spoils strapped to their highbeast than the giebe’s. A girl Zipporah's age trundled along with a drivable mount so full of oddly shaped things that she threatened to tip over.

“My goodness, it looks like you had a very successful time,” boomed Count Haldenzel.
He strode over to his daughter and offered his arm. Melchior expected her to gracefully accept his escort but she grasped his arm near the elbow instead. There was a small bit of cheering before the party began to enter the estate. Servants and scholars appeared to help move and store everything.

“Welcome back, Sigsnyr. Did you have fun,” Melchior asked as the knight tiptoed back to his lord.

“It was incredible. I shall never know it's like,” he replied.

Melchior thought this was far too little detail. “Tell me what you hunted and how was the blenrus tree? Did you see any saplings? Did you collect plants or only faebeasts?” he pressed.

Sigsnyr looked down at him. “My lord. Please allow me to regale you after we return to your room. I would like to avoid catching the giebe’s attention,” he whispered.

“Why's that?” Fonsel boomed. Several people made to answer him only to realize he wasn't talking to them. Sigsnyr winced.

Gerianne appeared then with a plant attached to a clod of earth and resting in a makeshift pot formed by a large leaf. “For you, my lord,” she said with a bow.

Kirk accepted the bundle while Melchior vibrated with joy. “I thank you ever so much, Gerianne. Your efforts shall be rewarded,” he promised and stroked the leaves.

“It is enough to experience your joyful thanksgiving. I do not know what kind of plant it is but its fellows had pretty flowers,” she explained.

“So you just collected a weed at random,” Fonsel sighed. “Why not bring back something useful?”

“It is a treasure. I am excited to see it flower,” Melchior said. He examined the tightly closed buds and tried to imagine what it would look like.

They began to walk back to the estate when all of Sigsnyr's hopes were dashed. “Twenty-seven kieferdeckes?!” yelled Claudio. He charged toward Melchior’s party to grab Sigsnyr’s forearm in the same gesture he used with his daughter. “Well done, my boy.”

“It was a combined effort. Zipporah is misattributing half to me when she shot them all,” Sigsnyr deflected. He took a step back to preserve appropriate spacing.

“You killed fifty-four in one day between the two of you?” Claudio asked in disbelief. “Those are the numbers of career hunters.”

“We are knights by trade,” Sigsnyr replied. Melchior wondered why he looked like he wanted to be anywhere except in the presence of Count Haldenzel.

“That is rather impressive, Lord Sigsnyr. We are sorely tempted to invite you here more often,” Nantfelda teased.

Sigsnyr turned very red. He struggled to reply which sparked more tittering from the assembled nobility. Both the hunters and scholars were loitering while trying to appear busy just to watch this interaction. Melchior felt he needed to move things along and extricate his knight.

“Sigsnyr has yet to come of age. Perhaps once he is vested in the Knights Order, we will send him along with the other support,” Melchior replied.

Claudio's mood fell immediately. “We patiently await the coming of our brothers every year. In the meantime, we will take all the assistance we can,” he said before walking away.

Melchior looked to Lothar for assistance. He’d only meant to imply that Sigsnyr could not be stolen so easily. Lothar was well trained to understand noble language and turns of phrase but had too little of the context necessary to understand this encounter. He could only return a smile filled with apologies.

“Thank you,” Sigsnyr whispered and began walking inside.

“Oh, Lord Sigsnyr!” cried Zipporah’s little brother. He ran up with a cloth bag making soft clicking sounds. “Your faestones.” He offered the pouch with a look of reverence. His previous hostility was nowhere to be found.

“Thank you. I would have forgotten them,” Sigsnyr replied and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He held the bag until Fridegern smoothly removed it from his hands and secreted it away.

“That seems like a lot of faestones,” Melchior noted as they walked toward Nantfelda’s dining room.

“They are very small,” Sigsnyr replied. He was still in his armor but both Melchior and Nantfelda were dressed casually so no one complain. Dinners were normally serious affairs but if his host and lord were not setting a formal tone, he didn't plan to change. He would just unform his light armor. Unfortunately for him, a servant rushed over and informed Fridegern that Sigsnyr was wanted at the giebe's table. The apprentice looked almost panicked.

“I have something very important to discuss with my retainer’s. I ask for the Count and Countess understanding,” Melchior said. While the servant went pale at the thought of delivering this news, he dutifully bowed and promised to convey it.

“Shall I excuse myself?” asked Lady Nantfelda. She could sense that Melchior was protecting the other boy but couldn't figure out why Sigsnyr was suddenly afraid of the giebe. She wanted to stay for dinner in her own chambers but felt the need to support his excuse. She could ask her daughter later.

Or so she thought. “Please stay, Lady Nantfelda. We must discuss our upcoming endeavors,” Melchior replied with his calm smile. It was adorable seeing him do his best to hide his obvious intentions.

Zipporah arrived after a short delay. She’d changed into a formal dress for a proper dinner with the Count and First Wife. Claudio was displeased to be separated from his daughter for a second night. “He should have taken you on his hunt,” murmured Nantfelda when Zipporah informed her.

Melchior was once again left blissfully unaware of his own meddling as they sat down for the evening meal. He spoke three full sentences about his own day before beginning to ask questions about the hunt. “How far did you travel? Did you only hunt keiferdeckes? How many did you see if you were able to catch fifty-seven? Will that make them go extinct? How are the blenrus trees? What…”

Those who’d gone did their best to reply but Zipporah and Sigsnyr had had other things on their mind while Gerianne didn't get to do much. “The other children were much better hunters already. I will have to practice once we return. It is difficult to shoot a moving target,” she observed. Owing to her lack of skill, she’d remained with the support groups for most of the day while everyone else switched off on such duties. She had to port others' spoils and protect the supply of potions from faebeasts and clumsy people. “It was most enjoyable and I have new aspirations.”

Being both older and more skilled, Sigsnyr was exploited for his mana and abilities. “What did you expect me to accomplish? You sent me scouting in an unfamiliar place,” he complained.

“You did exactly what I hoped you would. You discovered things which even we locals didn't know about,” Zipporah replied.

He was also called upon to use his magically enhanced eyes to spot for Zipporah’s long range shooting. “In the end I was only as useful as Gerianne.” While no one agreed with him Gerianne was happy to have her contributions recognized.

“No one was mean to you were they?” Melchior asked her.

“No. The people of Haldenzel were very welcoming,” Gerianne replied, seeming a bit surprised still.

“You gave mana to our ritual,” Lady Nantfelda explained. Apparently, they were more willing to accept her after she showed her obvious respect for their traditions and proved her abundance of mana.

“They were even curious about temple life. I believe the youth of Haldenzel will be more tolerant going forward,” Gerianne observed. Melchior thanked her for her boldness and efforts to improve opinions about the temple.

They shared a final few funny stories about the day before the meal was cleared away and the serious discussion could begin. Lady Nantfelda spent the afternoon preparing for her short trip and communicating with Herzfeld about their difficulties. She was confident they were only doing a couple of things wrong and could be corrected easily.

Herzfeld had space to accommodate his large party so long as they were willing to share rooms. Their winter mansion was extremely similar to Haldenzel’s with just as many people despite the smaller geographical footprint of the province. Melchior wondered if the four bed maximum would hold true. If it did, then it would be better to leave some people behind.

The choice was fairly easy. “Lord Melchior, I am also your knight,” Sigsnyr pleaded.

“You have come to Haldenzel during your leave, for a personal trip. I cannot ask you to accompany me for work to another province,” Melchior replied.

“My lord, I will alter my itinerary,” Sigsnyr declared.

“Your father must be very accommodating for you to have such confidence that he will extend his permission,” Nantfelda noted mildly.

Sigsnyr paled and held back a groan. He could extend his visit by several days without asking but adding another destination would require new permission. “I will send a letter tonight,” he insisted.

“There is no need,” Melchior assured him. “There is work here I require of you. If you would excuse me to impose upon your rest, I would like you to allow Lothar to stay in your room while I am away.” Now Sigsnyr's distress spread around the room. Leaving his head attendant behind was a confusing choice to the gathered nobles. Melchior looked at Lothar, who was also failing to hide his horror behind his usual smile. “There will be another storm,” was the most Melchior would say.

He hadn't missed how embarrassed Lothar was to succumb to his fear. He had two other attendants and a second adult. Sheila had done so little on this trip since his food was provided by his hosts. She’d looked just as excited as Kirk about their journey so he didn't want anyone to argue against her inclusion in the future. Lothar's reputation could not be torn down by this one incident so taking the opportunity to save him from further discomfort seemed ideal. And they would need fewer beds.

“Would you permit me to inquire why I am being left behind, my lord. I was permitted to work as this is my home province but we have since learned that apprentices may be allowed to escort you,” Zipporah said. Sigsnyr looked even more wretched as she prepared to leave him behind.

“Would you not prefer to avoid Giebe Herzfeld?” Melchior asked.

Zipporah looked surprised then shot a reproving grin towards the adult knights. They maintained their fixed expression despite the giggles in their eyes. “Lord Melchior, I will never allow my personal feelings to prevent me from discharging my duty. Please allow me to accompany you. A second person with intimate knowledge of the ritual will prove useful,” she said. She agreed to share Gerianne’s gray attendant to solidify her place, as the girls room would overfill if she brought her own.

“You will be able to hunt with Father and see more of Haldenzel,” she encouraged.

“I did not come here to see Haldenzel,” he muttered.

While Gerianne and Zipporah celebrated their victory, Nantfelda explained the plan. They would leave in the morning and remain for two nights and one full day just as the plan had been for Haldenzel. Nantfelda and Zipporah would train the women of the province in the ritual while Melchior checked the offerings and the set up of the stage. It was supposed to include the same cloth and grains and such as all other ceremonies. They didn't think Herzfeld would mess up something so simple but the ritual had to be done perfectly to be successful. A small mistake could be the difference.

With the last bell before bed, Melchior's things were packed while Sigsnyr sorrowful performed his penultimate duties as Melchior's attendant.

Herzfeld’s Even Bigger Problem

The lush green meadow surrounding Haldenzel’s winter mansion fell away quickly as they traveled. Gerianne was once again riding in the Lion-pandabus. She and Melchior had gotten a better grasp on providing duel power. They chatted excitedly and tried to pinpoint blenrus groves until the border came into view.

The line was so stark. A wall of snow that seemed unwilling to fall into Haldenzel stretched as far as he could see in both directions. The conifer woods continued unbroken but the Herzfeld trees were still covered in a thick layer of ice. The terrifying power of Flutrane and her goddess had never been made clearer.

Herzfeld had less forest than Haldenzel. Instead, they flew over many meadows and empty villages with large empty fenced enclosures. “Where are the sheep?” Melchior wondered aloud.

The answer was at the winter mansion. In the fields surrounding the solitary ivory building were scores of paddacks and barns with a brown and grey rainbow of sheep. The ones Melchior originally thought were empty proved to contain snow white herds. In the area closest to the estate grazed and bleated blond animals whose coats shimmered in the morning sun. There were also many rudelhute poking their towering heads above the fluffy masses. The adults were much larger than the baby Melchior met in Hasse.

The winter entrance and the tawny sheep were within the same fence. A pair of rudelhute, one a dusky red and the other a lighter pink, herded their flock away from the strangers as they fell from the sky. The knights and the faebeasts watched each other for errant movements while Giebe Herzfeld greeted the visitors.

Biligast Herzfeld was much younger than Claudio. He’d only recently taken over for his grandfather after his own father ascended to the distant heights. He stood wrapped in his ochre cape with his young wife and wizened grandfather.

“Welcome to Herzfeld, High Bishop of Ehrenfest. We are pleased beyond words that Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has woven our threads such that we should be blessed by your presence. We have prepared roasted meats and fine linens³²,” said the Count as he knelt.

“It brings me great joy to finally be among you. I am told you hope to hold the ritual this evening. Let us begin our preparation so the gods will not have cause for patience,” Melchior replied.

Once inside, an attendant led their party to their three rooms. Nantfelda and her attendant were given their own room while the rest split between the sexes. There were three beds. After a few moments to recover from the journey, they rejoined the giebe for tea so the attendants could properly prepare.

“Sebastian, you are released to visit your family,” Melchior said as they were led back.

“Thank you, my lord. I will return this evening,” the knight replied with a smile.

Melchior shook his head. “To short a communion could not be sufficient after so long an absence. You no doubt wish to taste nostalgic flavors and dream nostalgic dreams³³,” he pressed. With one less knight they wouldn't need to call for another bed.

Sebastian began to argue on the grounds of security but Dedryck seemed to support his lord's plan even though it would reduce his guard. He understood as Zipporah stepped into his previous position behind Melchior.

“It is as you say, my lord. I will gratefully accept your generosity,” he replied with a bow before leaving to go to his family's rooms in the winter city. With his problems solved, Melchior felt ready to tackle the conversation with the giebe.

Herzfeld didn't have a sacred variety of tea. Instead they served a warm wine that had been boiled with various spices. “The boiling removes Vantole’s influence. It is therefore safe for children,” Biligast explained as he took his first sip. Melchior and Gerianne partook with furtive giggles. It was slightly bitter but lacked the firey feeling of the parue wine. The spices imparted a wonderful flavor. Melchior drank three quarters of his cup before passing it down to Sheila. Perhaps she could recreate the experience, he thought.

“I suppose the air is blessed by your gift,” Nantfelda said mournfully.

“We capture the spirit so nothing is lost,” Biligast assured her. They shared their own furtive smile and the discussion moved to their goal for the day.

After a brief review of the assorted facts it was clear that talking wouldn't accomplish very much. Herzfeld’s spring celebration differed from Haldenzel’s in several ways but the crux of the problem was unknown to the nobles of Herzfeld. They would simply have to look at things themselves.

It was decided that Nantfelda would review the usual schedule with the wife of Herzfeld Emeritus and the current first wife while Zipporah would speak with the women set to perform the ritual in question and ensure they knew the process and words to the song. Melchior and Gerianne would go to the stage and check the arrangement of the altar.

“We generally begin at fifth bell,” the giebe explained. “It sounds like we have more performances than Haldenzel. Many of those rituals can likely be omitted today but it will take just as long. We resummoned the Rudelhutevolk so they’ve asked to perform their ritual here since we interrupted their calendar.”

“A generous concession to the common folk,” Nantfelda observed.

The giebe sighed but his grandfather spoke instead. “They maintain the safety of our woods. We respect their contributions to our province with these small allowances.”

“And if their interference prevents success?”

“They have oral history of Spring Summoning. Apparently their rituals have not interfered in the past. Unfortunately, the accounts are not very detailed,” he replied.

“We will just have to see. If we must try again tomorrow when their sacred day has passed, the mana burden will be quite high,” Nantfelda said. She sipped her wine while Biligast considered his options.

He shook his head. “I understand your concern, but we rely on the rudelhute to protect our flocks. We cannot offend them,” he replied.

Nantfelda performed a look of confusion. “Do we speak of people or faebeasts?”

“In a way it is both,” Biligast sighed. “You will understand when you see.”

Their meeting adjourned and the teams dispersed.

As Melchior was led out of the summer estate and into the lower mansion, he felt increasingly sick. The faetone lamps gave way to burning sconces and the air grew thick and hazy. As they traveled, the smell of animals became stronger and stronger. Only once they entered the plaza did the stifling air seem to clear. It was not as clean as within the nobles’ portion but the high ceiling allowed the smog to rise while the sconces were once again eschewed in favor of faestone lamps. Each one was surrounded by a clearer circle suggesting that they'd been recently Waschened for the occasion.

Though he could not breath in total comfort, the choking miasma of the hallways had prepared him to endure the plaza’s relative clean. “Perhaps this is the sickness,” Gerianne muttered. Melchior was inclined to agree but chose not to comment himself.

The moment they saw the stage, Melchior and Gerianne felt they understood the problem. The altar was set up in front of rather than on top of the ivory circle. They instructed Sheila and the gray clergy to move things around but the heavy stone table proved impossible for the three of them to move.

“Can you assist,” Melchior asked his knights. They were able to lift it using enhancement magic but couldn't move very fast. Dedryck was unwilling to have both knights tied to a heavy and gravely important object for so long not to mention moving it up stairs.

“I could summon Schutzaria's shield,” Melchior offered. They decided to reserve this option for when no others remained and began by summoning more knights of Herzfeld. There actually weren't that many knights of Herzfeld. The province only occasionally hosted the Lord of Winter hunt and Haldenzel was generally called to support along with Ehrenfest’s Knights Order. With little hunting to do besides, most who were born there chose to move to the Nobles Quarter or marry into other provinces.

They were not as strong nor as skilled as Melchior's guard knights. With two people on each side they could shuffle the altar but moving it up the stairs wasn't possible.

“Could we set everything on the stage directly?” Gerianne mused.

“We cannot risk so much mana on an alteration we know is unlikely to work,” Dedryck replied. He conversed with his fellow knights and devised a system using highbeasts and rope.

“Summon the shield. If it falls, shards of stone may be thrown at speed,” Dedryck warned.

Melchior and Gerianne stood back and collected any stray onlookers behind the shield. The knights formed their armor over their formal clothes and set about enacting the plan. It was both fascinating and harrowing to watch the altar be lifted then secured with ropes. Once the highbeasts were attached their owners strained against the weight. More people were added using bands of light. Eventually, through the combined effort of seven men, the altar was moved to the spot Gerianne remembered Haldenzel's altar being on the stage.

The commoners and nobles cheered or clapped daintily before beginning to disperse. The highbeasts drivers excused themselves to have the dripping sweat wiped from their brows.

This commotion pulled the attention of the Rudelhutevolk who were lounging in the plaza. They were distinguishable from the other commoners by their colorful clothes and feather ornaments. They were also accompanied by a blue and yellow, adult rudelhute and two babies. The animals were also interested in the goings on. They tottered over drawing their handlers with them.

“Gerianne, look?” Melchior squealed. He bounced as he resisted the urge to run over. While the babies were only a little taller than himself, the adult stood over the tallest men if you included their crown of feathers. They were still impressively tall if you did not. He also remembered the aggressive posture they struck when his party wasn't even considering threatening their flock.

This rudelhute seemed more affable. It walked over and sniffed the gray clergy without disturbing the grain in their arms. Then it approached Melchior’s knights. The handlers made no attempts to restrain the animal and the Herzfeld nobles merely moved away discreetly. After inspecting a very still Fonsel it approached the shield and the children within.

Fonsel and Dedryck didn't hesitate to move between Melchior and the fluffy creature as large as two grown women. It looked at them without much interest having already formed an opinion and tried to walk closer to their lord. They summoned their schtappes and closed the space between them.

“She only wishes to greet you,” called one of the handlers. He was dressed in a red tunic with green accents and a blue skirt, all woven from the same floaty fabric which swished about as he moved.

Melchior wished to greet her too. “If she can pass through the shield, then we know she means no harm, right?” he said to his knights.

Dedryck gave him a skeptical glance. “A faebeast this large can harm you without meaning to.”

“She is very gentle and will be at greater ease after inspecting you,” the man explained. He moved to stand by the rudelhute as she stomped in agitation. “If she does not have a chance to accept you she will attempt to herd you out,” he added.

Melchior didn't want to lose his chance to befriend her. “Please allow her to approach,” he asked. Dedryck still seemed unwilling but he took two steps back until he was an arms length in front of his lord. He passed partially into the shield. “If you draw a weapon you will be forced out,” Melchior reminded him. Dedryck nodded and watched closely as the large animal stuck her head through Schutzaria's barrier to sniff the children.

“May I offer her mana?” Melchior asked.

The handler looked surprised. “I doubt she would turn it down,” he replied.

Melchior beamed and prepared some mana. He focused on creating a little ball at the tips of his fingers and offered it. Rather than putting the better part of his hand in her mouth, the adult rudelhute gently touched her lips to his hand and drew the mana in. Melchior beamed and urged Gerianne to try as well. “Thore says it is how you can make friends,” he explained.

“He is correct, though it is more accurate to say that you can join their herd,” said the handler. The rudelhute accepted both portions of mana then did a more refined version of the dance. Melchior had now seen it enough times to crudely mimic the movement.

“I see this is not your first herd,” observed the man. He placed a hand on the animal's neck. “This is Bijou, she is something of a leader of the rudelhute and an ambassador.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Bijou. If you are the leader of all the rudelhute, does that make you a kind of queen?” he asked.

“In a way.”

Melchior considered whether the queen of an entire species of faebeast would be considered as higher status than himself. So far his experience covered humans and inanimate objects. Bijou could not speak but she was alive. Did this make her greater or less than the library shumils? Perhaps it was best just to ask. Unfortunately, neither Zargerecht nor Lothar were there to consult.

“As the queen of the rudelhute, would that make her of greater status than myself?” he asked Dedryck.

Dedryck blinked in amazement. “It is an animal,” he replied, which wasn't really a definitive answer.

“That is a fascinating question. I cannot say for certain as my understanding of your status system is limited but your companions seem to be shaking their heads,” replied the handler.

Indeed, only Kirk seemed to be considering the question. Even Gerianne agreed that this creature was not equivalent to an Archduke Candidate.

Still it was a first greeting and regardless of status those were accompanied by blessings. “I see. I bless this day from the bottom of my heart. May the guidance of the Goddess of Water Flutrane lead the rudelhute to greater heights,” he intoned. The nobles relaxed while the Rudelhutevolk stiffened. Bijou flapped her feathers at the sparkles and began walking away.

“If you would, your grace, kindly keep this between us. The giebe generally gives the blessings of spring to the ambassador,” whispered Bijou’s handler.

Melchior blushed. “I had no idea. I hope I did not interrupt an important ritual,” he said.

“Not at all. It is a mere formality that the one who blesses these lands with their mana acknowledge the leader of the herd tenders,” explained the handler.

“Lord Melchior is the son of Aub Ehrenfest. His family gives more mana to the land than any other. Is his acknowledgement not sufficient?” Gerianne asked.

“Please excuse my ignorance. The previous priests were treated as largely unimportant.” The handler knelt. “Please allow me to correct my lack of respect. I am Luc, the representative of the tribe which travels with Bijou and the ambassador's herd.”

“I am pleased beyond words to have made your acquaintance,” Melchior replied. “Please rise. What does it mean that Bijou is the ambassador?”

Luc explained that the rudelhute were surprisingly intelligent. Bijou could memorize anyone she met even a single time. She would decide whether they were friend or foe and react accordingly. As the creatures were resistant to accepting new people as adults, it was difficult for shepards to assist one another while they all gathered in the winter. Bijou could convince her fellows to allow strangers around their flock in case of emergency. “Without her assistance, we would encounter many more accidental deaths,” Luc explained.

Melchior took the opportunity to ask every question that came to mind and Luc patiently answered. His clothes were not made of sheep’s wool but from fur combed from rudelhute or plucked from bushes after they passed by. They were very warm but not very resistant to rain. The color was naturally produced by the animals.

Rudelhute mated freely both within and between their herds but formed lifelong companionship bonds in sets of two or three. That was why Herzfeld shepards always kept at least two. They could be purchased from the Rudelhutevolk or commoners who happened to have cria. The young faebeasts often took the initiative to switch herds after a short period of solitude. These periods could be interrupted by the Rudelhutevolk and the animal transferred to a sheep or other kind of herd. They could also reproduce in captivity where switching owners and fields satisfied their desire to seek new fellows.

“They seem just as happy with herds of other kinds as with those of their own kind so long as they have a partner. We liken it to caring for small children. They are great fun but you might grow weary if they were your only company,” Luc explained.

The ambassadors in training visited during their conversation and were also given snacks and pets. Luc told Melchior about their diet and favorite treats. He replied that they might form companionship bonds with humans if no one else was available but would ask for near constant proximity. “You would have to live outside full time to be a proper companion.”

Melchior asked questions and listened until the altar was ready and the previously sweaty knights returned and Zipporah arrived with the women to practice on the stage and fourth bell rang signifying that it was lunch time. Only then could he be convinced to say goodbye by to Luc. “I pray that Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has woven our threads tightly together,” he said in farewell.

He told Zipporah all about his newfound knowledge over a light lunch. She listened attentively then asked one of the few questions he had not. “How do the Rudelhutevolk and their faebeast keep the woods clear of dangerous fae?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps other faebeasts are too afraid of them to come near,” Melchior replied.

“The rudelhute are capable of Crushing with much more strength than a shumil. If that is not enough they surround their foe and trample them to death. The Rudelhutevolk are very adept at finding faebeast eggs and nests. They wait for the parent animal to leave before gathering the young,” Gerianne explained.

Melchior was amazed. He’d neither noticed her leave his side nor heard her carry on a conversation.

“You were distracted,” she informed him. One of the young women who followed the ambassadors in training was happy to talk about her people. “They also presented gifts in gratitude for your blessing. Sheila took them to your room.”

Melchior smiled brightly at the thought of gifts then paused. “Count Herzfeld, it was not my intention to intercept your gift,” he said.

“Please keep them as a token of our gratitude. I have the rest of my life to collect a scarf in every color,” Biligast replied. Apparently the gift was always the same. Some feathers and a scarf. Despite coming from a faebeast, the feathers were not very good for brewing and house Herzfeld had generations worth of scarves as the style had not changed and the materials were very durable under the strains of noble life.

“We gave one or two to Lord Adelbert and Veronica over the years. I wonder whether they kept them?” Grandpa Herzfeld said.

If such an object existed among his grandfather’s things, Melchior couldn't imagine his father overlooking it. The unique quality and bold color would earn it a place. Perhaps the trend had come and gone before he was baptized.

His momentary silence was used to segue into a proper discussion about the problem at hand. The stage was complete. Zipporah noted that while the Haldenzel altar was very old and beautifully decorated, it was not important to the ritual. A complicated set of circumstances once led to it being replaced with a regular table which worked just as well. Both Melchior and the giebe's knights' faces darkened while Melchior apologized.

“It is better to be thorough,” Lady Nantfelda encouraged. Her own task gave her a wider perspective. She and the first wife of Herzfeld sent letters to Cremer and Asmann asking about the flow of their celebrations. They had a slightly different set of performances and sang different songs. Their ceremonies were also at different times of day. The only thing that seemed to govern success or failure was the Spring Summoning ritual itself.

“I believe I have the answer in this case,” Zipporah concluded. “Those provinces have much less land to bless. Their rituals do not require as much mana. However, Herzfeld has two thirds the land of Haldenzel but only one fifth the number of archnobles. You are experiencing a mana shortage,” she declared.

“That is not surprising but it is worrying. My aunts and sisters have all married away. Only one lives near enough that she might be willing to return to assist on such short notice,” Count Herzfeld sighed. “We simply have too few women of high enough quality,” he added with a glance at Zipporah. Biligast didn't seem angry at her rejection so much as he was saddened.

Nantfelda smiled calmly. “I hope you do not hold it against Efflorelume for preferring her own garden³⁴?”

Biligast grimaced. “It is not Efflorelume with whom I take umbrage. Only Blaunfah’s champion³⁵.”

“Then it was for the best that he remained behind,” Nantfelda observed.

Biligast gripped his goblet stem tightly. “He is in Haldenzel?”

“No doubt being lavished with prey by the giebe as we speak,” she replied. “A love of hunting is one of their shared joys but the work in Haldenzel is so different to the Autumn Tournament.”

He looked at Zipporah again. If hunting really was her passion then Herzfeld was one of the worst places for her to marry into. He had to sigh. Sigsnyr had been correct to steer her away. “I see Dregarnuhr weaves with intention³⁶,” he conceded.

Receiving closure about his failed proposal wasn't going to solve his mana problem. “Mother and I can assist this time but in the future you will have to consider whether summoning spring is worthwhile. I hear that sheep do not dislike the cold so much,” Zipporah said.

“They consume more food in the winter. However, the sheep are less of a concern. I am worried about the commoners. Every year a coughing sickness spreads through the winter mansion. The Rudelhutevolk do not spend as much time inside and seem to suffer considerably less. If we summon spring, we can reduce the amount of time all of our commoners spent inside. Using so much mana will slow down our cleaning efforts but give us more time to carry them out,” Herzfeld explained.

“Is there no way to make the air healthier?” Melchior asked. He felt he would develop this coughing sickness just traveling back to the plaza.

“We have tried many things. Burning wood instead of sheep cakes was both expensive and ineffective. Going without light isn't an option and cooking cannot be effectively curtailed without harming our people in a different way,” grandpa explained.

“Could you replace the sconces with faestone lights?” Zipporah asked. More efficient stoves would help as well. They could be formed from clay and vented.

“We do not have an overabundance of tiny faestones,” Biligast replied. The cost to purchase them would be staggering as well.

“Could you use light creating magic tools similar to the ones in the Royal Academy library?” Melchior asked.

“Not at the scale of a city,” Nantfelda replied with a look of horror. “Just one large room requires the dedication of a mednoble.”

Melchior was out of ideas. Cleaner fuels were exorbitantly expensive. Even Sigsnyr’s candle extending gadget would require constant cleaning and a lot of mana.

“It is unfortunate that there are not light producing faestones growing from the ceiling or glowing flowers here. I wonder if there is a way to provide better ventilation or allow in sunlight,” Melchior mused.

“Ceiling faestones?” Biligast muttered.

“They light Klassenberg’s cities,” grandpa whispered back.

“Have you been to Klassenberg?”

Grandpa smiled nostalgically then laughed. “I am banned from returning in fact. I ran into one of those crystals during a highbeast race. It destroyed part of a building when it fell.”

Melchior wanted to hear more about the old man’s adventures but they didn't contain the wisdom needed to solve either their short or long term problems. “I will speak with Father and the scholars about long term solutions. For this evening, can we gather enough mana into faestones.”

“Someone must hold them. The laynoble women will have to participate as well. Those that performed the first spring summoning had to retire early that evening but their lives were not endangered. With the support of faestones they should be able to convey themselves to bed at the normal hour,” Nantfelda explained. They would have to use mana donated by more powerful individuals instead of their own husbands and brothers but could spend the time until next spring collecting mana.

Melchior made notes in his diptych. Biligast would speak with his own scholars about possible improvements and Zipporah would collect information about the clay stoves. By the time they finished talking it was nearly fifth bell. Melchior steeled himself for his journey through the murky halls.

Footnotes

32. Two more additions to the “offerings of sweet fruits” line up. It just means we prepared a feast and rooms.^

33. Eat your home's cooking and sleep in your old room^

34. “Are you angry with Zipporah for rejecting you?”^

35. How could I be? Its the one who discouraged her from accepting (in this case Sigsnyr) who I dislike^

36. “Everything happens for a reason” or “this was for the best”^

Chapter Text

The Generosity of Herzfelders

Melchior couldn't have anticipated the depth of Herzfeld’s plight. Not only were there few archnoble women, there were few women of every status. While their population of commoners was slightly greater than Haldenzel, their population of nobles was terrifyingly small.

Nantfelda and Zipporah had estimated the required amount of mana and Biligast had collected the required faestones. Even with one in each hand, the small size and poor quality of the available offerings meant that there were more stones than women to hold them.

Melchior wondered whether a wiser application of his blessing would have saved enough mana for him to offer more support. He could only fill one of his support faestones half-way using all his available reserves. Moving the altar had also cost everyone more mana than they wanted to admit. Even the small offerings he’d made to the rudelhutes felt like an extravagance. Gerianne took his meager contribution and another stone from the pile before taking her seat to await their turn.

Bijou meandered over to observe the commotion and eye the tasty mana. Biligast’s wife Braerlinde couldn't leave her position as head of the distribution but the look on her face said she dearly wished the animal was less interested in her.

“Bijou,” Melchior called softly. The ambassador's hearing was excellent. Her ears twitched in his direction and she sauntered over with Luc. The tension visibly drained from the first wife and her attendant. Melchior had no mana to give but Bijou still allowed him to stroke her neck. The nobles of Herzfeld regarded this scene with wonder and mild disgust.

“This looks like a new part of the ceremony,” Luc observed. He glanced at Gerianne and her glittering treasure.

“We needed more mana to complete the Spring Summoning Ritual. The noble women of Herzfeld will have to carry a heavy burden but should they succeed the snow will disappear and spring will arrive in full power tomorrow morning,” Melchior explained.

Luc looked amazed. “The magic of the Yurgen continues to amaze. We have stories about powerful witches banishing winter,” he shivered. “I hope not all my childhood stories are made real.”

“I would love to hear more of them,” Melchior said with shining eyes. “We could collect them into a book and share them with all of Yurgenschmidt!”

Answers to Luc’s questions about the nature of books and printing were delayed by a loud clattering. One of the laynoble husbands had chastised his wife for being too gleeful about using another man’s mana. In her haste to retreat from his ire she’d knocked over a chair and was now apologizing to the giebe for the disruption.

“I understand his annoyance but this isn't the time to reprimand his wife. The orders are from the giebe,” Fonsel muttered.

“Is it somehow shameful to use another's mana?” Luc asked.

“Ewigeliebe would never suffer Leidenschaft no matter how jealous he might be of his children³⁷,” Fonsel replied. Luc didn't seem illuminated by this explanation. “We try to avoid it.”

“We have no such taboo. Perhaps we could assist,” Luc offered.

Dedryck and Fonsel stifled laughs. “One must be a woman with at least a mednobles worth of mana to participate safely. Knowledge of the song is preferable but Sister participated simply by standing on the stage and praying alongside everyone else,” Melchior explained. Dedryck sighed. These were commoners. Explaining this to them was a waste of time.

“How much mana does a mednoble have?” Luc asked. He looked over towards the lounging Rudelhutevolk and commoner shepards happily chatting with them.

“I couldn't say and we do not have a tool to measure,” Melchior replied.

“Any woman who can sense Lady Braerlinde would be sufficiently powerful,” Gerianne said.

Both Melchior and his knights looked at her quizzically but Luc smiled. “I see. I will ask for volunteers,” he declared and hurried over to his fellows. Bijou merely looked after him. Melchior watched Luc explain using excited gestures. He could hear his words but couldn't understand them.

“What language is that?” he asked no one in particular. Bijou could not explain and his retinue was just as ignorant as himself. He waited with his questions until Luc returned. Four women in bright clothes accompanied him. One looked considerably fancier than the others in a cloak made entirely from feathers. They knelt before Melchior and introduced themselves. He felt a touch embarrassed to give such meager blessings but the duchy potions weren't particularly powerful or quick.

“We have listened to the song since our youth, so we should be able to participate in full. We also have no taboos against using another's mana,” Lea, the fancy woman, explained for her group.

“I am sure the people of Herzfeld would be most grateful but, are you certain? It requires a great deal of mana,” Melchior replied. As far as he knew, commoners with mana tended to have very little.

“We are also people of Herzfeld,” Lea said. “We have enough strength to participate safely as well,” she assured him. Melchior couldn't feel sure. With no way of sensing mana himself he had to rely on his knights. He looked at Dedryck for an assessment. Both he and Fonsel were staring in open shock at the kneeling Rudelhutevolk.

Melchior tugged on his hand and whispered his question. “She has plenty of mana,” Dedryck breathed, still stunned. Lea smiled and winked at him. He turned so red that Fonsel's daze was broken by the opportunity to tease him.

“I thank you from the depths of my heart for your timely assistance. It is as fire heaped upon coals. Please speak with Lady Nantfelda. She will tell you all about what to do,” Melchior said and led the volunteers over to Zipporah's mother. Bijou followed behind and took the opportunity to sniff Nantfelda. She seemed to decide that she was a friend before trotting away.

Fifth bell rang before everything was sorted. Melchior and company were hurried to their seats at a long table situated before the stage. All the chairs on the stage side had only one armrest and short backs. His seat was at the center with the giebe at his right and Sebastian on his left. Melchior felt bad for Sebastian’s brother since he and his wife were seated with their backs to the stage. The strangeness of the chairs was quickly explained as the Rudelhutevolk began their performance and the nobles on the stage side turned sideways to look.

Luc, Lea, and several other people mounted the stage and began to sing and dance. Unlike whirling, which was a restrained art, their dance was full of large movements and elegant jumps. He noticed a particular set of movements that was very similar to the rudelhute snack appreciation dance. The song was in their strange language. He understood nothing but the word ‘rafal’ seemed to come up alot.

“Is it a song about love?” he asked.

“Oh they are not saying ‘rafal’ but ‘rafales’. It is part of the phrase: pays des rafales. It means ‘land of gust’ as in the land of the winds of Schutzaria,” Sebastian explained.

“That is their name for Ehrenfest,” the giebe added.

“It is more than just Ehrenfest,” their grandfather interjected. “The Land of Gusts doesn't refer to a duchy but all the land within the wedge consecrated to Schutzaria.”

Melchior nodded. He enjoyed the idea that Ehrenfest and Frenbeltag were of the same land since they were two halves of the same family.

“It is a song of thanksgiving to Schutzaria, Dame du Vent, with promises to care for and love her lands as their own body,” grandpa continued. He hummed along for a few bars.

Melchior joined him after the melody repeated enough for him to grasp the basics. There were no instruments during this song, only the layering of many voices in distinct ranges. He picked the one that was easiest for his nascent voice. He almost began clapping as the song ended but the Herzfeld nobles didn't move. “I should like to learn that song,” he whispered instead.

Bijou was brought on stage with her apprentices. A wooden bell was struck and she made a few calls. They were the same ones he’d heard the blond sheep’s rudelhutes make when they landed. Many Rudelhutevolk dutifully assembled and four Herzfelder children were sent forward to represent the commoners and each level of nobility. Melchior wondered if he should go as the sole representative of the Archductal family.

“Would you like to go as well,” the giebe asked after observing his envy and desire.

“May I? I am the only Archducal child here,” Melchior replied hopefully.

Sebastian shook his head at his cousin but Melchior couldn't see this and continued to gaze longingly out of his bright blue eyes. “We would be honored for you to participate,” Biligast replied with a smirk.

Kirk helped Melchior from his chair and followed along behind him. Gerianne slipped in at his shoulder as he passed by her chair. He supposed she could represent the blue clergy and didn't try to dissuade her. They climbed the stage with the other children while his knights waited at the foot of the stairs looking tense. Luc smiled at him and he beamed.

Lea made a lengthy speech. The wooden bell was struck several times and Bijou made calls after. Gerianne's friend from earlier squeezed in and held her hand. She whispered an explanation. Lea was reciting a story about the first meeting of humans and rudelhute. The animals had taught the humans how to form herds in exchange for gifts of mana rich fruits. By gathering in larger groups the people could endure winter more effectively. Now Bijou would teach the people the ancient calls so they would not forget how to form herds and protect one another.

The unmarried were expected to join this ritual as their failure to find companionship partners proved their failure to fully grasp the concept. Herzfeld sent children as their representatives to avoid embarrassing their unwed adults. The ceremony ended with a final bleat from Bijou after which she visibly relaxed. “That means the danger has passed and we can return to lounging and grazing freely,” the little girl explained.

“Lord Melchior, may I be allowed to sit with the Rudelhutevolk? I will gather stories on your behalf,” Gerianne asked. Melchior gave his permission. She escorted him back to his adult knights before trotting off with her new friend.

The Rudelhutevolk portion of the evening was concluded with another song which included melodic versions of the bleats. “I would like to learn this song as well,” Melchior mumbled.

“Sebastian knows them,” Biligast said mildly. “Grandfather forced us all to learn.”

Sebastian stiffened as Melchior turned his hungry gaze to plead with him. “I can't say that I perfectly remember everything, but I will sing them for Flautzeal to transcribe,” he promised.

“I thank you ever so much,” Melchior said.

After the final song, Biligast stood up and tapped his goblet with a silver dinner knife. “The High Bishop of Ehrenfest has come to personally oversee our rituals that we might successfully summon spring,” he announced. There was a brief murmuring. “Let us show him the quality of our worship!”

Being the second celebration in less than a week. The people of Herzfeld weren't feeling as festive as usual. But the giebe had distributed a second round of feasts so the commoners were more than willing to play and sing. Melchior hummed along with the familiar tunes. He was interested in the wooden bells which seemed to be used by all the locals, not just the Rudelhutevolk. Bijou didn't respond to these other bells. She sat on her carpet and enjoyed her basket of fruit calmly while the ambassadors in training seemed to be elsewhere.

The nobles performed their whirling then their few knights went up to sword dance. There were more women in their arrangement. Sebastian explained that even retired knights continued to practice and perform. Zipporah had been impressed into their ranks as well. Her lack of billowing sleeves didn't detract from her performance. The adults seemed to move with more passion but Zipporah’s dancing was more precise and graceful. As she only knew the graduation version she’d been placed at the front and center so the simpler Herzfeld version looked like a background accompaniment.

“She's incredibly impressive,” Biligast mumbled and took a sip of his wine. He pouted through the entire dance and while the women of Herzfeld mounted the stage.

This time the archnobles held instruments. Melchior wondered if this was because of the possibility of the laynobles falling unconscious and dropping a harspiel. Gerianne walked up next to Lea. Her attendant met her on the way with the faestones. The Rudelhutevolk women were organized by mana capacity along with the nobles so Lea stood with Braerlinde near the chalices while her sisters stood farther away.

“I am one who offers prayers and gratitude to the gods who have created the world,” chanted Nantfelda. The women with instruments slowly rose then, with the plucking of a single string on a single harspiel, began to play. As the introduction swelled and a lone drum entered, the singers rose and began their song. “Grant an end to this world of pure white.”

Melchior didn't plan to miss his cue this time. He waited with baited breath for the end of the song. “Praise be to the gods!” he cried along with the performers and no one else. Thankfully, everyone's attention was on the great, glowing magic circle rising from the stage. Just as before it hung for a few moments before flying into the chalices and creating three great pillars. “We did it!” Melchior cheered.

“It certainly looks like a true ritual,” Biligast muttered in awe.

The women shared satisfied smiles as they descended the stage. Melchior clapped all by himself until a few other men realized they should join him. Soon even the commoners were clapping and cheering. Biligast mounted the stage and raised his hands for quiet. “Now I can say with both confidence and sincerity that Flutrane the Goddess of Water’s clear streams have pushed away Ewigeliebe the God of Life and rescued Geduldh the Goddess of Earth. Blessed be the melting of the snow! Blessed be the coming of spring!”

Now there was a thunder of applause. Biligast called for dinner to be served to the nobility. Several roasted lambs were brought out alongside potatoffels and other vegetables. Melchior's cup was refilled with the mulled wine as his plate was piled with food.

“Haldenzel takes on the appearance of early summer. Can we expect the same?” Braerlinde asked.

“Yes. It will look as it usually does after the thunder of Vedrena announces the arrival of spring. In fact, there will be a thunderstorm tonight.”

“A thunderstorm you say,” Biligast asked, looking suddenly worried. He looked at Sebastian. “You didn't mention that.”

“In truth, I forgot. There were other more pressing concerns,” Sebastian replied.

“I see city life has stymied your Dregarnuhr,” Biligast said.

“Are thunderstorms a big problem here?” Melchior asked.

“Yes and no. The rudelhute have a great fear of lighting. Considering that they are struck more frequently than one would expect, we cannot blame them. It will mean that our flocks won't be protected for the night. Rudelhute will lay down during storms and refuse to move,” Biligast explained.

“That sounds like a serious problem,” Melchior replied. “Should we deploy knights to protect the sheep?”

“There are not many threats this near to the mansion. Simply moving them into the barns should be enough. I will just need to make an announcement,” the giebe said and rose to do just that. There were gasps of alarm and some people began to hurry through their meals.

The Storm and the Tower

That evening, Kirk and Melchior stood together behind the partition and considered the magic tools. Herzfeld and Haldenzel were arranged much the same way so the wells were just as far from the guest rooms in the giebe's estate as before. Melchior recognized the greenstone pitcher and bluestone water heater but not the other things. There was also a long rod with a greenstone magic tool on one end and a long flat stand with a magic circle.

“This rod is for emptying the tub while the stand warms towels,” Kirk explained. He pointed out where Sigsnyr had touched each to power them.

“I know how to use the pitcher but the other tools are new. I might make a mistake,” Melchior replied.

Kirk’s eyes grew wide. “You do not intend to run your own bath do you?”

“I will still require your assistance but you do not have mana to run the tools.”

Dedryck came around the partition while they argued. “We could call for a noble attendant,” he suggested.

“You would trust a stranger that far?” Fonsel chuckled.

While the knights discussed the possible danger that could arise from various solutions, Sheila arrived with a tray of food and a basket of toiletries. “This soap is made using sheep’s milk. They claim this makes it more gentle without being less effective. There is also this oil which includes lanolin, said to provide superior rejuvenation,” she explained.

Dedryck and Fonsel continued their argument while testing for poisons but arrived at nothing. Sheila joined Melchior and Kirk in their planning.

“Will Gerianne need help?” Melchior asked.

“She has elected to spend her night gathering stories and will return in the morning,” Sheila explained. Melchior felt as annoyed as he’d been when she went hunting without him. He wanted to spend his night with the Rudelhutevolk too. “The giebe has invited you to view the thunderstorm from Herzfeld’s tower. It has a unique magic tool,” she added.

It would have to be enough adventure, Melchior thought. Dedryck would never allow him to sleep among strangers. He took the pitcher against Kirk’s argument and began filling the bath. This time he managed not to launch water everywhere.

The bluestone heater used quite a lot of mana. “It is more efficient to take your time,” Kirk explained. Sigsnyr had talked about how much longer Fridegern took than himself in order to conserve his mana. Being as near to depletion as he was, Melchior also took his time. He gave up once it was warm enough not to be unpleasant but not nearly as hot as usual.

Sheila and Kirk helped him undress and bathe. He was shockingly dirty from the air in the tunnels making him anxious about how difficult it would be to get the smoke out of his robes. They would have to use Waschen, he thought.

By the time the toiletries were deemed safe, Melchior was finished with his bath. He gave the oil a try but didn't detect any noticeable difference. He wouldn't normally view the water after he’d used it. It was unpleasantly murky. “Lady Nantfelda’s attendant says to let the dirt settle for a few minutes then to use the rod to empty the lower water. It is hard to explain but you will understand once you've done it,” Sheila said.

They waited together for the water to look a bit clearer and for a layer of dark sediment to form. Melchior dipped in the rod and passed a thin stream of mana into its faestone. There was a great whirling and the sediment was redistributed. Melchior sighed. They waited again but Melchior wasn't able to use any less mana than he already was.

They called one of the knights. Dedryck inspected the rod while the dirt separated out again. When he activated it, the sediment right next to the end barely wobbled at first. After a bit of calibration he was able to suction it up without causing a stir.

“That is amazing, Dedryck. How are you so precise?” Melchior fawned.

“It helps a great deal to have a schtappe,” he replied.

Once the water looked better he began to refill and reheat the bath. As Dedryck hadn't poured all his mana into questionable uses and the ritual, he was much quicker at heating. The bath was lightly steaming once he was done. It seemed he was a fan of particularly hot baths.

“I will leave you to it,” Melchior said and began to leave. Kirk and Sheila took their positions to help him undress.

“Wait!” Dedryck cried and turned blood red. “Kirk will suffice,” he continued.

Melchior looked confused while Sheila only bowed and left. “Do you dislike Sheila?” Melchior asked.

“She is a woman,” Dedryck replied.

Melchior was already aware of this so he waited for more explanation.

“You will understand when you are older,” was the most he would add.

Melchior left his knight to his bath and sat in one of the chairs. He asked Sheila for paper to transfer his notes from his diptych. She also brought him a cup of cool water and stood to the side, ready to assist.

“Sheila,” Melchior whispered. “Why doesn't Dedryck want you to attend,” he whispered.

“He is embarrassed to have his bath attended by a woman,” she replied.

“Why?”

“As we age, our relationship to others changes. We begin to see some people as potential romantic partners and wish to maintain greater modesty in their presence.”

His eyes grew wide. “Does Dedryck…”

“Not specifically me, no. But all women inspire greater modesty from Sir Dedryck,” she explained.

Melchior nodded and returned to his work. He’d never felt embarrassed by Sheila or his mother's attendants when they'd attended him in the past. He wondered when he would begin to see others as potential romantic partners.

“It is a different time for everyone. It might be tomorrow or several years from now. I know one girl for whom it never occurred,” Sheila replied.

Dedryck quickly reappeared freshly washed. Fonsel accepted the assistance of Sheila without comment. After his bath, Melchior watched Fonsel successfully clean the water. He noticed Kirk growing increasingly pale.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Lothar is not here,” Kirk replied.

Melchior glanced between Sheila and Kirk. “Do you wish to maintain greater modesty around Sheila?” he asked.

“It is everyone but he is used to Lothar by now,” Sheila replied for the rapidly reddening apprentice.

“Does that mean he sees everyone as potential romantic partners?” Melchior asked.

Fonsel froze while Sheila hid a smile behind her hand. Kirk hung his head, unable to express his embarrassment any further. “That is a very sensitive topic, Lord Melchior. You should not discuss things so openly,” Sheila said.

“You can't just ask people something like that. He wouldn't want to tell anyone, even you,” Fonsel added.

Sheila's smile faded immediately at his words. “We will manage from here, my lord. Please do not let it trouble you,” she said. With this gentle dismissal. Melchior returned to the desk with new questions.

Sheila and Kirk changed into their second sets of gray robes rather than night clothing. Melchior wouldn't sleep for very long and no one would be around to help Kirk change so he could accompany his lord to view the thunderstorm. Sheila would need to travel the halls back to Gerianne’s room in order to retire and couldn't be seen in her underwear.

As the men prepared to sleep, the question of Kirk was raised. No spare bedding had been provided for him to spread over the floor. Attempting to sleep in a chair would likely leave him too exhausted to work properly the next day. Melchior had already answered this question before sending Sebastian away. “I am the littlest. He will sleep with me,” he said.

Dedryck sighed while Fonsel looked grave. “I don't think that's a good idea given his preferences,” Fonsel said.

“Would you prefer a chair?” Melchior asked.

Kirk didn't even shake his head. He stood frozen and blushing. “You could not lower yourself so, my lord,” he replied.

“We have too few hours to argue with an Archduke Candidate. Do as you like, my lord. I will only advise that you not mention this to anyone,” Dedryck grumbled.

Melchior wondered what Dedryck meant to imply about arguments with him but he was more interested to know why he had to be secretive.

“People might begin to assume you enjoy it,” Fonsel said.

Melchior had enjoyed it the last time it happened but that was more about their conversation than sleeping in the same bed. “Would it be a problem if they did?” he asked. His knights nodded. “Is is bad?” Melchior felt a bit of panic. He’d always assumed people meant something more involved when they insulted the priests for their relationships with gray shrine maidens. Would he be perpetuating the poor reputation of the temple just by sharing a bed by accident or out of necessity?

“There are many things that are not bad but are still inappropriate for an Archduke Candidate,” Dedryck demurred. “Your status means people will question why you would need to share a bed with your attendant. With no good answers, they will assume the worst.”

“This transcends status. Yes it bad to …”

“Fonsel!” Dedryck snapped.

“Ah, my apologies, my lord. It's too crass to say,” Fonsel said.

“There are many things you may want or have to do that society will not approve of. One solution is simply to keep it a secret. People cannot judge what they do not know,” Dedryck concluded. “It's time to sleep. I suggest telling no one outside of this room.”

Melchior nodded and made his way to the bed. Fonsel handed Kirk his own blanket before watching him join his lord and putting out the lights.

Neither Dedryck nor Fonsel slept deeply so they both awoke to the sound of the sudden downpour. They sipped cups of water and ate their portion of the food. Other than the sound of rain, it was totally quiet.

“He’s awfully still,” Fonsel observed.

“As though we gave him Schlaftraum’s blessing,” Dedryck replied.

They listened to the rain for a while.

“Why did you cut me off?” Fonsel asked. He didn’t actually think it was too crass to say.

Dedryck looked at him intently. He frowned. “What if he is and he grows up to believe there is something wrong with him? Not just that it's unacceptable but a dysfunction?”

“He should know before he makes that kind of decision.”

“You assume he gets to choose.”

“Don't we all?” Fonsel asked.

Dedryck shook his head. “We have less control than you might think.”

“Are you?”

“Does it matter?”

“It would explain some things.”

“They do not need explaining. Do not say such things in the future. It is easier to do one's duty if it is just that, a duty not a Goddess given imperative,” Dedryck said.

Fonsel looked him up and down. “If you say so. They will want to know though.”

“Would you gamble on his trust remaining intact?”

“You just said it isn't a bad thing.”

“I also said it will not be accepted by society.”

“They are his parents, not society,” Fonsel sighed.

“You are not an Archduke Candidate. I’ve seen dozens of them and I can tell you that family is a loose concept. They are his political rivals,” Dedryck said. “Who are you loyal to?”

“Who are you loyal to? Last I checked, it was a different man with blue hair.”

Dedryck paused. His allegiance hadn't changed but his perspective had. “If it becomes necessary, I’ll tell him but right now it's more important that Melchior trusts us. We can't inspire him to begin avoiding our watch again.”

“I suppose you're right. I'll keep my peace but I can't promise not to say anything if he asks me directly. A little sadness now is better than a scandal later,” Fonsel agreed.

Dedryck nodded as lightning illuminated the room.

The boys awoke sluggishly to the thunder. Perhaps because they expected it this time, they didn't have the panicked expressions from before. Melchior yawned then got up and allowed Kirk to dress him in a set of normal clothes. It felt odd without his vestments and sash but his previous worries about their graying were enough to convince him.

A Herzfelder attendant soon arrived to guide them to the watchtower. As they climbed the many stairs, they looked into the dark glass orbs and lightly glowing faestones of some mysterious device. It filled the entire central column from the lowest floor. At the top it narrowed into a spike that continued through the roof. A guard rail was set up all around it.

“Welcome, Lord Melchior,” said Giebe Herzfeld. He’d come with only his guards. “My wife does not enjoy viewing storms, especially here. I cannot stress enough that you must not touch the device. It will soon be struck by lightning.”

Melchior regarded it again. He wondered how anyone could predict such a thing but sure enough, a deafening boom soon filled the air as the tower was enveloped in bright light. The previously dark orbs began to fill with aqua colored, liquid mana. The boys stared in awe. They walked down to see the device now that it was illuminated. The tower was struck again and a magic circle flashed above the reservoir.

Having just seen a similarly impressive storm, Melchior chose to huddle on the stairs and watch the many lights and faestones twinkle and whirl. He took out his blank book and began sketching in the low light. He couldn't see everything because of the staircase so he spent his time doing sketches up and down the stairs. At some point Zipporah arrived. She asked to purchase a sheet of paper to make her own sketch.

“There is no need to repay me,” Melchior insisted as he gave her a free sheet from his pouch. “I apologize for the creases.” It had to be folded in order to fit. Zipporah stood near the now half full container and waited for a lightning strike before quickly copying the magic circle. After three strikes she’d completed it and moved to look for any other circles.

Melchior returned to the viewing platform to watch the sunrise over the sheep pens. It was unfortunate that they were empty since the sheep were in their barns. The patches of snow had been replaced by a lush meadow. As the sun peeked over the horizon, he saw wildflowers open up all at once.

“Oh my!” he sighed. It was an impossible sight to behold and one he would never be able to capture. As the wind blew in the crisp air and light bouquet of sheep droppings, he felt a deeper awe at the power of the gods than ever before. “Truly the Goddesses of Spring have driven away the ice and snow. This coming of spring is blessed,” he muttered.

“I never understood those words before. The gods have always been marks on a page, names I found hard to remember, or rote greetings to recite. Now I see Verdrena is no mere collection of syllables,” Biligast replied.

Melchior suddenly recalled his sister’s song for Flutrane and the spring goddesses. “O waters of spring…” he began. It had been included in one of the books of music sold in the winter playroom but Melchior and Kirk were still the only people who knew it. Everyone else listened politely as the boys sang to the brightening sky. Melchior didn't have enough mana to give a blessing while singing so nothing extraordinary happened but he felt wonderful nonetheless.

“Thank you ever so much for inviting me to observe the storm and to see your magic tool. It is amazing,” he said once he finished singing.

“It helps us a great deal by collecting mana from storms and protecting the meadow from lightning strikes. It is a shame this storm happens after the ritual instead of before,” Biligast sighed. He led them down the stairs to a spigot at the base of the tower. There a scholar had a cart with glass vials and bottles. Biligast filled one of the larger bottles for Melchior and vials for Zipporah, Nantfelda, and Gerianne. “We are deeply grateful for your assistance. Please accept this as a token of our thanks.” Kirk accepted the bottle.

Having allotted an entire extra day just in case, Melchior now had abundant free time. He went on a tour of the pattocks and learned about the various kinds of sheep and their wool. He was allowed to select the fleeces he wanted and to watch the sheep be shorn. Bijou and Luc accompanied him around.

At some point they returned to the estate for breakfast only to set out again. Being outside after so long spent indoors was intoxicating. He was even used to the smell of sheep as he sketched the wild flowers and flocks. At his request, he was positioned on a balcony with a table and a view of the shepherds and Rudelhutevolk departing. He had great fun drawing the colorful clothes and expansive land. He didn't repeat his mistake of using the oil paint sticks so the whole piece had a pastel quality from the uneven application of the crayons. He doodled until lunch then went to retrieve Gerianne.

With the midday meal concluded, Lea’s tribe was preparing to leave. Gerianne's friend was a member and was as loath to part as the blue shrine maiden. “It is the great fortune of my life to have met you,” she said tearfully.

“I pray that Dregarnuhr has woven our threads such that they cannot be parted,” Gerianne replied.

They held hands and wept bitterly while the adults tried to hurry things along. “Please may I stay just a little longer,” pleaded the girl. “I know the way. I can catch up.”

“You are too young to travel by yourself,” a woman who seemed to be her mother replied. They switched into their language to continue their argument while the girl continued to hold Gerianne’s hand.

“I will stay with her,” Lea declared eventually. “You all know the way, no? You don't need me to guide you?” she teased. The mother said a few more words but agreed. “She is in good hands,” Lea promised.

Gerianne and her friend celebrated together. She was brought over and they knelt before Melchior. “This is Alix, my lord. She has told me many stories.”

“I am honored to meet you, Lord Melchior. Gerianne has told me much about you,” Alix said.

“Just Gerianne,” Fonsel muttered.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You seem very fond of one another,” Melchior observed.

“My lord, Alix is incredible. When she tells stories you will believe you are there and she makes the very best grilled greens,” Gerianne praised.

“I would love to hear one of these stories. Shall we return to the balcony for tea?” Melchior invited.

Gerianne looked beyond excited to have her new friend acknowledge. They stood together and followed the very jealous Melchior back into the estate.

Footnotes

37. No man would want another to influence the mana of his children through his wife. This extends to all mana influence, whether the woman in question is pregnant or not. Its never stated in the text but the close relationship between mana mixing and intercourse leads me to believe that such sentiments would exist. ^

Chapter Text

Enjoying Art

His pain was forgotten in the exciting throws of a story. Alix used different voices for each character and made sound effects with her mouth and hands. She told the tale of an unfortunate man who tried to woo a woman only to find out she was a rudelhute in disguise. Melchior thought this was an impossible mistake to make but laughed all the same at the almost intelligible bleating Alix made. Gerianne listened with rapt attention, never taking her eyes off the other girl. Melchior paused his landscape to draw a portrait of them together. He then did a portrait of Lea while she sang songs for them and taught Gerianne some of the dance from the night before.

He didn't want to give away these portraits since he was unlikely to meet these people ever again but it was his habit. It would feel wrong to deny only them but no one else. “This is the first time I’ve drawn you,” he sighed sadly. “Would you like to keep it?”

“You do not sound happy, Lord Melchior. You need not gift us anything if it does not please you to do so,” Lea insisted.

Alix, meanwhile, took her picture without any disavowal. She all but wept as she looked at it and stroked the paper. “It is us,” she muttered and looked back and forth from the page to Gerianne. “You are so lovely,” she said.

Melchior felt like he'd intruded on something. He swiftly turned his attention back to Lea. “I always offer my first portraits to their subjects. As much as it pains me when I am so proud of these ones and am unlikely to see you again, I must continue the tradition,” he said.

“I would like you to keep mine, Lord Melchior, that you might remember us,” Lea said and returned the paper.

Melchior smiled. “Thank you. I can do another one quickly. It will not be as good,” he offered.

She accepted his quick sketch with a giggle. “This has more energy but is not as detailed,” she observed. “Would you like to keep it, Lord Dedryck?” she teased.

Dedryck blushed. “I could not accept,” he replied.

She giggled again and carefully rolled the portrait up before stowing it away. “It is clear that you carry another in your heart. How sad, I have always wished for a daughter with orange eyes.”

He looked away, unable to maintain his rigid posture.

“It is time for the evening meal. Lila’s tribe will remain until tomorrow. Let us see if they have anything to share,” Lea said to the girls still huddled around their portrait.

Gerianne and her attendant went off with the Rudelhutevolk for a second night while Melchior trudged to the dining room for his dinner with the giebe. His table was carried in by servants while his drawing was carried by Kirk.

Before he and Sheila could excuse themselves to store his things the giebe met them in the hallway. “I hear you have done a painting of the meadow. Might I be allowed to view it?” he asked.

Melchior gave his permission and the large sheet of paper was brought along then unrolled over a table. “I would not call it a painting. It uses a new medium called krae-yawns. They are tubes of wax mixed with pigment,” Melchior explained.

“The effect is quite interesting. Would you be willing to part with this?” Biligast asked. Melchior felt relief that he hadn't used any paint. The look in the count's eyes told him that had he been forced to leave it here, it would be all but impossible to get it back.

“It is only a child's doodle,” Melchior argued. This house had many beautiful paintings, much more impressive than he could create in a morning.

“I have a great interest in art. The novelty of this style brings a freshness to the scene. The view from that balcony is much beloved. Seeing it through another's eyes is a rare gift,” Biligast pressed. “Perhaps a trade? Then you will still have a picture to remember your visit.”

This was enticing to the young artist. He generally enjoyed his own drawings but the drawings of others had none of the flaws he couldn't ignore in his own work. While he was quietly considering, a servant brought over a painting. It was the view from the balcony of the Rudelhutevolk leaving, only whoever had painted this had spent weeks doing it.

“This is not a worthy trade,” Melchior gasped. He kept finding new exquisite details the longer he looked. “My work cannot compare.”

“I believe you’ve too little regard for your own work. You have captured in a couple of bells, the feelings I attempted for weeks to convey. Perhaps it is your youth, but your piece has a brightness and joy that I find captivating.”

“You painted this Lord Biligast?!” Melchior cried.

“Last year, yes.”

“You have shown me how much I’ve yet to learn. I could not accept this as a fair trade for my work. Nor could any price I offer be sufficient,” Melchior said. He also had wool and a rudelhute cira to purchase.

“Would you include the tools you used to create it?” Biligast asked. “They seem very convenient.”

Melchior felt himself wavering the longer he looked at the painting. If Biligast was happy with the trade, was it wrong to accept? “I have made liberal use of them, would you not prefer a new set?” He should at least send new crayons.

“That is tempting. I would have to wait for their arrival in that case,” he mused. The servants began to grow antsy as they continued to delay the meal. “It is better to await greater rewards, yes. I will accept a new set of these krea-yawns. Would you permit me to borrow them for the evening? I should be able to endure after satiating some of my curiosity,” he said.

“Yes, certainly,” Melchior agreed immediately. He had Sheila hand them over. Along with the oil paint sticks he hadn't used that day.

“Splendid!” Biligast said and called for parchment to write up a contract. The drawing and a new set of wax and pigment tubes were promised in exchange for the painting but not its frame. Melchior had not intended to agree to everything but found the line awaiting his signature presented all the same. The joy on the giebes face combined with the dangerous allure of the beautiful art pressed his pen to the page. The star filled ink sealed their promise. A half sized Ehrenfest paper copy was prepared for him to keep and dinner commenced.

“You toured the meadow this morning. Will you tell me what you think of our flocks?” asked Braerlinde.

“I have always thought sheep were just adorable clouds. I see now that their nature is more complex,” Melchior replied. “And so much of a sheep is just wool.”

Braerlinde laughed. “It is surprising the first time one sees them shorn.”

They chatted about the fleeces he’d purchased and attempted to offer him his money back. Instead he accepted an additional fleece as a gift. Biligast coaxed him into talking about some of his plans. He felt nervous to speak in front of Zipporah but decided to swear her to silence later.

“Does your spinner have experience with our wool? Some of the techniques are exclusive to our province.” Biligast half bragged.

Melchior admitted that he didn't know and accepted the offer to have a spinster come teach his attendants. Sheila couldn't hold back a small scowl while Kirk was nearly bouncing with excitement.

The dinner concluded with an invitation to withdraw to another room for tea and Karuta.

Melchior wasn't well versed in the tea party version of the game. The face cards were placed face down while the second-half, text only cards were shuffled then drawn from a pile. Players spent a few minutes memorizing the layout of the face cards before turning them over then demonstrated their mastery of the game by reciting the face cards using the script cards as a prompt. The other player then had a chance to find the face card based on their memory.

Biligast seemed to have no qualms about destroying a child during his first time learning a new game. Melchior knew every card but he’d never attempt to recite the texts from memory. He struggled to complete his reading turn despite not making a mistake but this left him with little brain power left to remember the layout of the cards.

“Your karuta set is lovey Giebe Herzfeld, I remember watching Wilma paint these ones and thinking the recipient must have tastes approaching Kunstzeal,” Melchior complimented while he nursed his tea bitterly.

“You know the artist of the Rozemyne Workshop? I have always wished to meet her,” Biligast replied.

Melchior perked up a little then deflated again. “I have learned much under Wilma’s tutelage. We are grieved beyond words that she is leaving for Alexandria this year.”

“That is a great loss to Ehrenfest,” Biligast agreed. He looked over his decorative set. “Creating so many unique designs is truly a feat. I wonder who will draw the illustrations now?”

They played a second game where Melchior performed just as poorly even though he had better command of reading the cards. He kept selecting face cards based on their location from the previous game. “Forgetting is a skill of its own,” Biligast counseled. Melchior wished dearly to crush his smug smile with effortless victory. He vowed to practice this new style as well as the old.

Kirk and Sheila returned from their training session with spinning gadgets and notes respectively. The spinsters had been so amused by the little boy’s enthusiasm that they'd given him spindles and whorls and a few decorated bobbins. He babbled happily while assisting with Melchior's bath. His lord had no idea what most of it meant but he listened attentively and tried to ask questions.

“They said they tried a spinning wheel once almost ten years ago. It doesn't produce the very fine thread needed to weave but they remember it being ok for knitting yarn,” he explained.

Melchior crossed off then readded the contraption to his mental shopping list. He asked Kirk to make notes on all he learned before he forgot and provided a bit of paper. They continued whispering once in bed until Fonsel hissed at them to quiet down. Melchior passed another night in deep, still sleep.

The next morning, Gerianne and Alix repeated their tear streaked goodbye. “I will return,” Gerianne promised over and over.

“I will await you,” Alix promised.

“Do not wait too long.”

“Do not take too long in coming back.”

Alix gave Gerianne her feather ornament and promised to collect furs and spin her a scarf. Gerianne gave her a handkerchief with her embroidery and blessings from Chaosfliehe and Gramaratur and Greifenchan. Melchior stood to the side feeling incredibly awkward then watched the Rudelhutevolk march away until they entered the woods on the far side of the meadow.

Gerianne's eyes never wavered as tears tumbled from them. Melchior patted her hand. “You can return for the Harvest Festival,” he whispered.

“May I come back every year?” she asked.

“We can talk to Kazmiar,” he offered and she nodded.

While they said their farewells, their luggage was packed into his Lion-pandabus and the deal for the young cira was finalized. The commoners all gave it slivers of fruit and the nobles offered tiny drops of mana so it would feel comfortable around them. Finally, the fleeces and a crate of food for the animal were added along with the painting.

Giebe Herzfeld came out to see them off. “Thank you again, High Bishop for coming on such short notice and offering you assistance. From the depths of our hearts, we thank you.” He knelt and crossed his arms before his chest “I pray that you live well with the divine protection of the gods until Dregarnuhr the Goddess of time weaves the threads of our fate together once again.”

“May our threads be woven together,” Melchior replied.

“Zipporah shall ride with me,” Melchior declared before the final checks. She had less luggage than on their initial journey but having already packed her highbeast she was annoyed. She smiled through her annoyance but desummoned her schirjack without unpacking, letting her bags fall to the ground. Gerianne was allowed to leave her things in the Lion-pandabus along with her attendant. Once everyone was ready, they began their journey to return Nantfelda to Haldenzel.

A Disscusion with Zipporah

Kirk cuddled the rudelhute as she bleated in terror upon take off. She huddled close to him once things evened out and took deep breaths between slices of faefruit.

Zipporah sat calmly in the passenger seat and watched the scenery whizz by. “There are things we must discuss,” Melchior began.

“It would be difficult to use magic tools while flying,” she replied.

“It is no great secret. I must ask that you mention nothing about the wool to anyone else,” he ordered.

Zipporah smiled. “I will not tell Kolteruze about his gift,” she said.

Melchior was so shocked he slowed his flying for a moment. “How do you know? Who told you?”

“Kolteruze has figured it out already. You look at him apologetically every time our research is mentioned. You had him measured by tailors. You sent a letter to your chambers about acquiring wool during this trip. He is sure you intend to have fabric prepared for him and even asked me to attempt to dissuade you,” she explained.

“Perhaps I underestimated his intelligence or overestimated my own abilities,” Melchior murmured.

“He will still be flattered to receive your gift. Would you like me to imply that I succeeded in talking you out of this?” she offered.

He considered the benefits compared to the chance that speaking any more about it would give Kolteruze even more knowledge of his plans. “It would be better not to mention it at all.” He decided to simply feign ignorance. “There is something else. Can you tell me about the fight with Ortolf?” Zipporah glanced at the attendants behind them. “Gerianne will find out soon enough,” he said. The others were his own attendants and could be trusted to maintain discretion.

Zipporah described the day and the event in question. “I did try to tell him not to but he was too angry to listen,” she admitted.

“No one reports hearing you attempt to speak before the initial strike,” Melchior said.

She laughed then made a collection of annoyed sounding grunts. “That means “contain yourself” or something similar. I should have used words, I admit.”

He suddenly understood Dedryck’s annoyance. Not only would he fail to understand but he wouldn't even know information had been exchanged. “Why did you bring him in the first place?”

“I wasn't able to hunt with him at the Royal Academy so I wanted to try his skills. I see now why Sigsnyr intentionally excluded him during those hunts,” she said bitterly. “Though it pains me deeply, I must admit that he is correct. My failure to consider all the possibilities brought two of your knights into grave danger. I should have sent him back when it first became obvious he was of no use. I allowed my anger to best my judgment.”

Melchior didn't quite agree. It was also interesting to him that two people had taken responsibility before Ortolf even though his actions were largely at fault. “I do not think you can be expected to know what everyone will do in every possible situation.”

“That is the burden of a leader,” Zipporah replied.

He shivered. Melchior's future would entail leading many people in all sorts of endeavors. He didn't know how he would live up to such a standard. “Will you teach me how to lead hunts?” he asked. He would need all the help he could get to reach that level of ability.

“Of course, my lord. My knowledge is yours,” she promised.

Zipporah sent an ordonnanz when they crossed the border into Haldenzel, warning Sigsnyr that he should prepare to leave soon after they arrived. It didn't speed forward in their current trajectory but veered off to the north.

“I see they are out hunting still,” she mused.

Indeed, Giebe Haldenzel and his party landed just after Melchior's. “Welcome back, Lord Melchior. I hope the sheep did not disturb your sleep,” he bellowed.

“We were warmly welcomed and succeeded in our endeavor thanks to the expert assistance of Lady Nantfelda. Please allow me to say on behalf of myself and the people of Herzfeld, thank you, O people of Haldenzel, from the bottom of our hearts,” Melchior replied with a hand to his heart and a tip of his head.

“Did they really give gratitude?” Claudio asked Nantfelda.

“Indeed they did. I received a gift even.” She’d been given a wool gauze in rich autumnal yellow so finely spun and woven that it floated on the breeze. Having seen rudelhute cloth, Melchior knew it could not compare but that it even approached that quality was a testament to generations of hardworking shepherds and sheep. They hadn't been stingy on the quantity either.

Since everyone needed a little time to pack their things, Melchior's Lion-pandabus was unpacked and the luggage was placed in a side room. The cira didn't wish to leave Melchior's retinue and was rather quiet so it was allowed to follow Kirk on a lead after the harrowing experience of being Waschened.

Melchior fed it a bit of mana and stroked its neck. “It is ok. And you are clean now,” he cooed while Sigsnyr fluttered around inspecting the animal. He was allowed to introduce himself too and giggled gleefully as she licked the mana from his hand. “Have you named her?” he asked.

“She will dwell in Hasse. I will allow the denizens of the Monastery to name her,” Melchior replied.

“We are not keeping her as a pet?”

“They grow to the size of two grown men,” Melchior replied. “They must also be kept in pairs and will attempt to herd your entire family if no other herd is available.”

Sigsnyr didn't look convinced by these drawbacks. “Shumils have their own quirks,” he muttered.

They were taken inside and treated to a light lunch. It was a little bit after third bell but Dedryck wanted to leave quickly. They needed to stop at Hasse on their way back. While they ate, Sigsnyr told them about his time with the giebe.

“I have never worked so hard in my life,” he sighed. Claudio had dragged him all over Haldenzel hunting keiferdeckes and other faebeasts while Zipporah’s brother wished to spend every moment by his side while he was at the estate.

“They have always been of a similar disposition,” Nantfelda teased.

Despite his impending journey, the giebe had forced him into a pre-breakfast hunt. “‘Food always tastes best after exercise’ he said. But we were out for so long we had to eat soldiers' rations. I hadn't even brought my own. I forgot how disappointing they are,” he grumbled.

“That is one of father's favorite tricks. I should have warned you,” Zipporah replied.

“You seem to imply that you have some other kind of rations,” Gerianne pointed out.

“Yes, he worked hard to improve the flavor and experience. He’s invented three different options,” Zipporah explained while Nantfelda pressed Sigsnyr for more details about his hunt.

“You should have him teach Sheila,” Gerianne said to Melchior. “You will enjoy gathering much more if the food is better.”

Sheila looked motivated so Melchior agreed.

“He made me complete against the Knight Commander,” Sigsnyr complained.

“And how did you do?” Nantfelda asked.

“Awful. Of course I was soundly beaten then he mocked me, saying I am ‘yet unseasoned’,” Sigsnyr complained. He was flush with annoyance.

“If that was his only criticism then he was very impressed,” Nantfelda replied and Zipporah nodded.

“Tell us about the contest,” she pressed.

They were given three helpers then tasked to find and collect early clutches of keiferdecke eggs. “He returned with three times as many and killed half the number of keiferdeckes in the process. I have no idea how he even found them.” His helpers hadn't been terribly helpful either.

“That is as close as it comes in that competition. He has excelled at this since he was young I’m told. Claudio will never let you escape now,” Nantfelda teased.

“I cannot move to Haldenzel. I do not mind visiting but I have pledged my life to Lord Melchior,” Sigsnyr replied. He sank back in his chair and stared into his future of refusing invitations.

Nantfelda didn't look upset in the least. She looked at her daughter who nodded minutely. “Then I will do my best to allay his enthusiasm. I hope you were given due compensation.”

“It is too much compensation.” He was allowed to keep his eggs, half of his hunted faestones (because he couldn't transport any more), a couple of plant specimens, and blenrus fruits.

Claudio also gave Melchior some blenrus. Now that the trees were growing, they felt more free to be generous. He included five specifically for Rozemyne's gift and four for Melchior himself. They were also given cakes of the dried tea and a few other ingredients.

His transcription had progressed without him thanks to the efforts of Lothar. He’d finished the transitional texts and another quarter of the accounts on the blenrus tree making the total number a little over half the book. Fridegern had also written down a few stories told by Gertrude. All in all, his gift was off to a good start.

Lothar also took the time to fulfill Melchior's promise to Charlotte. He’d inspected the presses, talked with the guild, and discussed any problems with the crafts people. “They seem to be having no issues at the moment,” he reported. The cost of paper was the only thing eating into their profits. They were considering building a workshop for it but the territory wasn't very accommodating. If only paper could be made indoors.

A little before forth bell, he gathered with his retinue for the second goodbye of the day. Zipporah and her mother gave heartfelt farewells while Claudio offered additional invitations to Sigsnyr then to Melchior after the knight made his position clear.

“When you feel ready for a proper hunt we will try you as well,” he promised. Melchior declared his intentions to become a knight worthy of his schtappe before giving his formal goodbye and climbing into his highbeast. Gerianne took her normal seat happily and the rudelhute sat down in preparation. She was less flustered the second time around.

Returning Home

Their return flight was just as peaceful. Gerianne provided smooth assistance while writing down the stories she’d collected from Alix. She also penned a magic letter to warn Hasse of their arrival. Kirk played with his new spindles and made some lengths of uneven string. He traded places with Gerianne’s attendant who promptly fell asleep cuddling the rudelhute. Both the animal and her new human friends were loath to part at Hasse.

The gray clergy were confused by the gift but Melchior shared his new knowledge. Providing for two animals would be more difficult but they could be allowed to roam the forest a little to forage for themselves. “We can take them gathering with us,” decided Rick.

Marthe was happy to receive Kirk and Sheila’s notes and to borrow Kirk’s special equipment. She would have them duplicated then send the originals back with the yarn. She looked very confident until she saw the four crates of wool.

“How many tunics are you planning, High Bishop?”

Melchior explained that he wanted enough of the white wool for a calf length piece spun very fine. He only needed enough yellow for accents and the other fleeces could wait even until next year if it impeded the printing and paper making too much. “You will be allowed to keep one quarter of each fleece assuming that will still allow for enough yarn for my project,” he promised. Marthe noted that he didn't need to be so generous but he countered that she wouldn't receive additional compensation for her efforts. “Would you prefer coin?” After considering the worth of specialty wool combined with the cost to transport it from Herzfeld by commoner carriage, she chose the wool.

Sigsnyr had to be pulled away from the printing presses. They were not magic tools but the intricate carpentry still amazed him. He also feed the rudelhute in exchange for rock-eating-tree fruits.

“Kolteruze will perish on his indignation,” he muttered as they returned to the highbeasts. He collected his faestone from the nose of the Lion-pandabus with a smug grin.

After stopping to unpack his things at the temple, Melchior returned to the castle just in time to skip dinner with his family. Instead he invited Sigsnyr and Zipporah to discuss their trip in his chambers. Pepin had already returned home to eat with his brother but Kolteruze was there and anxious to hear every word.

“You went to Herzfeld and Hasse,” he whimpered.

“I was left in Haldenzel, actually,” Sigsnyr grumbled.

“It was an emergency request. Charlotte also told me that an official visit to a province may include apprentice retainers so you may come next time. I still cannot bring you on temple trips but I might have need of a noble attendant if I visit another winter mansion.” They talked about the distant wells and he shared Sigsnyr’s excitement at getting to use the attending tools.

“You had to run your own bath, my lord?” Zargerecht interrupted.

“It was not feasible for the gray clergy to carry and heat the water,” he explained.

Zargerecht was not convinced and assured him that such a thing wouldn't happen again.

“I need to bring fewer rather than more retainers next time,” Melchior explained.

“I will take that under advisement,” Zargerecht replied.

After dinner, Kolteruze was shown the painting and allowed to find a place for it on Melchior's walls. He inspected the soap and oil but wasn't terribly impressed. There were other formulas he preferred so promised to order some for Melchior next time they acquired such things. He also wanted to know about the wool and sheep. Melchior did his best to sound like it had nothing to do with Kolteruze as he described the varieties he’d been offered and his final choices.

“I am told they provide superior warmth using less material allowing for a lightweight garment,” he explained.

“I look forward to seeing your new articles. Is this a part of your quest to take over your own clothes ordering?” Kolteruze probed.

Melchior took this excuse gladly. “It is related. As I began doing research I learned that my fabrics were woven to order. That provides even more choice than I initially considered. As I was in Herzfeld, I took the opportunity to experiment.”

“I see. I hope you are delighted by the results and do not feel the need to pass them down,” Kolteruze said with a pointed look. Melchior felt his resolve weaken but he was too far into the endeavor to back out now.

He spent his little bit of time before bed working on Isolde's mark and designing leather patterns when that proved too difficult. His trip to Herzfeld had consumed the time he’d planned to use on them. His parents wanted him to spend some time at the castle so he would only return just in time for the meetings.

Planning the gifts

The next morning, he continued his work just a little. He needed to begin planning for the family meeting where his budget for the gifts would be decided. Isolde appeared after breakfast with the information she had on the wedding gifts. As most were not secrets, she’d easily uncovered what she believed to be the bulk of the offerings.

“It is the usual things: fabric, home decor, things for babies. I believe you are free to choose anything you want. You cannot hope to copy the things they've spent a year preparing on such short notice.”

“Yes, such a fine harspiel must have taken several seasons,” Melchior muttered.

“A harspiel?” Isolde asked and shuffled through her papers again.

“I saw it when I visited Flautzeal. It is incredible. The pegs were carved to look like Gewinnen pieces,” he explained.

“That is good work, my lord. We would have never known had you not visited his favorite luthier,” she praised. Melchior still felt proud despite not having gone with the intention of learning anything of the sort. “Have you decided what you will prepare?”

“I hope to have a meeting with everyone tomorrow to come up with ideas. Do you think I should try to emulate our offerings from years past?” he wondered aloud.

Isolde fell deep into thought. Going with traditional gifts was the safest bet. After years of fabric and custom stationary, Aub Alexandria must have enough. She could easily purchase things perfectly suited to her tastes as well. “It would not be wrong but it would be better to try for things they cannot obtain for themselves,” she counseled.

“I have provided portraits every year. They must have too many by now. What else can I offer that is unique?” he asked.

He was fairly young. These were questions he could easily pass on to Haldis and Zargerecht then continue his life as usual. But Melchior was not that sort of person, she had found. He’d been given this task and he would not be willing to shirk his responsibility. “Let us spend the day considering that. For now you have much to study,” she instructed.

Melchior sighed and settled in with his materials. Isolde sent ordonnanz to his retinue and tasked his attendants to prepare a meeting room for the following day. He had knight training in the afternoon so they would meet at third bell.

After lunch he practiced music with Flautzeal and whirling with Charlotte. He spoke with the instructor about including Gerianne.

“I was tasked to teach you and your siblings. I cannot spare time to another but if her skill is sufficient she may join to receive stray pointers,” he said.

“I will ensure she is ready,” Melchior promised. He also asked to be taught to spear whirl along with Charlotte and was told a lightweight stick would be prepared for him. Schtappe made weapons had almost no weight to their wielder so a normal spear would be too heavy to practice with.

After nearly a week away, Melchior was finally able to have dinner with his family. “Giebe Haldenzel tried to steal my knight!” he complained. His parents were greatly amused and noted that it wasn't the first time someone had attempted to entice Sigsnyr away from him.

“At least you may be assured of his loyalty,” Charlotte giggled.

Melchior was careful not to voice any of his real complaints about his treatment in Haldenzel. He hadn't been all that upset and Lady Nantfelda would be punished alongside her spouse if it came to that. He did take the opportunity to voice some of his concerns about Herzfeld.

“They have attempted many things to solve this problem but they cannot do much without a change to their territory or mansion,” he explained.

“Dear brother, are you suggesting we perform an Entwinklen for Herzfeld?” Charlotte asked.

“We could improve their ventilation and improve the design to allow for more natural light,” Melchior replied.

Sylvester frowned. “They aren't a trade city. We would gain little from redesigning their winter mansion.”

“Is it not our job to provide for and protect our people? This is a problem beyond Herzfeld’s capacity to solve,” Melchior pressed.

“Are you certain the problem is as large as they say? They might very well have sensationalized things,” Florencia commented.

“I have breathed the foul air myself. They do not need to exaggerated for effect.”

His family fell into their own private thoughts. He had no idea how to present the problem any better and had few solutions by himself.

“Reunwalt is next on our schedule for Entwinklen. We cannot afford to do more than one per year. It sounds like this problem has persisted for at least a generation so it can't be pressing,” Sylvester said. “If you can give me a strong reason to intervene, and a plan for effective relief, I’ll consider it.”

Charlotte and Florencia looked at him with amazement. He was shifting such difficult work onto a child. However, neither of them had time to take it on and Melchior had an adult and a sixth year scholar. It would be a good test of his skills if it didn't prove crushingly difficult and complicated.

“Remember to gather as much information as you can, dear brother. Also look over your plans from as many angles as possible,” Charlotte counseled.

Melchior beamed with determination. He didn't know how difficult of a task he’d been given and resolved to see it finished soon.

Back in his room he began a list on a wooden board of all his long term plans. He combined all the gifts for Rozemyne and Ferdinand and his retainers into “gifts Royal Academy”. He added the gifts for the visit as its own line. Beneath that he wrote “save the commoners” for the parue planning followed by “save Herzfeld”.

Haldis considered the list after Melchior rested it on one of his shelves. “This is quite the collection, my lord. You will need the assistance of all seven gods to complete something like this³⁸,” he said.

“I have quite a lot of time to accomplish it. Fear not, Haldis, I am committed to praying diligently,” Melchior replied and returned to Isolde's new corrections and his list of possible gifts.

Footnotes

38. This is nearly impossible

Chapter Text

Planning the Gifts

Melchior's retainers arrived to the gift planning meeting looking grave. Isolde had informed the scholars personally. They came prepared with ideas and strategies. Dedryck had only communicated the day, time, and place. Haldis had communicated more completely with the attendants but Pepin hadn't been able to come up with anything while Zargerecht fully understood the importance of the task. He came with wooden boards detailing all the gifts he could remember from his years of service along with notes on how they were received.

“In short,” he concluded after his long review of his materials. “The wealthier the person, the more they expect from material gifts. You can avoid spending large quantities of gold by creating one of a kind and novel experiences.”

“I had no idea how often gifted fabric was passed down without ever being looked at,” Isolde muttered. She would never be so frivolous. Fabric was expensive and free fabric could commit many sins before she would get rid of it.

“Why is it given so often if no one likes it,” Kolteruze asked.

“I would not say that no one likes it. It is more that people take the selection for granted. They often select something they already own which is not quite to their own tastes rather than catering the gift to the recipient. However, passing down valuables gives people joy so it is not wasted just because it is given away,” Zargerecht explained. The archnobles nodded their agreement.

“Why would an Archduke Candidate want a replica of a mednoble estate?” Eikestine asked.

“They did not,” Zargerecht replied.

Melchior passed the boards along after reading them. He sat at the front of the room while Isolde facilitated the meeting and Flautzeal took notes. “Does anyone have any specific ideas?” he asked. He was a bit disheartened to see that so many of his had been poorly received by Archduke Candidates past.

Fonsel asked to speak. “I don't think you should be afraid of anything on that list that the recipient happened to dislike. Those were all different people and its easier to remember negative information. I'm sure that list would be three times as long if Zargerecht remember all the times his lord or lady like a gift but not enough to praise it enthusiastically.”

“It is as you say, Fonsel. Different people have different tastes. We should consider first who will receive the gift rather than what the gift should be,” Zargerecht said.

“You know Lady Rozemyne and Lord Ferdinand better than any of us,” Sigsnyr said. “What can you tell us about them?”

Melchior considered this for a moment. “Sister loves books while Uncle loves research. They both enjoy delicious food but that is everyone. Sister appreciates music but Uncle actually likes it. He does not like to play for others but I’m told he practices harspiel a great deal in private. Uncle seems to like beautiful things but is that really unique?” Melchior tried.

“That explains why he's marrying someone like her,” Ortolf muttered.

“What do you mean?” Melchior asked calmly, feeling his skin begin to burn.

“I hear she is strange and doesn't understand noble customs. She was raised in the temple and has a fanatical level of piety,” he explained.

“She is also incredibly inventive and one of the most beautiful women in the world. She saved him from certain death by conquering a greater duchy. What achievements do you have that you consider yourself worthy to judge her?” Melchior pressed.

Ortolf paled. “It was only a jest. I did not mean to give offense.”

“It was not funny,” Melchior snapped. Gerianne waved at him then pointed to her eyes. He took several deep breaths and compressed some of his rising mana. “Now, does that give anyone any ideas?”

“I think you could give portraits again,” Pepin volunteered. “Aub Alexandria looks no less happy to receive them each year. She also notes that she enjoys seeing how everyone has grown.”

Melchior couldn't discount Pepin's observations but he didn't want to do the same thing yet again. “Perhaps I should do a portrait of them instead,” he suggested.

The assembly muttered to each other. “They would have to sit for some time. They will only be here for one week so even one afternoon worth of time would be quite precious,” Zipporah observed.

“Who will do the portrait?” Eikestine asked. The assembly went quiet and stared at her.

“No, do not chide her. It is a good question. There are many artists better suited to the task than myself,” Melchior replied.

“It would mean more coming from you,” Isolde said.

“Don't you want to paint Lord Ferdinand?” Pepin asked.

“I know several painters who specialize in portraits. Would you like me to introduce one?” Flautzeal offered.

“Yes Flautzeal,” Melchior replied, hoping to press past Pepin's comment as quickly as possible. “Please select someone. I will petition for one morning or afternoon for the sitting.” The first gift was recorded.

They discussed a bit more before deciding to order fabric as usual. Melchoir would think about what to commission and possibly draw some designs.

“If you are going to design something. I think you should commission a hairpin and brooch to commemorate the event. If you advertise the pattern, others can order similar arrangements to wear in support,” Isolde suggested. That would catapult his brooch trend and solidify flowers as a men's accessory.

“That sounds wonderful. Though there isn't very much time to outfit all of noble society,” Sigsnyr noted.

“There are four color options. So the thread market should be able to support it,” she argued.

“Yes but people have to do the work. The Gilbertta company already has both Charlotte and Melchior’s large orders,” he replied.

“I can have my order delayed. The new brooches are for the Royal Academy after all,” Melchior said. His new retainers looked disappointed but they couldn't argue with the logic. Even still. Making so many flowers was a tall order. “What if we used something easier to produce? Klassenberg uses those whorls of fabric. Those seem easy.”

“They are called cockades and they are very simple to make,” Helenwig said.

“It will do nothing to push your trend if you do not use brooches,” Isolde countered.

Melchior sighed. “I do not feel the need to push my trend to such an extent. We will still order one for Uncle. As far as I know he can own two or three at most by now. He is very likely to wear one that matches Sister. Between him and Father isn't that enough?” Melchior asked.

“You intend to order one for the Archduke as well?” she asked. Melchior nodded. Indeed, every man in his family needed one. The women all already had hairpins of the appropriate colors. On such short notice they could be excluded and their commemorative objects completed later.

“That is four with one being more ornate than the rest,” he noted. That felt like a lot.

“Will you not be wearing one?”

“I am of the least importance as I will be able to attend the fewest socializing events. I can wear a cockade to encourage those who could not obtain flowers,” he said. Isolde looked annoyed but Eikestine and Sebastian looked particularly happy.

“That will be a great help to those from provinces where the craft has yet to spread, my lord,” Sebastian said.

“Yes. I will write a letter to Mother. Please tell me when you have finalized the design,” Eikestine said. The others from outer provinces agreed.

“And to Frenbeltag, they may or may not come but we should make them feel welcome if they do,” Zargerecht added.

“So that is fabric, the floral accessories, a portrait by a professional portrait artist, stories…”

“Stories?” Gottschalk asked.

“Naturally,” Isolde replied then continued. “and nothing for Lord Ferdinand specifically.”

“That's true,” Melchior sighed. Lothar's advice about giving men gifts played over again in his mind. “We can give him ingredients. There are many he is familiar with which are difficult to obtain outside of Ehrenfest.”

“Should we try to find things that are very rare?” Benedikt asked. He hadn't been very interested in the conversation until now.

“Perhaps it would be better to choose things that one needs a great deal of,” Sigsnyr suggested.

“The nobles forest doesn't have the greatest variety, we would want to travel for some hunts,” Dedryck noted. The apprentices all took on dark expressions. Sigsnyr especially looked upset. He would come of age in autumn meaning he would miss these excursions by a couple of seasons.

“Depending on how much support you are given, you can hire the Knights Order,” Benedikt said, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.

“You also have novel ingredients from your trips this year,” Fonsel noted.

Sigsnyr eyes grew wide. “What did you obtain?”

“The rock-eating-tree fruit, blenrus, that crate from Herzfeld we forgot to leave at Hasse. Was there anything else?” Fonsel looked at Dedryck.

“I don't think so unless Gerianne's plant proves to be a great wonder instead of a weed,” he replied.

Benedikt and Sigsnyr swapped pained looks while Gerianne scowled. “I am happy to have an ambassador from Haldenzel,” Melchior assured her. “There was also the mana collected from the thunderstorm.”

“What!” Sigsnyr cried, unable to contain himself any longer.

“Oh yes. We made sketches of the tower’s magic tool and circles,” Zipporah mentioned. His golden eyes flickered back and forth.

“When were you going to mention such a magic tool kept at the top of Herzfeld tower?” he asked in his eerily calm voice.

“It is the size of the whole tower,” Melchior corrected. “Didn't we mention it over lunch?”

“You didn't,” he said. “You left me behind,” he added with a soft whine.

“They left you in Haldenzel did they?” Isolde asked. “A pity that,” she added with faux concern. “Be that as it may, we will consider how many and how special the ingredients will be once we know our budget. Now Lord Ferdinand loves music and you happen to have a skilled composer in your retinue,” she said, shifting the subject while Sigsnyr continued to seeth.

“Oh yes. Can you write a song, Flautzeal?”

“Of course my lord, only, I cannot write lyrics,” Flautzeal replied.

“I forgot about that,” Melchior mused. “Just music will be alright.”

“You can debut it during the sitting for the portrait. We should prepare other diversions as well,” Isolde said.

“Oh, we could all learn the Rudelhutevolk song and sing together,” Melchior said excitedly.

Flautzeal’s eyes shimmered while Sebastian tried to disappear into the ivory walls. “What song is this?”

“It is a song for Dame du Vent, Schutzaria, expressing thankfulness for the land she protects and promises to protect and nurture it in turn,” Melchior explained.

“It is in a different language,” Sebastian added. The rest of the assembly paled but Flautzeal didn't seem flustered.

“That is alright. We can learn it phonetically. Can you sing it Sebastian?” Flautzeal asked. He looked as though he expected to hear it immediately and redied paper to transcribe.

“I can sing for you later,” he whispered.

“But we would all like to know what we will be learning,” Cecilia said. Melchior supported their request with an expectant look.

Sebastian blanched further then stood up and cleared his throat. He sang the first verse in a deep, clear voice. Melchior nearly shivered. He was immediately tempted to ask Sebastian to sing more often but he was a knight and that would be inappropriate.

“It sounds wonderful but hard to pronounce,” Cecilia concluded.

“We will practice until we can,” Flautzeal declared.

“That is two songs. It will take a great deal of music to fill two bells,” Isolde warned. “Please consider other things too.”

“We could read a book,” Nikolaus suggested.

“How will that entertain someone?” Gottschalk sighed.

“Out loud. We could read a story out loud,” Nikolaus clarified. “A new story.”

“I would like to be in charge of this,” Gerianne said suddenly.

“You have a story to share?” Isolde asked.

“She just collected several stories in Herzfeld,” Melchior explained. “That would be wonderful, Gerianne. I leave this to you,” he said. She blushed a little and smiled.

“I think this is good enough to begin. Benedikt and Sigsnyr can be in charge of the ingredients,” Isolde said. “Flautzeal, Sebastian, and Cecilia can work together on the music.”

“May I assist with the accessories?” Helenwig asked.

“I’m not sure how but I don't see why not,” Melchior replied. Isolde added her name next to that entry.

“The fabric can be handled by the attendants,” she concluded. The adults and apprentices exchanged looks.

“That feels like too little for all of us combined,” Kolteruze noted.

“It goes without saying that you will have the most to do already. There is the venue for the portrait and the packaging for all the gifts. You will have to coordinate the refreshments for the sitting and any other times that Melchior becomes responsible for. I know how much work you have. In truth, I feel it is too much to give you the fabric as well but there is no one better suited to handle it,” Isolde explained.

Pepin and Kolteruze looked at Haldis who nodded in agreement. “We must arrange Lord Melchior’s outfits well in advance. We will be called upon to assist with the feast. There is a visit to the temple every year which cannot be left to the temple attendants alone. The Aub of Alexandria the First is coming. We must be perfect and it must seem effortless,” Haldis declared. He looked over all the children and adults. “This is true for all of us. Lord Justus and Lady Lieseleta are some of the best attendants in the country. Lord Eckhart, Lady Lenore, Lord Cornelius, Lady Angelica. These are names you all know because of their exceptional achievements. Do you want to embarrass your lord before such distinguished persons?”

He looked directly at the scholars. “Lord Ferdinand is coming,” was all he said to them. They sat up straighter and swallowed audibly. “Work hard everyone so that we may prove our lord to be of sterling quality.”

Melchior was quiet. He felt the incredible weight of this charge. He wondered whether he deserved such dedication but the light in everyone's eyes told him that regardless of his feelings, they wished to prove themselves. “I have faith in all of you,” he said. “Let them witness our strength.”

The meeting was adjourned and Melchior tried to exit with his back straight despite the crushing enormity of their task.

Learning to Spar

Training at the Knights Order had progressed without them but Melchior and Gerianne had already learned all Brunschwart planned to teach. They did the exercises and followed along with the lesson. The instructor didn't even look at them as he walked down the line and gave corrections. Melchior noticed that the nine year old hadn't gotten much better. He invited him to stand with them and take things at a slower pace. With encouragement from both Melchior and Gerianne, his first swing began to look more steady.

“Practice a little at home too,” Melchior said.

“Just one hundred swings a day will build strength,” Gerianne added. The little boy paled but steeled himself all the same.

“I will do my best,” he declared.

“That is all we ask,” Melchior said and patted him on the head.

They healed everyone after training again. The looks of relief told Melchior that they'd been nursing wounds for some time now. Brunschwart didn't chastise them this time but looked annoyed. Melchior returned to Dedryck’s side with Gerianne to wait for the rest of his knights.

“You still have some time before dinner. I want you to train a bit more,” Dedryck said.

Melchior and Gerianne stopped their stretching. “What should we do?” Melchior asked. He didn't want to run more but he’d lost stamina over his trip and knew he should.

“I want you to spar with Gerianne,” the knight declared.

The apprentices looked at each other in surprise.

“You want me to fight Gerianne?” Melchior cried.

“I did not say fight, I said spar. It is different,” Dedryck sighed. He took them over to a circle painted on the ground. “Try to force your opponent to step back. Whoever leaves the circle first is the loser. This is not the time to stand on status. Give it your best.” He gave them a little push into the circle then stood to the side.

They just looked at each other for a while. “I do not want to fight,” Melchior declared eventually.

“It is not a fight,” Dedryck reiterated.

“How do I force him to step back?” Gerianne asked. Melchior felt hurt. She seemed to have no qualms about attacking him.

“That is for you to figure out. I want to see your tendencies before you’ve had any training in dueling. We won't get this chance again,” Dedryck explained. “Now give a bow and touch swords,” he instructed.

Melchior did as he was told with a deep sense of unease. Gerianne didn't look happy but she didn't hesitate either. They tapped swords then watched each other for a moment. She made a strike. Melchior responded with the matching block. They traded several more before Gerianne took a step forward. Melchior stepped back. She stepped forward again and he stepped back. They continued until he’d stepped out of the circle without much resistance.

Dedryck sighed. “You have to want to win, Lord Melchior,” he said. “Back to the middle. Put up some resistance.”

Melchior did as he was told. He didn't step back when approached. Soon they were inches apart with no idea what to do. “You don't have to use your sword,” Dedryck hinted.

Gerianne frowned then placed her free hand on his shoulder and pushed hard. He took several steps back to keep his balance. She closed the distance and pushed again but didn't let go until she’d shoved him out.

“Do you have a problem with sparring with a girl?” Dedryck asked.

“No,” Melchior replied with confusion. “It could be anyone. I do not want to risk hurting her.”

“I will be alright, Lord Melchior. Give me your best,” said Gerianne.

“If you win, I'll give Gerianne a faestone. If you lose she will have to run a lap around the Knights Order. If she throws the match you will have to run together,” Dedryck said.

Gerianne looked more determined now. “I know you do not like to run. I will give it my all,” she promised.

“I do not like this,” Melchior replied. “I do not want to make Gerianne run,” he said.

“Then win. Begin,”

Melchior didn't know how to force Gerianne out of the circle without hurting her; he ceded ground but kept an eye on his position. They moved around and around until Gerianne grew frustrated. “You must attack to be a knight,” she grumbled.

Melchior swung his blade in her general direction. It was deflected easily. She stopped. “I am giving it my best. Why aren't you trying to win?”

“I am trying to win. I just don't want to hurt you.”

“I am not spun from glass,” she cried and stuck with greater ferocity. It stung Melchior’s hands to block but he continued. There was little time to think of a solution as her superior conditioning allowed her to move faster with fewer pauses. They were both breathing heavily when she raised her wooden sword and swung as hard as she could. His blade flew from his hands with a sharp pain in his wrist. She moved to deal a decisive blow only to meet empty air. After a few of such attacks she growled then set her shoulder to tackle.

Gerianne was only a few paces away. She was sure his relative sluggishness would leave him open to attack but this was not the case. Her momentum carried just over the line.

“How?” she wondered as she stood at the edge of the circle.

Cecilia and Nikolaus clapped from the viewing area beside Dedryck. They'd arrived during the last bout.

Dedryck handed Gerianne her faestone. “In a battle to the death you would win,” he encouraged.

“Lord Melchior. You will have to overcome your qualms about causing harm or else give up on being a knight. There is no shame in that, by the way.”

“I want to protect everyone,” Melchior replied.

“There are other ways to do that. Invent some magic tools or use diplomacy to avoid fights altogether,” Dedryck counseled. “You can let your knights fight in your stead.”

Melchior hung his head. That wasn't an option. The Brother of the Aub had to go into battle while the Aub stayed with the foundation. He couldn't hide in the castle while his knights risked everything. “I will overcome,” he declared. “Are you hurt, Gerianne?”

“I am alright. As I said, I am not spun from glass. You, however, are injured,” she said and cast healing. The pain in his hand lessened but didn't go away entirely.

“Thank you,” he said.

Cecilia retrieved his fallen sword. “You seem fairly good at dodging,” she noted.

“So it seems,” Melchior replied. He didn't understand why but he would rather avoid danger if he could. “You are so strong, Gerianne,” he said.

She smiled and put her hands on her hips. “I lift heavy things over and over,” she declared. Melchior and Nikolaus giggled along with her.

“Is that all it takes?” Cecelia asked. “I struggle to get stronger without using enhancement magic.”

“I will show you my regime, or we can ask Sister Streita to write one for you,” Gerianne offered.

“I'll take a look. I worry it is just the consequences of being a girl.

Gerianne switched into her Streita impression. “Of course that will always be a factor but it is no reason to be slack in your training,” she lectured.

“I suppose you're right,” Cecilia said. “I will ask my mother as well.”

Melchior returned to the castle to bathe and have dinner. Wilfred was still circling the district. He was taking his time and hunting along the way but would still need a few fewer days than Melchior.

“Have you thought about your gifts, Melchior?” Florencia asked.

“Yes mother. We have settled on a brooch and hairpin, new music, brewing ingredients, and a story so far,” he replied. “Oh and fabric.”

“That doesn't sound too bad. Ferdinand seemed to like his brooch thing. I have to say I was annoyed to not have one before him,” Sylvester said. “What will it be this time?”

“Worry not Father, I intend to order one for you and Lord Bonifiatus as well. That reminds me, Charlotte, would you be willing to delay your brooch order?”

“Why must I delay, dear brother, I wish to adorn my retinue as soon as possible. They are growing impatient,” Charlotte said.

“I was hoping that many people could acquire accessories to match Sister and Uncle to create a festive atmosphere. Our orders are very large but we do not need them until the winter,” Melchior explained.

Charlotte placed a hand to her cheek, “Are there no other shops who could service the other nobility?”

“It is as you say, dear sister. I didn't mean to inconvenience you,” Melchior relented.

“Are you going to delay your own order?” Sylvester asked.

“Yes. My retinue will not need them for some time.”

“You don't want to wear them during the visit?” Florencia asked.

Melchior felt conflicted. He did want to show off his matching retinue but the design he had in mind would be complicated to make. As the Gilbertta company had their exclusive business, he couldn't give such an important order to anyone else. “It will be better to have the gifts prepared first. If there is time, we will have them finish the brooches.”

“How magnanimous,” Florencia said. “You do not want to seem like you do not support your own trend. Wear your brooch even if your new retainers must be left out,” she instructed.

“Yes, Mother,” Melchior replied. He would just have to disappoint his new retainers.

Melchior couldn't delay his return to the temple any longer. His meetings with the Plantin company and Fred were coming up and he wanted to coordinate his new orders. He sent Kirk with a summons for the Gilbertta company with enough details about his upcoming order to make up for the lack of notice. They would come on his third temple day.

The leather meeting was planned for the next day so he worked to complete his sketches and the slips with dimensions. Sebastian provided the information he’d collected around the Knights Order, combined with his and Kirk’s observations about his various knights' possession, they created a few specifications to work too.

“Zipporah has loops but no long bag for her more precious potions. Sigsnyr doesn't have anything small enough to isolate his more delicate magic tools so he doesn't carry them around. We don't know anything about Theodore so let's use the most popular size. Nikolaus needs more bags in general so perhaps a matching set. He can wear them both or swap them out. Finally Gerianne is barely a knight. She needs the most basic objects so potion loops would be good for her even if she gets more in anticipation for next year you really can't have too many,” Isolde explained.

“I like this plan. Good work everyone. Sebastian, please make sure that none of the apprentices will be here tomorrow,” Melchior ordered. Gerianne, Nikloaus, and Sigsnyr were outside at the moment. It would be better to keep them far enough away that they wouldn't notice the craftspeople.

“Dedryck has planned some big training thing, so they won't even suspect they’ve been excluded,” Sebastian replied.

“Is there a kind of bag you want to add?” Melchior asked.

Sebastian was taken aback. “Won't that reduce your options for the gifts?”

“Those are only guidelines. If something seems better later I can change. Besides, the opinion of a seasoned knight would be useful,” Melchior said.

Sebastian wouldn't have called himself seasoned but he had opinions on the bag he wanted. “Something long enough to go from one side of my back to the other. I want to carry bigger things like maps and knives but I can't find a good pouch when I remember that I want one,” he described his idea and Melchior sketched it out. The belt loops would be toward the bottom so the pack would sit above the back of his highbeast saddle. The craftsmen could decide on closures. Melchior simply wrote that they should be manipulatable without looking at them.

Once the slips were written and cut apart Melchior turned to his studies. He practiced the funerary prayers and reviewed the flow of the ceremonies until third bell.

Nikolaus and Gerianne were happy to finally be allowed in as Flautzeal arrived at the temple. “I am ready to transcribe the song,” he declared. “It was so wonderful, I cannot wait to hear it played on the harspiel.”

“It is a purely choral piece,” Melchior informed him. “It is like a ritual, so I think we should maintain that. You are free to transcribe it for harspiel but for the performance it should be for voices.”

“I see, my lord. Shall I arrange it around your voice?” Flautzeal asked.

“No, use Sebastian's part,” Melchior decided.

“But, my lord. I am not the best singer and the Rudelhutevolk generally have a female leader,” Sebastian argued.

“I imagine the Goddess will be happy either way and I like your singing,” Melchior declared.

There was no arguing against this so Sebastian resigned himself to his new position as the chorus leader. Lucky for him that Dedryck and Benedikt sang in the same key.

Trude had mild words for her students' lack of practice during their trip. Despite bringing his harspiel, Nikolaus hadn't practiced that much. Melchior, of course, had only practiced during his couple of days at Hasses. She was, however, amused by Gerianne's performance of the melodic bleats she learned in Herzfeld.

“I would like to address the orphanage over lunch tomorrow. Can you announce my coming,” Melchior asked his music teacher.

“Yes of course, High Bishop. What do you have to announce?”

“The previous High Bishop and High Priest are getting married. We will be celebrating their nuptials during their visit. I would like for anyone who is willing to prepare music to offer them,” Melchior explained.

“You wish for the orphanage to hold another recital?” Trude asked. She smiled. “I believe the children will enjoy that,” she said.

“I do not want it to be a burden so please only accept volunteers,” Melchior said.

“The music is sweeter when it comes from the heart,” Trude agreed. She left with a bow and promised that the children would be ready for his visit.

Lothar took this opportunity to come over. “Lord Ferdinand is to be wed?” he asked.

“Yes, this spring at the Archdukes Conference.”

“And to Lady Rozemyne?”

“Yes.”

Lothar paused for a long time. “That is good. I feared he would be alone forever,” he said then walked away to assist with lunch.

Isolde put aside her study materials to make way for the meal. A generous portion was placed before her. She took three bites then set down her fork almost mournfully.

“You did not mention an orphanage recital at our meeting,” she noted.

“I thought of it only once I came here. Do you think it is a bad idea?”

“Not at all. I believe they will find it most enjoyable,” Isolde replied. “Will your retainers be allowed to attend?”

Melchior sighed. “If you can promise to abide any slight, then you may come,” he conceded.

“Thank you, my lord. I will be most patient,” she promised.

Melchior and the knights finished their meal. Sheila took their dishes but she left Isolde's full plate before her as she prepared the attendant’s meals and Divine Gifts.

“I am finish, Sheila,” Isolde said calmly.

“You are not,” Sheila replied. “I will not force you to eat more than you need but you will grow weak if you do not eat,” Sheila replied.

Melchior's eyes grew wide. Sheila would never be so rude under normal circumstances. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“There is nothing wrong. I am simply not very hungry today,” Isolde claimed.

Sheila paused her work. “Order new dresses,” she said curtly and took the cart away.

Melchior was stunned while Isolde looked down at her hands. She shook.

“Is something the matter?” Melchior asked. She was too far to take her hand so he just leaned forward.

“No, I am fine,” she replied.

“Do you want to finish your lunch?” he asked.

She clenched her fists. “Please take it away,” she asked. Melchior signaled to Lothar who looked shockingly mirthless. He removed the plate without a word then continued to prepare the tea. He signaled to Melchior to press for answers.

Melchior paled. She already looked upset. He didn't want to make her more distraught. “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked gently.

She looked up with a smile. “There is nothing to talk about, my lord. You must prepare for training, no? It is time I returned home,” she said and rose with Kirk’s assistance.

“Then I shall see you as the Goddess rises,” Melchior said.

“May our parting be brief, my lord,” she said and took her leave.

Lother helped Melchior dress for practice. “She is not eating in order to maintain her figure,” Lothar explained.

Melchior was doing the opposite. “Is that bad?” he asked.

“It is unhealthy, I would say. Some shrine maidens used to do the same thing in an attempt to appear more attractive,” he said. “When I was very young the trend was for fuller figures. It has changed because of Lady Florencia.”

“Because of Mother?” Melchior asked.

Lothar nodded. “Even we have heard about her slim-waistedness.”

Melchior considered his mother's meals. She made little attempt to eat less than anyone else. Charlotte consumed as much food as Wilfred on occasion but usually only a bit less as far as he knew. He’d never paid much attention.

“I predict that it is simply her nature,” Lothar said.

“So Isolde is trying to match the trend?” Melchior asked.

“That seems to be the case.”

“Why did you want me to press?”

“What is more important to you, my lord? That she is perfectly trendy or that she is mentally sharp?” Lothar asked.

“She cares deeply about being fashionable but it is more useful to me if she is smart,” Melchior replied.

“Precisely. If her lord commands it, her parents will have to accommodate. I suspect it has little to do with cost,” Lothar said.

Melchior considered whether he should intervene in something so personal. She looked quite upset about the whole ordeal. Would it be better to avoid such a painful subject?

He was finished being dressed so he took his sword and joined his knights for training. Dedryck and Streita were talking about the next day's training exercises and Melchior’s lack of fighting spirit.

“He will learn that he must sometimes strike in order to protect. Just give him time,” she counseled. “As for Gerianne,” she said and strode over. “Let us see what you are made of,” she took up a training sword and moved to attack. Melchior grabbed his knight and pulled her away before he could think to do anything else.

Gerianne squeaked then pulled her sword from her belt. “I am ready. Stand behind me,” she instructed and activated her little shield.

Streita laughed heartily. “The pair of you are a dangerous combination,” she cackled “Get out of the way, Lord Melchior. This is not a guarding exercise.”

Melchior checked with Gerianne. She nodded so he hurried to a safe distance. She exchanged a few swings with Gerianne before tapping the girl on her collarbone. “You are fighting me, not the blade. Look at your opponent,” she said. They began again. “Also look at their weapon,” Streita added.

Gerianne was forced to give ground continuously but she never gave up. After she was breathing heavily Streita knocked her down with a leg sweep.

“Ekk!”

“That was a good show. Take a rest. Lord Melchior. Let us see this special ability of yours,” she called. Melchior stepped forward and readied his blade. They began. He’d never felt such fear as knowing where his demise was coming from and knowing there was nothing he could do. Streita's wooden sword connected with his wrist with brutal force then pressed against his neck.

“Ow,” he whimpered and held his arm, his whole body shaking in terror.

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts but I couldn't move any slower. That's impressive stuff. Chaosfliehe must really like you,” she said and patted his shoulder. “But it will not be enough by itself. If you cannot act on your intuition and reverse your opponent's attack you will simply run out of stamina then lose,” she explained.

After a little bit of deep breathing and reassurances, she handed him his sword. “Swing at me,” she directed. He swung. She caught it with her bare hand. “Like you mean it. Didn't I just hurt your arm?” she goaded. Melchior swung a bit harder. She shook her head. They walked over to a straw filled sack on a pole. “Hit it,” she instructed.

He whacked the straw. “Remember your form,” she chided. He swung properly. It stung his hand. “Good, again.” He was made to strike several more times before his hands hurt too much to continue.

“Yes it will hurt until you get used to it. Do the rest of your empty swings and remember, it is ok to cry but not to give up,” she said and returned to the other students.

Melchior sat next to Gerianne. She patted his hand. “You don't have to do this. I will protect you,” she promised.

“Then who will protect you?” he asked.

“Also me,” she replied.

They giggled. After enjoying a bit of water Melchior stood and handed Kirk a sword too. “We must do our forms,” he said.

Kirk held his wooden blade while Gerianne looked at him quizzically. “He is not a knight,” she said.

“He knows the forms and enjoys practicing,” Melchior argued. “What could it harm?” he asked with a shrug. The three children did their sets while Melchior gritted his teeth to keep from crying over his achy hands.

That night he drank a healing potion before pouring all of his mana into the spear. He moved up to five stones then compressed the little that was left over. It would be best to relax his compression until the summer to allow himself to grow and giving more mana would allow him to learn the Divine Instruments faster.

His hands felt much better after healing so he was able to draw. He would allow the natural process to work some other time. For the night he needed to finish Isolde's mark for Flautzeal. Working on something so closely related to Isolde reminded him of her predicament and Sheila’s sharp remarks. No amount of consideration brought him closer to answers so he summoned Sheila.

“Why were you so mean to Isolde?” he asked.

“Better to be mean than cruel, my lord. What she is doing is dangerous and unnecessary. She will become a woman either way. Better to have strength for the journey,” Sheila explained.

Melchior grew pensive. “It is not our place to pry,” he said.

“She is your retainer and therefore your responsibility. If not you then who will correct her?”

“I have never known you to be so passionate about anything,” Melchior observed. Lothar also seemed strangely aggravated.

“We have seen too many children starve already. It is natural that we have strong feelings about their health,” she replied. He felt it wasn't the right moment to point out that Isolde was wealthy and had access to all the sustenance she wanted. This was a conscious choice surely not a consequence of poor circumstances. “You must order her to stop.”

“What if it is not her choice?” Melchior asked. Melchior's diet wasn't entirely under his control after all.

“Send the order to her parents,” Sheila said. “This is not something you are likely to encounter as a man. I do not think you will understand,” she added.

“Everyone is encouraging you to get bigger and stronger,” Lothar noted. “Women are often told the reverse.” Melchior nodded. He still wasn't sure he should meddle but he made a note to ask other women about the subject.

Chapter Text

The Leather Meeting

The following morning, Isolde arrived with Veremund. “He would like to join the contest,” she explained.

She looked as energetic as normal, Melchior thought. Veremund accepted his tea and gazed around the High Bishop's room. His eyes lingered on the shrine with the Goddess of Light statue and the bible.

“This is my very first visit to the temple,” he said.

“We welcome you to visit anytime. Though please give notice in advance,” Melchior said with a glance at Isolde.

“It wasn't a sure thing until this morning. I didn't want to raise your expectations,” Isolde explained.

“I have brought an offering by way of apology,” Veremund declared then pulled a pair of leather gloves from his pouches. He handed them to Lothar who passed them to Fonsel for inspection.

“I needed gloves!” Melchior cried. “How did you know?”

Veremund just glanced at Isolde who smiled knowingly. “In any case, I want to enter your competition,” Veremund declared again. “I sewed these gloves myself to prove my skills,” he rumbled.

“I am hoping to select a shop to give my exclusive business. As I so rarely have need of enchanted leather, I believe a commoner workshop would suffice,” Melchior explained. The last thing he needed was to ask more exemplary crafts people to do his small projects.

“As would I,” Veremund replied.

Melchior looked at the gloves. “But you are a leatherworker yourself.”

“Only as a hobby. We also do not make shoes,” he said. “I hope to find someone more skilled than myself as well. I still promise to give this an honest effort,” he said.

Melchior frowned. There were two problems. He didn't want Veremund to spill his secrets and he was incredibly early. “The meeting with the leatherworkers isn't until after lunch. I cannot promise to host you to noble standards on such short notice,” Melchior admitted. Though Sheila could do it, he didn't want to commit to providing an expensive meal to a surprise guest who wasn't even in his retinue. “Also, this is a sensitive matter. You must promise to keep it a secret.”

“I would never divulge the details of a client,” Veremund said. He looked over his tea cup with a capricious smile. “As for lunch, I hear even the orphan soup is delicious. I am delighted just to be here. This tea is exquisite, by the way.”

Melchior glowered at Isolde. She was supposed to protect him from other scholars. Veremund was implying that he would only keep this secret if he was allowed to participate and she was doing nothing. “Very well,” Melchior said. “I look forward to your good work. I may even have to tell Mother about your impressive skills.”

Veremund shivered. “I apologize for threatening you. Please allow me to compete. I do not expect to be chosen as your leatherworker. I just think it will be fun,” he conceded.

Isolde could barely contain her glee. “See, you didn't need my help,” she said.

“He is only here because you brought him,” Melchior complained.

She placed a hand on her cheek. “Do you dislike your new gloves, my lord?”

He did like the gloves. That they were blue, very dark blue but blue all the same, could be forgiven. They fit his hands well and had pretty embossing around the wrists. “Fine. You are forgiven.”

Melchior waved Kirk over, “ Nikolaus and Gerianne will not be practicing with me today. Please have Trude bring all the harspiels anyway,” he said with a grin.

Isolde's face fell while Veremund just looked confused. Because of his meetings, Trude arrived at second and a half bell. She greeted Veremund as he was pressed into a chair by Melchior’s aggressive smile and handed the adult sized harspiel.

They warmed up their voices and played scales then Trude gave Veremund and Isolde evaluations.

“Have you only learned arrangements for children, Lord Veremund?” Trude asked.

“I learn enough for class,” he replied sheepishly.

“I see,” she gestured for her book of sheet music from Lily and selected an arrangement of the song he’d just played. “Here, this is for a man with a similar vocal range. You have a beautiful and mature voice. It is time to embrace it,” she encouraged then sent him over to Lothar who helped him work through the new notes in a sound blocking bubble.

“Lady Isolde, I feel like you are attempting to mimic someone else. Please try to sing in your own voice,” she instructed. She had Melchior play the accompaniment while Isolde stood and sang scales.

After a couple she stopped. “It does not sound as good,” she complained.

“It is lovely, you just aren't used to it,” Trude encouraged. She took out another song while Isolde continued her scales. “Here, this is a new song. As you've never heard anyone sing it before, you should be able to develop your own sound. Do not lose courage. It is also better for the longevity of your voice,” Trude said.

Melchior and Isolde worked to learn the harspiel part of this new song. “It is so complex, I do not think I could sing at the same time,” she admitted. Melchior agreed.

“You do not need to accompany yourself every time,” Trude noted.

They continued until they could play the beginning but it was really very difficult. “This feels much harder than what I usually learn,” Melchior said.

“Do you not wish to offer your best to your sister and uncle? If you apply yourselves, I know you can play this,” she said.

“Why are we both learning it?” Isolde asked

“Didn't you ask to join the temple recital?” Trude asked with a hand on her cheek.

“I have to play!?”

Melchior decided at that moment that she did. “We offer music as well. You remember,” he said.

She’d been sworn to secrecy but she hadn't forgotten. “Very well, my lord. I will not embarrass you,” she promised.

“You never do,” Melchior replied. “Except for that one time. But I know you had good intentions,” he added. She giggled.

At the end of class Veremund returned looking nervous. He played his song again and sang an octave lower than before. Melchior was amazed by how much more comfortable he sounded while singing. It really had been a strain on his voice to sing so high. He and Isolde clapped as Veremund sighed with relief.

“That was a delight. Now, Lady Isolde, it is your turn,” Trude coaxed.

“I have not finished learning the song,” she said.

“Sing the song you sang before in your own voice this time.”

It was her turn to look deathly nervous. She glanced at Veremund who wore an expectant expression and Melchior who wore an encouraging one. Her voice quavered a bit but sounded gentle and melodic. It was different from the feminine sweetness she usually projected but Melchior found it nicer to listen to.

“It is different from before but beautiful,” Veremund observed. “It seems we have both learned things today. Thank you, Mistress Trude. Your wisdom has been most enlightening,” he said.

Isolde blushed at his praise and handed her instrument back to the shrine maidens.

After such hard work, Melchior felt they deserved a reward. “Would you play for us, Trude?” he asked.

She smiled brightly. “ I would be happy to.” She sang about the beauty of spring and the lush adorning of the world with flowers. Her students sat still and listened with shining eyes.

“To think such talent is buried here,” Veremund muttered at the end.

“One cannot reap fine wheat without planting seeds,” Turde replied and gestured toward Melchior.

They all looked at him expectantly, as though he would prove that Trude’s incredible talent wasn't wasted on the temple. “I… you have all heard me play before.”

“Perhaps the flute then,” Trude suggested and had Kirk step forward like he'd been waiting in ambush the entire time.

Melchior didn't know why he was being forced to flaut so often but he took his instrument. He played a quick scale then played the song he had for Zerafina. He had to admit that he was better after her guidance but wouldn't go so far as to seek it a second time. Once he was done everyone clapped politely. He just wasn't as good as everyone else.

“It has been almost one year, Lord Melchior. See how far you've come,” Trude praised.

Veremund’s eyes widened. “You have only been playing for a year?”

“It will be a year at the end of summer,” Melchior replied.

“A strong foundation makes it easier to learn new instruments,” Trude explained.

“I have avoided trying anything else,” Veremund admitted. “I will have more free time next year. Perhaps I will take something up,” he thought.

Trude encouraged him to focus on his singing for the year before taking her leave

“I know this was our punishment for antagonizing you but I am glad I did it,” Veremund said. “Lothar is a great teacher as well.”

Melchior smiled and nodded. “He is excellent,” he agreed.

Veremund sat with his tea while Melchior and Isolde prepared for the meeting. He needed to order crayons and Pepin's book. He would also inquire about printing and distributing the celebratory designs.

Before that he had to swear yet another person to secrecy. “Veremund, you have proven your ability to be discreet in the past. You must do so again. I will not ask you to swear fealty to me but you must observe the same level of sensitivity as my own scholars,” Melchior said.

Veremund sat up straight. He glanced at Isolde who’d threatened him in the past. There was none of that intimidating force in her amused smile. Instead, Melchior exerted the force himself. “You have my pledge once again, Lord Melchior. I will not reveal what I learn to anyone,” he promised. He couldn't tell his family and besides them, there was no one to tempt his secrets out of him.

“You cannot discuss this even with my retinue,” Melchior stressed.

“It shall be as you command,” he promised.

Melchior relaxed a little. “I believe you. You may come to the meeting. Please do not take offense on my behalf,” Melchior said and had Isolde give Veremund a sheet of paper to take notes and a pencil.

They proceeded to the meeting with just Kirk and Veremund feeling a bit confused.

Milda knelt to give greetings on behalf of the Plantin company and Master Fred. “Fred has asked me to assist as his shop is not equipped to do business with such esteemed persons as yourself,” Milda said with a smile.

Fred was an older man with a thin but well dressed frame. He knelt next to a similarly dressed boy and glanced back and forth between Kirk and Melchior in disbelief.

“I thank you ever so much for offering your assistance. Let us conclude our own business quickly so that we can discuss the competition,” Melchior said and offered them seats. Milda’s assistant helped with her chair while Fred handled his own. The boy almost sat down but noticed that the Plantin leherl was going to stand just in time. Isolde and Veremund sat on Melchior's left and right.

Melchior ordered his crayons for Biligast then asked about the blank book.

“I believe we can satisfy your desires with a new product of ours. It is designed to facilitate portability while allowing for the use of paper. We use a leather cover and specially placed strings to hold thin notebooks inside. We can also attach a variety of accessories to the cover such as a storage space for loose papers or writing implements,” Milda explained. She presented drawings of the product in question. Melchior was amazed by how easy it looked to copy. Having seen it, he was sure Veremund could reproduce it with his hobbyist level skills.

“This seems rather simple. Is there a reason to purchase this from you?” he asked.

“We have done extensive testing to ascertain the best materials. We’ve developed a notebook which opens flat and can be stacked with itself to be bound into a traditional book after the fact. This allows for more affordability for those so inclined and customization for those with greater desires,” she turned the paper over to show a picture of the blank books. “Using several smaller books allows for easier organization of your notes. You can carry part of several books with you instead of loose papers or the entirety of several blank volumes for different topics. Simply have the books bound by subject after they are filled.”

Melchior didn't need to be sold on its many strong points. The price of each blank book was reasonable enough for Pepin to purchase his own replacement while the cover could still be ornate. He was about to run a leather competition. Couldn't he have the cover made by his own shop and the paper books made from his own materials.

“Would you permit a mere scholar to speak?” Veremund asked. Melchior gave his permission. “This object looks very easy to create. You might use enchanted leather to greatly increase durability and add additional functionality. I see no reason to purchase it from commoner merchants,” he said.

Melchior hadn't intended to say that outloud and give offense.

“As common merchants we could not compete with noble craftspeople. However, if such additional functionality is not your desire, perhaps this is a gift for another or something to experiment with, then purchasing from us will save both time and expense,” Milda declared and produced a box of the leather covers and blank books.

Melchior could order one with more features, or he could buy one today. There were several colors and designs to choose from as well as paper options. There were even books with ruled lines already printed on them in pale gray. He wondered how many hours he would get back had he never needed to rule his pages. The books were also affordable enough that the extra work of creating them using his own paper wouldn't be that worthwhile.

Veremund looked through the offering and inspected the construction. He could easily make them using scraps even. Perhaps that was the goal, he thought. An inexpensive way to introduce people to carrying around paper, the Plantin company’s main product.

Melchior couldn't find a cover that he liked. He wanted to paint it but these had strange textures or colors. Something purple or a neutral shade would be better than teal or red. He would want to prime the rougher side and allow the smooth leather to be visible on the inside in his case.

“I will have to place an order to my specifications after all. I admit the allure is quite strong.” He looked at Isolde and her collection of loose papers. He took one, folded it in half, and compared it to the cover nearest him. They were well sized to fit a folded sheet of the paper regularly made in Ehrenfest. They wouldn't have to buy the special books for everything, he thought. He selected one which matched the scholar uniform and a few blank books. The pre ruled ones were more expensive and also unnecessary in Isolde's case.

He communicated his order for one made of pale leather and an inside out design. “I would also like thin wooden boards attached to the inside,” he said. Milda recorded his requests and accepted payment for the things he wanted on that day.

“Now that our business is closed. Let us discuss the competition,” he declared. “Master Fred, have you assembled a list of crafts people to participate?”

Fred looked surprised to even be addressed. Melchior simply waited for him to recover. “I… yes, my lord. They will come this afternoon to receive your commissions,” he said. Kirk felt proud of him for containing his urge to grunt in his nervousness.

“That is excellent. Let us discuss compensation.”

They agreed upon two large golds from each person. This would be split between the fourteen participants. Milda had enough silver and bronze to change Melchior's into smaller denominations.

“This is a generous allowance for materials,” Milda observed.

Fred paled. “Ah… yes, we want to elevate talent and do not want a lack of accumulated materials to prevent participation. There is a young lad in particular who I think does good work and has novel ideas but not enough support from his employer.”

“I would also like to encourage everyone to do their best work and pay close attention to my requirements,” Melchior added. Isolde produced one of each of the specification slips. They included a drawing, explanatory text, and dimensions. “Each design should include a smooth framed area, have decorative tooling in other areas, and close with a simple mechanism that is nonetheless very secure. If it opens during vigorous activity or when the wearer is upside down. It will be of no use.”

Milda and Fred looked amazed by this explanation. “When the wearer is upside down?” Milda mumbled. “We understand, Lord Melchior. We will communicate these details to the crafts people. As you have the commissions prepared, would you like for us to convey them to the shops so that you might have a freer afternoon?”

“I would like to see the participants for myself. I recognize that they may not be trained in proper etiquette and will be magnanimous,” he replied.

“I see. Thank you, Lord Melchior, for this opportunity to serve you. We promise that everything will be handled smoothly,” Milda replied.

She nudged Fred with her knee. “Thank you, Lord Melchior,” he added.

They were released and Melchior sent Kirk to speak briefly with Fred in case he had more he was too afraid to say. He took his new notebooks and cover and handed them to Isolde.

“You carry many papers on my behalf. Use this to assist you. If you find it impedes your work you do not need to carry it around. I ask that you try it for a season though,” he said.

She took the offering gingerly. “These are for work, my lord?” she asked.

“Yes. That is why I selected a color without consulting you.”

“May I examine it?” Veremund asked. They passed him the books and cover. He touched it all over and looked at the book securement strings with their little wooden beads and the supportive strip stitched into the spine. “It is very well considered. I think a proper flap would better protect the edges of pages…” he went on muttering about possible improvements and features until Kirk returned.

“Master Fred would like to apologize for including the Plantin company without consulting you. Milda went to his shop and told him who you were and he panicked,” Kirk explained.

“Anyone would panic upon being informed that their patron is the son of the Archduke rather than a wealthy merchant,” Veremund mused. He handed Isolde her new stationary. “What are all these pouches for?”

“The less you know, the less you can tell others,” Isolde replied. He shrugged and put a fist to his mouth.

Kirk led them back to Melchior's room where Kolteruze was waiting at his table for lunch to begin. “Lord Kolteruze,” Veremund said with a touch of surprise.

“Lord Veremund, how pleasant to see you again,” Kolteruze replied as he stood.

“Welcome, Kolteruze. Did you have a look at the plants?” Melchior asked. “There is a new flower from Haldenzel.”

“I did. I am also proud to report that we have nearly completely powered the magic circles while you were away. We didn't want to finish without you. Whenever you are free to view it, we will go together,” Kolteruze replied happily.

Veremund stared at him. He’d never seen Kolteruze look anything but annoyed or affably neutral. As the slightly younger boy spoke with real passion and excitement, he felt like he was being told yet another secret.

“Did someone other than Sigsnyr help?” Melchior asked. He'd been away but Kolteruze seemed to imply the work was done by multiple people.

“Indeed. Isolde and Pepin offered some mana as well as Haldis,” Kolteruze explained.

Melchior looked at them both. “I thank you ever so much. Should we plan an event? Or would it be better to quickly gather tomorrow morning?”

“We will only see the sand turn into fertile soil. We should save the event for after it has been planted and tended such that it is fit to host guests,” Kolteruze suggested.

“That sounds like a good idea. Do you know how long that will take?”

“It is best to be conservative. Autumn seems like a safe estimation but next year it should look more impressive.”

“Have you decided what to plant?” Isolde asked. She was fiddling with her new planner; adding the blank books and neatly folding her loose sheets for inclusion.

Kolteruze was momentarily distracted but recovered. “Yes. I want to plant the ingredients for rejuvenation potions, barshoo, herbs for Sheila, and flax,” he said brightly. “The flowers are lovely, you can press the seeds for oil, the stalks can be made into cloth. I am curious to see if it obtains any specific properties from being grown using magic.”

“Please excuse me if this is a sensitive topic but where are you planting these things?” Veremund asked.

“Oh, the atrium. Would you like to come tomorrow to see the circles activated?” Melchior asked.

Veremund had even more questions. Why were there magic circles in a temple atrium? How were they planting crops in white sand, a material famous for being inert. How did white sand turn into dirt? It was so baffling that there could be only one solution. “I would love to come, thank you for your generous invitation.”

“Let us meet between music and lunch,” Melchior declared.

Veremund wasn't sure he wanted to participate a second time so soon after the first. He didn't have time to practice before the following morning either. “Then I shall arrive before fourth bell,” he declared.

Isolde gave him a teasing grin. “You do not wish to participate in practice?” she asked.

“Won't your usual practice partners return tomorrow, Lord Melchior,” Veremund asked in response.

“Yes but you may feel encouraged to come any time. You will have to bring your own harspiel though,” Melchior replied.

Sheila brought out lunch a bit early so Melchior could make his presentation to the orphanage before his afternoon meeting. Kolteruze looked delighted as a plate of grilled vegetables with cheese sauce was placed before him.

Melchior asked for a small portion to go with his salad and roasted faebeast. Isolde was given a smaller portion than the day before. It was more than three bites but still conservative. The look Sheila gave her made him wonder if this was close to the amount Isolde actually ate. He wondered how closely Sheila was watching. She also flashed an insistent smile at Melchior.

“Lord Veremund, do you have a preference?” he asked, then explained the dishes before him. He couldn't name every vegetable in the grilled selection but he could guess at the type of cheese. “I cannot say what manner of beast this once was. Granduncle graciously provides a portion of his hunted trophies.”

“I am content with anything,” Veremund replied. He received a plate half set with each option then waited for Melchior to taste his.

“O mighty King and Queen of the endless skies who doth grace us with thousands upon thousands of lives to consume. O mighty Eternal Five who rule over the mortal realm, I offer prayers and thanks to thee and do take part in this meal so graciously provided,” Melchior and his retainers chanted. Isolde and Kolteruze were used to this but Veremund was surprised. His family prayed over only the most formal of formal occasions.

Melchior began eating by tasting the veggies then beginning on his own meal. “You pray over every meal in the temple?” Veremund asked.

“We do. We find it important to remember the gods in all ventures,” Melchior replied.

Veremund began his meal. While Isolde had told him it would be delicious, he hadn't quite believed it could outshine the dormitory kitchen. The meat was tender and flavorful despite being of mysterious origin. The salad and grilled vegetables were perfectly sweet and toothsome. It was clear that Melchior's chef took great care and was highly skilled. His entire portion disappeared so quickly that he was amazed it was gone. He was served a smaller portion of seconds and took a bit more time to enjoy it.

“I must communicate my thanks and appreciation. This is so delicious. I find myself feeling deeply fortunate to have been allowed to partake,” he said.

“I believe Sheila is the best chef in all of Ehrenfest,” Kolteruze added. Sheila wiggled happily next to her cart.

“She is certainly the best of the Archductal family's personal chefs,” Isolde said.

Veremund was shocked all over again. First Trude and now Sheila. “Why is she here instead of at the castle?” he asked.

Isolde stifled a giggle while Melchior loudly stabbed his next bite of food. “Because that is my preference,” he growled.

Kolteruze and Isolde shook their heads but also gave him empathetic smiles.

Dessert was washed berries and a light tea. Melchior wanted to talk about his meeting but chose to discuss his orphanage visit instead. He didn't want Kolteruze, with his fearsome ability to draw conclusions from dispersed hints, to learn anything about the competition.

“How often do you look at the plants?” Melchior asked suddenly.

Kolteruze paused his conversation with Veremund about the scholar's imminent coming of age and romantic prospects. “Every other day,” Kolteruze said.

Melchior was surprised. That would include days when he had work. He would have to wake up early to make time. “I believe Kirk is capable enough to maintain them for brief periods.”

“Kirk was away,” Kolteruze noted.

Melchior signed in relief. “Then you do not have to come as often while I am here.”

Kolteruze looked a bit pale. “My lord, I would not say so. Once the new plants are added, a noble will be needed to tend them. Sigsnyr and I also wish to make a study of their progress,” he said. “I fear I will need to be here more often.”

Lothar made a motion like using a fork to pick up food. Melchior smirked. “Kolteruze, you know you are always welcome here at the temple. There is no need for you to justify a mid-day visit.”

Kolteruze blushed deeply. Veremund and Isolde couldn't withhold giggles. Veremund got the impression that Kolteruze would be just as easy to tease as his lord and it would be just as fun. It still wasn't his place to do so, but Isolde would be much amused and tell him about it later.

“You are most generous, my lord,” Kolteruze replied.

“As you know, it is no small inconvenience to host so many nobles so regularly,” Melchior added. If Kirk was to be believed, his budget was being greatly impacted by having his retainers over. Isolde did enough work to justify her place but Kolteruze spent less than a bell caring for the plants and mostly because he wanted to rather than because it was necessary. Melchior barely got to see them after all.

“I understand, my lord. Allow me to allay some of your inconvenience. What would be proper in your opinion?” Kolteruze asked. He had a healthy amount of coin accrued from his wages and selling information. He’d even taken some crest work to help plan an event last year.

Melchior looked at Lothar who contemplated this. The food would be cooked anyway. Sheila made an additional dish for Kolteruze when he came but made less of the main course in those cases. They purchased ingredients in bulk but they were of the best quality. He gave his estimate.

Melchior decided to make it a round number. “Five,” he replied.

Kolteruze tried not to scoff. Five small silver felt like a lot. He wondered if Melchior actually didn't want him to come that often. “I suppose that's fair,” he said.

Isolde's eyes widened. “Is five large copper truly a burden?” she asked.

“Oh,” Kolteruze said with a smile. “If that is the case, then I accept!” While the price would mount quickly if he came every day, he could certainly afford at least twice per week.

“That is in excess of your one required visit,” Melchior said. He still needed Kolteruze to look after the plants. One meal felt like a fair trade since he already made a salary.

“Is this trade available to others?” Veremund asked.

“To any who render unto me regular service,” Melchior replied. Tempting Veremund into his retinue would be most desirable. The food had been sufficient temptation for Gerianne.

Veremund frowned. “Just regular service? Such as on a temporary or on going basis but not in perpetuity?” he asked. He couldn't pledge his whole life to Melchior but working with him was lucrative and fun besides.

Melchior sighed. Not even Sheila's exemplary cooking would convince someone to alter their life goals. “Yes, that's correct. I do not have any particular projects at the moment.”

“There is much to do if you are to save Herzfeld and the commoners. Veremund will come of age at the end of spring. He will be at liberty to travel,” Isolde said.

Veremund glanced back and forth between their hungry expressions. How dearly would he have to pay for the occasional delicious lunch. “What do you mean?”

“We could not divulge such sensitive information to one uninvolved,” Isolde replied.

“How much travel are you envisioning?”

“Perhaps two trips to Herzfeld per year, and have you considered becoming a tax official?”

“Oh, that would be fun!” Melchior chirped.

Veremund considered it. The certification wasn't difficult to acquire with a recommendation. He only just had enough mana to qualify though. With a year and a half left , at most, to compress his mana, he would be within a comforted range to do the job. Only, “How does that correspond to the previous conversation?”

“You could travel with me during the Harvest Festival,” Melchior said.

“You would be able to see more of the Winter Mansions and gain greater perspective,” Isolde said evasively.

She wasn't going to tell him everything right now, he realized. When she told him about the leatherworking competition, he hadn't expected to be pulled into a high pressure recruitment. He leaned back in his chair and shot her a glare. Isolde was fun to talk to and well connected but spending time with her always escalated into some impossible highjinx. Melchior looked so excited by their prospective future it was hard to deny him.

Kolteruze chuckled. “It seems you cannot escape them. Perhaps you should make your pledge before dragging this out until the bands have tightened,” he said.

“You are scaring him,” Melchior chided as Veremund turned even paler. “I will not force you to join my service. It is just more pleasant to work with people you already know.”

Isolde made no additional comment. The look in her eyes said that she had no qualms about drawing him in. “I will consider this carefully,” was the most he would say.

Melchior scowled at Kolteruze as the attendant gave his farewells. He smiled affably at Veremund with an unreadable look in his eye.

“I must leave you here while I visit the orphanage. We would not wish for a small child to give offense. Would you like to try the crayons while you wait?” Melchior asked.

Veremund had heard about these tools at the earlier meeting. He wasn't sure what they did but as they were made by commoners, it couldn't be all that impressive. Still he was curious enough to spend a few minutes on it. “Thank you for the opportunity to see them. I’ll gladly accept.”

Kirk brought over the wooden case while Melchior selected a drawing. It was one left over from his magic tool sketches. “Please feel free to add color to this or to draw a new picture on the back,” he said before exiting with Isolde. She hadn't been happy to finish someone else's drawing but that wasn't enough evidence to prove it was a bad idea.

The orphans were just finished cleaning up after their meal when Melchior arrived. “Hello everyone. I am pleased to see that you all endured Ewigeliebe's harsh judgment. Blessed be the melting of the snow!” Melchior said.

“Praise be to the gods! Glory be to the gods!” Everyone said together. Isolde felt annoyed at missing her cue again. The orphans wiggled in their seats having already heard the announcement from Trude.

“The former High Bishop and High Priest, Lady Rozemyne and Lord Ferdinand, will be wed this spring,” Melchior announced. There was much excited whispering and giggling. “They will visit us after the Archdukes Conference as they usually do. I would like to prepare a celebratory reception and ask for volunteers to perform a recital.”

There was not a single orphan or gray clergy that did not raise their hand. “Lady Rozemyne saved us all,” Wilma said as the representative. “We are excited to celebrate her joy.”

“Thank you ever so much everyone. Having attended your last recital I have absolute faith that you will bring great joy to Sister and Uncle on their visit,” he concluded.

He then walked over to Wilma and Lyle. “Wilma. I am hiring an artist to paint a commemorative portrait. Would you like to come to the sitting and create a piece as well?”

Wilma's eyes sparkled. “If I would be allowed. It would be my honor,” she said.

Lyle looked just as happy for her as she seemed.

“How has the orphanage fared, Lyle? Has anything happened?”

Lyle took on a serious expression and stood up straight. Melchior wished he remained casual. “We had a calm winter and celebrate the coming of spring. We have begun gathering once again and will soon begin the production of paper,” he reported.

“And how is Inga?”

Inga was called over. She tried to walk up and tried to hug Melchior but was gently held back.

“Hello Inga, how are you? Have you been singing lots this spring?” Melchior asked and bent down a little to speak on her level.

Inga smiled and nodded. “Lots and lots. I’ll sing for Lady Roze as well,” she said.

“Thank you Inga. I’m sure that will make her happy,” he replied. “Please inform me if there is anything you need, Wilma. Has a new manager been chosen?”

“Yes Lord Melchior. Lily will be taking over this responsibility. She has been trained and will join Sister Streita’s service at the beginning of summer,” Wilma replied.

“Excellent. Please let her know that she has our support,” Melchior said. He looked around the orphanage, catching sight of his old friends and acquaintances and sighed.

“She will be most appreciative,” Wilma said.

Melchior took his leave feeling awful. An official visit could never compare to quality time spent with his friends. Isolde observed his down turned mood but didn't say anything. She’d been waiting to revisit the orphanage for some time and now that she had, she wondered what her lord saw as so sacred there. The children looked confused as to why they couldn't approach him and even asked Fonsel who readily answered. They seemed to understand what was meant by ‘Melchior is the High Bishop right now’ without further explanation. There was no version of Melchior, high bishop or otherwise, which should allow the approach of commoner orphans.

They went from the orphanage to the meeting room. Inside were Master Fred, Mistress Milda, and a large collection of scruffy looking crafts people. Veremund stood beside Lothar near the front of the room. He bowed but didn't kneel when Melchior entered.

Melchior sat in a chair facing the assembly over a long table on which Isolde prepared the slips. One set was for dimensions, the other was a collection of motifs Melchior designed.

“I thank you all for traveling here during your busy work days,” Melchior began. “I understand that Mistress Milda has explained the competition to you all. Are there any questions?” There was silence. “You may be exempt from courtesy for the moment. I hope that no problems arise due to lack of understanding.”

The craftspeople looked around at one another before a young man raised his hand. “I have a request,” he said shakily. Melchior encouraged him to continue. “I have only heard descriptions of the tooling you are looking for. Would it be possible to see the belt serving as our example?”

There was a slight stirring of agreement. Melchior stood up and had Kirk remove his potion belt and lay it on the table. “Do not touch any of the attached objects,” Isolde ordered.

The young man was invited to come forward and look. He spent a long while staring and letting his fingers get almost close enough to touch the designs. “I see. Thank you,” he said and returned to his place.

“Would anyone else like to inspect the belt?” Melchior asked

“My lord, will they not see it when they come to retrieve their slips?” Isolde asked.

“Ah, that is true. If there are no more questions, let us proceed to the selection. Have you agreed upon an order?” Melchior asked.

“We have, my lord,” Milda replied and sent forward the first craftsman. He was old and a little creaky but wore a determined expression. Melchior wondered how quickly he would need to find another exclusive craftsman if he hired this one.

While he looked over the materials Isolde repeated the explanation. “The dimensions must be matched but the designs are merely for inspiration. Be certain to include the blank space on the front flap or your work will not be compensated and you will have to return the commission fee.” There was a grumbling. “It is the most important part. Without it your work cannot even be considered.”

Milda raised her hand for quiet. “It is a small detail and easy to achieve. You cannot be afraid of failure here. Lord Melchior, will failure in other areas also incur a similar penalty?”

Melchior shook his head. “Bags that are near enough to the specifications, are of usable construction, and include the display space for my painting will be considered valid even if I do not choose them for my purposes. Those who wish to win must show precision, artistry, and provide hardware or other closures which meet my requirements.”

A new murmuring spread. There was some amazement at the implications that Melchior would paint them himself and some questions about possible closures.

“These numbers seem to imply that this order is for two bags,” said the old man who was leaning mere inches from the table to read the slips.

“That is correct. In that case, allowances for quality can be made in favor of quantity but they must be a matched set,” Isolde replied. One of the craftsmen kept squinting at her but she ignored him. She had been to his shop in commoner clothes once but she didn't intend to confirm his suspicions here.

The old man took a slip for Sebastian's bag and shuffled over to the designs. There were more designs than specifications and each was unique. They ranged from tight repeatable patterns to borders reminiscent of embroidery. The gender of the intended recipient was on the specification sheets but Melchior doubted anyone would turn away a gift for being too flowery or geometric. The pouches weren't that large to begin with. The old man spent a while perusing so the next person came up to collect his slips.

“Are these all leather designs?” he asked once he joined the old man.

“I designed them based on many things including my belt. I have never worked leather and tooling of this kind is not popular in Ehrenfest. This belt was made in Alexandria, that is the duchy formerly known as Ahrensbach. I am therefore ignorant of the possibilities and restraints of the craft. As such, these designs are merely for inspiration. If they are truly beyond all the leatherworkers of Ehrenfest then we will have to omit them,” Melchior said sadly. Isolde constrained her glee as a passionate fire spread throughout the room. These craftspeople didn't want to be outdone by foreigners.

The selection progressed until each crafts person had specifications and a couple of designs. They chatted and compared their sheets.

“Did you create all of these designs? Are they copies of other pieces?” asked someone.

“Yes, I designed them. Some of the motifs are popular in embroidery but others are my own ideas,” Melchior replied. There was more murmuring. He’d presented fifteen unique textures and nearly twenty additional ideas for borders and corner embellishments. The embroidery done by commoners was different to that preferred by nobles. He hadn't included any true magic circles but some of the patterns wouldn't stick out if used to cover them up. He also used some flowers from Bershmann and his studies at the Royal Academy.

Veremund stepped forward and took a seemingly random set of leftovers. He observed the pattern of overlapping leaves which resembled fish scales. “This looks doable with a custom iron,” he murmured then took his slips to the side.

No one had expected a noble to be included. Some looked as though the competition had already been lost. “Lord Veremund is participating for fun. Leather work is his hobby. We do not doubt that career craftsmen can easily surpass the amateur,” Isolde said over the clamor.

They grew more pensive and those that had lost hope regained it. “I believe that is all,” Melchior announced. “I look forward to your good work. I would like to begin painting this summer. The judging shall be held one week after the Starbinding Ceremony,” he announced. That was a little over a season at this point. It wasn't enough time to tan a custom hide and make new irons and develop new closures but the dedicated could fit in two of those things. No one had complaints.

“One final thing. I know an event of this kind is naturally exciting to talk about. I ask that you all be more discreet going forward. I should not like my gifts to be spoiled by foreknowledge,” he said with a hand on his cheek. The craftspeople swore to maintain their professional discretion then left looking pale.

Master Fred and Mistress Milda remained until all the crafts people left. Fred stepped forward and knelt down. “Thank you for the opportunity to host this competition on your behalf,” he recited.

“Kirk speaks very highly of your assistance. I have absolute confidence in your skills,” Melchior replied. He looked at Milda. “I hope the Plantin Company has not put too dear a price on their help.”

“Perish the thought, my lord. We have accepted a flat sum to be present at these exchanges. We are well compensated by the opportunity to see your artistic talents and view your realized vision,” Milda replied.

“I see, then I will trust you to take care of Master Fred and provide any further help he requires for no additional cost,” Melchior said.

“There isn't much more to do,” Fred assured them.

“If that is so, then we can wait and enjoy the fruits of our venture this summer. I pray that you live well with the divine protection of the gods until Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time weaves the threads of our fate together once again,” Melchior said.

“May or threads be woven together,” Milda replied then nudged Fred who replied the same before they both left with their assistants.

Veremund looked over the remaining slips. “This long bag is something I haven't seen before,” he noted.

“I want to carry maps and longer implements,” Sebastian explained.

“You are planning more expensive gifts then,” Fonsel asked.

“There are other gifts besides the bags?” Sebastian asked.

“That's what…”

“Fonsel,” Isolde said calmly. “There is no need to divulge secrets to those who do not already know.” Melchior shot him a look as well.

“I see. My apologies, my lord,” he said. “As we are all initiated in these proceedings, may I ask why Sebastian is receiving a bag?”

“He will be purchasing his own and reimbursing me for the commission fees. We allowed him to include dimensions to increase diversity,” Melchior explained.

“He found out weeks ago and offered his assistant,” Isolde added.

“It's a wonder your entire retinue doesn't know already. I’m impressed,” Fonsel said.

Melchior shared a smile with Kirk. He was the only person who knew about everything so far and only Flautzeal seemed to know about his own gift. Kolteruze hadn't quite figured things out but only because it was such a new idea. “It has been hard work.”

“I see no reason why you can't also purchase a bag if you would like,” Isolde said. They would get back Melchior's investment too.

“If I like ‘em,” Fonsel replied.

Kirk gathered up the rest of the slips for Isolde before they walked back to Melchior's room. To his horror, it was full of knights. Their special training had ended and those allowed at the temple had returned for evening lessons. Sheila, who knew little about the nature of the meeting, was serving tea with Chet while Zipporah and Sigsnyr speculated about what was taking so long.

“What is he ordering even? An entire new wardrobe?” Sigsnyr wondered.

Zipporah looked pensive. “Perhaps it is highly specialized,” she replied.

They stood once the door was open and greeted their lord along with Gerianne and Nikolaus. Everyone looked at Veremund curiously. He slipped the papers he’d been reviewing into his pockets.

“Hello everyone,” Melchior said. He felt panic rising as he entered and sat at his table.

“What did you order?” Sigsnyr asked immediately in spite of all Melchior’s hoping he would not.

“How bold of you to inquire after your lord's activities,” Isolde challenged.

Zipporah developed a smug grin. “I did say it was something private,” she teased.

Nikolaus and Sigsnyr argued that that didn't have to be the case while Gerianne looked over Veremund. He wasn't in his scholar's uniform so his visit had to be casual. A secret couldn't include him unless it was about something very specific.

“Were you ordering another large leather bag?” she asked. It made sense to hide that from Sigsnyr who would throw things wildly out of proportion while Veremund’s expertise would be helpful.

Melchior shivered. She was so close to the truth. “We were looking at leather goods, yes,” he admitted.

Isolde showed off her new blank book cover. “The Plantin company has developed a new tool. It is a leather cover for blank books and other papers. There are many options for designs and leather and functionality, so we took our time making selections,” she explained.

Sigsnyr took the object and looked it over. Gerianne asked where Melchior’s was. “I chose a premade option for Isolde to use as my scholar. She carries many papers and boards on my behalf. Something more suited to our personal tastes will need time to be prepared.”

“I see,” Gerianne replied. She waited for her turn to view the book. “It looks very neat. I think it would be good for my notes at the Royal Academy.” She asked about the cost. “That sounds reasonable for a mednoble.”

“It looks rather simple,” Zipporah noted. “It has very little superfluous decoration.”

“Not all decorations are superfluous,” Sigsnyr replied.

“If it impacts use, then it is unnecessary. Otherwise, I appreciate festoonments as much as anyone,” she informed him.

“I find that difficult to believe. You choose the simplest possible version of everything,” he said.

“Embellishments take time and many of them impact use,” she countered.

“I believe some decorative tooling would not impact usability. Perhaps faestone beads as well,” Isolde noted.

“I have to agree,” Zipporah said.

“We are going to be late,” Nikolaus said. It was nearly fifth bell after all.

“Oh yes, perhaps you would like to view the atrium. We will complete the circles tomorrow. I believe the effect with be felt more strongly if you see what it looks like now,” Melchior encouraged. Sigsnyr agreed to lead everyone there. Chet followed behind along with the scholars.

Fonsel shook his head as the door closed. “Hard work indeed,” he muttered loudly.

Chapter Text

Activating the Atrium

Melchior was dressed for training then hurried to the courtyard. The pre-apprentice knights were sent to shoot archery while the older students practiced their sword dance. Sebastian was amazed to find out that Fonsel never joined training as he was forced to dance along with everyone else.

Sebastian hadn't been selected and had stopped practicing in the middle of his fifth year. He wasn't as good as Sigsnyr nor as graceful, Melchior observed, while Nikolaus only seemed to know the steps but hadn't refined his performance.

“Do you want to dance for graduation?” Melchior asked Gerianne as they sat to the side..

“I would like to be selected,” she replied.

There was a part of him that would rather sword dance than whirl. He’d put aside his hopes for demotion before but began to wonder if it would improve his life after all. It would mean having less reasons to see his retainers but he felt sure some would choose to spend time with him anyway.

Thanks in part to his new gloves, his hands weren't nearly as sore as they'd been the day before. He had dinner with Gerianne who'd asked to join after learning that Veremund came for lunch. They agreed that she could share more meals if she just gave his kitchen some ingredients. “You cannot reduce your contribution to the Divine Gifts,” he warned.

They both contributed to the spear as Gerianne had acquired the sword before Spring Prayer. She could only afford one stone per day as she needed to both compress as much as possible and save mana for her classes. Not much was needed in the second year but later years would be more strenuous if she was slack.

He stayed up later than normal to draw and color in his commissions for Rozemyne and Ferdinand. They would be the most time consuming and expensive so he needed them begun as soon as possible and wanted a price estimate for his meeting.

The premixed paint sticks proved very useful. He even employed the grinding stone for the abundance of yellow. Ferdinand was born in spring while Rozemyne was born in summer and their trip would be at the end of spring into summer. He couldn't easily predict what colors they would wear but their eye colors wouldn't change.

He didn't know of any flowers specific to Alexandria so he chose one from Ehrenfest. It was a gift from their duchy after all. There would be many small rairein flowers in gold and light gold inter-mixed. Rairein leaves were kind of boring in his opinion so he omitted them. The center pods would have to be carved and painted blue, he thought. Maybe they're was a method for them, but he would leave these details to the craftswomen.

For the brooch, the flowers would form a spray at one shoulder traveling a little over the back and drooping down the front. Then a decorative cord would connect to the other shoulder or under the arm. It would carry the gold color using the cord but have light and dark blue flowers instead. If things clashed terribly, it could be omitted.

The hair pin, or comb in this case, was much easier. There was no Royal Family to offend so both the quantity and arrangement of flowers could be as extravagant as he wanted. It still needed to be within a reasonable budget so he selected a wooden comb over a metal one. He thought a dark blue with gold accents would look best beside her hair. It would wrap from one ear to the other like a half diadem then be hung with flowers. It was very similar to Charlotte’s but they were on good terms and likely wouldn't be upset about nearly matching.

This done, he went to bed, feeling much accomplished, and woke up feeling groggy. Staying up late was awful, he thought. Melchior reviewed the designs a second time and was still happy so Kirk attached them to boards by the corners. They were still wet since his drying tool was at the castle.

It would be a normal morning of study and music until a little before lunch when he walked with Kirk and Isolde to the atrium. She’d gotten out of music practice by helping Kazmiar and was thus in a good mood. Melchior brought along one of his storage faestones with a little mana left in case they needed more and drank one of Benedikt's potions.

Zargerecht had commitments to Henriette while Melchior was away so he chose not to come. Other than him, all of Melchior’s retainers with permission to enter the temple would be in attendance. Veremund, Nikloaus and Gerianne's attendants, Sister Streita and her attendants, and, surprisingly, Edeltrude were waiting for him. He was even more surprised that Flautzeal had brought his harspiel and was playing in the corner to add ambiance.

They turned to greet him and knelt together. “Please rise everyone. We are here to witness the powering of the atrium together after all.” Melchior said. He walked over to Kolteruze and Sigsnyr by the wall with the circles. “Is everything ready?”

“I believe so. Incidentally, the room can receive mana from anywhere. I thought we might pray and power it together,” Kolteruze replied.

“That will ruin our calculations,” Sigsnyr noted. Edeltrude walked over to look at what was so interesting about a blank wall. “It is covered in magic circles. We believe they will turn the sand to fertile ground.” The sand in question was a dark shade of pink as some of the grains were turning to inert red dirt. “There is also one to open and close the skylights which is usable all the time,” he explained.

Kolteruze demonstrated, immediately plunging the room into momentary blackness before immediately letting the light back in.

“Please don't do that,” Dedryck said. He’d dropped into a defense stance along with most of the knights.

“I did warn you,” Kolteruze said.

“It doesn't matter,” Dedryck replied.

Kolteruze nodded and returned to the discussion about the pros and cons of conducting a ritual to power the room versus having slightly better data on the exact mana usage. “We have no good way to track it anyway. It will feel more exciting if everyone can be apart,” Kolteruze argued.

“That's no reason to forgo estimation entirely,” Sigsnyr argued.

“We can cover every element if everyone helps,” Melchior interrupted. “If the principle is the same, that will improve crop yields.” He wanted to do a ritual, so he backed Kolteruze.

Now Sigsnyr and Kolteruze thought more deeply. Edeltrude passed just enough mana into the wall to highlight some circles. “It should also accelerate the growth of things planted and reduce the need for water,” she muttered. “Do you have any seeds?” she asked after examining. Melchior had a few seeds of note. He doubted parue would grow and the light producing flowers ate bugs which were in short supply in the pristinely clean temple.

“I brought seeds,” Haldis said without elaboration. Kolteruze seemed to catch his meaning but Melchior was confused. Haldis removed a seed from his pocket and tossed it onto the nearest bed. Kirk added a cutting from the barshoo and the bush that might be a tree.

With these tests in place, a ritual was devised on the spot. Everyone would line up along the magic circle wall with Melchior at the center and chant the Dedication Ritual prayer. They all got into position then Melchior took a deep breath. “I am one who offers prayers and gratitude to the gods who have created the world,” they said together.

Melchior felt mana leave him slowly. It seemed that without the carpet holding them together the flow wouldn't increase in speed. They watched as the sand turned to dirt and the plants wiggled as if in a stiff breeze. Kirk gave them a little water then stood with Gerianne’s apprentice and watched.

As things began to grow, they realized that they were not the only people to experiment in this room. Someone else had left seeds in a far bed. Those plants grew along with their own. Melchior nearly stopped praying as one bed burst with life and another sprouted three bushes. The barshoo grew then flowered a showy red blossom. The bush that might be a tree stopped at a reasonable height but Haldis's seed continued until it had almost reached the ceiling and spread it canopy to the walls. By this point only Melchior, Dedryck, and Kolteruze were still providing mana. Just as they finished their repeat, the swollen buds of Haldis's plant began to open, filling the air with a light floral scent.

“Lionshead peonies!” Sigsnyr cried. Melchior was too stunned to speak. He thought the leaves look familiar but with the flowers now on display it was unmistakable.

“Oh my,” Edeltrude sighed. She walked over, meeting Haldis on the way, and gently touched the lowest flower. “Is this what you were talking about showing me?”

“I told you they were magnificent. I didn't think it would become a whole tree,” he muttered.

“So they are magnificent now. I recall you saying they reminded you of me,” Edeltrude said.

Haldis looked her square in the eyes. “Indeed, I did,” he replied in a deeper voice. She blushed.

Flautzeal began playing again while Isolde and Veremund examined the mystery plants. Melchior stood transfixed on the blooming tree.

“You wanted to grow plants for rejuvenation potions, right Kolteruze,” Isolde called out. He joined the young scholars gathered around the overflowing little garden. “These are most of the plants we need. Someone already planted them.”

“I wonder if they planted the seeds then gave up because of the high mana cost,” Kolteruze mused.

Sigsnyr appeared at their side. “This isn't quite a complete set and it's for an unusual recipe. Can you tell what's missing?”

“I have some ideas and most of these in storage. I can do some experimenting. If we assume that what's here is everything that would be safe to grow in this context, I believe that would narrow things down,” Veremund replied. “Could I gather some of what I don't have?”

“You will have to ask the High Bishop,” Isolde replied. They looked over at Melchior who had moved from staring at the tree to staring at the barshoo flower.

Isolde went over to ask. He hopped up and followed her back with Gerianne in tow.

“There are so many kinds. I wonder why they're all in one container,” he said. He also touched everything and giggled.

“We think the previous person hoped to use just one bed as we initially tried.”

“I wonder if they switched to a smaller atrium after this failed,” Melchior mused.

“Perhaps we should sift through the sand in every atrium,” Kolteruze suggested. “But that would mix up the seeds if we found any to begin with.”

“We could grow them normally or transfer the circles to smaller vessels,” Sigsnyr added.

Melchior wondered if that would allow him to have a plant in his room. “The light is still poor. We could, however, move them on a rotation between here and your room,” Kolteruze replied.

Melchior bounced happily and gave Gerianne permission as well. “I will have Kirk write a schedule so the plants don't stay in our rooms for too long,” he promised. They went over to Pepin and Nikolaus and asked if he wanted a visitor too.

“That sounds nice, though I might just visit here to study and such,” he replied. Melchior hadn't even thought of that. He could invite people over, Charlotte would love something like this. “You can't bring Charlotte here. Not until next year or the flowers die. In fact, you need to keep this as secret as possible.”

Melchior felt a sudden panic. He could block off access but people lived in rooms in view of this place. He wouldn't be shocked if they knew already and were waiting for everyone to leave so they could explore. “Kazmiar!” he cried. The High Priest paused his music listening to come over. “We must swear the priests to secrecy. Charlotte cannot see these flowers nor know that we are hiding them from her.”

“Why Charlotte in particular?” Kazmiar asked.

Melchior explained the game in progress and his plans for keeping things hidden including asking Alexandria to make the gift instead. “I can talk to Lord Justus at the Archdukes Conference. Have you chosen something to trade?”

“I don't know what would be worthwhile.”

“I can think of exactly one person with both knowledge of brewing and access to this place. Perhaps your records and any additional findings you make would be sufficient payment. You also have some un-researched ingredients, I heard.”

“I wonder if a rock-eating-tree would grow here. There aren't any rocks,” Melchior said.

“Nothing is stopping you from bringing a bit of gravel in.”

“And it normally takes fifteen years to grow. How fast could it grow using the circles.”

“We won't know until we attempt it but you would have to accelerate the entire room. Could we isolate a single bed or build a separate building outside for smaller experiments.” Kazmiar fell into thought. “I will deal with the blue priests. There is no need to worry about the secret leaving the temple. However, I recommend informing the Archduke before he finds out another way,” the High Priest said before shuffling away still deep in thought.

Haldis replaced his colleague. He brought his wife over to give her thanks and farewells. Once she was being led back to the nobles gate he offered his services for the afternoon. “Since I am here, I could assist you in your meeting with the Gilbertta company.”

“If you are willing to return after lunch, I would appreciate your assistance,” Melchior replied.

Haldis produced a small silver from his pocket. “For today and sometime in the future,” he said.

“Then we welcome you for lunch,” Melchior declared.

He gave his permission for Veremund and Sigsnyr to gather. Then mournfully return to his room.

“Shall we place tables and chairs in the atrium, my lord?” Lothar asked once he was settled in his seat.

“Yes, Lothar, that is brilliant!” Melchior cried. He imagined all the beautiful days of atrium study sessions in his future.

“It is suddenly a very tempting thing to visit the temple. Once you reveal its existence you may find that you have to bar people from coming,” Haldis noted.

“Perhaps that will be better than everyone avoiding coming here. We could even charge them a bit of mana to help with maintenance,” Isolde suggested.

“You seem intent on draining all your visitors dry,” Haldis laughed. “I believe I’ve been asked for mana on nearly every visit.”

“That was so you could acquire a Divine Instrument!” Melchior huffed. He’d volunteered for the Dedication Ritual. This was the only time he'd truly been surprised by the request.

Haldis chuckled. “Yes I know. And I'm not upset. I worry that as more nobles come here, they will begin to see this pattern in a poor light.”

“Perhaps they don't realize how much mana the clergy contribute,” Isolde ventured. “Melchior himself offers as much in a day as some mednobles produce in a week. While it's true that he produces a great deal, it seems strange to complain to him about giving mana to the temple.”

“I'm sure all the priests feel the same way,” Haldis said. “Unfortunately, they are all hidden away so no one sees their contributions.”

Melchior thought about this. The priests were treated like pariahs in noble society despite being from noble families. It was rare for someone to be sent here for a crime so most priests were children given up. He wondered how much time they would want to spend with people who didn't want them and who treated them poorly.

Ordering Accessories

These thoughts would have to wait for his discussion with the Gilbertta company. He went with Haldis and Isolde to the meeting room. Kirk transported the paintings carefully while Lothar opened the doors and such.

Otto waited with his assistant. They kneeled and gave greetings then sat down to discuss his order.

“We can delay your brooches in favor of this order but I fear we do not have the capacity to create your fabric. Our dyeing partners are working on Charlotte’s orders. They could not be finished on time,” Otto said. Both Charlotte’s clothes and her gifts were being made.

“That is no problem,” Haldis said. Both Otto and Melchior looked confused. “The Gilbertta company specializes in women's clothing. You do not have Melchior’s exclusive business as tailors. We brought this order to you because of your previous relationship with the recipient,” he explained.

Otto smiled but went pale at the same time. “That is true, Lord Haldis. We appreciate you thinking of us first, Lord Melchior. We can make several recommendations and introductions to shops which might accommodate your needs,” he offered.

“That will not be necessary at this time. We will order this hair pin and brooch. Lord Melchior would also like to order three more of a similar but smaller design. We need an estimate of the cost,” Haldis said.

Kirk offered the paintings with warnings that they were still wet. Otto’s eyes grew wide. “This is a great many flowers and these centers will need to be carved and painted,” he observed.

“Will you be able to produce it?”

“If we outsource to other shops we can finish these two in time but any additional pieces will have to wait until the summer at the earliest.”

Now Melchior went a bit pale. He’d already promised the Archduke a brooch. What the Aub would do if he were snub again Melchior didn't want to imagine. It would be terribly awkward for him.

“I have promised one to the Aub,” he said gravely. Otto joined him in looking a tad ill. “I hear these are not hard to make. Could we source flowers from even more people?”

“We must ensure their quality. That is why we only work with proven artisans,” Otto explained. “We could put out a call but there's no guarantee that we would find more people both willing and able.”

“Are they that difficult to make?” Melchior asked. Having little knowledge of fiber arts, they looked impossible to him.

“The first one was created by a child. However, the art has advanced considerably since then.”

“Lord Melchior hopes to distribute a design to the nobility so that many people can wear similar adornments. If you cannot handle even these orders, his hopes cannot be realized,” Haldis pressed.

“When I spoke to the soldiers, they were very excited to celebrate Sister's wedding. She did much to improve the lives of the denizens of the lower city. Perhaps there are more people who want to celebrate as well,” Melchior mused. “If we purchase flowers from more people, they can feel like they contributed to this gift. What if we put out a call and buy flowers from whoever can make them. You can choose the best ones for these or create the most interesting assortment so it feels like everyone came together to help,” Melchior said. It sounded like the flowers weren't hard. Inga was happy to add her voice. Maybe there were more children who would want to add their flowers.

Otto and Haldis considered this. A gift composed of poor quality flowers would be seen as an insult no matter how magnanimous the recipient. At the same time, a wide enough survey was sure to uncover more skilled makers.

“We cannot buy every poorly made flower people produce,” Otto said. They would be inundated with awful pieces.

“What if we promised to buy the first one then offer skilled people a contract for more,” Haldis said. “Though, some people might feel inspired to cheat by sending multiple people to collect the reward with their terrible flowers.”

“If the initial reward is small enough, it won't be that bad,” Melchior replied. They were bound to get better if they really made that many.

Otto smiled. It could work. “We could use the poorly constructed flowers to add volume to lesser arrangements. I think this will work. How will you spread the design.”

“Printing,” Melchior said with a tip of his head. That was obvious, surely.

Otto considered the paintings. “This is too detailed to print well. You will have to redraw the design more simply.”

“We will handle the creation of printed materials here at the temple workshop. You claim to be working at capacity. Can you handle the collection?” Haldis asked.

Otto looked pained but nodded. “Yes, this will not burden our craftspeople. I can handle it myself.”

A budget for buying the flowers was created. Melchior would purchase enough for his orders then the Gilbertta company could choose whether or not to buy more. After a contract was drawn up and sighed, Otto took his leave with his assistant gingerly carrying the paintings.

“Thank you for your help Haldis, I do not think, I could have accomplished this without you,” Melchior said.

“It is not yet accomplished. You must speak with the printers, design the other brooches, disseminate the designs, order the fabric, and prepare your other gifts. Summon the tailor you’ve been working with, Fred or whatever his name is. It takes a great deal of time to make the specialty fabric you are no doubt envisioning,” Haldis replied. He rose from his chair. “The work has just begun.”

After training, Melchior got another larger wooden board to write a more detailed list. On one half he added things which he needed to complete while at the temple and on the other were things for the castle. He was horrified by the disparity. Suddenly having only three temple days to the castle’s four felt like too little and his one day off felt like an extraordinary extravagance.

“You need time to rest, my lord. Giving up your day off should be avoided for as long as possible. You will find it very difficult to recover,” Lothar counseled.

“But the other clergy don't get days off,” he replied. Gerianne trained every day and was all the stronger for it. He couldn't afford to waste so much time anymore.

“Their days are not as involved as your own,” Lothar explained. “As your schedule becomes busier it is even more important to have rest.”

“But Kazmiar is even busier than me,” Melchior argued. “And the gray clergy do a lot of physical labor which is even more tiring.”

“You can't compare yourself to gray clergy, my lord,” Lothar said. “If you really feel you must do more on your days off, try to do work which you enjoy. Brewing or playing music perhaps.”

Melchior tipped his head. Neither of those were his hobbies. “I do not know how to brew very well,” he said. “I suppose I could practice on Earthday when the laboratory is emptiest.”

Lothar turned red. Melchior's eyes grew wide. “I… it was my mistake. I mean that you should consider painting or tending your plants,” he corrected.

“I will consider your counsel,” Melchior replied, still in shock. Lothar nodded before striding away quickly to complete some other task. Melchior considered both the counsel and the interaction. Lothar seemed passionate about him not overworking himself. This he could understand since attendants were responsible for their lord’s wellbeing and Lothar was dedicated to his job. Melchior could not understand why he was embarrassed though. No amount of thinking about it revealed anything and Lothar quickly returned with his normal smile fixed into place. As for his advice, Melchior’s day off was spent at the castle anyway. While he suspected that Lothar would find out if he began working through it, there wasn't much his temple attendant could do.

After dinner, he finished Isolde's mark. He’d simplified things to include only one bird, added a stem and leaf so the tulip would read better as a flower, moved the stitching detail to the banner and words, and placed the needle and thread in the nachaaher’s mouth. The Ehrenfest specific details were replaced by a large pie slice shape with the point cut off placed behind everything. It was readable at the small size used on personal goods and would look nice when embroidered on a surcoat.

He made it to bed on time and slept soundly.

Brewing for the First Time

Melchior returned to the castle somewhat reluctantly. He had plenty of work to do in the temple but mostly studying to do at the castle.

“Your studies are still important my lord, if you wish to maintain your grades, you cannot fall behind,” Haldis responded to his complaints.

He ate breakfast with a small pout then began reviewing his plans for the day. He would study for school until lunch then go to the Knights Order for training. They were only almost a third of the way through spring. Thinking about how much of the basic class he had left made him even more frustrated. That it also represented how long he had to accomplish his plans for the visit made the wasted time feel even dearer.

There was no time to wallow in his anxieties though. Studying for the Royal Academy took precedence over feeling sorry for himself. He was a little excited to see the review for brewing practice. He’d requested to learn Benedikt's potion so it had been added to his notes. It was much longer and more involved than anything he'd made before. There were even steps he’d never heard of. Boiling down he understood but filtering was new and he had no idea why it was decanted midway through then recombined with itself later. He would find out once he did it.

His day also included reading Yurgenschmidt’s ultimate authority on everything. The Book of Laws was baffling in its lack of specificity. Almost everything was left up to the will of the sitting Zent except for marriage and succession of Archduke Candidates which was carefully outlined. They could take one wife as their first partner who would share the responsibility for their duchy. It was unclear whether a partner was required or what qualifications they needed to have but they weren't eligible to become the next Archduke unless they had been eligible before their marriage. Had Wilfred and Rozemyne wed, they could take the other's place but had Rozemyne taken Rudiger as her groom he couldn't become Aub Ehrenfest.

For all this specificity, it seemed that all rules could be ignored by stealing the foundation. They also didn't mention Archduchesses in the main text. The same marriage guidelines were repeated with the pronouns swapped in an appendix.

Melchior knew of several other rules for Archductal spouses. He was surprised to see that they weren't actually enshrined in law. Female Aubs didn't have to marry other Archduke Candidates according to the text. That they could become pregnant and therefore unable to perform certain duties wasn't even acknowledged.

The same was true for medal registration. Archduke's were obligated to register nobles but commoners were not mentioned. The registration could not occur before seven years of age but nothing said it couldn't happen later. As far as he knew it never did. He wondered if that was an Ehrenfest specific rule.

He spent the rest of his day thinking about law until he returned from the Knights Order to find Flautzeal waiting patiently for music class. Melchior now had to practice harspiel, flute, and singing in a different language.

“This is a fascinating piece,” Flautzeal said dreamily as he looked over Melchior's new assignment from Trude. As he also wanted to learn it, they sat together and practiced. Flautzeal was quickly able to pick it up by just reading and Melchior found it easier to follow along than it had been to learn from scratch.

“Thank you for your help, Flautzeal. I never should have finished in time without you,” he said.

“There is still the singing part,” Flautzeal noted. He seemed fully convinced that anyone should be able to play and sing the complex melody.

Melchior shook his head. “Isolde is singing that part while I play,” he explained.

The girl in question froze as two sets of eyes locked onto her. She tried very hard not to look at them but was eventually forced to come over and join.

As his voice had yet to change, Flautzeal was easily able to sing a song written for a woman. Melchior was shocked yet again by how beautiful it was. Isolde frowned, unhappy to have to follow such a performance, and repeated after him. A brilliant smile spread across his face. “You have begun using your own voice, Isolde. How wonderful! How exquisite!” he fawned.

Melchior wasn't sure she was good enough yet to warrant such a reaction. “Is it that amazing? I agree that she sounds nice but you seem quite moved.”

“Are you not transported by the possibilities of a new and unique sound?” Flautzeal asked. “I will write a song just for you!” he promised then immediately began humming a tune and looking for his note paper. It was nearly full so Melchior lent him his diptych.

“It pains me to look at this. I have progressed so much,” he muttered.

“You made this, Flautzeal?” Isolde asked.

“Yes. Grandfather is teaching me to carve that I might be of better use to my lord,” he replied.

Melchior grew anxious. Isolde could not learn about her gift but Flautzeal seemed just distracted enough to give the information away. “He has begun making pencils as well. Have you decided to order more?” he asked.

“I think I will. I have grown adept at sharpening it,” Isolde replied. She showed them the perfectly conical tip on her pinky length writing stick.

“You seem to have used this a great deal,” Melchior observed.

“It is much easier than pen and ink. I have asked Sigsnyr to make me some of his setting spray so my notes will not smudge,” she carefully rewrapped the pencil in a handkerchief before returning it to her pocket. Flautzeal watched and inspiration flashed in his eyes once again.

Melchior spent his evening working on designs for the fabric. He wondered if the dryers could replicate the seven color fabric from Hauchletze. He wrote down everything he knew about it since he wouldn't be able to provide a sample and even drew a few diagrams to help illustrate his point then did a small version of the larger repeating pattern he had in mind. Each section would be two colors and interlock with its neighbors. Since it was hot in Alexandria most of the year he focused on winter colors for the relatively thicker Ehrenfest fabric.

It quickly became a riot of clashing pinks, reds, and oranges but it made him happy just looking at it. Some sections were covered in repetitions of a poem celebrating the idea of fellowship and coming together, since the nobility gathered in winter. The others featured the fiery bird that was Alexandria's heraldic animal. Kolteruze stared at it with a mixture of fascination and horror.

“I don't think Lady Rozemyne could wear this and Lord Ferdinand wouldn't choose to wear this,” he concluded.

“But it is fun and Sister can set whatever trends she wants. She isn't constrained by established rules,” Melchior argued.

“I’m not sure it's even possible,” Kolteruze countered. Fun was not the word he would use either. It was aggressive in its joviality and celebratory nature. Anyone who wore it would need a powerful personality to match.

Melchior dutifully created a simpler pattern of script in mixed yellow and orange on a red ground. He also made a blue design for Ferdinand with the same pattern in a mix of lighter blues. He thought it would look like fire in the folds and ripples of clothing. They were both pretty and tasteful but Melchior couldn't see them as anything but boring by comparison.

The next day was his first official brewing class. Isolde appeared in her brewing clothes with a very curious Dirk.

“Welcome Dirk! What a wonderful surprise,” Melchior said. He reached out and took the boy’s hands.

“Hello, Lord Melchior. Um… I offer greetings on this morning ordained by the pure rivers flowing for Flutrane, the Goddess of Water,” he said haltingly. Isolde smiled proudly.

“I accept your greetings,” Melchior replied. “Will you be brewing with us today?”

Dirk nodded. “Lady Isolde said you would like me to spend more time at the castle and learn more etiquette. As I will serve as your scholar, I will also need to be able to brew.”

“That's very true. Brewing is a scholar's most important job,” Benedikt said as he came over. He’d been perusing the unique ingredients in Melchior's newly delivered storage boxes. A space on the shelves had been cleared for him to store his personal ingredients. They were marked with his name and a white tree branch in a hoop shape.

“I would not say it is most important but it cannot be neglected,” Isolde said. Dirk looked back and forth between them, instantly recognizing an unspoken tension. Melchior didn't seem like he'd picked a side so Dirk chose to remain neutral for as long as he could. He moved closer to Flautzeal who was reading the recipes again.

“What are we making today?” Melchior asked. He stood before a well appointed brewing station complete with a cutting board, scales, and a small pot. There were larger vessels stored on the shelves and a cauldron the size of a tub in the corner.

Pepin brought over his crested tools and stood by to clean his station. Flautzeal produced his own knife and mixing stick. Dirk looked around feeling a bit lost.

“You can share with me,” Melchior said immediately. He drew Dirk over to stand next to him. “You have never brewed before so it would be good to watch first then try after. Much can be learned through observations,” he lectured.

Benedikt brought over a tray with the necessary ingredients. From the slips of parchment and yellow faestones, Melchior guessed they were brewing ordonnanz. “You have both brewed before. This will be much the same only there is a magic circle to add. It goes in at the end after everything else has melted. I will be helping Isolde learn a new technique. Pepin knows what to do if you need help,” Benedikt said before returning to the other side of the room.

There were twelve different ingredients lined up before Isolde. She looked nervous but Melchior was sure she would be ok.

The table was just high enough to be uncomfortable but not so high that it was unusable. Once Melchior began mixing, Pepin brought him a small box to stand on. Flautzeal chopped quicker and with greater precision but Melchior could draw circles much faster. They began at nearly the same time.

“Each ingredient goes in one at a time,” Melchior explained. “You must mix while providing a steady stream of mana. You want to maintain the same flow the whole time. Begin conservatively with an amount you can sustain even when you get tired.”

Dirk nodded along and watched carefully. He had neither paper nor a diptych so Melchior gave him his rented one to take notes.

Ordonnanz were neither complicated nor time consuming so they finished soon enough. Pepin inspected each one then sent a practice message to Nikolaus.

“It works,” the knight replied. “This one too.”

Flautzeal and Melchior celebrated their success then stood together helping Dirk.

“The shape is less important than that they are of uniform size,” Melchior said.

“There is a best way to cut each kind of ingredient. Lord Melchior wishes to discover them on his own but the shapes have been established,” Flautzeal corrected. He cut half of each slowly while explaining how to grip the knife.

A thought struck Melchior while his tutoring position was stolen away. “Should we have invited Bertrum?”

“Bertrum is not your scholar,” Pepin replied.

“Yes but Father is his guardian as well,” Melchior said.

Pepin held his gaze for a long moment. “That does not make him your brother,” he whispered.

Melchior blushed at being found out so quickly. He knew that being his father's ward didn't make one his true sibling but he was excited to take them in anyway. “We are responsible for his education,” he mumbled.

“You are not,” Pepin said. “You should not attempt to be too friendly since he has not entered your service but you can offer some small support. Dirk needs tools, it would not be seen as too much if you ordered Bertrum some at the same time.”

Pepin smiled as Melchior's mood improved rapidly. He could offer assistance from the shadows as he had in the winter. “Where do we order tools from? Has Father ordered them already?” Melchior wondered aloud.

“You can brew them yourself and no, nothing has been prepared yet,” Isolde called out.

Melchior examined the pen Dirk wasn't using at the moment. He didn't know of many things that were brewed the same way but looked different to each other. “Will I need to invent new circles?” he asked.

Benedikt shook his head. “The base form is the same. Decorative covers are then created and furniture is added on top of those. I would say that Dirk should brew his own but he seems to be struggling with a mere ordonnanz.” He gestured toward the boys at work.

Dirk looked woozy after using so much mana so carefully. Melchior retrieved a duchy potion and opened the vial. “Drink this,” he said and placed it in Dirk's free hand.

“Thank you, my lord,” Dirk said.

“You will need to learn compression sooner rather than later,” Melchior mused.

“I have to store mana for classes,” Dirk argued. He also had to donate to the Divine Instruments.

“Compression stores the mana inside you. I think you should also be excused from giving mana to the temple until you can manage both your classes and your temple work,” Melchior said. “I will tell Kazmiar. Unfortunately, this will delay your acquisition of the instruments but you will need enough mana to use them.”

“If you think that is best, Lord Melchior,” Dirk said. The sound of a rock rattling in a pot soon filled the room. Dirk’s brew flashed soon after.

“You have done it!” Melchior cheered. Dirk smiled brightly and ogled his yellow stone. “There is a circle inside,” he observed.

“That is how you know it is a magic tool instead of a raw faestone,” Benedikt explained. Isolde continued stirring in her eleventh ingredient.

“What is she brewing?” Dirk asked. None of his tutors knew so they walked over to watch. The recipe simply said “improved mana potion” but there were so many ways to improve such a thing.

“This restores mana but not stamina. It uses a higher proportion of your own mana to brew, so it is more effective for oneself but not good to share. Unless you want to dye someone else very quickly,” Benedikt explained.

“Could you just drink liquid mana?” Melchior asked. Brewing seemed like extra steps if you just wanted to drink your own mana.

“Maybe. I haven't had the opportunity to try,” Benedikt replied.

Isolde's potion needed to be reduced as well. They watched it bubble until Pepin sent them to review the next recipes.

“Did you only prepare the one lesson?” he asked Benedikt.

“I expected it to take them longer,” he replied.

Pepin sighed. He might have asked how skilled Melchior already was before planning the lesson. There was also half a bell left in their session. He walked over to the young scholars.

“Lord Melchior, could you draw pictures of the cutting shapes? They would make for an excellent reference if we hung them on the walls,” he suggested. Pepin brewed very rarely and struggled to remember the basics every time. He wasn't ashamed to admit that Melchior was already faster than himself but it was motivating him to improve. A visual reference would mean he needn't ask Nikolaus to demonstrate for him yet again.

Melchior looked excited by the idea. He borrowed paper from Isolde's new folio. “You needn't ask. I carry it for you,” she called as she stood chained to her brewing pot.

Melchior did some preparatory sketches in the air using his magic pen. Dirk oohed and aahed at the starry lines. “I apologize that your pen will not be able to do that,” Melchior said.

“I do not think anyone expects such features,” Flautzeal replied.

After settling on a format, Melchior began drawing the chopping shapes. He used Flautzeal's hands as a model for how to hold everything and managed to complete drawings for loose bunches of leaves and irregular roots. “I will have to finish large and small fruits later,” he mumbled.

“There are also small twigs and cakes of dried and pressed herbs,” Flautzeal said.

“One occasionally needs to break up rocks and metals as well,” Benedikt added.

“Can you use a knife for that?” Isolde asked. She was finally decanting her potion into bottles.

“With enough motivation,” he chuckled.

Chapter Text

Getting a Budget

Everyone returned to Melchior's room for lunch. Dirk looked around at the Northern Building. The Archduke's proper children were all given rooms here, he thought. It was decorated with calming landscapes of various Ehrenfest provinces and ochre drapes. There were knights at the entrance from the tunnel and at the bottom of the stairs. A knight he knew stood before one of the doors on the second floor. He rang a bell and a servant opened the door from within. Dirk smiled at this woman, she seemed surprised to be acknowledged and, indeed, no one else even looked her way.

She was the only commoner in Melchior's room. His noble attendants served lunch and used magic tools to clean. It seemed the woman's only job was to open the door.

The noble children chatted about Melchior's many projects. He was planning a variety of gifts for Rozemyne and her husband. Dirk had agreed to participate in the recital but he hadn't know just how much was in the works.

“Will you have time to transport Dirk all the time?” Flautzeal asked. He seemed to regard the young boy with a particularly appraising eye. Dirk felt like this scholar would be the first to discard him if he proved incapable in any way. He recalled Adaire speaking about how scary he was and his deep blue eyes and nearly black hair were as arresting as they were pretty.

That was the main thing about Melchior’s retinue he noticed. Nobles tended to be pretty due to their pampered lives but some of Melchior's retainers had an extra sparkle.

Isolde had seemed serious and manicured when she met with him at the temple. Here, enjoying a meal with her lord, she was flushed slightly pink and could not turn her lips to anything less than a small smile. Pepin was visibly anxious every time Dirk saw him but had relaxed the moment they entered this room. Seeing him like this made it easy to want to befriend him. Only Benedikt and one of the apprentice knights had not taken on a changed aspect. Dirk wondered if they were new or didn't like serving this Archduke Candidate.

“We should have him prepare a highbeast as soon as possible. He can begin compression after that,” Isolde said.

“You are right. Dirk, do you have very much mana stored in faestones?” Melchior asked.

Dirk exited his reverie. “I have one filled and part of my magic tool,” he replied.

The older children frowned. “That is not nearly enough. You will be alright this year but you will struggle as classes grow more intense. Scholars need a great deal of mana. If you had dreams of specializing in brewing, I suggest you reconsider,” Benedikt said.

“There is always information gathering and botanical research. Oh and archiving,” Isolde encouraged.

“Is there a class for administration?” he asked.

“For reports and such?” Benedikt asked with a look of surprise. “I think that is too organization specific to be taught at the Royal Academy.”

“You will learn more about that from Lothar than you could at the Academy,” Flautzeal added. “I looked for classes as well when I hoped to carry on my mother's work but there is nothing of value.”

Dirk nodded. He was helping Sister Streita on some days. He would offer his service to Lothar as well. “I should like to get better at math,” he said.

“Me too. I wonder how Sister is so fast,” Melchior sighed.

He left his scholars to their studies and went to whirling class. His lightweight stick was waiting for him so his instructor began teaching the spear whirl. It was hard to tap his spear in proper time but once he corrected his balance it wasn't very difficult to spin. During the lesson, he paid close attention to how his teacher taught so he could pass on his knowledge to Gerianne.

After whirling it was time for music which was now a retinue-wide affair. Dirk was forced to learn the Rudelhutevolk song as well since he was now a member of the retinue. It seemed that Flautzeal had spent Melchior's time away initiating Benedikt.

“Why is my part the main melody,” he groaned. There would be no way to hide his mistakes.

“Lord Melchior has selected Sebastian to be the central singer. Your voice is in the same key so you must carry the melody as well,” Flautzeal explained. “You must practice your enunciation.”

“What language is this! It sounds so strange.”

“I have explained already. Now practice at home, I will test you next week,” Flautzeal replied.

“Be happy this is the only music you have to learn,” Isolde grumbled. Melchior began his own practice with a mischievous grin. His retainers were working hard to excel.

The Archductal Family meeting was set for the next evening. Melchior and his scholars sat to prepare at the lunch before, since he would need to attend after his training at the Knights Order.

Melchior would bring his sketches for the brooches for his male relatives and the fabric designs. He had the cost estimate for those orders and the plans for the sitting. Flautzeal brought recommendations for several painters so the Archduke could choose. Sigsnyr and Benedikt came with their list of potential hunts.

He felt ready. His retinue looked excited for their presentation. Haldis would come as his attendant while Isolde and Flautzeal would sit as scholars.

“This will be a good time to practice signals. Do you remember them?” Isolde asked. Flautzeal said that he did and carried his large stack of parchment. Melchior entrusted him with the pen. He brought several sharpened pencils for his own notes as well as his diptych.

The main building was as bustling as always. Melchior's group left before Charlotte carrying all his props. The archduke's office had been rearranged to accommodate the meeting table with everyone and their scholars. Besides the Aub and his many assistants, Melchior was the only person with more than one scholar so they huddled a little closer together.

He greeted his parents then took his seat. He stood to welcome Charlotte but Haldis placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from rising for Wilfried. He would have to ask why later since the Aub called everyone to order.

“We have a busy Conference season ahead of us. You have all been entrusted with important tasks. Let me see what you’ve come up with,” Sylvester began.

Wilfried was first. He detailed his plans for the feast and the deployment of the Knights Order during the visit. There would be some kind of ceremony at Rozemyne’s estate in addition to a party at the castle. He was assembling a larger than normal orchestra and a menu of their guests favorite foods.

“Rozemyne says he likes some kind of soup so we'll have that,” he explained. There was a possibility of duels or ditter depending on Uncle's mood.

“Uncle doesn't like ditter,” Melchior said once the floor was open for comment. Both Sylvester and Wilfried regarded him with confusion. “He said that he played so much in school because it was compulsory and because beating Lord Heisshitze is lucrative. I think he would enjoy a hunt more.”

“So would I,” Sylvester admitted.

“Then we can plan a hunt. Would the Nobles Forest be boring?” Wilfried wondered.

“What about Haldenzel?” Melchior asked. They were always happy to have more hunters after all.

“We would have to teleport there,” Sylvester said with a frown. “But they would be appreciative and would host Rozemyne for us.”

“It would give us an excuse to visit,” Florencia added. “Who will remain behind?”

Melchior didn't volunteer. His knights would never forgive him. “I will stay, Father. I was very recently there,” Charlotte offered.

“Melchior was there as well. Lord Bonifiatus will wish to join as will Brunhilde. It seems fair for the two of you to remain with the foundation,” Florencia decided.

Melchior accepted his own fate willingly. He would like to spend the day with his visiting sister but the others would appreciate the chance even more. “May I send a few of my knights to observe Lord Bonifiatus. They hold him in such high regard,” Melchior asked.

“Please do. We will need all we can get,” Sylvester replied.

With Wilfried's plans settled they moved to Charlotte and Florencia. The adults had much to prepare for the conference so Charlotte was doing most of the work for the visit.

“The gifts are progressing according to schedule. We sent many things for Uncle's first engagement so we are focusing on Rozemyne more heavily.” She said that the paintings and furnishings were already done. People had also begun sending their gifts to the castle. Charlotte’s attendants were checking and cataloging the crates and boxes, adding cards when they were missing, and ensuring that nothing untoward had found its way inside.

Everything had been ordered well in advance. Only Melchior still had things still in ideation. He presented his sketches and ideas. “I was looking forward to a matching hair pin,” his mother said. “Is there really no time?”

“Sister and Uncle's use a great many flowers,” Melchior replied.

Sylvester held the drawing for his future accessory. “More flowers than this?”

Melchior nodded. “Charlotte and Mother have hairpins which will coordinate in their collections already. If you would like commemorative pieces I can order them for delivery in the summer.”

“You seem to know a lot about their hair pin collections,” Sylvester observed. He looked at his wife's hair. It would be difficult for him to recall specific hair pins.

“I have drawn large portions of their collections,” Melchior explained.

“I would like a commemorative,” Charlotte replied. Florencia agreed and Isolde made a note. Flautzeal had already filled several pages with notes.

“I would also like half of either their first or second day for a portrait sitting.” The sample paintings and qualifications of the artists were presented. Sylvester looked them over with a puzzled expression. They all seemed fine.

“Let us go with this one. It says they are both quick and create lovely pieces,” Florencia said and pointed out a picture of a young boy.

“Sounds good,” Sylvester said. “Anything else?”

“May I hire the Knights Order to collect some ingredients?” Melchior asked. The list was passed to Wilfried first who was a bit confused by some of the entries. “We have selected ingredients which feature frequently in recipes, are only easily available in Ehrenfest, and that we predict Uncle can use. There are also a few rare ingredients he might enjoy experimenting with.”

“That I understand but some of these are incredibly basic,” Wilfried argued.

Melchior nodded. “It will be less burdensome on the apprentices and new knights. We want everyone to be able to contribute.” His own knights wanted to go hunting after all.

“Ok, it looks like you need some support to accomplish all of this, I’ll look these over and issue a budget in two days,” Sylvester promised.

Melchior beamed. Nothing had been rejected. “I thank you ever so much, Father. We will work hard so that it is not wasted.”

They spoke briefly about the mana replenishment schedule for the Archdukes Conference. Since Wilfired was going, Melchior would have more days than the previous year. There would be potions provided and his doctor would visit after each session.

Then, Melchior was asked to stay back and a sound blocker was placed on the table. He wondered what he could be in trouble for. “Haldis says you have something to report about the temple?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, it would be best for you to come and see,” Melchior replied.

“And what am I seeing?”

“We have activated an atrium and grown a flowering tree. It is a plant from Bershmann.”

“Ah, you don't want Charlotte to know I gather.” Melchior nodded. “Well then we need an excuse for this meeting. My scholars are pretty susceptible to hers,” Sylvester sighed.

Melchior glanced at his own scholars. They returned determined smiles. His secrets were safe with them. He racked his brain for an appropriately benign secret. “I did some exploring in Haldenzel’s winter mansion. I met some of the commoners and bought some bracelets,” Melchior looked down to rifle through his pouches. He still hadn't moved the bracelets to a more reasonable location. As he was looking down he didn't see the Aubs sharp look toward his knights. Dedryck remained impassive. It wasn't as though the boy had gone off alone. “Did you know they grow glowing flowers there?”

“I didn't know that. Do you plan to grow some?”

“They eat insects so it would be difficult to keep them alive. I wonder if we could brew them into lights,” Melchior babbled. He produced the leather bracelets, finally, and handed them to Haldis to deliver to Ridyarda. “Dedryck said they weren't of noble quality but I was so fascinated and they were only a few copper each. How is it braided when the ends are still connected?”

Sylvester held up the bands and surveyed them. He was also fascinated by the seemingly impossible arrangement. They had little beads on the ends. “What are they for?”

“Admiring. They were made by commoners so they can't be magic,” Melchior replied.

He watched his father look at them and waited for him to return the set. The Archduke just held them up and spun them around.

Melchior sighed. “You may keep one if you like.”

“A fair trade for my silence. I'll come visit soon,” he promised and sent back two bracelets. He couldn't wear it but it would be fun to look at next to his other jewelry. As he thought of this he looked at Melchior's hair. The boy didn't wear it in a matching style very often anymore. He was taken with Sigsnyr braid and tassel configuration at the moment and had been wearing it since returning. Perhaps he needed an incentive. “Do you want a hair clip?” Sylvester asked.

Melchior shivered with anticipation. “Oh yes. Very much, Father. I thought the one Uncle wore for the graduation was the most amazing thing.”

Sylvester grimaced. “So silver isn't enough for you, eh?”

“I would be delighted to have one like yours. Will you tell me where I can order one?” Melchior replied to the spark of jealousy in his father’s eyes. There was no reason to only have one.

“I have a couple of old ones. You can have one,” Sylvester said casually.

Melchior pressed his hands to his cheeks. Nothing could be more exciting than an accessory once worn by his dad. “Thank you, Father, thank you. You are the very best father,” he cried.

Sylvester couldn't help but smile as well.

The delight of his impending delivery filled Melchior with a jubilance that carried him through dinner. In honor of their pact, Melchior refused to say why he was so happy, much to his siblings' annoyance. Sylvester teased Wilfried by saying he should consider growing his hair out as well.

“You should consider a beard!” Melchior added.

Florencia flashed a rare half grimace while Sylvester merely stroked his bare chin. “I’m not sure how successful he would be.”

“My father had a large beard. Perhaps he has taken after me,” Florencia replied.

“Why would I want a beard? Only old men grow beards,” Wilfried said. He stroked his smooth face and scoffed.

Melchior wondered if he'd tried and failed. “I would be most grateful if you began a trend of beards for young men,” Charlotte said.

“Oh? Do you like facial hair?” Sylvester asked.

She refused to be embarrassed by his teasing. “I have no strong opinion on the subject but Lord Torsten cannot shave his off completely,” she replied. “I’m sure he would appreciate you making them more acceptable in anticipation of his coming.”

“What's stopping him?” Wilfried sneered.

Charlotte looked at Melchior. “In Bershmann it is believed that beards are a mark of adulthood and a sign of Dauerleben’s blessing. Removing it is akin to saying you do not wish to enjoy a long life,” he explained.

“How strange,” Wilfried replied. “What if he doesn't make it all the way to Ehrenfest?”

“You can simply shave it,” Florencia said. She held her eyes on Wilfried, her smile unchanged but more forceful somehow. “I see no harm in making an attempt.”

Wilfried had a dark look. He glanced at Melchior with a complicated expression. “You are happy with this?”

“Charlotte likes him,” he replied.

Wilfried drummed the table. “I’m still not happy that you spoke to him without me,” he said. “I thought we were allies in this, Charlotte.”

“Dear brother, I deeply appreciate all you did to protect me. It would have weakened your image to have you appear to accept one person. What would the others say knowing you had criteria,” Charlotte replied. She sounded so sincere that Melchior wondered if she really needed to hide things from him at all.

“It seems that you had criteria,” Wilfried snapped. “Had you shared with me your aims, I could have acted more decisively.”

“Is this the place for this discussion?” Sylvester interjected. He sat back in his chair with a serious look. “We are enjoying our dinner. If you would like to argue, you may use a withdrawing room.”

The children went quiet. This was a rare dinner with Wilfried and Melchior began to feel like he had ruined it. He simply thought Wilfried might look cool with a beard, maybe weave in little beads too.

Henriette

He tried not to carry his sadness up to Henriette. It had been a long time since he could visit. He brought his crayons and some drawings for her to choose from. Veremund had sneakily disappeared without showing his work so he needed a new test subject.

She leapt into his arms the moment he stepped into the room. “Melchior!” She cried and held fast to his waist.

“And so I have returned,” he said and patted her on the head. “Have you had a good spring so far?”

She ignored his question and just held on. He waddled over to a chair and sat down with her still attached. Now that his face was closer she could bury her face in his hair.

“Why don't you sit down. I have brought some interesting toys to show you,” he tempted.

She weighed the benefits of the new toy against hugging her brother and decided that sitting in his lap was a fitting compromise. He held back a grunt as she climbed on herself. Her attendant tried to help mid way but there was nothing to do. Once she’d positioned herself she surveyed the empty table.

“There is nothing,” she said.

Zargerecht presented the drawings and wooden case. “They do not go in our mouths,” he warned.

“Not in our mouths,” Henriette chanted.

Melchior smiled and opened the case to reveal his well loved crayons. Only the purple was still largely intact. Biligast had been enthusiastic with the beige.

She took the purple and looked it over. Melchior selected a hairpin study and began his explanations. “They are sticks of color. We touch them to the paper and when we rub back and forth it makes a mark.”

He demonstrated with the black. Henriette gripped the purple in her fist by the tail end and pressed it hard against the paper. When she moved it back and forth, the page ripped and the tube snapped. Her attendants inhaled sharply.

“I broke it,” she said and presented the pieces. Melchior was stunned for a moment. He took a deep breath, tore the page the rest of the way in half and took one of the purple stubs.

“We must be gentle,” he said and demonstrated how to hold it. She tried to copy him but failed. He molded her little fist around the crayon in a proper grip.

“That is hard. Why do you hold it that way?” she complained.

He held on to her hand so she couldn't change. “It takes practice but it gives us control. See, when we are gentle we leave purple lines,” he said.

She watched in awe as the color appeared on the page. “Purple,” she sang.

“Puurple,” he sang back. They returned this tuneless singing back and forth as she made great purple strokes straight over the lines of the flower.

“Blue!” She sang. He grabbed the blue nubbin.

“There is very little blue left,” he apologized.

She struggled to grip the tiny bit of wax and eventually made him apply color accordingly to her instructions. After the addition of red and orange the drawing was apparently complete.

She stood up to show it to all her retainers the collection of bright scribbles. This time, Zargerecht anticipated her moves and lifted her from Melchior's lap. After receiving praise all around she approached Dedryck. “Its very nice,” he said without enthusiasm. She pouted.

Fonsel squatted down. “Let me see that. My, this is good stuff. You’ll be a wonder with just a bit more practice,” he encouraged. She smiled and bounced back over to Melchior who directed her to her own chair.

She held up her hands for him to pick her up. He sighed and Zargerecht moved her back to his lap. She wiggled contentedly and began on the second half of the paper. Melchior took a blank sheet and his highbeast faestone. He formed a rudelhute and began drawing with the colors. It felt strange not to use any outlines and go straight to adding splotches of color. Eventually they came together in a recognizable rendition of the faebeast.

While they colored, he told her stories about his trip. He mentioned the sheep he met and the Rudelhutevolk. He complained about nearly losing Sigsnyr again.

“Who is Sigsnyr?”

“He is my knight. He is friends with Zipporah.”

“Who is Zip… Ziporva?”

“It is Zipporah. She is also my knight.” At the mention of a female knight she looked over at his guards. Dedryck and Fonsel were his only knights with permission to accompany him here.

“Where is she? She should protect you,” Henriette said with a superior air.

“She protects me at other times. I have many knights and they take turns.”

“I want these,” she said suddenly. She pulled the crayons closer to her.

“What did we learn about making requests?” Zargerecht corrected. He placed a hand on the case to prevent her from moving it any farther.

She thought for a moment. “Dear brother, may I keep these?” she said.

Melchior felt his heart melt. He wanted to give them to her but there was barely any crayon left on most of them. “Don't you want a new set?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I want these,” she reiterated.

“Ok, you can have them but you must not use them without assistance. And you must not put them in your mouth,” he charged. He took the case and closed it then handed it to her attendant.

“What do we say?” Zargerecht asked.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Not to me,” Zargerecht said.

She turned to Melchior. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome. I will order more so you can replace the colors that run out,” he promised.

“We will use her budget, Lord Melchior. Do not burden yourself with this,” Zargerecht said.

“I thank you ever so much,” he replied. Having actually purchased some now, he knew how expensive they were. He wanted his own new set so he was glad not to have to buy two.

“What shall we do now?” Melchior asked. Henriette was playing with his highbeast stone and humming a song. “Is that a song your attendant taught you?”

She nodded and continued making the figurine jump and talk.

“They make a bleating sound,” he said, then demonstrated the sound for her. She took great joy in bleating and was soon leaping around the room with him as he taught her what they meant.

“This means it is time to come together… and this means it is safe to play…” he explained. He only remembered a few of the commands and resolved to have Gerianne teach him the rest. They did the snack dance as well.

Henriette’s retainers were horrified. They'd been working hard to improve her behavior. Now she was running around and making strange sounds. However, she smiled brightly and was more than happy to follow instructions communicated through bleating.

“Baa baaah!” Melchior said and she huddled close. “Baaaa, aaah!” He cried and she resumed racing around.

Eventually she grew tired and had to sit down. She dropped straight to the floor and huffed.

“May we have some water?” Melchior asked as he gracefully sank down beside her.

They were given half filled cups. She snuggled into his side and sipped her drink. She also reached up and tossed his hair tassels.

“Shall I sing you a new song?” he offered.

She nodded. He sang the first verse of the Dame du Vents song while stroking her hair. It was a happy but solemn tune. The pledge it contained was serious but so was the thanksgiving. He felt his mana stir as he looked down at his sister and promised to take care of the bounty of their lands.

Knowing only the first bit he had to hum the rest. Yellow light slowly poured from his ring and covered them in a halo. Henriette’s eyes danced as she watched the swirling blessing form. She went quiet and still. Melchior closed his eyes and rested his chin on her head. With such a display she could not fall asleep, he thought. He brought his humming to an end with an improvised conclusion. The blessing burst and rained over the room.

His blood ran as cold as when he’d insulted the Zent. The use of mana was largely forbidden around Henriette. She no longer needed nursing but she was still very easy to influence. Melchior knew he'd gotten carried away. He looked shyly at Zargerecht.

The attendant held his head. It would be difficult to explain why Melchior had cast a blessing despite the prohibition and Henriette wouldn't keep it a secret.

“Do it again,” she requested.

“I cannot. I am sorry,” Melchior replied.

Little tears pricked her eyes. She wanted to see the sparkles again. He pulled her close. “It requires a lot of mana so I cannot do it often. One day I will bless you again,” he promised.

She nodded but continued to weep. He sang a different song, one less likely to result in a blessing until she fell asleep. Her head attendant came forward to pick her up. She looked much less worried and grateful. Sending Zargerecht here on most nights seemed to have solved their sleep related problems.

Melchior marched back to his room while trying not to look horribly guilty. “I did not mean to,” he said the moment he entered.

“I know, Lord Melchior. What brought this on?” Zargerecht asked. A good explanation would be needed for Florencia.

“I don't know. I was singing the Dame du Vents song and it began before I knew it.”

“Why didn't you stop?”

“It felt wrong to end it early. I cannot explain why or when it felt like enough,” Melchior said. “Mother will be cross. I have not hurt her have I?”

“No. Her mana is not so influenceable now. You are also full siblings,” Zargerecht said. He sighed. “It is time for bed. I will speak with Lady Florencia,” he said and shuffled Melchior toward his bath.

Kolteruze was waiting by his tub. He cocked an eyebrow at his lord's odd mood. Melchior was usually sad after he returned but now he looked dejected.

“Are you alright, my lord?” he asked.

“I gave Henriette a blessing,” Melchior replied with devastation. He allowed himself to be undressed then climbed into the water.

“Why do you sound as though you have done something wrong? Is it not an expression of joy to give blessings?” Kolteruze asked.

“We must not use mana around young children. You are the youngest, so perhaps no one has warned you,” Melchior replied.

Kolteruze frowned at the implications. He scrubbed Melchior’s back and rinsed his hair then patted him dry and rubbed oil into his skin. “Perhaps I am the youngest of my siblings but I have spent plenty of time caring for a little kid,” he teased.

Melchior blushed in indignation. “I am not a little kid.”

“So you say,” Kolteruze replied.

“I am eleven,” Melchior pressed. Kolteruze slipped his clothes over his head and began brushing his hair.

“It is as you say,” he said with a smirk Melchior could see in his mirror.

“Do not grin as you say it,” Melchior snapped.

Kolteruze set his face into a very serious expression. “It is as you say, my lord.”

Melchior could not feel mollified. He huffed and balled his fists but he had to stay mostly still.

Kolteruze finished quickly and patted him on the head. “You did very well, my lord. Now it is time for bed,” he said in a sing-song voice.

As tired as he was, Melchior could not go to sleep when urged in such a manner. “I must update my lists,” he grumbled and made his way to his desk.

Kolteruze stood nearby all but staring at him until his annoyance peaked. He glared at him. “Do you require assistance?” Kolteruze asked.

Melchior turned back to his list for a few more minutes. He crossed off the meeting presentation and the brooch designing. Isolde hadn't quite approved her mark so he had to leave that. After what felt like enough time he set down his pencil and made his way to the bed.

“Shall I sing you a lullaby?” Kolteruze asked.

On any other night, Melchior might have said yes but tonight he had to be mature. “No thank you. That is all for tonight. As the Goddess rises,” he huffed.

“As the goddess rises,” Kolteruze replied and moved away with a barely contained giggle. He felt accomplished for lifting his lord’s mood.

It did not last. Zargerecht met him with a professional smile. “It is time for bed, Kolteruze. Young people need much rest to perform at their best,” he said in a sing-song voice, so rarely used, that Kolteruze knew it was a direct provocation.

Kolteruze maintained his smile. “I will be retiring now,” he said before stalking away. Where was his thanks for doing his job.

Zargerecht cleared his throat instead of chuckling. His long night was just beginning and the annoyed pout of his most difficult apprentice would have to see him though.

Chapter Text

Progress

Melchior decided to be productive with half his day off. Lothar’s words and his own anxiety finding this small compromise. He exercised before breakfast, ate, then summoned Flautzeal to practice his music. He took Lothar's advice and chose to focus on flute and singing.

Flautzeal seemed very happy to be called on what was technically his day off. He appeared quickly and with a new flute. “Uncle says he brought that flute for you to try,” he began. Melchior admitted that he had. “Very good, then I can take it back.” Melchior watched his friend of one year disappear and be replaced by another flute. This one was also made from wood but bore a striking resemblance to the metal flutes he’d seen. He got the distinct sense that Flautzeal was trying to push him into buying one.

The new flute was slightly larger which was nice for Melchior's slightly larger hands. It came with a new song meant to teach him a new skill. Flautzeal had brought a flute for himself and taught Melchior the piece. After a bell his lord could play it passably if not beautifully.

They switched to learning more of the choral piece so Isolde and the attendants were pulled in. Zargerecht and Haldis were surprised to find themselves included but Melchior would let no one escape. Besides, their adult voices added a wonderful richness.

For his last half bell, he began reading the texts from Haldenzel. Melchior wanted to paint after lunch so he charged Pepin with mixing some colors. Though he also wanted to recreate the devastated blenrus painting, there was nothing he could do.There was no enough of it left and he didn’t have a copy of what remained. Still, he had less than a year to learn this new style and translate the text for his gift.

It was also Sigsnyr’s day off but he came to look at the sketches of Herzfeld tower and the magic circles. Between him, the two scholars, and the attendants, Melchior's table was beginning to grow cramped but no one seemed to mind. Isolde and Pepin continued to work together. He was also treated to Kolteruze tutoring Sigsnyr.

It was strange to see a younger student helping an older one but Sigsnyr treated his teacher with absolute respect and his studies with seriousness. He put aside the drawings to pay close attention and even took notes. As they huddled together, Melchior found himself watching their intense muttering interspersed with long stretches of reading. Sigsnyr would normally pause to look around every few minutes unless Zipporah was next to him. Since she was on guard duty, he could give his full attention. He otherwise never allocated as much focus as he was giving Kolteruze. The attendant looked nervous every time Sigsnyr’s eyes fixed on his face for too long.

Eventually lunch arrived. There wasn't space for everyone to eat so Sigsnyr and Flautzeal volunteered to go home. Melchior found himself distracted by Isolde's eating habits once again. Without Sheila to press her, she took only a few bites before switching to tea. None of Melchior's castle attendants seemed to notice or care so he put aside the problem once again. He would need to ask his mother or sister for advice.

Instead of discussing that difficult topic, he showed Isolde her new mark. She looked over the three increasingly small versions with a satisfied smile. “I think this is wonderful. What is the shape in the background?”

“It is the portion of the country consecrated to Schutzaria. Ehrenfest occupies the easternmost lands,” he replied.

She nodded and touched the paper as though it would feel like embroidery already. “I will begin adding it to my things. Thank you, my lord,” she retrieved a large silver from her skirts and set it on the table.

“I do not require compensation. I did this for my own amusement,” Melchior replied without moving toward the lions at all.

She pushed it closer to him. “I know you spent a great deal of time working on these and used much paper on redrawing and sketches. Please allow me to reimburse you for part of the cost at least. Then when people ask, I can honestly tell them what I paid,” she insisted.

“Many people have personal symbols and so do most houses. This is not so revolutionary that many people will ask,” Melchior said.

She set the middle size rendering down next to the silver then templed her fingers. “You have employed several new techniques. Were you aware of the traditions which normally govern crests? Or the conventions around the selection of heraldic animals?”

“I just based it on what I’ve seen. It's very similar to everything else.”

“I suppose it looks that way on first inspection. Kolteruze, would you show this to Zargerecht,” Isolde asked.

Kolteruze snorted softly but still came over and took the sheet with the largest version. He looked at it while moving to the other room where Zargerecht was doing something or other.

Melchior and Isolde waited in silence: her with a self assured smile and him with an equally annoyed feeling. He looked at the money on the table. Perhaps he should have predicted this. It was quite annoying to have to justify giving gifts all the time. He began to worry that she would insist on paying for her diptych. The base item wasn't expensive but the way people behaved suggested that his additions would add considerable worth.

He then considered that she'd accepted both the skin and schtappe design with little protest. “Would you like me to design more tools to match your schtappe?” he asked. He’d meant to do that at the beginning of spring, but ran out of time then forgot. Now he could add it to his list of things and work on it in his spare time. Isolde's schtappe was one of his favorite things. Making scissors, a mixing stick, weapons, and other things from the list of transformations would be delightful.

She grew pensive. She glanced at the silver on the table. One small silver really wasn't a fair exchange even if it was all he would accept. Having tried to come up with custom versions herself and failing, it was very tempting to hire him. “I will pay one small silver for each one,” she replied.

“Does that mean you would like exclusive use of them?” he sighed.

She nodded. “If you create several versions again, I can try to sell them to other nobles as I did before.”

Kolteruze, Zargerecht, and Haldis returned together. Haldis picked up the large silver coin and took it away before Melchior could protest. Zargerecht meanwhile, set the design down in front of him. “This is a great departure from the norm without being so avant-garde as to appear incongruous with other crests. It represents Isolde perfectly and she could not create it herself. Not only will others ask about where it came from, they will seek your services as well. You should consider now whether you want to accept similar commissions. Only archnobles and above can hope to hire you and will not be welcome to the discounts you offer your retinue.” He looked Melchior in the eyes. “This is worth no less than one small gold if not one large gold given the possibility that it will adorn Isolde's descendants for generations. That is in line with what was paid to the artist who created the new crest for Frenbeltag.”

Melchior paled. He glanced at Isolde who seemed ready to add to her compensation. It would be best to close negotiations immediately. “I will treasure your counsel, Zargerecht. For now I will retire to my hidden room to paint. Isolde, please continue working as before,” he said and quickly exited. “Do not take any additional money,” he said to Haldis as he passed through his private quarters. Haldis had to accept a direct order and conveyed Melchior's resistance to Isolde when she tried to sneak in greater compensation.

It had been some time since Melchior worked on his painting of Dorrick's Apothecary. He had to look at the sketches for a while to remind him. He’d also learned new things from doing the paintings of Hasse and Herzfeld. Though it was tempting to begin again from scratch, there were still parts he liked so he kept those.

It was such a pleasant memory, it made him sad to think about how he could never return. He was not present for the conversation, but when Pepin and Kolteruze came to clean up they agreed that the painting now had an even more melancholic air than before. The colors were sharper but more muted, more realistic they assumed, having never been there. Before they had a fuzzy, pastel quality like a pleasant dream. Between the sketches done by three other people and the greater realism, it was obviously a real place, much beloved. Now that they knew him, the small figure at the door of one of the shops was obviously Kirk and he was obviously sad about the door closing behind him. They didn’t know where this was but could guess when Melchior had been and what that excursion meant to him. It was a piece so full of naked emotion, they were tempted to tell their lord to hide it away as he wanted to do with the winter piece. No noble should be so free with their emotions.

Once Melchior returned from dinner, he regretted having his paints put away. Rather than continue, he worked on the design slips they would print and distribute. He asked Haldis for advice on his mini sketches since Zargerecht was in the main building.

“Do you intend to send the same version to the provinces?” he asked.

“Do we need different kinds?”

“Nobles will not wish to wear the same design as wealthy commoners,” Haldis said.

Melchior had forgotten that very simple fact. The cockades would feel less fancy so wealthy merchants were likely to choose them so as not to offend the nobility but poorer nobles would also choose them for their ease of creation. He created two separate sheets, one with highly festooned versions of the cockade next to a lesser version of the Archductal brooches with devolutions for both. Adding lace and faestone charms to the centers wouldn't be very expensive while lending a noble feeling. His own retainers could personalize theirs as well.

For commoners, he would suggest using several colors of fabric whorls with extra tails. The fabric used and size would denote relative wealth automatically. He coupled these with arrangements of a few flowers stitched to the lapel. Melchior smiled and hummed as he imagined the whole city filled with color. The orphanage would need some too, he thought.

His dreams that night were filled with approximations of parades. Having never seen one, he could only invent scenarios. It would be hard to see or be seen from a carriage, so he imagined floating on highbeasts down the long main street he’d only twice traversed.

The next morning, Melchior skipped breakfast at the castle to leave before second bell. His morning meal awaited him at the temple despite him never seeing his schedule communicated.

There was so much he wanted to do during his three temple days. Unfortunately, Lothar announced a schedule that was already quite full. “There is a meeting about the new blue priests. You have music and knight training each day. There is also the mock funeral for you to practice. Kazmiar has requested that you address the clergy about the atrium rules. He has written out a speech for you.” Wooden boards with his speech and the funeral information were then presented. He didn't feel very confident about the prayers and proceedings so he needed to study those carefully.

There would be no time for him to personally meet with Fred and the workshop. If he needed to make any corrections to his hand outs, all his free time would be consumed by them.

Lothar looked over the things he'd brought from the castle. The new flute held his attention momentarily. Then he looked at the sample illustrations for cockades. “My lord, do you intend to post these throughout the city?” he asked.

“That is the plan.”

“Most people will not understand what is written here. You will also need permission from the Archduke.”

“I have been given permission to advertise the ornaments already,” Melchior said with mild confusion.

“It is very possible that the Aub does not fully understand the scope of your vision. Though I do not know the specifics, I know that Lord Ferdinand was meticulous when planning anything. It is important to involve the Archduke's office at every stage. I recommend sending these for approval, then creating the printing samples, then sending them for approval, then proceeding with the printing only once all revisions have been carried out and approved.”

Melchior rested his head on his desk. The possibility that his plan would work was feeling less and less likely. His father was so busy with preparations for the Archdukes Conference that there were bound to be terrible delays. Plus he’d managed to forget the common fact that commoners couldn't read.

“Lord Melchior,” Kirk said. Melchior sat up to listen. “The commoners will also see this as an order from the Archductal family. As no specific date is given. They will assume they must create and wear these at all times.”

“That is not what I want at all. I only hope that people that wish to celebrate will have a way to participate in the parade,” Melchior said.

“What is a parade?” Kirk asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. The soldiers described it as people walking from one end of the city to the other while everyone watches. They said that it would be exciting so there must be more to it.”

“The commoner children walk down the main street to the temple for their baptisms. I have never seen it but it is described as very festive,” Lothar added.

Melchior sighed again. “We will not be able to watch a baptism parade before the visit. I suppose we will have to ask the Plantin lehenges about it. Kirk, will you also take my fabric order to Master Fred. I will not have time to meet with him. Please summon Wilma. I will ensure the art can be printed before sending it for first approval.”

Melchior handed out his orders then spent another minute with his head down before beginning his work.

Changes for the Clergy

Sister Streita, Kazmiar and Melchior met in the High Bishop's chambers. The accounts from the previous year were complete and had been reported to the Archduke. The orphanage was completely solvent while the temple was within its budget. Between the money from the Archduke, taxes from the Harvest Festival, and miscellaneous offerings from nobles and merchants, they were finally in a position to bring up another blue priest from the orphanage.

“Konrad was promised this position by Lady Rozemyne but he will be leaving at the beginning of summer. We can give his place to the next deserving candidate,” Kazmiar summarized.

“What do we mean by deserving?” Streita asked.

“The one with the most mana,” Kazmiar replied.

The temple certainly needed mana but whether blue or gray, all clergy had to donate their mana or risk developing an unmanageable amount. “Perhaps we should consider other factors,” Streita said. “I think the one most likely to devote themselves to the work would be better.”

Rather than these important things, Melchior found himself thinking about how lonely they would be to leave the orphanage and become higher status then all their friends. “Can we only afford one?” he asked.

“Yes. As they won't be earning income until next year at the earliest, we will have to support them. They will need chefs and attendants in addition to the additional cost associated with living as nobles,” Kazmiar explained for what felt like the third time. The temple had been saving for a while to accommodate a new clergy with no family backing. Melchior always seemed unhappy with picking people one at a time.

“But they will be lonely,” he said.

Kazmiar sighed. “They will not be alone. They will have the other blue clergy and their attendants,” Kazmiar said.

“I think the High Bishop has a point. Its difficult to maintain a proper friendship across status lines. While becoming a blue shrine maiden would be an overall life improvement it will also isolate the girl. The other blue apprentices are nobles after all,” Streita argued.

Kazmiar sighed. There simply wasn't enough money.

“What if they shared a room?” Melchior suggested. That's what students at the Royal Academy did. “Then they can have fewer attendants and chefs and they won't be as lonely.”

“There is no precedent for clergy sharing rooms,” Kazmiar replied.

“Isn't the temple working to change its image? Indolent clergy who pluck their attendants like flowers, would never consent to sharing rooms but pious, hard working children would welcome the bonds of friendship,” Streita argued.

“Could we sponsor them as nobles with the temple as their guardian?” Melchior asked. Perhaps they would not feel so isolated if they were like the existing blue apprentices.

Kazmiar pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if that were possible, and it is not, we cannot afford to sponsor mednobles at the Royal Academy. They are already too far behind in preparation. They are too old to debut before noble society. It is impossible by every metric,” he said. “We can have them share rooms until they can afford to support their own chambers but that is the greatest allowance we can manage.”

Melchior had mixed feelings but he could be content with improving the life of an extra person. Kazmiar watched the resignation settle over his lord with relief. The current blue priests were those who were either too old and/or too weak to reenter noble society. They were also slothful, devious, and came with inconvenient connections to meddlesome noble families. Raising more hardworking blues who had more mana and would be loyal to the temple's mission was a good thing. Creating orphan mednobles was not.

“They could make it as laynobles. It would be better for the temple to have better educated clergy but, nothing can be done now that they are baptized as commoners,” Streita lamented. “We must decide which children to choose.”

“Since they will share rooms they must be the same sex,” Kazmiar noted. He spread out four wooden boards detailing the potential candidates. “This boy has the most mana out of everyone, but taken together, I believe the girls would have more than the boys.”

“I believe we should take the girls either way,” Streita argued. She and Kazmiar shared a look Melchior didn't understand.

“We can't show favoritism in that way. Since we must choose, we should make our selections based on merit,” Kazmiar countered.

“Some merits are gifted by Entrindunge³⁹. Those looking to purchase gray clergy will certainly see it that way,” Streita replied.

“What do you mean?” Melchior interrupted. The adults gave him gentle smiles. He recognized that they were being indirect on purpose but he was part of the decision and wanted to know all the facts. “Why should we choose the girls? What special skills were they born with?” he pressed.

Streita tapped her knee then let out a big breath. “Some priests and nobles choose shrine maidens to provide flower offerings. You know this. Well, if such a shrine maiden were also able to mother children due to her abundance of mana, she would be called to do so whether she wished to or not. As blue shrine maidens they may neither be purchased nor taken as attendants. It is the most sure way to protect them from abuse.”

Though everyone worked hard to obscure the specifics, Melchior understood that while some shrine maidens chose to become mistresses, others hoped to avoid it at all costs. Rozemyne had decreed that only the willing could be taken as attendants and Melchior upheld this law but the possibility existed that the Aubs children would stop serving as High Bishop’s and the temple would revert to what it was. That would leave the orphans with mana in a very vulnerable position. But then, if girls could be forced to become mothers, couldn't the boys be forced to become fathers? “Shouldn't we protect the boys as well?” he asked after the prolonged silence.

“Why do you ask?” Streita said while Kazmiar tried to figure out where the question had come from. Melchior didn't appear to be joking.

“That's not how Entrindunge is entreated⁴⁰,” he muttered.

Melchior frowned. He was aware that children required the input of a man and woman. “Couldn't the boys be forced to become fathers?” he clarified.

The adults shook their heads. “The short answer is no. The long answer you will produce on your own as you grow and learn more about the world,” Kazmiar said. Nothing could possess him to risk Lady Florencia’s wrath by explaining this.

Both Streita and Melchior narrowed their eyes at him. “You can give a slightly longer answer,” Streita mumbled while Melchior resolved to ask someone willing to explain. Sheila had been forthcoming with explanations and Kirk could be hassled easily enough.

“In any case, I have to agree with your logic, Streita. Once the girls are established, we can raise the boys. Though, they might be too old to be willing to share a room by that point,” Kazmiar concluded.

“They will also have time to accumulate their own funds from working,” Streita said. “I will inform the orphans once the arrangements are made. We have some furniture for them but wardrobes may need to be ordered. Since there are two, shall I prepare a mednoble’s room?”

Kazmiar agreed that she should. The conversation turned to the atrium. Kazmiar’s rules would forbid unapproved access to all. Melchior argued that such a nice space would be too tempting to ignore. After some back and forth they decided that on Sproutday and Fruitday, the atrium would be open for visits after lunch. A gray priest would be assigned to guard the entrance. “Once your game with Charlotte has ended we can allow outside guests,” Kazmiar said. Melchior agreed and they moved to close the meeting.

“Is there anything else?” Streita asked. She drained her tea cup and refused a refill. This was more pleasant than meetings at the Knights Order but all meetings were tiring after a while.

“Rest is important for long term health and productivity,” Melchior began. The adults tensed in anticipation for some new and strange requests. “As such, I would like to give the clergy a day off,” he declared.

“Priests do not get days off,” Kazmiar replied. Even he worked on all seven days. As much as he missed his Earthdays off, it was a rule as old as the temple.

“That is a rule we made up, is it not,” Streita replied.

“It is what holds up the mountains,” Kazmiar said.

“The temple has many traditions that we have abolished, like the prohibition on earning money and the establishment of a Monastery. We could change this one as well,” Melchior argued.

“Isn't this how so many rituals lost their true forms,” Kazmiar said. “We should not be so quick to alter our traditions. What will we do if a funeral comes on our new day of rest? We cannot tell the Knights Order to hunt their trombe another day either.”

“There is no reason to have every clergy member resting on the same day,” Streita huffed. Only a scholar would think an organization could simply stop functioning one day per week. “We can use a rotation as the knights do.”

“The blue clergy live here all the time. Their meals and baths must be attended to each day,” Kazmiar reminded. He commuted from home half the time so his attendants had opportunities to rest. Most of the other blues could not afford their retainers such a luxury.

“Not a single blue priest has only one attendant. They can spare each person one day,” Streita pressed. “Not to mention that most of them don't do any work besides the occasional ritual. They don't need as much help as the High Priest.”

“Idleness makes space for mischief.”

“Fatigue dulls the mind and body.”

“We cannot dictate to the clergy how to use their attendants.”

“We already do.”

Streita and Kazmiar stayed locked in an exchange of combative smiles for some time before Melchior spoke up. “If you are at an impasse, I can break the tie,” he offered with a smirk.

Kazmiar's smile broke. “I suppose I’ve been out voted. We will institute a day off. If it causes any breach in the discharge of our duty we will have to repeal it or face judgment from the Aub but you are both confident so there is no need to worry.”

Melchior hesitated for a moment but kept his resolve. “How will we decide who gets what day off?” he asked.

“I will manage the unattached, gray clergy and Kazmiar can delegate the management of the blue clergy to one of the less busy priests. The prospect of the smallest bit of power is sure to attract a willing volunteer,” Steita said.

So it was decided then announced at the meeting of the blue clergy. The temple denizens would get one day off on a rotating schedule. The atrium would be available for use but no one was allowed to touch the plants without the High Bishop's permission. They would announce the new blue shrine maidens after they swore fealty and moved to their new chambers.

Nikolaus was not happy to learn that he would have to follow the usage rules for the atrium as well. The day he was not on the knight schedule didn't correspond to its visitation days either. “You can come with me when I visit,” Melchior assured him.

A different blue priest came forward with a request. He knelt before Melchior as the meeting broke up. “High Bishop, my room does not have a view of the new garden but I was invited to visit Brother Lestfeld who does have a connecting window. Having seen it, I feel I must commit myself to it's beauty.”

“Brother Gebhard, it is largely boxes of dirt at the moment,” Melchior replied. The tree was amazing but the rest of the room was quite boring.

“I have seen it, High Bishop. I know it will blossom into a glorious sanctuary er long. I beseech you to allow me to contribute.”

As far as Melchior knew, there wasn't much to do. And, between Sigsnyr, Kolteruze, and Kirk, the atrium had plenty of tenders. “I cannot promise you anything right now. I will speak with the caretakers. If they need extra assistance then blue clergy will be allowed to volunteer,” he said.

“Thank you, High Bishop. I will await your summons,” Brother Gebhard said before returning to his room.

Kazmiar stared after him. Gebard was an older man and quite proud of his mednoble origins. That he didn't have enough mana to fill a single faestone on the shield had never stopped him from lording his theoretical status over others. Seeing him kneel of his own volition was as strange as hearing him profess to care about anything other than doing as little work as possible. The temple already had landscaping before the atrium yet he’d never expressed an interest in the plants before. Kazmiar would have to look into it. No possible machinations came to mind immediately, but he was sure there had to be something more to this.

The Distance Between Interlocutors

The next day Wilma looked over the drawings for a few minutes. They were detailed and descriptive. A bit too detailed to print, she observed. In addition to his art, The High Bishop also provided several versions of the text. They progressed from a basic formal announcement of the impending nuptials to include increasingly candid insistence that participation was not required.

“I know that most commoners cannot read but some commoners can read and then they can tell their friends what it means,” he explained while nervously awaiting her critique.

“That is true. Even those that can will struggle to understand this euphemistic language,” Wilma replied.

Melchior looked over his text again. “It just says that Sister and Uncle will tread the paths blessed by Weigemilch after receiving the blessings of the Supreme Gods. I didn't add any euphemism.” He was even worried it was too simple a way to announce such an event.

Wilma shook her head. “High Bishop, to those of us who have lived our whole lives among the nobility, these phrases and their meanings are as any others. To the common people, they are like a secret code. Not only can few commoners read but they generally do not learn the names of the gods.”

“How do they pray and give greetings?” Melchior asked.

“They do not. Well, they use less formal language. They just say things like ‘hello’ and ‘it's good to see you again’,” Wilma explained. Melchior stared in disbelief. Wouldn't people think they were terribly rude if they were so short and informal all the time. “It would not be incorrect to say that most commoners have never heard of Weigemilch, Goddess of Nurturing, and would not associate her paths with one's childhood home.”

He sat in a daze for a few moments. He couldn't imagine a simpler way to say things without sounding rude and crass. “How do I communicate this?” he asked.

Wilma held a hand to her cheek. “I beg your forgiveness, High Bishop. As I was raised to serve nobles, my understanding is very similar to your own. I cannot say what would be seen as sufficiently polite and informative to commoners,” she replied.

Melchior looked at his other retainers. They all had similar looks of defeat. “If you wish to know how to communicate with commoners, you should ask one for their opinion,” Isolde said. “It is unfortunate that we do not have time to properly educate the populous.”

“You want to teach all of Ehrenfest’s commoners how to read and understand noble language?!” Nikolaus gasped. He promptly covered his mouth and apologized.

“Their ignorance often impedes our communication. Even when we do not speak using euphemisms, they fail to understand any indirect language, forcing one to enumerate every point and explain every nuance,” she complained.

“How often do you speak with commoners?” Melchior asked. She sounded like she'd had many poor experiences.

“I do not do much business with them personally, but the scholars most closely involved with the printing industry frequently share these complaints. How much easier things would be if everyone were raised properly,” she sighed.

Melchior was at a loss. They couldn't teach the entire duchy how to read in a couple of months nor did he know how to write in a way commoners could understand while observing proper protocols. Still, he had to begin somewhere.

“Kirk, when you go to deliver the fabric order today, take the commoner sheet and ask Master Fred for his opinion,” Melchior ordered. He handed it to Kirk to add to his stack of papers. It looked rather floppy and disorganized next to Isolde’s neet folio. “And purchase another leather notebook holder.”

Kirk accepted his tasks with a smile. Isolde watched him gather his things in preparation to leave. She looked back at Melchior who simply shook his head. There was no way she could accompany him. It's seemed that just having a commoner dress was not enough to grant her regular access.

Wilma continued the lesson. “If you would accept more advice from one such as myself, your art is too detailed to print. Specifically, it is not possible to produce gradients and overlap should be avoided. All colors must be contained in their own shapes and each color used will require its own stencil,” Wilma continued.

Melchior looked at his art. The flowers could only be described as amorphous blobs of gradients with overlapping highlights and shading. He sighed. Even though he’d seen many illustrations in books, they tended to be line drawings. Nothing prepared him for what color printing should look like.

“Do you have examples?” he asked. Wilma smiled and nodded. She asked for permission to return for more supplies.

While she was away, Kolteruze appeared for his weekly free lunch wearing brewing clothes. They were all black, as was the Royal Academy uniform, with sleeves that tightened around the forearms like the knight uniform. It looked ever so slightly too large. Melchior fawned over them all the same. Kolteruze explained that they used to be his older brother’s.

“They look very easy to move in. Aren't you hot in the black wool?” Melchior asked.

“It is still spring, so I can't say I’m particularly uncomfortable. They are comfortable and the ease of motion they allow should be ideal for gardening,” Kolteruze explained.

“You intend to do that much work yourself?” Isolde asked.

Kolteruze looked tired for a moment as he shook his head. He looked at the knights by the door. “Sometimes it is easier to simply do things than to explain to others how you want things done. There is so much to plant and collect today that I cannot leave all the work to Kirk and it seems he has errands for Lord Melchior.”

Melchior felt conflicted. He didn't want to take Kolteruze's helper away but he needed to take advantage of Kirk's commoner connections to have the text reviewed. “I can summon an assistant for you from the orphanage. There are many there with an interest in plants. There is also a blue priest who wishes to assist. He has developed a passion for the atrium,” Melchior offered.

Kolteruze leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. He spent several minutes considering his options. “As I understand it, blue clergy are not given to doing hard labor. If you wish to accommodate his request, I can find things for him to do. May I assume he has very little mana?” Isolde replied that he could. “I see. If he can still read and write, then I have work to give him. The use of a gray priest would be most helpful,” he concluded.

Wilma returned with Lyle in tow. The apprentice struggled a bit to carry a strange wooden frame while Wilma carried a collection of papers and a small box. The gray clergy began laying out their spoils after handing Melchior a sheet of paper with a picture of Ferdinand playing the harspiel. He looked it over with a cheesy grin. It wasn't as smooth or detailed as his own work, but it was recognizably Ferdinand with the soft expression he made only when looking at something he deeply cared for.

“I drew this to sell at the harspiel concert Lord Ferdinand performed to raise money for Hasse Monastery,” Wilma explained. He had to look at it in a new light. Wilma’s art was even more beautiful than his own. The constraints of printing would severely limit him, he thought. She pointed out some special features of the artform and shared a few more tips.

By then, Lyle had finished setting up the box and stenciling materials. Kolteruze stood up and came to look. Lyle froze when he saw the older boy walking towards him. Kolteruze simply ignored him and looked over the objects. As he leaned closer and closer to both the table and the gray apprentice, Lyle turned increasingly red.

“Lyle,” Wilma repeated. He snapped out of his trance and took a step back. “Will you bring the stenciling equipment?” she asked.

“Yes, Wilma. My apologies,” he said. Melchior watched with confusion as he stepped closer to Kolteruze and began to shake minutely. As far as he knew, Lyle had no opportunity to meet Kolteruze before now so he couldn't have managed to cause offense and receive a scolding as Kirk had. A glance at Isolde told him it was something else. He gestured her over to look at the stencils.

“Why are you giggling,” he whispered.

Isolde covered her mouth with her hand. She hadn't been actively laughing as far as she knew. Perhaps her face wasn't as controlled as she thought. “We are witnessing the blooming of affection,” she whispered back.

Kolteruze glanced up, catching them looking at him. He narrowed his eyes as they quickly looked elsewhere, pretending not to have been tittering about him.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a good time to use a sound blocker. Melchior needed to listen to Wilma's explanation while Isolde needed to take notes. At the end of it, Wilma left him with a couple of the very thin sheets of paper to practice tracing and cutting. She showed him the mimeograph box then explained how it worked and what changes to expect in his work.

“Those fliers may not seem as detailed as proper paintings but we were able to make close to 100,” she declared proudly.

Melchior’s perspective changed at once. He’d imagined struggling to produce a dozen or so fliers, as he just learned they were called, of course every sheet of paper and all the ink would still be expensive, but making one for each province wouldn't even be as difficult as he thought. He began thinking about what other drawings he could print and how he could use so many copies. His enthusiasm was tempered again when Wilma brought out a thick sheet of paper marked with approximately 25 swatches of color.

“These are the colors we can print at the moment. While we could develop a custom color, that would likely take more time than we have before the visit,” she explained. There were several options for blue but not the precise shade of Rozemyne's hair. The dark and light yellow were also wrong. “Those who know Lady Rozemyne and Lord Ferdinand will be able to order accessories in the proper colors. It will feel like a special privilege,” Wilma consoled.

Melchior realized he would have to either accept this or give up his plans. He thought things over while Isolde asked a few follow up questions about fulfillment times and Aub approval. He was roused again once Wilma began to leave. “Wilma, could you send over a gray priest to assist Kolteruze with the garden?”

“Yes of course, my lord. Are there any particular quantities this priest should have?” Wilma replied.

Melchior looked to Kolteruze for an answer. “So long as they are as strong as Kirk, more or less, are able to read and write, and can follow instructions, they should be fine,” he replied rather absentmindedly. He was looking at some of the other examples of color printing while sipping the tea prepared for him and didn't see the fires of determination spark in Lyle’s eyes.

Melchior spent some time before lunch redesigning the art for his fliers. He would have to create the commoner flier from memory as he wanted feedback as quickly as possible. Kirk left very soon after Wilma to eat an early lunch and carry out his task. It would be easier to impose upon Master Fred while he wasn't working. Kirk also planned to visit Dorrick's Apothecary. The lehenges there were from poorer families than Fred’s. They could all read but their families couldn't.

He set out with the pouch of silver and bronze entrusted to him for errands in his suite of commoner clothes. They were beginning to feel a bit tight. He would need to let out the seams but there wasn't much space remaining since the previous owner seemed to only have parted with them because he had too.

Footnotes

39. “They were born this way” or “some advantages are determined at birth”^

40. “Thats not where babies come from” ^

Chapter Text

Getting Advice

“Good Morning, Kirk. Headed into town once again?” asked the gray priest at the gate.

“Yes, I have something to discuss with a merchant,” he replied. The guards smiled with gentle envy. Most gray’s never got to leave the temple grounds. Even Spring Prayer and the Harvest Festival only saw the highest ranking among them taken along. These guards got to look at the lower city but couldn't travel any further than they were right then. They could make some money from helping in the workshop but had nowhere to spend it. “I must be going now. May the gods preserve you,” Kirk said before hurrying away.

The lower city was always full of people rushing around, relaxing, or holding conversations in the street. Once he was past the merchants guild, carriages all but disappeared and the streets began to narrow. Fred’s tailoring shop, which didn't really have a name, was situated near the boundary between the wealthy northern section and the craftsman’s area. It didn't command much foot traffic but word of mouth kept visiting merchants and locals coming back.

Kirk entered just as fourth bell was beginning to ring. The apprentice waiting at the counter for customers slumped at the sound of the doorbell then rallied upon seeing Kirk.

“Kirk! How rare to see you so often. Master Fred was just grunting about that competition. I didn't know you served a noble,” greeted the boy. He leapt from his stool and walked around the counter to hug Kirk

“Greetings, Pat. I didn't mean to hide that. I just didn't want to scare anyone,” Kirk replied.

“Hump… gave us a right scare, eh. I had no idea why a lady like Milda, ha, was coming to our shop. Boy, you got to warn people!” Ferd boomed as he swept into the front room. He looked Kirk up and down. “Goodness, he still lets you dress like that?”

Kirk blushed. “I would not want to look out of place in the lower city,” he replied.

Fred waved his hand. “Better to look crisp. You're bursting out of those. Let us make you a suite,” he pressed.

“Oh no. I can't afford that. I’ll let out the seams then buy second hand once there's nothing for it,” Kirk replied.

“Tck! You're bound to hit a growth spurt soon. You’ll be in and out of clothes faster than you buy them, lad. We can make a tunic with enough ease and seam allowance to last you. It’ll cost you less in the long run and look better too. Besides, don't that lord of yours want you to do him credit?” Fred asked.

“The handkerchief he gave you was incredible. Would he be happy with such rough clothing?” Pat added.

These weren't decisions Kirk could make. He liked the idea of a bespoke suit but his funds from working in the orphanage only dwindled without being refreshed. While Melchior made it clear that Kirk was free to buy a couple of treats for himself while running his errands, it wasn't the same as having his own money to freely spend or save.

“You know how to embroider?” Fred asked.

Kirk shook his head. “I know how to mend and am learning to knit,” he replied.

“If you can learn and, ahh, I’ll lend you a hoop, I’ll buy some handkerchiefs from you. They don't need to be as fine as that one you brought, but people are interested in those new designs your lord distributed. You see a lot of nobles right?”

“Only my lord's retainers,” Kirk said.

“Is that a lot?”

“About two hands full.”

“Well if you can draw some designs from their clothes and things, we can sell the hankys for more. That's more profit for you and me,” Fred said. Fred's assistant came to announce that his lunch was ready. “You eaten?”

“Yes, sir,” Kirk replied. He followed Fred anyway and was given some water and a slice of bread with honey. “I came to order fabric,” he began.

Fred shivered. “Now, we don't serve nobles. No one in this shop can talk to one,” he replied.

“Yes, Lord Melchior is aware. That's why he sent me here rather than summoning you,” Kirk said. He placed the designs on the table.

Fred paled. “What the world is that!” he boomed. He looked at the busy print and the explanatory sheets as he held his head. “Are there really dyers capable of this?”

“Lord Melchior was gifted fabric from Hauchletze with a similar design in seven colors. He realizes that it might not be possible for Ehrenfest craftspeople to reproduce it so he created a backup.” Kirk pointed to the thus far ignored second design.

Fred relaxed a little. “Where is Hauchletze? That's not a nearby province.” Kirk explained that it was on the opposite side of the country. “So they do trade with another country too. That sounds incredible. And you say these gates teleport people?”

“I don't really understand myself but they move people and objects long distances in the blink of an eye,” Kirk explained.

“Nobles really are mysterious. In any case. This one is plenty doable. The mixed color might prove a touch challenging but I believe in our people. When do you need it by?”

“After the Archdukes Conference, though, the sooner the better.”

“When is this conference?” Fred asked. Kirk explained. He took the opportunity to bring out the flier. “This is really beautiful,” Fred said of the art. “What does it mean?” he asked after reading the text. Kirk explained. Fred looked at it for a long time. “I have no idea how you expect anyone to draw those conclusions. Why not just say what you mean?”

“That would be crass,” Kirk replied. “You might say that to someone you are close to but for an official announcement to be distributed to strangers, you need to use proper language.”

“How’s ‘so-and-so and so-and-so are getting married and coming to visit’ improper?” Fred asked.

Kirk wanted to explain but he didn't have a real answer. “It is too direct,” was the most he could muster.

“How's it more polite to beat around the bush. That's a waste of people’s time.”

“Noble's tend to have a lot of free time. They consider it more important to use less definitive language so they can deny accusations or claim to have been saying something different if the other party takes offense,” Kirk replied.

“You know a lot about this, kid,” Fred observed. “If we did want to get into noble service I’d hire you to teach us but, ahh, that's not in the cards for old Fred.”

“Why don't you want to start serving nobles? Isn't it more lucrative?” Kirk asked.

“In some ways yes but it's more risk as well. If one of them cancels an expensive order, my shop would have to cover the costs and might not be able to resell the garment. The initial outlay can be staggering for archnoble clothing. You're Little Bishop’s tunics probably cost his parents a small gold just for the embroidery. That handkerchief you carry around would be three times the cost of what we sell here. The bigger shops can afford these risks and have the staff to keep fulfillment times low. It would take us a year to produce the fancier robes and sashes and the like with just the few of us. The techniques are different too,” Fred sighed. “We're craftsmen not merchants.”

The distinction was lost on Kirk but the rest of the reasoning made sense. “Do you have recommendations for a men's tailor for an archnoble?”

“Don't they hire personal staff and put them up in their fancy houses?” Fred asked. Kirk shrugged. He was never present for Melchior's clothes ordering. “I know a few shops who do a little business with nobles. I don't think their clients have that high status but they might have ambitions. Kurtis is young and might be willing to accept some risk in his life.”

Fred took another bite of his lunch. He tapped the flier. “You want commoners to understand, you need to be direct and maybe use some symbols. And, should I be making some of these cockade things?”

“Lord Melchior hopes that many citizens will wear them in support if flower ornaments are too expensive or not to their taste,” Kirk replied.

Fred tapped his mustache. “Getting fore knowledge like this is very valuable. If serving your lord wasn't such a risk, ahh. It is such a risk though. But its amazing what you can learn with a bit of access to the top level.”

Kirk made a mental note of Fred’s advice before taking his flier and his leave. He meandered past the market and bought pieces of fruit for himself, Sheila, Lothar, and Melchior. They were hard to carry so he also bought a cheap basket. It was a wonder he didn't have one already but he rarely bought large things without receiving something to carry them.

Its usefulness was proven at his second stop. The Plantin company store sold expensive items but tried to make them feel accessible. To further reduce costs, special packaging was available for an extra fee rather than being included. Most commoners still couldn't buy paper and ink in any quantity, let alone crayons or notebooks. The customer area was very small with only a few displays. Behind the counter were shelves upon shelves of stationary in neatly arranged paper boxes. Kirk wondered how much of the very fancy paper was ever sold.

“Welcom, Kirk. What can we offer you today?” asked the lehenge behind the counter. The couple of other patrons looked at the well enough dressed boy with a touch of wonder. He was obviously someone's servant but he didn't look rich enough to serve someone who might frequent such an expensive establishment enough that their servants were recognizable.

“Greetings. I would like to buy one of the leather notebook covers,” he replied. He reached in the pouch through a slit disguised by his pocket and fished out close to the right amount.

“What design would you like?”

Melchior hadn't specified either who or what it was for so he chose a neutral gray tone. The brighter colors were more appealing but he didn't want to come back with something garish and get scolded for it. The young man retrieved the cover and accepted payment. “We have the crayons ordered previously. May I entrust you with both orders from the lion?”

Kirk wondered whether he could take an order meant for someone at the castle. Were it not someone related to Melchior himself, the man wouldn't have referred to them as belonging to the Archduke as he had. He also wouldn't give Melchior’s temple attendant something intended for the Aub himself. It also couldn't be a big secret or the offer wouldn't be made.

“You may,” Kirk replied. They were already paid for after all. The man smiled then went to retrieve two wooden cases and a round bundle wrapped in paper. After holding it, Kirk assumed it was crayons without a case. Melchior mentioned giving his away to his sister so these must be replacements. “Thank you kindly,” Kirk replied. He was afraid of his flier getting crushed so he took a moment to fold it carefully and slide it into the leather cover before arranging everything in his basket.

“May I see that?” the lehenge asked. One of the other shop assistants came over. The moment he got a look at the page he quickly disappeared into the back of the shop. “This is difficult to understand,” he said.

“I have brought it with me today to ask commoners for their opinions on the text,” Kirk explained. One of the wealthy women awaiting her turn walked over.

“This is very pretty,” she said as she unceremoniously picked up the paper. Kirk reached out in a panic but didn't dare grab at it for fear of tearing. “Did you paint this?” Kirk shook his head. “This looks like those floral hair pins that have gotten so popular but what is this other thing.

Kirk repeated his explanation. “These are designs for various accessories one might wear to celebrate the… marriage of the Archduke's adoptive brother and daughter during their visit at the end of spring. Several options are represented so people of all statuses may take part. This flier has designs appropriate for commoners. My lord has asked me to show it to various people to get their opinion on what the text should say to properly communicate its message without giving offense.”

She read the text a second time out loud, stumbling over Weigemilch’s name. “It certainly makes one feel offended in its current iteration. Is your boss trying to prove himself more cultured than everyone else?”

“No, ma’m. They are a noble and are unfamiliar with commoner customs,” Kirk replied. She dropped the page like it was on fire. Kirk retrieved it from the floor immediately and carefully dusted off a stray bit of dirt.

“It's incredible that his lordship would ask commoners for their opinion,” the lehenge noted. “Where does he intend to post this?”

“We will make many copies and hang them around the city,” Kirk explained.

“Oh that will work here in the north but in the south people can't read and might steal the papers,” huffed the woman. As she spoke about the latent dangers inherent in the poor section of the city, Milda appeared.

“Master Kirk. I offer greetings this afternoon. What brings you to our humble shop?” she asked while taking the flier from her employee. “Good morning, Getty. Do you need another invitation card?”

The woman smiled and faced the counter. “Why Mistress Milda, you look just radiant today. How's your little girl?”

Milda read over the paper and chatted with Getty. Kirk waited anxiously. He didn't like having the sheet outside his reach. It was already a little bit dirty from the floor. “Oh she's just so excited for her baptism. Kirk, this art will be impossible to print, you know.”

“Yes, Mistress Milda. Wilma has explained the process to his lordship,” Kirk replied.

“It really is a pity. So much will be lost. You might consider entrusting the original to your preferred shop so that anyone who wants to produce these with greater precision can see the proper version,” Milda suggested. They returned the sheet and gave Kirk a free couple or papers for his new leather cover. “Do you own a diptych, Master Kirk?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

“Oh, they're rather inexpensive. We even have wooded styluses which are much more affordable than the metal kind,” she explained. Her assistant brought forward a box with several sizes and wax colors. Kirk gave in and purchased one of those as well. It was completely blank but he could write his name on it with ink. “You have so much stuff. If you are also going to visit the apothecary we can deliver your basket to the temple; free of charge of course.”

Kirk looked at his basket full of expensive things and sighed. “That would be most appreciated,” he replied and handed over everything but the leather cover. “You may entrust it to the guards at the gate,” he added.

“You may rely upon us, Master Kirk. Now, give Dorrick my best,” she said with a cheerful expression. Kirk walked to the door, gave a little bow, then exited. He heard an explosion of giggles and squealing from the ladies still inside.

It was a bit of a longer walk to Dorrick's Apothecary. He enjoyed the smell of crepes from a street cart but didn't feel the need to buy one. He’d already spent more than he normally would on the diptych. It was for his work though, so he didn't have much guilt. After having sketched it, he knew the street quite well. The signs had all changed to reflect spring offerings. The old woman who perpetually swept the walk called out in greeting. Kirk waved as he walked into the shop.

“Welcome,” called Gale, Dorrick's nephew and the heir to this shop. His smile faded immediately once he saw it was just Kirk. “You're back so soon. Did he not like the sachets?”

“Greetings, Gale. He was quite happy with them. I have a different errand today. Would you look at this?” Kirk presented the flier.

Gale’s eyes grew wide. Kari appeared with light plant stains on her apron and leaned over Gale’s shoulder. “What's that? It's got so many big words. Soopreeme. What's a supreme god?”

“They are the divine rulers of the endless skies, mother and father to the eternal five, and joint patrons of matrimony among other things,” Kirk replied.

“That's incredible and confusing,” Kari said. She looked at Gale. “Do you understand it?”

“Not even a little. I think these are water lilies of some kind but these weird circles aren't actually flowers are they?” He offered Kari the paper so she could look more closely. Kari wiped her hands before taking it.

“Linda!” she called. The girl in question took a while to stomp in with a frown. “Kirk’s here,” Kari said.

Linda's entire mood changed instantly. “Oh Kirk!” she chirped and raced around the counter to grab his arm and rest her head on his shoulder. “You are back so soon. How wonderful.”

Kirk blushed but didn't shake her off. “I came to ask your opinion on this flier,” he explained.

“What's a flier?”

“It is a sheet of paper with information for wide distribution. This one is about celebratory accessories.”

Linda had to go wash her hands before touching the paper. The commotion at the front of the store summoned Dorrick as well. “Ah Master Kirk,” Dorrick greeted. “How are your plants?”

“Uncle, why do you call him ‘master’?” Gale interrupted. He’d grown less hostile as it became clear that Kari wasn't interested in Kirk but he was still wary of such a clean and polite rival.

“It's in deference to his lord. Besides, he has great skill as an attendant,” Dorrick explained.

“Your lord?” Gale asked.

“I serve the High Bishop,” Kirk replied. “Though, I am still only an apprentice, Master Dorrick.”

“So you say, but it's clear you’ve been well trained,” Dorrick said kindly.

“The plants are doing better than ever. It's a bit of a secret at the moment, so next year I’ll tell you about it, but we’ve grown a rare flower. We also have a second barshoo and its flowered. If it produces seeds, I’ll ask to bring you one.”

“You got it to flower? Indoors?”

Kirk nodded. “It might be because of the magic. Thorne said it shouldn't flower until early summer, so we will have to wait and see.”

Linda bounced back over with his paper. “This art is so pretty. Did you paint it?”

“Oh no. You saw my sketches. I couldn't do something like this,” he replied. She took his leather folio and examined it. “Its for storing notebooks but they're very expensive.”

“What’s a note book?” Linda asked.

“A book for notes, obviously,” Gale replied.

“It is a small grouping of blank pages bound together. You can make a whole blank book but that requires even more paper. I made one over the winter for my lord using some rejected experimental paper,” Kirk explained.

“I’ve never seen a book,” Linda sighed. “You know so many things, Kirk. I fear I will never be smart enough to match you.”

“You know things I don't too,” Kirk encouraged. “I can't make medicine and I’m not good at taking care of plants. Without Lord Kolteruze, we wouldn't have had so much success.”

“Lord Kolteruze? He isn't your lord?” Linda asked. Kirk shook his head. “What's he like? I’ve never heard of a noble tending plants before.” Kirk wasn't sure how to answer that. All his immediate thoughts weren't things you could just say about an archnoble. Linda giggled at his rapidly warming cheeks. “Ooohhh, is he cute?” she teased.

“He’s… he’s quite elegant. Though, Sir Sigsnyr is prettier, Lord Kolteruze is very gentle,” Kirk replied.

“Perhaps I will see them one day. Until then I must be content with the cutie who comes to visit,” she teased.

“You don't want to see a noble if you can help it,” Kari said. “They can kill you just because they feel like it and sometimes they do.”

“That's not true, is it?” Linda asked. She looked a bit frightened.

“It is rare,” Kirk replied but he saw the Aub’s face as he thought about it.

Linda shivered. “You be careful. You must come of age and marry me.”

“Priests aren't allowed to wed,” Kirk replied.

“But would you want to?” she pressed.

Kirk considered her question for a moment. He didn't know a lot about marriage. Kazmiar's sermon made it sound like a heavy responsibility while Fonsel seemed more relaxed about it. The looks between Edeltrude and Haldis filled him with a sweet but painful sensation he couldn't identify. If marriage meant someone would look at him like that, it seemed great. He looked at Linda. She was very nice but compared to Melchior, his retainers, or the other shrine maidens, it was hard to call her cute. “I don't know you very well, but I would be open to spending more time together so we could find out if it would work,” he replied.

Linda frowned. “That is like saying no,” she pouted.

“That's not…” Kirk began. He’d been honest. His answer wasn't no.

Dorrick shuffled into the room with a chuckle. “She just wants you to tell her you absolutely would love to wed her if you could and it pains you that it can never happen,” he said.

“But that isn't accurate and we were already discussing a hypothetical situation where it's possible,” Kirk countered. Linda continued to pout and cling to him. He patted her head. “I think you are wonderful and it makes me happy that you like me,” he said.

She stood up straight and looked him directly in the eyes for a long moment. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked.

Having just learned his lesson he replied, “Yes,” without hesitation. If he compared her to other commoners, she was above the average.

“Will you say it?”

“I think you are pretty, the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said.

She laced her fingers back through his hand and rested her head again. “You are lying but I appreciate it. Who is the prettiest girl you've ever seen?”

“Do you remember the previous High Bishop?”

“Yes, she was adorable,” Linda replied.

“She is an adult now,” was all Kirk said.

Linda nodded. “It would be impossible to compare us. I see what you mean.”

Dorrick gave his opinion on the flier. Kirk allowed him to write on the top of one of his free sheets of paper. The apprentices touched and smelled the other sheets while they waited. “I think simple will be best. Though we remember them for their religious titles, it would be confusing to some to use them. They might imagine that your lord is marrying some old man,” Dorrick teased.

“We wouldn't want that,” Kirk replied.

“No we wouldn't,”

Kirk prepared to leave so Linda slipped away. She returned with a dried flower which she slipped into his lapel. “Oh and before you ask. Violet is doing alright. Her little brother is sick so she stayed home today,” Linda explained.

“They don't have the same sickness do they?” Kirk asked. He didn't know if Melchior’s offer would extend to Violet's family but he could ask.

“Oh no. He ate something spoiled,” Linda assured him. “He’ll be just fine.”

“I have to get back. It was good to see you,” he said and gave her a final hug goodbye and a wave to the others.

“Come again soon,” Dorrick said.

Kirk returned to find that his basket had been sent to Melchior’s chambers instead of being held at the gate. There was nothing really objectionable so he decided not to worry. After changing back into his robes, he placed the flower on his table with a smile then hurried to deliver his report.

He needn’t hurry since Melchior was still training. Kirk was a bit sad to miss this opportunity to swing a wooden sword around but a visit to the city was a fair trade. As he passed the kitchen, Sheila called out.

“Lord Melchior left your diptych on the little table. I assume the fruit was for dessert today,” she said.

“Yes, it looked tasty.”

She eyed the yet under ripe fruits. “They need a bit more time so I won't serve them tonight. These need to be a brighter red before they are truly delicious,” she advised.

“I’ll remember,” he promised before heading upstairs.

It was strange to see Paul attending but Isolde’s lingering presence explained it. Kirk bowed in greeting before continuing to do his tasks. Lothar had to leave with Melchior so a few things were left on the table. Isolde ignored him while he tidied. He glanced at her a few times and wondered how noble women managed to be almost universally prettier than commoners.

Once things were more in order he went to collect his tablets. On the front, someone had done a black and white ink painting of a plant, Kirk's favorite ambassador to be precise. His name followed by ‘attendant to the High Bishop’ was written in Isolde's beautiful script on the back.

“I hope you do not mind,” Isolde called as he stared at the object.

He was overcome with emotion. His plan to neatly write his short name in a corner, had dissolved. “It is better than I ever imagined,” he replied. Kirk turned to her, crossed his arms and lowered his hips. “Thank you, Lady Isolde. I will treasure it.”

She smiled brightly while trying to look unaffected. “Oh, I only wrote a few words. Lord Melchior did the drawing.”

“You have the most beautiful handwriting. It is an honor to be gifted even a few words.”

“We cannot have you carrying around tablets with your name messily scrawled in a corner,” she said. She basked in his gratefulness for a few more moments before turning back to business. “What did the commoners say about the text?”

“Answering you, they were in consensus that the language was unintelligible. Master Dorrick wrote out some examples for how he would write such a thing on his sign board,” Kirk replied and presented the page and cover.

She read the text with a frown. “Lord Melchior could not publish this under his name,” she noted. “And is this really an announcement attempting to communicate excitement? This language carries no emotion.”

“Perhaps the event itself carries enough emotion in the commoner imagination that none is needed,” he offered. He hadn't thought to ask these questions. Even though she would stick out, maybe bringing Isolde or summoning the Plantin company would be the right idea.

“I was amazed by Wilma’s explanation. Seeing this, I have to accept that she was correct. Did you pass this new text before other eyes?”

Kirk shook his head. “It was already growing late,” he replied. “However, similar text was recommended verbally by Master Fred and Mistress Milda.”

“I see,” she placed the paper down and sighed. “I do not know whether the Archduke will approve it but Lord Melchior wishes to communicate with the commoners and this is how he can accomplish that.” She balled her hand up and gazed into the middle distance for a moment. “Were there any other notes?”

“A customer at the Plantin shop was worried that poorer citizens would steal the papers before they could adequately communicate their message.”

“That is a concern. We can't post guards at each paper either,” she noted.

“Mistress Milda suggested entrusting the original paintings to a merchant to explain. Perhaps the fliers for the south of the city could be given to business and the gate guards. They would also be able to give explanations.”

“That is a good insight, Kirk. I will consider that.” She went back to working quietly.

*

Isolde left a little before Melchior was due to return to his chambers. She met Kolteruze in the hall as he was followed by his dreamy eyed little priest. Kolteruze wore an uncharacteristic frown and seemed deep in thought.

“How was your gardening?” she asked, breaking his trance.

“It was much the same as always. We did some planting and observed the plants. The flowers on the tree are quite long lived. I’ve pollinated some by hand, we will see whether they produce fruits or cones. I predict cones since the flower we got had one. If its secretly a faeplant though, it could surprise us.”

“It sounds like you were productive,” she said. It felt odd to see him not smiling but there was something calming about him actually being relaxed enough to display his emotions. She’d noticed this tendency in Melchior's retainers that came to the temple. Even Sebastian seemed to grow less rigid. Melchior's new knights were all taking their time to acquire permission. She couldn't help thinking they were making a grave mistake by not coming. Gaining Melchior’s goodwill had protected her from certain doom and visiting him at the temple built more goodwill than anything else.

“Isolde,” Kolteruze said. He stopped before the doors, “Would you like me to escort you home?”

“There really is no need, but I thank you ever so much for offering,” she replied.

Appearing with such a boy would be the talk of the dinner table and breakfast table. She didn't want to talk about how much more mana Kolteruze had or that their statuses were as far apart as archnobles could be. Her mother would then insist she was wasting every second she spent with him even though they were coworkers.

“In truth there is something I want to discuss,” he admitted. The doors were slowly opened to reveal a crisp, sunny evening.

“What can I help you with, Kolteruze,” she replied.

“It is not what you can help me with but the reverse. I was pulled into a conversation with Lothar earlier today. He conveyed a problem Sheila observed.”

Isolde froze with her noble smile threatening to fall from her face. If she pretended not to know what he was talking about, she felt sure he would just explain explicitly. “I do not require aid,” she said instead. She certainly couldn't accept it.

He summoned his horse and waited for her to get into her drivable shumil before rising into the hair beside her. “I understand your drive to maintain the fashion but your health and well-being comes first.”

“You only assume it is a detriment to my health. This is not something a nobleman would understand,” she replied.

“You only assume I do not understand,” he said.

Despite her gentle rejection, Kolteruze escorted her all the way back home. He even accepted the perfunctory invitation to come inside rather than demuring like a normal escort. The lady of the house appeared looking flushed but otherwise not displaying her panic. The words ‘Sonn Liesegang’ were as unexpected on a normal spring evening as they were terrifying. The young man in question wasn't dressed for visiting. She didn't know whether to feel offended by his lack of effort or amazed that he was seemingly on such good terms with Isolde. He was certainly striking in all black.

As they were all archnobles and he was the guest, he rose and knelt. “May I offer a blessing in honor of this serendipitous meeting ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane the Goddess of Water?”

“You may.”

He gave his blessing and introduced himself, then stood and returned to his seat. His eyes lingered on Isolde's servant. The lady of the house scoffed inwardly. Boys and men were all the same.

“I thank you for welcoming me. I was just escorting Isolde home but our conversation was so transporting I was loath to end it prematurely. I will only be a few minutes,” he promised. He definitely didn't want to stay for dinner.

“Please be at ease Lord Kolteruze. You may spend as much time as you wish here. Of course we welcome any of Isolde's co-workers,” she replied.

“There really isn't much more to say, Mother,” Isolde assured her. She shot Kolteruze a reproving smile. He didn't seem fazed in the slightest.

“Oh but, it is a topic on which your wisdom never runs dry. The new fashion Charlotte intends to display for the Starbinding is exciting, no? That you have the chance to participate but are choosing not to is baffling,” he replied.

Even though she knew he was inventing something on the spot and no such fashion existed, she still had to sort through her memory to be certain. “Lady Charlotte will not be attending the Starbinding. She has yet to come of age,” Isolde reminded him. At least present a good lie.

“Yes, yes, that is why she's giving the idea out. Don't you see, she’s preparing for the Hunting Tournament. People will be used to the fashion, then she will elevate it beyond expectations. I know I’m no expert on women's fashion but you agree it must be so,” he replied.

“It is such a risky move. People might assume she is following behind others rather than setting the trend herself. It's just too risky,” Isolde argued. In the fake world where such a thing was occuring, she would tell her lady the same thing.

“But it is bold, just as Lady Charlotte is bold. Besides, who could surpass her?” Kolteruze pressed.

“Be that as it may, Kolteruze. We are Lord Melchior's retainers. A trend pushed by Lady Charlotte need not be picked up with such haste. As you say you are no expert, you must not know that a delay of one season is best when adopting trends. One must allow the lady at the fore to enjoy her moment.”

The servants and their lady listened to this argument go back and forth for quite some time. It was rare to hear Isoldel put so many words together in a row while this boy was willing to discuss women's clothes for much longer than any young man usually would. He also seemed willing to cede every argument and had no particular opinions himself. It would be unclear whether he was even interested in the topic were he not so actively participating in a discussion about pleats and pintucks. The lady of the house felt a certain bitterness at how faint his mana was.

“My lady, if you would permit a mere servant to give counsel,” said the woman serving Isolde. Kolteruze glanced at her again. The resemblance couldn't be ignored and her unfashionable shapeliness explained Isolde’s anxiety.

“Speak,” Isolde snapped. Kolteruze suppressed a shiver. He couldn't imagine speaking to his own mother that way even if she ended up serving him for some reason.

“Thank you. Couldn't you prepare a dress using the proposed idea? If it uses both summer and autumnal colors, you may debut it at either time. We may also employ some of the new techniques to allow for greater expansion so that the dress may be debuted next year if that becomes necessary,” she said, more to the other woman than to her charge.

“Ah, but you are too young to attend the Starbinding as well,” she pointed out.

Kolteruze placed a hand on his cheek. “Unless I missed such a sparkling event, Isolde has yet to make her Autumn Debut⁴¹. I can only assume that it will occur during this Starbinding season,” he said as he glanced between them. They all knew it should have occurred during Winter Socializing. Isolde's father was putting it off in hopes of settling an engagement before the event was strictly necessary. “I imagine our lord has gentlemen he would like you to meet,” Kolteruze added.

Isolde wanted to smirk on his behalf. Only a Liesegang could walk into someone else's house and chide them for delaying and not including another person's lord in planning their daughter’s courtship party. Melchior was a child too, so the actual input would come from Lady Florencia or Haldis. Kolteruze would still know about it and could expect an invitation even though he obviously wasn't a candidate himself.

Still, she was glad someone else was reminding them that the final word on her engagement would be Melchior's. As his scholar, she had to make a match that would benefit both him and her house so her father wasn't free to choose just anyone no matter how often he insisted that he was.

Kolteruze laughed, breaking the rising tension. “I haven't time to discuss your dresses though. I will have to order new clothes this year. The fashion in Liesegang is too far behind,” he sighed.

“You may refer to my reports for Lord Melchior. I can also imagine, he will have new designs of his own,” she replied.

With this he rose. “Your input is always deeply valued. I shall look forward to it,” he replied. “I see the God of Darkness grows in strength. I must return to the castle.”

“This has been too brief a meeting, Lord Kolteruze. Please feel encouraged to return for tea,” the lady of the house said with a slight bow.

“Allow me to escort you to the door,” Isolde said and moved to follow after him. They were trailed by her servant. “I suppose I must thank you,” she mumbled.

“Your notes will be thanks enough,” he replied. They descended the front stairs and he summoned his highbeast. “We are both Lord Melchior's retainers after all.”

Isolde gave a curtsy alongside their escort. “Thank you, Lord Kolteruze,” said Isolde's servant. He tipped his head to her. As much as he wanted to hear the story. He also felt like he already knew.

Footnotes

41. The party held to celebrate a girl developing mana sensing. ^

Chapter Text

The Clattering of Spears

The mock funeral was easier than Melchior expected. He rarely needed to handle medals but the spell for finding them using a blood sample was quite simple and used barely any mana. The training medal apparently belonged to a long dead commoner. It was nestled in a box with wooden disks painted white. There wasn't a blessing or prayer for commoners. The proceedings just ended after the ivory disk was handed over. Kazmiar told him that he was unlikely to ever need to perform a commoner funeral as the gray clergy were capable of finding most medals using name, age, and birth season. Even if a priest was needed, that priest would not be Melchior.

Noble funerals were a bit more involved. They weren't generally held at the temple but took place at an estate or the castle. Noble's also didn't bury their dead. Faepeople became faestones just like faebeasts. Even the weakest laynoble children who were kept as servants rather than baptized became stones. The very wealthy could afford time stopping magic tools to preserve the body but everyone else placed the faestone on a plinth for the ceremony.

A priest was hired to come give a sermon and pray to the Supreme Gods to guide the spirit of the deceased into the distant heights. Melchior wondered if the prayer Rozemyne taught him after the invasion was supposed to be used but had been forgotten like so many others. He read out the long sermon from a record kept in the bookroom then prayed to the gods then his part was done. Any other presentations or speeches were up to the families.

While he expected his morning to be completely absorbed by these rituals, he was finished by third bell. Having already canceled his music lessons, Melchior took the time to finish his revised drawings and commoner text. The extremely candid words felt inappropriate but he wanted the commoners to understand. He would just have to trust the advice of Master Dorrick. After Wilma's approval, he sent Isolde to deliver them to the castle and plan a meeting if one was needed.

Melchior felt anxious as he came to the end of his list of things to do. There wasn't enough time to assist Kazmiar before lunch but he also felt like he couldn't be idle. He double and triple checked his list then tried to remember whether he’d forgotten anything.

“Is something wrong, my lord?” Kirk asked as Melchior stared at the corner of his room.

“I feel like I must be forgetting something,” he replied.

Kirk looked over the list and tried to remember what they'd discussed. He couldn't think of anything else either. “Perhaps there is only waiting,” he replied.

The next morning, Melchior returned to the castle. After three intense days of work, studying felt like wasting time. He was glad to hear Isolde's report on his budget. It was much more generous than expected and would cover all the money he’d spent so far as well as the final cost of the gifts with plenty to spare. This begged the question of just how expensive hiring knights was. He had to assume that the bulk of these funds were for that and the Archduke would know more about such things than anyone.

“We can use our most ambitious plan,” Benedikt said excitedly upon seeing the surplus. This included sending knights to a couple different provinces to gather materials. They would also need to compensate the giebes for allowing their hunts which was why it would be much more expensive than staying within the central district.

Sigsnyr looked less excited since he would neither get to use the ingredients nor gather them. He still lent his knowledge to finalizing the plan, then delivered it to the Huntmaster of the Knights Order who also happened to be his father.

After lunch, Melchior had training then he returned for a bath. While he was preparing for dinner, Haldis took a moment to talk to him. “My lord, now that you have some time to think. I believe you need to decide what to do about the clattering of spears,” he said.

Ah yes, the thing he was forgetting. Melchior sank deeper into his bath. That was the last thing he wanted to think about. He didn't want to punish anyone. “I don't know what to do,” he sighed.

“You have heard many perspectives now. Who do you think is at fault?” Haldis asked.

“It feels too complicated to say. Sigsnyr should not have attacked but Ortolf cannot treat Zipporah as he did,” Melchior mused. Dedryck shuffled a little closer to listen. Shockingly, no one had informed him of the incident. “I haven't spoken with Sigsnyr yet either.”

“Well, that sounds like a good place to begin,” Haldis counseled.

“Would you consider talking with me first?” Dedryck asked.

Melchior jumped at his voice. “Did the other knights not inform you?” Melchior asked. He felt sure they would. Then again, it seemed like they hadn't told Fonsel either.

“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Melchior did his best to explain. He shared Zipporah’s reasoning for leaving the two boys in the clearing and Cecilia’s perspective. He added details from Gottschalk as one of the victims of the attack. It was lost on neither of them that Gottschalk had no strong criticism for Zipporah. In fact, the only person with much of a complaint was Ortolf. It brought into question his insistence that everyone agreed with him.

“My lord, this is not complicated from my perspective. An altercation between your knights cannot go unpunished. However, Ortolf’s refusal to follow instructions is of even greater concern. I would go so far as to say that any further incidents should result in his dismissal. You intend to make Zipporah your head apprentice next year, do you not? Something is going to happen so you might as well save others from being implicated by his ignorance,” Dedryck argued. If dismissal wouldn't mean the end of his career and destruction of his marriage prospects, Melchior felt he could follow this advice. Unfortunately, being released from service would all but end Ortolf's life.

By now, Melchior was dressed for dinner. Haldis placed him at his desk and began preparing his room alongside Kolteruze. “I forgot to share what Kolteruze said. He thinks Zipporah was intentionally provocative. Do I need to punish her as well?”

Dedryck laughed as he shook his head. “If someone so inept loudly criticized your leadership in the middle of a hunt, wouldn't you have sharp words for them?”

“He has been rather pointed with those who insult his retinue before,” Haldis chimed in.

Melchior blushed. “I was not as even tempered as I should have been.”

“No one really is. We just do our best to hide it and use our words to cryptically vent our frustrations. If anything, Zipporah did just what she should, given the circumstances,” Dedryck explained. “This will not be an easy decision but it's important for you to make it yourself.” Having dispensed his wisdom, Dedryck returned to guarding.

Melchior remained at his desk for some time, deep in thought and very still. Haldis and Kolteruze completed their work and the former excused himself for the evening. As they made a gentle rustling, Melchior considered all the accounts again. Some points everyone agreed on, like Ortolf's outburst being rude and Sigsnyr’s attack being uncalled for, while others were highly disputed. Did Zipporah make the wrong decision? Could Gottschalk and Ortolf be expected to escape a keilanne by themselves even if they couldn't fight it? He did his best to formulate a response then went to dinner without making much progress.

It was difficult to look cheerful during the meal. Brunhilde was invited which, for Melchior, only served to highlight that Wilfried was not there. She looked a touch unwell but behaved as though nothing was the matter and chatted conspiratorially with Charlotte.

“I’ve heard an interesting rumor, Charlotte. Are you planning to have your retinue pre-debut a new style at the Starbinding?” she asked.

“I’ve heard talk of this as well,” Florencia confirmed.

Charlotte looked baffled. She swallowed her most recent bite of food before replying that she wasn't planning anything of the sort.

“Is that so? Everyone will be so disappointed,” Brunhilde mused. From the sound of her voice, she would be the most disappointed.

Charlotte colored slightly. She glanced back at Florencia who held her gaze for a long moment before returning to a conversation with Sylvester about the Archdukes Conference.

“Perhaps I should create something,” she muttered.

Brunhilde brightened. “I have some ideas. If it is to be a novel design, we can be a little bold,” she giggled.

Melchior listened to them develop a new trend right there and then. It had something to do with replacing sleeves with attached cloaks but he was in no frame of mind to participate. He listened to his parents' discuss changing their trade partners from greater duchies to middle duchies or to the more northern duchies since Alexandria was now producing paper at a similar rate to Ehrenfest. They were also consuming much of it, so their ability to meet the demand of the lower half of the country seemed unlikely. They needed to consider trading the method to Hauchletze or Drewanchel or someone else on that side of the Yurgenschmidt but couldn't decide whether it was a good idea.

Once the meal was finally over he returned to his room. He requested that Haldis summon all of his retainers for a meeting the next day. It was on short notice but he wanted things to be over with. Before bed, he took some time to write a speech he didn't particularly like then compressed a bit of mana. He was planning to very slowly recompress before summer and to refill his storage faestones a bit. After compressing so much for so long the small amount he was doing now felt almost like nothing.

The next day, Melchior summoned his entire retinue. They all squeezed into a meeting room for the second time that season. This time, there were only seats for Melchior and the scholars. The attendants stood behind him with Dedryck while the rest of the knights all lined up before him.

He began with a sigh. “It has come to my attention that the tranquility of our collective was interrupted while I was away on Spring Prayer. Let me begin by stating a simple fact. You are my retainers at all times. My presence or lack thereof is not an excuse to put aside your comportment.” The apprentices shuffled on their feet with a confused air. He gestured for Pepin to step forward and hand Sigsnyr a sound blocker. “You are the only person I have yet to speak to. Tell me what happened.”

Sigsnyr glanced around. From the looks on Ortolf and Gottschalk’s faces he was slated for immediate termination. Zipporah and Cecilia looked more relaxed, as though they expected nothing of consequence to occur. He tried to read Melchior's expression but his lord looked more tired than anything else. “We went on a hunt to acquire Kolteruze’s spring ingredient. It required us to distract a nest of eikampf while he gathered the fruits of a certain tree. Ortolf displayed an unwillingness to follow orders and questioned why Zipporah wasn't planning to kill the faebeasts after it had already been explained that we were hoping to avoid bloodshed. She didn't trust him to contain himself and follow orders so she had him wait well away from the tree. She ordered Gottschalk to stay with him to ensure his protection and because we could not spare anyone more skilled.”

“Is Helenwig more skilled than Gottschalk?” Melchior asked.

Sigsnyr looked unsure for a moment. “He has less mana. As to his actual skill, its hard to quantify something like that. However, Ortolf wasn't going to listen to Helenwig and she was more interested in spending time with Kolteruze than he was.”

Melchior looked at Helenwig. She was doing a good job of maintaining a serious face but bouncing nervously all the same. He remembered her speaking about liking Zipporah but couldn't remember her speaking about Kolteruze or trading more than a couple of words with him. Sadly, he didn't have time to consider these implications. Sigsnyr had more to say.

“They were attacked by a keilanne. They are faebeasts which superficially resemble pigs with tree branches for tusks but their hunting style is much closer to that of a cat. They also develop the ability to influence their prey, making them less likely to flee or fight back.”

Melchior paled. A predator that could convince you to accept your fate would be difficult to fight. “They sound terrifying.”

Sigsnyr nodded. “I would not wish to be hunted by one. In any case, it was too much for the two boys to handle. They should have flown away but the mind altering nature of the beast might have prevented them from making optimal decisions. Thankfully, we were on our way back already when we heard the keilanne roar. Its hide was too thick to pierce with arrows and our spears struggled to hit their mark from a safe range. So, Zipporah jumped down and shot it through the eye before it could influence her too strongly.” Sigsnyr paused. He took several deep breaths and seemed at once angry and afraid. “Even the smallest hesitation and it would have killed her too.”

Melchior wanted to reach out and comfort him but had to maintain his poise. Either the others didn't understand the danger or hadn't wanted to scare him but no one had mentioned before what a risk Zipporah took to save her fellow knights. Not even the girl herself.

Sigsnyr recovered enough to continue. “So, when I heard Ortolf blowing his ignorant drivel so soon after Zipporah risked her life to save his, after he got himself into danger in the first place, and after his inability to follow instructions made him dead weight, I lost… no, I wanted an excuse to hit him and he gave me one. In truth, I want him to give me an excuse to do much worse.” His eyes flashed for only a second before he fixed a calm smile to his face. “I apologize for disturbing the tranquility.”

One thing was abundantly clear. There was no contrition in Sigsnyr's heart. Melchior didn't want to think about that. Instead, he wondered how such intense dislike could be hidden and if it wasn't, why had Ortolf been placed in his retinue? He would have to ask Wilfried what he was thinking another time. For now, he’d been silent for too long.

Pepin collected the sound-blockers and Melchior gestured for Sigsnyr to kneel. “Grievances between you shall never again be handled with violence,” he ordered. Sigsnyr crossed his arms and bowed his head. “While I said this at the Royal Academy I do not think I have reiterated my goals since acquiring new retainers. I intend to support Ehrenfest’s generational shift and Charlotte’s efforts to maintain our rank and transform our duchy into a greater duchy. Personally, I would like to make many friends and ask that you all treat people kindly as my representatives.” He looked at each knight until they gave a nod of assent. Despite seeing everyone else respond, it took Ortolf a moment longer than anyone else.

Melchior signaled for Sigsnyr to return to his spot and called Zipporah and Ortolf forward. “Ortolf, you are to apologize to Zipporah,” he ordered. The young knight transitioned through a selection of micro expressions before turning to his senior and muttering an perfunctory apology. “That will not do,” Melchior said. He recalled the lecture he witnessed a gray shrine maiden give one of the apprentices. “A proper apology has three parts. First you must admit to your wrong doing. Then express contrition from the heart. Finally, explain how you intend to improve. If you do not know, you can just promise to find out.”

Ortolf paled at this explanation. Nobles generally avoided admitting blame, not to mention that he was the victim in all of this. He began to say as much. “I was attacked for speaking up about an injustice. Why do I have to apologize?”

Dedryck cleared his throat. “You ignored orders, insulted your superior, placed your fellow knight in danger through your inability to act. You have much to be sorry about. Indeed, it is a wonder you remain in Lord Melchior's service,” he replied.

“But it was Sigsnyr who hit me and caused this whole mess,” Ortolf insisted.

“Lord Sigsnyr, an archknight famous for his patient and relaxed nature, merely struck you after you insulted his goddess of water,” Cecilia scoffed. “Zipporah saved your life twice that day and you won't even apologize for being rude.” No one had time to correct her as to the nature of Sigsnyr and Zipporah’s relationship. Instead the entire room stared at Ortolf, awaiting his apology.

“Kneel,” Melchior ordered. It was strange that he wasn't already.

Ortolf sank to his knees in front of Zipporah. “I apologize for insulting you. I will keep my thoughts to myself in the future.”

It would have to be enough, Melchior thought. He sighed and shooed Ortolf back to his place but Sebastian stepped forward and held him down. “You have not apologized to Lord Melchior,” he said.

Since he couldn't stand, Ortolf had to spin on his knee to face his lord. He crossed his arms. “I have been uncouth and ignorant. My inability to hold my tongue has caused discord within your retinue. I apologize from the bottom of my heart and swear to improve.” Melchior was stunned. He looked back and forth between Sebastian and Zipporah. She shrugged. It was surprising that Ortolf's apology to her was as good as it was.

“See that you do,” Melchior muttered, still considering the awkward disparity. He’d only been barely inconvenienced while Zipporah was embarrassed in front of her coworkers.

Sigsnyr voluntarily stepped forward to apologize to Zipporah for ignoring her order to contain himself and tarnishing her reputation along with his own. “I recognize that you are capable of fighting your own battles and did not intend to detract from others' understanding of that fact. Though I cannot, in good conscience, promise such a thing will never occur again, I will endeavor to practice greater self control.” He knelt before her and lowered his head.

Zipporah blushed but her expression didn't waver. “I understand,” she replied. “I hope that next time you will remember this oath.” Ortolf stared in disbelief and confusion as Sigsnyr apologized to Melchior again for disturbing the tranquility then returned to his place without apologizing to the medknight or even looking at him. His confusion turned to horror as Melchior made a final announcement.

So much of the discord between Benedikt and Isolde was solved by officially communicating her position as his head scholar. Melchior figured that something similar would occur with the apprentice knights. “Next year, Sigsnyr will step down as head apprentice knight to focus on his studies and mapping activities. As such, a new head apprentice must be appointed.” Gottschalk looked excited for a moment. He was the only other sixth year and, though he was a mednight, he was confident in his abilities. “To better develop her skills as a leader and because she already understands Dedryck's system for assigning shifts and organizing watches, Zipporah will assume the duties of head apprentice knight,” Melchior declared with a smile.

Only Dedryck, Melchior, and Sigsnyr knew about this plan. Zipporah did her best to stand up straight and not look as shocked as Gottschalk. Cecilia was the first to begin clapping while Ortolf allowed the light applause to wash over him without ever joining. Nothing could have prepared him for this eventually. When he’d been instructed to join Melchior's retinue, he was amazed by how many girls were in his service but there was no doubt in his mind that Melchior saw them as temporary filler for his anemic roster.

Helenwig stared at the older girl. So much responsibility was being placed on her shoulders but she was calm and smiling. It was no wonder that Cecilia, an accomplished knight in her own right, had so much respect for Zipporah. As the daughter of a foreign giebe, Helenwig expected to be married off for a political alliance without achieving anything of note. While she anticipated being happy enough before, that future now paled when compared to her lingering ambition. She wanted to be a great knight, heaped with accolades and decorated with achievements. Deep in her heart, she wanted to be a Knight Commander even though she knew it was impossible. She looked at her happily clapping lordling. He was placing a second woman in a position of authority, seemingly without caring that she would one day leave his service never to return. If he became the Archduke, would he give her a chance to reach for her dreams?

Melchior felt a bit better now that the incident was behind him. He returned to the Northern Building in high spirits. Zipporah followed and asked to speak with him. Once they were settled with tea and the magic tools she began. “My lord, I am moved beyond words that you would place so much trust in me. I must ask, however, why have you placed Schutzaria in Leidenschaft’s place?”

“I believe any of the Eternal Five could carry out the necessary duties,” Melchior replied. “Sigsnyr recommended you and Dedryck agreed. You are already leading hunts and complete your classes in a timely fashion. Do you not want to be the head apprentice?” Melchior realized he hadn't actually asked her before deciding. It would be awkward to take back his word but if she insisted he would have to accept.

She shook her head. “I am happy to serve in whatever capacity you require my lord, I only worry that you are foregoing the opportunity to raise those knights who will serve you for the rest of their lives.”

“Do you intend to leave my service? Don't you plan to marry Sigsnyr?” Melchior replied.

“I…” she looked away as blood rushed into her cheeks. “I would like to but he would not.”

Melchior was amazed. Of course Sigsnyr mentioned not wanting to marry but he’d traveled to Haldenzel and met Zipporah’s family. They spent every spare moment together. “Are you sure?” She sighed and nodded. “Well, so long as you remain in Ehrenfest City, you will be welcome in my retinue,” Melchior promised. She could marry Sebastian but that felt wrong somehow. Giebe Herzfeld probably wouldn't forgive his cousin either. “Well, Nikolaus can take over once you graduate, please train him accordingly,” Melchior said.

Zipporah sat thoughtfully for a moment before promising to do her best. Nikolaus didn't have the disposition for leadership but he would give anything his best effort if ordered. Perhaps he would transform over the next two years. Unfortunately, he was only a year younger. Melchior would need yet another head apprentice before he graduated. It would be better if they were his age or younger but Gerianne was the only knight in his year. There were children younger than him but she wouldn't have much time to train them. Her father wouldn't want to give up her younger brother either, but he was the only kid she had any faith in so far.

Melchior sipped his tea and smiled calmly while she contemplated the future. He looked like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Zipporah smiled at him once again and he brightened in response. She hoped she would be able to protect his smile along with his person. “You may rely upon me,” she assured him.

“Thank you, Zipporah.”

The Art of Printing

It was difficult to wait for other people to finish their part of things. It was not Melchior’s job to sort and package the ingredients, nor could he force the Archduke to hurry his review of the fliers. It went without saying that he could not dye fabric nor could he crochet flowers. Kirk couldn't even teach him since he didn't know himself.

Studying was difficult when he was so anxious about other things but he had to prove that his expensive tutors weren't necessary. Isolde informed him that his seasonal reviews were coming up. He would be tested on all he learned about the second year content including half the names of the gods. It felt silly but rereading his old notes proved enlightening.

It helped somewhat that Flautzeal was in a passionate fervor. Teaching so many people new music put him in a permanent good mood. He was also practicing his new composition for Lord Ferdinand. It was hauntingly beautiful and required him to play in two different styles. Apparently, it was meant to be a duet but he was playing both halves since no one else in Melchior’s retinue could manage. “Have you asked Trude and the gray clergy?” Melchior asked one day.

“No my lord. Do you think they would play with me?” Flautzeal asked.

“Of course. We can debut the song at the recital instead of the portrait sitting,” Melchior replied.

“I will teach my master the song. I was hoping to receive her advice this week anyway,” Flautzeal declared. Melchior just reminded him to maintain a healthy lifestyle and went back to studying.

After three long days of waiting, the Archduke's office approved the fliers. The scholars were unhappy with the crude text but Isolde's passionate explanations won the day. “If the commoners cannot understand, they cannot execute their orders and the Aub of Alexandria the first will arrive to colorless streets and insufficient fanfare. Better to offend the commoners with overly simplistic language, no?”

He was still forced to change the word marriage to something less risque. They could not be said to be “getting married” but were receiving the blessings of matrimony. So long as printing could begin, Melchior felt ready to accept any revisions.

There was more waiting to return to the temple, then all the tools for cutting stencils were brought to his room. “I thought we might practice on something simpler first,” Wilma declared. She gave him a short knight story and had him draw an illustration. Having seen a great many knights in his life, it was easy. The boy in the tale needed something fairly basic but struggled all the same, so Melchior drew him as fairly young. It proved to be an excellent distraction from his anxiety as their entire first morning was absorbed by the task.

Melchior wanted to skip training but he didn't feel like he’d made up for his lost strength from Spring Prayer yet. Unfortunately, it was an archery day. His attempts to focus on the targets were stymied by the appearance of new recruits. While they didn't have permission to work in the temple, all baptized Ehrenfest citizens technically had permission to visit if they so desired. So, Cecilia and Helenwig came with Zipporah for the evening training.

Streita welcomed them with open arms. While the youngest trainees were shooting, everyone else got to spar and dance. Nikolaus seemed to be the weakest test while Dedryck was considered the strongest. On skill alone, Cecilia could beat Nikolaus as handily as Zipporah or Sigsnyr but his superior mana allowed him to even things out using enhancement magic. Their match sounded exciting but Melchior couldn't actually see it.

He grumbled with Gerianne. “Why don't we get to watch. Couldn't we learn something?”

“I understood very little the last time,” she admitted. Melchior had to nod as well. They were about fifteen paces from the targets now. Nikolaus seemed to be accurate from forty. It was just another reminder that Melchior had a lot of training to do before he could protect anyone.

“May I spar with Zipporah as well,” Cecilia asked after watching Helenwig get knocked down by Dedryck a second time. “If she doesn't mind that is.”

“Of course Lady Cecilia. I am always happy to provide instruction,” Zipporah replied.

“Let’s see it then!” Streita laughed.

Melchior and Gerianne paused their shooting. No one chided them as they watched the lightning fast rounds unfold.

“Best of three?” Cecilia said. Zipporah obliged. When they got to best of eleven, Streita called the match. “It isn't fair. You have so much mana,” Cecilia huffed.

“Your form is more refined,” Zipporah countered.

Streita tapped her stick on her hand. “You had a couple of opportunities to strike but made poor use of them. You are trying to conserve mana but your opponent cannot be felled by half measures.”

“I do not want to run out mid battle,” Cecilia argued.

“You prefer that the battle end before you have given your all?” Streita asked. Cecilia looked pensive. “You can lose through attrition or by being overwhelmed but the only way to win is to put all your strength into your few opportunities to strike.”

“Best of thirteen?” she asked.

Zipporah readied her blade in response. Everything was a blur until Zipporah tumbled across the courtyard. Cecilia raced after and raised her glowing blade.

“I yield!” Zipporah yelled. Cecilia paused. “Any strike that would hit me must be strong enough to do great harm.”

Cecilia lowered her blade. Her shoulders shook with contained laughter. “We would not want that,” she said and reached a hand out to pick up her sparring partner. A deep chuckle escaped then boiled over into maniacal cackling. Zipporah took her hand and pulled her to the ground. “Eek!”

“That was only round seven,” Zipporah teased.

Cecilia splayed on her back. “I concede. I don't have anything left. You truly would win the war,” she sighed.

Helenwig walked over and helped them both up. “That was amazing!” she chirped. She helped Cecilia Waschen while Zipporah cleaned herself up. They continued babbling about the bout until Streita clapped loudly.

“All right. Everyone back to your training. I haven't heard an arrow in quite some time.”

Melchior and Gerianne hurried back to their task while the older students began the dancing portion of the day.

The moment he was clean, Melchior summoned Wilma to continue their work. He was finished with the illustration so she showed him how to trace the lines to create the stencil. Lyle then operated the printer so they could check the results.

“It looks awful!” Melchior cried. The outlines were both chunkier and wobbly compared to his sketch.

“The process alters the art somewhat. I have developed a few techniques to mitigate these problems. Let’s try them,” Wilma encouraged.

She showed him a few tricks on a new stencil paper. They each did half the drawing then Lyle printed it again. Melchior and his knights watched in awe as a blank piece of paper was added, the ink was drawn over the stencil, then the paper emerged with a poor imitation of his original. The anticipation of this was the only thing keeping him going as his attempts continued to produce poor results. Wilma's portion looked better but even her half lacked the fine quality of a pencil drawing.

“My lord, it will never look as good as your work. I fear we must settle for an acceptable approximation,” Kirk said. He’d witnessed many illustrations be butchered by this process and was more inured to the disappointment.

“Yes. That is true, Kirk. We will never get it printed otherwise,” Melchior sighed. He held the damp page carefully and contemplated how to improve his cutting

They took a break for dinner. Melchior and his knights looked over the drawings and fiddled with the wooden box.

“I thought printing required great strength,” Gerianne mused.

“The presses must be used by adults but these are usable even by small children,” Kirk replied. “You can also use them for text but the stencils aren't as robust as metal letters.”

He continued to talk about the wonders and specific details of printing while Melchior asked an endless string of questions. The High Bishop previously thought he knew how printing worked. He’d toured the workshop many times and even helped bind a couple of books but the sheer quantity of knowledge one could obtain by actually working day to day in a print workshop was staggering. “You know so much, Kirk. Do you miss the workshop?” Melchior asked.

Kirk took longer to answer than any previous question. “I am happy to be in your service,” he replied with a smile. Melchior frowned. Kirk tried not to follow suit. He was being honest. As much as he enjoyed working with the other orphans, he was very happy in Melchior's service. His lord took him traveling and supported his interests. He got to eat his fill of delicious food and learn all kinds of new things. “It is true, my lord.”

Melchior nodded but didn't look convinced. He worked on a new stencil while the attendants ate and didn't finish until Wilma returned from her dinner in the orphanage. When this one was tested some of the lines were so fine they’d failed to print. He felt dejected but tried a fourth time anyway. The only thing that was printed before he had to go to bed was the young knight triumphantly clutching his prize.

The next morning, Melchior declared that he would remain at the temple for an extra day. The printing of the commoner fliers would commence that afternoon regardless of how happy he was with the line art. The deftest stencil cutters were summoned to prepare the color sections using pen knives while Melchior worked on the line art.

Isolde and Flautzeal watched the process with interest until they were forced out of the room to assist Kazmiar. Melchior promised Flautzeal he could try the tools later but was afraid he would be even harder to please than himself. It didn't help that each sheet of stencil paper cost the workshop five large copper in materials. Melchior felt fortunate to be charged at cost rather than a retail rate but didn't want to fund the dozens of attempts Flautzeal would need to feel satisfied.

This final attempt was better than the first. He’d corrected the wonkiness of his tracing and improved the line quality over all. It would never compare to the original but he chose to be content and moved on to the flier.

He was disappointed to find out that full color printing would require either several machines or several runs. The pages would also need to dry in between colors. Since the Winter Book Sale had passed, there wasn't as much urgency to print so he could monopolize the mimeograph boxes for a couple of days.

“We will have the first copy ready by this evening for you to approve. The remaining twenty or so can be printed tomorrow. They will be ready for your meeting with the merchants,” Wilma promised.

Melchior paled. He’d forgotten to plan a meeting with the merchants. Kirk was dressed in rags and covered in ink so, for the first time in a long time, he sent Lothar with invitations for his extra day. In the meantime, he used his knights to send ordonnanz to Haldis to prepare funds for the flower collection. The individual flowers weren't expensive and the first flower promise amount was below market rate anyway. They settled on one large gold just to be safe.

Chapter Text

The Art of Printing Part 2

It was then time for more waiting. Melchior ordered a Washchen for Kirk before using the last half bell before lunch to practice music. Flautzeal arrived with Trude having talked Kazmiar into letting him go at some point. Isolde was summoned back to display her progress in the singing portion of their duet. After receiving a couple of pointers from both instructors, she smiled mischievously.

“Perhaps we should seek Trude’s wisdom regarding our choral piece as well. Not everyone is here but if we summon Kolteruze from the atrium, we will have at least one person for each part,” she said.

Flautzeal looked delighted by this idea while Sigsnyr was horrified. As they were already practicing, Gerianne and Nikolaus felt resigned to their fate. Unsurprisingly, Dedryck put up the greatest fuss.

“We cannot reduce your guard to sing,” he sighed.

“It will only take a couple of minutes,” Melchior insisted. This would be such a nice collection of people and almost everyone knew all the words by now.

“My lord, emergencies arrive without warning and when we least expect them. That is why vigilance is needed at all times,” Dedryck replied.

Melchior considered this sage advice with a pout. Dedryck sang a crucial part. He looked at Flautzeal whose expectant eyes spoke of an undeserved trust placed in his lord’s ability to coax his knight. He added his own pleading look but didn't offer any solutions.

Melchior turned to Isolde. She held her chin for a moment. This was her idea in the first place. It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying to pull the others into her misery if Dedryck escaped. “We can sing twice. Sigsnyr and Nikolaus can trade places since Dedryck is needed to carry the melody,” she suggested.

Dedryck paled. The duties of a guard knight had been his shield. Now he might have to sing in front of people, not once, but twice. Melchior was a bit sad not to get everyone together at once. “What if we all sang in the hallway?” he asked.

“Why in the hallway?” Dedryck was distracted by the absurd recommendation.

“Then you can watch the hall while practicing,” Melchior continued.

“It will not be a problem for Nikolaus and I to switch off,” Sigsnyr said.

“Then we cannot all sing together,” Melchior countered. The assembled retainers swapped a variety of expressions. There were already many of his retainers missing. Having one more person gone wouldn't ruin anything.

“We could go to the chapel,” Gerianne suggested. It was a larger space, had better acoustics, and would allow for good sightlines.

Melchior took to the idea immediately. “Yes! Let's go to the chapel. Should we bring the shield so our prayers can better reach the Goddess?”

Gerianne nodded while Lothar shook his head. “My lord, this is not a ritual.”

“Didn't you get into trouble last time you turned this song into a blessing?” Dedryck asked. Flautzeal was surprised by this revelation. He asked several questions about how and why the blessing occurred. His own experimentation was yielding inconsistent results.

“I can't talk about it this time, Flautzeal. One day I promise to explain,” Melchior replied. “Let us move to the chapel, there will be no problem if this song becomes a blessing.”

Dedryck wanted to argue that the chapel wasn't any more secure than the High Bishop's chambers and would still require someone to guard but Melchior had drawn his retainers and the gray clergy into a lively procession he had to ensure the security of. They met Kolteruze on the way and explained their plan excitedly. The little gray apprentice assigned to serve him that day was sent hurrying to summon the High Priest after he reminded everyone about Kazmiar. Dedryck and Lothar shared a sigh.

As instructed, Kazmiar's summoner didn't include many details. The High Priest arrived looking slightly worried and confused. Melchior and Flautzeal were arranging everyone on the stage while Trude waited patiently between the carpets.

“My lord? Did you require assistance?” Kazmiar called out after watching for a moment.

“Kazmiar! Come, come. Where should you stand. He is taller than most of us,” Melchior noted.

“He should be at this end with the lower section,” Flautzeal decided.

“My lord, what is happening?” Kazmiar asked.

“We are practicing our song,” Nikolaus replied with a far away look. He wasn't sure how to feel about the evolution of events. This had clearly begun from Isolde's desire to bring others into her misery but singing in a large group was more fun than he’d anticipated. Kazmiar was forced into his spot with insistent smiles and grumbles about how busy he was.

“Ok!” Flautzeal said triumphantly. He moved to stand with Melchior and Gerianne at the front. “Shall we warm up our voices?” he asked.

“Please play for us, Trude,” Melchior requested. One of her attendants brought over a harspiel and plucked each string at her instruction. The choir sang the notes as ordered. It began too low for the young singers and ended too high for the adult men. As much as he tried, Nikolaus couldn't sing as low as he wanted. He anxiously awaited the day his voice would change as he sang the same part as Isolde.

Once Flautzeal was satisfied, it was time to sing the song. The shrine was behind them and the chapel was empty but the singers were still a little nervous. Trude stood with her hand neatly folded in front of her, waiting to judge their performance. Dedryck began with a phrase Gerianne claimed was similar to “I am one who offers prayers and gratitude” but was plural. They would have to take her word for it since not even Sebastian could give a complete translation. Gerianne promised to obtain one during the Harvest Festival.

After the introductory phrase everyone else joined for a repeat then began the song proper. Though he wanted to sing a different part, Nikolaus was secretly glad to share with Isolde, if only because she was good at singing the right notes. He wasn't used to harmonizing and struggled to remember his part when she wasn't around. Their voices mingled with the other retainers and died quickly in the expansive room with its plush carpet and expensive drapery.

“We must project,” Flautzeal instructed after their first attempt. “You are all so quiet. Are you afraid?”

They all looked at each other. Nikloaus hadn't tried to sing particularly loudly but neither was anyone else. They’d just matched the volume Dedryck started with. A look at his bright red face explained everything.

“Lord Dedryck, if you would accept my comment,” Trude began. “You have a lovely voice. There is no reason to be timid.”

There was every reason to be timid as far as Dedryck was concerned. For one, this room had many entrances, not all of which he could see from the stage. The pillars and draperies made for excellent hiding and ambush points. And he had to sing in front of other people.

“You can project much louder,” Sigsnyr noted. He’d certainly heard Dedryck yell across the Knights Order.

Melchior and Flautzeal smiled encouragingly as they declared they would try again. “Just close your eyes and imagine singing directly to the Goddess,” Flautzeal said. This did nothing to allay Dedryck's fears.

“Or, just pretend to be here, surrounded by people who know and respect you, in front of an empty room,” Kazmiar said. He gestured out at the carpets. For rituals and the like they would be filled with people. A couple of shrine maidens couldn't even count as an audience. “It is your lord’s will.”

Dedryck took a deep breath to calm his heart. This was not the work of a guard knight, but they were still Melchior's orders. Dedryck was not accustomed to failing in his duty. He did his best to start off a little louder and was impressed that any sound escaped at all. The children all matched his volume but Kazmiar sang louder and looked at him with a smirk. Though he wasn't particularly competitive, Dedryck was happy to be goaded into forgetting his surroundings for a moment. He matched Kazmiar and added a little more to prove he was able. By the end of the song, the choir was filling the chapel with sound.

Trude clapped gracefully. “That was much better,” she praised. “It seems like you are ready to practice blending.”

Everyone was confused except Flautzeal who agreed immediately and began doling out advice to each person. “We will have to bring everyone together to get a true sense of our sound,” he muttered and was about to start another round of the song when fourth bell rang.

“Oh dear, we must break for lunch,” Isolde said with a hand to her cheek. Nothing Flautzeal could say even inspired anyone to pause as they hurried back towards Melchior’s chambers.

Flautzeal was left with Trude and Lily gazing after them sadly. “Does no one want to sing more?”

Trude patted his shoulder. “It is difficult when no one shares our passion. Do not lose heart. There will be others who do,” she said.

He looked at her with slightly reddened eyes. “Not in our retinue,” he whimpered. There wasn't much space to add more people. There were also very few nobles in Ehrenfest with a passion for music.

“There is life outside of service,” she said. He nodded. “Now, you will miss lunch if you do not hurry.” He shuffled out of the chapel with a deep sigh.

After lunch, Melchior ran with his knights. It wasn't surprising that Helenwig and Cecilia were faster than him but he still felt motivated to improve. Gerianne also seemed excited to have more girls to train with even though she wasn't good enough to beat anyone at sparring except Melchior. She didn't have any strange abilities but had begun practicing to evade strikes too.

Sparring with Melchior still wasn't fun as it was either a war of attrition, since she couldn't strike fast enough to overcome his natural agility, or he all but gave up immediately. It was much more enjoyable to perform the choreographed block and strike sequence. With Veremund’s gloves, the pain was much reduced so he could keep going for longer without needing to stop. Gerianne simply gritted her teeth and bore with the pain. Whenever he offered to stop or provide healing, she reminded him that this was a necessary part of becoming a knight.

True to her word, Wilma presented the printed flier that evening before dinner. It was legible and the designs hadn't lost much detail, so Melchior authorized printing. Since all the content was the same and it was just going to be seen by commoners, he figured Sylvester didn't need to see it again. There were some things he wished to improve and changes he needed to make so the noble version, with its more complex designs, would still read well. One box was left for him and Kirk to experiment with. They cut the stencil paper into smaller pieces and tried a variety of techniques to improve readability or expand the color possibly without adding new ink colors.

The ink was largely opaque especially when printing dark over light. If he tried his hardest and knew where to look, he could almost make out where the overlap was but it wasn't a strong enough difference for most people to care about most of the time. What did work was cutting very fine lines or carefully spaced scratches. It looked exactly like what it was close up, scratches of one color over another, but from farther away things blended together pretty well.

Printing light over dark still didn't work as well, so adding shadows was easier than adding highlights. They didn't find a good solution that night. The next morning, Isolde insisted he study for a little bit before playing with his printer. “You are missing a day at the castle this week but, by your own claim, do not want to reduce the rigor of your schedule,” she lectured.

He wanted to grumble and use his authority to put off studying but Isolde would not be swayed. She knew very well that his threats were empty and his subtle reminder that he was the Archduke's son was pure posturing.

“Authority and power are for helping people, Lord Melchior,” she chastised. “If you would like to use your position to avoid studying, we should also reintroduce all the trappings of your station.” He sighed and accepted her tutelage without further argument. Bringing back his expensive tutors was the last thing he wanted. They spent half a bell reading and interpreting the Book of Laws before starting and ending music class early. Isolde then watched the printing with great interest.

“If you do not cut away the whole shape, you could create highlights by poorly marking the paper,” she suggested.

Kirk and Melchior praised her for her genius then struggled to leave bits of paper in the middle of large blocks of color. The solution seems to be to print the colors twice. Once with the highlight section and the parts the masking pieces would be supported by. Then the rest of the shape with a masked out portion slightly smaller than the highlighted section to prevent a white outline. They were able to produce a light blue and dark blue flower with highlights, shading, and outlines by printing over the same sheet a minimum of five times.

“It is more beautiful and refined but you could add more colors if you are going to do more prints and use more stencils,” Isolde noted.

Wilma had a more positive view since mixing more ink was labor intensive. “While it would take as much time as printing in more colors, the preparatory steps will not be impacted,” she said.

It was a half victory and might be worth doing very occasionally. The noble fliers felt like one such occasion. Wilma suggested using black for all the shadows since the darker yellow had no good shadow color to pick from those available. If all the shadows were black, things would have a more cohesive look. After testing it, they switched to the dark blue for everything but itself. They felt it was better for the other flowers to look nicer than for the dark blue to match perfectly.

Of course, they now had dozens of flower prints on quarter sheets of paper and nothing to do with them. “If you explain your process, I think you could sell this information to the Plantin company along with these prints,” Wilma suggested. Kirk spent training time writing out explanations on wooden boards and the backs of certain pictures.

The meeting with the Plantin Company, Gilbertta Company, and Fred was planned for third bell. Haldis arrived with the money in time to listen to music practice and drink Lothar's tea. He looked over the sample flier and the improved flowers while he waited. It was fascinating to try to follow the creative process first without reading the text. The final noble sample wasn't complete yet. In fact, the workshop was finishing the line art and drying as they strummed.

Wilma's estimation turned out to be exactly correct. The thirty fliers were presented just before Melchior left his chambers for the meeting.

Fred looked both confused and frightened. This meeting was about printed goods and crochet flowers, neither of which his business handled. He watched quietly while the magic contract for the flower collection was sighed and a large gold was exchanged. He listened to an unintelligible presentation on new printing techniques. The negotiations over this were quite long as Melchior and his scholars had never before attempted to sell technology. The Plantin Company was interested but wanted to contact Rozemyne first to see if she knew of these techniques. Isolde insisted they could claim to have known whether they actually did or not and argued they should pay now if they wanted to take them.

Eventually, Milda agreed to a conservative price. No one in Ehrenfest was working to print fine art so she didn't need exclusive access. Melchior had invented this with Kirk over a single day, more or less, so he didn't think it was worth very much anyway. Plus, the Plantin Company agreed to share a couple of tips if Rozemyne had some to give. Isolde was obviously unhappy but Melchior didn't feel they needed to make a fortune. The nicer prints were also purchased for a final total large enough to recoup his research costs with a little extra. Wilma refused any compensation as she felt she hadn't contributed anything but Isolde was given a small silver for her input. Melchior took half to help offset his investment then split the last half with Kirk.

Before they could divide their spoils though, the fliers were handed out. “We request that you distribute your share to businesses and workshops you trust so they can protect the sheets and explain their contents to those who cannot read,” Melchior explained.

“If you would not mind, my lord, might we give copies to the gates as well?” Otto asked.

Melchior gave his permission, both for this and for giving copies to various guilds. “I believe the southern half of the city will be in most need of assistance when viewing these fliers. I would like for more to make their way there,” he added.

Milda tapped her temple. “There are mostly homes and storehouses rather than businesses in that area. In addition, people that live there travel to other parts of the city to work and shop. Is there any particular reason you want to risk loss to post bills in that area?” she asked.

Otto replied instead. “I believe Lord Melchior wishes to include as much of the city as possible. There are some people who cannot or do not leave that area. If no bills are posted there, some citizens will never see them.”

Melchior could only nod in agreement. He didn't actually have such strong feelings about a section of the city that wouldn't be visible from the parade route but Otto seemed passionate. “The fliers only need to survive until the visit. Then, the people may do with them what they wish,” he added. That wasn't a very long time at this point. Only several weeks.

“Were they just posted on a wall, they would disappear in a matter of bells,” Fred mused. “Most people cannot read but the art is pretty enough to be tempting.”

“Is there nowhere to post declarations from the Aub?” Melchior asked. Most announcements were made at feasts. Wooden boards might be distributed if the instructions were very complex. Since the Archduke's office couldn’t issue boards to every person or business, there would need to be a central location or something.

The merchants shook their heads. “The Archduke sends messengers to the guild masters who pass on the instructions by word of mouth,” Milda explained. Melchior wondered if a board posted by nobles would invoke enough respect to protect his flier long enough for people to absorb the information. He would consider it. For now, the soldiers would post it to a wooden sign and stand beside it to explain.

“Once per week would not add undue stress or reduce the effectiveness of their guard,” Otto predicted.

Milda was given the largest pile and instructed to distribute them to the various guilds. Otto accepted the responsibility of taking some to the four gates and Fred would talk with some workshops he knew. Melchior requested that he also visit Dorrick's Apothecary to entrust them with one.

Melchior felt happy enough about the outcome of his meeting that going to the Knights Order for training wasn't enough to dampen his spirit. The same could not be said for Helenwig and Cecilia.

More Distractions

While his extra day at the temple meant he missed a dinner with Wilfried, Melchior was still happy he took it. He would have to plan a separate tea or lunch with his brother but that would need to wait as well. Isolde had another important event planned.

“We must be proactive in preparation for your summer fitting,” she began. Melchior and Haldis waited with baited breath. “I have created a three step plan to ensure your Autumn will not be as blue. There is no way for you to avoid blue entirely. First you must create new designs well in advance. Second we will secure allies whose opinions Lady Florencia respects. Third we will present our ideas alongside our allies at least a month in advance before the fitting is scheduled so that you can plan it yourself.”

Melchior gave a little clap while Haldis looked pensive. “I feel like there are many more steps obscured by these categories,” he noted.

“Well, yes. We must discuss the trends then you,” she pointed at Melchior, “must draw some designs, then you,” she pointed at Haldis, “must plan the tea party with Lady Brunhilde and Lord Bonifiatus.”

“Why them?” Haldis asked while Melchior just looked delighted by the idea.

“Lady Brunhilde already assists Lady Charlotte in planning her wardrobe. Lady Florencia trusts her advice as well. Lord Bonifiatus knows more about the history of trends in Ehrenfest than anyone else in the Archductal family. He is surprisingly well dressed for a man of his age. With his support, the First Wife will have to at least consider our requests,” Isolde explained.

“They also have the most free time,” Haldis replied.

“And they have the most free time, yes. We could try to schedule with the Archduke but he isn't likely to be available.”

“Father said he wanted to see any trends I show Lady Brunhilde. Won't he be upset if we don't invite him?” Melchior asked.

“We can invite him. He will reject the invitation which will allow you to say you tried if he asks,” Isolde offered.

Haldis shook his head. “Considering the possibility that he might insist you wait for a time he can come, I recommend informing him of your decision after the fact,” he said.

“Won't he be upset?” Isolde asked.

“He will be distracted by two very important events,” Haldis replied. They shared devious smiles. “I will begin the planning and groundwork for your tea party,” he promised and began his work for the day.

“You can mention this off hand but attempt not to speak of it in front of your parents yet,” Isolde instructed.

“I can do that but are we sure I shouldn't invite, Father?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” she said.

Melchior felt forced to agree. He did his studying then helped in his mother's office under the cold watch of his painting. It was getting easier to ignore but still made him anxious anytime it entered his peripheral vision. That he had no time at the moment to create a replacement only added to this.

Isolde had many notes on men’s fashion both from the Royal Academy and Ehrenfest archnobles. Melchior added what he remembered from graduation and school as well as a couple of his own ideas. He still had the embarrassing parchment covered in Ferdinand drawings. Since it was faeparchment and mana ink, he took the opportunity to copy the parts about clothing so they could be stored separately from everything else.

It was a good opportunity to practice the finicky resizing part of the spell and to teach Isolde how to do it. She almost succeeded in stealing a portrait of Ferdinand but Melchior caught her. “You will have to ask his permission,” he hissed. She paled at the thought and settled for staring dreamily until it was burned into her memory.

Melchior received a couple of important deliveries during his days of waiting and designing. The Noble fliers arrived in time for his tea with Florencia and Charlotte. He brought three to show and asked for advice on how to send them. Florencia looked it over with interest. “These are brooch designs?” she asked. Melchior confirmed that they were. “And you did not create hairpin designs on a separate page?” she asked.

Melchior paled and Charlotte giggled. He’d completely forgotten women’s accessories on the commoner flier as well. “As hairpins have existed for so long now, could women not extrapolate from these?” he asked.

Florencia set the page down and Charlotte touched her chin pensively. “It is possible that you have too much faith in others' creativity. You added a note encouraging people to customize their cockades but I believe most people will wear them exactly as depicted,” she said.

“It is also rare for women to have as extensive a collection as we do, Melchior,” Florencia added.

“My apologies, Mother. I failed to consider everyone. Should I create another selection of hairpins?” he offered. It would greatly delay dissemination but maybe that was better than alienating the larger half of the population.

“Your female retainers also wear brooches. It is not an exclusively male trend. This will encourage more people to adopt it,” Lady Florencia assured him. She touched her clock pin absentmindedly. Even though he’d seen Rozemyne wear Ferdinand's brooch, he hadn't considered that women would be just as interested in them.

“Would you like your commemorative set to include two pieces?” he asked.

“Perhaps that would be too much?” she mused and looked at Charlotte.

“Oh no, Mother. I thought Rozemyne looked lovely wearing a coordinating set. Do you think men will begin wearing them in their hair too?” Charlotte teased.

The mother and daughter giggled together. Melchior felt a touch of hope. He knew at least two boys interested in that very thing. “If they were quite subtle, perhaps.”

In the end, they agreed he could forgo making additional designs. Florencia even agreed to help him send them and inform the giebes. They could use the tax teleportation circles but would need to send ordonnanz to each province before sending them. Melchior wondered if sending messengers would be easier but the necessary greetings and farewells and the need to rest each night would turn an afternoon's task into a week-long trip. There was one hunt leaving for Bessel so one flier could be couriered instead. They would even receive it early since Melchior would have to wait for his return to the castle.

Where he longed for the productive days in the temple before, he could now barely contain his anticipation for his castle days. He studied and trained and met with Flautzeal while Isolde was helping Kazmiar.

Flautzeal arrived with a box and went directly to the merchant meeting room before coming to inform his lord of its arrival. He’d very nearly revealed the secret more than once before so he wasn't taking chances now. Melchior, Sebastian, and Kirk went to meet him. Flautzeal reluctantly returned Melchior’s diptych from Rozemyne. “We have improved so much on its design,” he muttered. But, it was a gift from Melchior's dear sister. He could agree not to carry it around but he wanted it back.

Flautzeal also wanted the one he’d loaned Melchior back. “But I’ve grown fond of it. Will you let me buy it?” Melchior asked.

“It is inelegant. A disgrace,” Flautzeal replied. Melchior mournfully handed it over but when he moved to replace it with his gifted one Flautzeal panicked. “Wait, I have brought something better,” he cried. He produced a new diptych that felt all but identical to the loaned one except that it was painted ochre with the duchy crest in blue. The interior wax was still purple which looked glaringly bright next to the yellow. But no one would see that and Melchior liked the color.

Flautzeal's family had greatly enjoyed the process of carving shallow depressions into wooden blocks. They’d played around with hole placement for the strings and adding additional panels. Flautzeal's older brother carved a woodland scene into one while his mother managed to add a playable flute into the case of another. “Its hard to play but totally inconspicuous,” he explained. Flautzeal's metalworking uncle made one in all silver with beautiful engraving that was too expensive for anyone to afford. He contented himself after that with forming beautifully decorated styluses inlaid with copper and bronze. There was even one with bits of iridescent seashell.

Melchior didn't know what to do. The Klavier markup existed for a reason. The work was incredible and sorely tempting. He took back his relatively plain stylus with some resignation. He had no reason to buy yet another one.

Isolde's diptych was just as ordered. The smallest version of her new mark was rendered with absolute care. It stood out proudly and was so level Melchior suspected you could use it to print reverse copies. Were crests used for more things, he might have considered having a stamp made. He also brought his own to show since it was technically part of the order. Melchior took it and refused to elaborate. “But I cannot use it between now and Autumn if you wait to give it to me with the other gifts,” he argued.

“You can loan one to yourself in the meantime,” Melchior countered. Flautzeal looked distraught but Melchior didn't budge. He would have Haldis deliver payment later. “Where is Uncle's?”

“Grandfather has yet to complete it,” Flautzeal replied. He gazed longingly at his diptych which ended up being the only one he got to make. There were plenty of practice versions he could use but that one was his favorite.

“I suppose he’s busy with the other order,” Melchior sighed.

Flautzeal shook his head. “He’s had a spark of inspiration. We must wait until he realizes his vision.”

“Will that be before summer?” Melchior asked.

“There is no way to know.”

“If it ends up taking too long. I’d like you to create a backup,” Melchior said. He got the very strong feeling that a whole year would go by before the greatest carpenter in Ehrenfest was happy with his innovation. Flautzeal wasn't happy with the idea but he agreed to carve an interim tablet so long as Melchior would accept the superior variant when it was done.

Kirk wrapped the gifts in fabric and took them away while Flautzeal left to return the unselected spoils. Melchior charged him to give his compliments on the styluses with assurances that they were beautiful but unnecessary at the moment. He would look at the options again closer to the gifting time. He didn't want to constrain his paintings with the need to match the styluses.

Isolde was curious about Flautzeal's strange movements but seemed none the wiser as to his activities. She brought a report from the merchants about the fliers. The commoners had many questions. It was somehow still unclear how compulsory the ornaments were. They wondered if those were the only acceptable colors and whether other things, like scarves or hats, were fine to use. Some people had drawn a connection between the flower collection and the fliers and were convincing people that free accessories were going to be handed out or raffled or something. People were also confused by the terms of the flower collection, the ‘first flower price’ was barely enough to cover materials and the appropriate thread colors had massively inflated in price.

Melchior instructed Kirk to send a response to the Gilbertta Company first. Orange-red flowers were also acceptable. Off color flowers could be judged even if they weren't purchased. Fine thread could be provided to the selected craftspeople once their first flower was accepted. No free accessories were forthcoming.

They also decided that someone with the glow of authority should be stationed to answer questions. Kirk volunteered immediately to stand in the central plaza with a flier but he would need protection, for one, and something to make him look official. Kazmiar suggested hiring a knight, specifically Sir Damuel, to stand with him. Damuel was somewhat famous among the townspeople and the parade was for his lady. As a Layknight, he wouldn't be that expensive either.

Once a week, on a different day than the display in the southern district and while Melchior was away, Kirk would dress in his attendant uniform with one of the last white branch brooches, stand next to the fountain with a small table and the flier, and answer these questions. Damuel was working on his move but welcomed a bit of extra money for such a small job. It also meant he got to see Philine on his way there.

Melchior desperately hoped the giebes would have fewer questions. Bessel hadn't asked for any clarifications so he hoped everything was all right. Lady Florencia had done all the preparations for their work. She had the Aub's permission to use the circles, a script for his ordonnanz, and had prepared a list of all the giebes. Melchior had long since memorized this list. “It is so we can mark off those we’ve spoken too. We would not want to forget anyone or make repeat calls,” she explained.

Melchior was awed by her wisdom while Isolde mumbled about lists being the most obvious thing in the world. All his scholars were assembled for this undertaking. They would power the circle and take notes on the ordonnanz. Flautzeal sat with Melchior to do the notes while Kazmiar managed the use of the circles. Leberchet waited with his lady to observe. Haldis shared only a few words with his father while he prepared tea for everyone.

“How is your apprentice, Lord Leberchet?”

“He is enthusiastic, at least,” the older scholar replied. Florencia smiled knowingly while Melchior tried to read into the exchange. There was much too much to do to ask any questions though.

Melchior began with the giebes he knew. Kolteruze sent the message to his father. Geibe Leisegang seemed happy to hear from him and quickly prepared to receive his flier. Benedikt moved into position while Kazmiar explained how to do everything. He placed the single sheet of paper in the circle then charged it with mana before muttering a chant. It disappeared in a black and gold flurry.

“We have received your communication, Ehrenfest. You may rely on Leisegang to be properly festooned,” the ordonnanz said. Melchior thought the giebe sounded kind of excited.

“Father enjoys accessories. He is no doubt happy to hear about a trend before its begun rather than the winter after,” Kolteruze explained.

Herzfeld sounded less happy about some floral brooch dress code for a visit he wasn't planning to attend but reversed his position once the picture arrived. Shockingly, the crochet technique hadn't traveled to the textile capital of Ehrenfest yet but the whorls of cloth were well within their means.

Zipporah called her father and Helenwig her uncle. Gottschalk wasn't quite close enough to Geibe Haseny to send the message so Melchior did it. He also didn't know the Viscount well so their exchange was purely professional. Illgner was delighted beyond words, while Kirnberger sounded lightly put-upon. They were big fans of Rozemyne but had enough to do already with preparing to welcome her at the country gate. They at least had hairpin craftspeople of their own.

By mid way through, the giebes began to sound like they were expecting the message. “They must be communicating with one another and planning how involved to be,” Florencia mused. She'd written her list in a specific order after all. Getting the news half a bell earlier wasn't much of a benefit but it was enough to send a message about how well liked by the Archductal family a province was. She anticipated that those that might ignore Melchior were they high on the list, would feel some pressure to show more support after getting the news second hand before receiving their flier.

By the end, Melchior and his retainer's were exhausted but there was one more place Florencia wanted to send a flier. “Constance may or may not travel to celebrate her half-brother's wedding. If she does choose to come, we would not want Frenbeltag to feel excluded.”

“Zargerecht said the same, only how do we send them a note?” Melchior asked. The only Interdutchy teleportation he knew of was the legal deposit circles.

“We will have to send a courier,” Florencia replied simply. They would also send a magic letter alerting them of their coming. “Would you like to send one of your own knights along as well?”

Melchior only had three adult knights. Fonsel wouldn't want to be away for that long and Dedryck shook his head when Melchior's eyes landed on him. He would have to send Sebastian in that case. “Does it need to be a knight?” he asked. Zargerecht had bad memories of Frenbeltag but he might have enough nice ones that he'd like to return.

“We should send gifts as well so an attendant or scholar wouldn't be inappropriate. They will need to be prepared to leave in a couple of days,” she replied.

In the meantime, Melchior gathered his tired retinue and the last couple of fliers. He gave his farewell and promised to have an answer at dinner.

Chapter Text

A Lesson in Greetings

Zargerecht did want to visit Frenbeltag. “I have not been back in a very long time,” he said wistfully. “It will have changed much, I know, but there are some views I long to see again,” he replied.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you would carry my missive to Uncle and Aunt Constance,” Melchior said. He communicated the date of the trip. Zargerecht assured him he didn't need time off to prepare and gave recommendations on gifts to add. The notice was extremely short and the visit unofficial so only small things were to be expected. They didn't need to be specific to certain people either.

Melchior ordered a diptych with Frenbeltag’s crest and light-blue sides from Flautzeal who assured him that they could make one in a single bell now that the process was refined. He would buy the seashell stylus for a whole large silver so the diptych was being included for free. Since only one person could use that he would include pencils and Biligast’s crayons. They would order yet another set for him since he wasn't expecting them until winter and the next opportunity to give them to him was maybe the visit and definitely the Starbinding. He did a quick painting of their heraldic animal on the front of the case with a flower crown. Zargerecht could only shake his head but had to agree that everyone would know who it was from.

With Zargerecht gone, Melchior needed to get permission for a different attendant to follow him to meet his sister. Only Haldis was supposed to know about her though Kolteruze definitely knew as well. He wasn't a fan of children though so Melchior petitioned for Pepin to accompany him. Florencia had some misgivings about allowing the son of “criminals” into the main building. He was sure to have lingering anger and might take that out on the defenseless little girl. But Melchior made passionate intersession.

“Pepin is beloved by all children. He is gentle and understands well how to be careful and respectful. He is attentive in the extreme and loyal to me and our family. I have absolute confidence in him and am willing to accept all blame should he cause harm,” he said while kneeling before his mother.

Florencia wondered why he didn't take Haldis to begin with. The attendant in question looked unphased while someone else was offered his rightful place. When asked about Pepin, he gave honest praise and seconded his lord’s assessment. Kolteruze similarly seemed uninterested in gaining a position of additional trust. In all honesty, she felt just as unsure about allowing a Leisegang around Sylvester’s youngest child. Whether Kolteruze understood this or not, he also recommended Pepin over himself.

Pepin was given permission in the end. He walked with Melchior and his knights while carrying a couple of the knight illustration misprints for Henriette to color. They wound through a part of the castle he’d never been allowed into, then ascended a dark stairwell to a locked door. Melchior took the key Haldis had been entrusted with by Zargerecht and placed it in the lock. There was a little burst of mana before the door opened to reveal a normal looking hallway.

Melchior stopped to watch the door close and lock before continuing down the hall to a set of double doors. Inside were several female attendants, a female guard, and a little girl bouncing with excitement. “Melchior!” she yelled then made a strange sound like the bleating of a sheep.

Melchior hurried over and huddled close while looking around with performative nervousness. Pepin followed suit despite not knowing what was happening. She bleated again while looking sourly at her attendants. The tired looking women came over as well. Only once Melchior's knights had joined the bundle did she bleat in a different way, which apparently meant they could return to their places. She laughed happily and clapped her hands.

“I see there is no danger. Our drill was successful,” Melchior said.

“Drill?” she asked.

“Yes a ‘drill’ is where you practice responding to emergencies. Its important so you know what to do,” he explained.

“Then we will drill again!” she declared.

Melchior shook his head. “If we drill too often people will stop associating the alarms with emergencies. Then they won't respond when its really important.” She looked sad but her attendants had hope in their eyes. She made a sad little bleat. “You still want to make rudelhute calls?” Melchior asked as though she'd spoken a proper question. She nodded. “There are ones that aren't for emergencies.” He explained and began teaching her the bleats he’d learned from Gerianne.

There was one to say “we are going now” she could use when they were moving to other rooms. There was one specifically for mornings and one for storms. Pepin watched in wonderment and amusement as the Archduke Candidates of Ehrenfest practiced faebeast calls together.

Henriette wanted to invent new calls to use like signals to her retainers but Melchior talked her out of it. “We are people. Rudelhute can only make bleating sounds but we can use our words. People prefer to use words. It is how we show respect.”

She bleated sadly again.

“Do you think your attendants are important? They help you do everything right?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Then we must show them respect as people. In an emergency or for a weekly drill, that's once per week on Earthday, we can practice our calls,” he charged.

“Only once per week?” she asked.

“If it is for your attendants to reply then yes. You can bleat for fun otherwise,” he said.

There were mixed feelings all around but Pepin had to assume that a once per week emergency drill would be better than what seemed to be a multiple times per day occurrence.

“Can you show me your work from this week?” Melchior asked.

Henriette looked excited all over again. She rushed over to the tiny desk where she kept a wooden board and her brewing tools and came back with a sheet of paper covered in scribbles.

“This is good work. I see you chose more red this time,” Melchior said while considering the page with a serious face.

“I held the crayon properly the whole time,” she assured him.

He patted her head. “That's very good. I’m proud of you.” She beamed and wiggled around happily. “What shall we do today?”

She paused and thought. After looking around she seemed to notice Pepin for the first time. “Who are you?”

Pepin kneeled down and crossed his arms. “May I pray for a blessing in appreciation of this serendipitous meeting ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane the Goddess of Water?”

She stared at him in shock.

“That is how we give greetings when we meet for the first time. Lord Pepin is a guest here, so he gives greetings to you. The polite response is ‘you may’,” Melchior explained.

She looked at the purple haired boy again.

“Can you say ‘you may’?” Melchior coaxed.

“You may,” she mumbled.

“May our tiny host be blessed,” Pepin said but didn't give a blessing.

“Shall we practice from the beginning?” Melchior asked.

She nodded and Pepin gave his speech again. “You may,” she said with a smile. Then she wanted to do it again.

This time Melchior knelt and intoned the request. They went through each of the knights as well. “Why don't you try?” Melchior said.

She was much less enthusiastic about saying the long speech.

“May I… pray for this meeting of flute rain?” she asked while wobbling on one knee.

“Let’s begin with the name of the Goddess of Water, Flutrane,” Melchior said. “Repeat after me. flu train,”

“Flu train.”

“Flutrane.”

“Flutrane!” she chirped.

“Fluuutraaane,” Melchior sang. They went back and forth for an obnoxious amount of time before he switched to the next hardest word. “Serendipitous.”

“Ser… serand pitos,” she tried.

“Ser.”

“Ser.”

“Ser end.”

“Ser end.”

“Ser end dipi.”

“Dipi!”

“Dipi!”

Pepin began to understand the exhaustion on her attendants' faces. It was so close to bedtime but she was full of excitement and only wanted to make the most annoying sounds. Melchior seemed to have limitless patience for this. Eventually they got through the words “serendipitous” and “ordained” so she could repeat the greeting. She was so ecstatic it almost felt worth it.

“Now I can greet, mother,” Henriette said happily. She tried to repeat the long greeting but failed in the middle.

“You have met our mother before. This is for first time greetings,” Melchior reminded.

“How do I greet Mother?”

“It is alright to say ‘good morning’, ‘good afternoon’ or ‘good evening’ for now. There is no need to be formal,” Melchior explained.

“I don't have to be formal?” she asked.

“Not yet. You are only four,” he teased.

She gave him a pout. “How do I be formal?”

Melchior looked at Pepin for some reason. “Let us greet Pepin.”

He crossed his arms where he sat in the low chair. “We offer greetings on this evening ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane the Goddess of Water,” he intoned.

“I accept your greetings,” Pepin replied for the first time in his life.

“It was worthwhile to learn the other greeting first, don't you think,” Melchior said.

Henriette didn't seem to hear him. She was deep in thought. After a moment she tried to give her greeting but couldn't remember the beginning nor the end. Melchior had her repeat after him a couple of times. She never quite got it on her own. “You have made very good progress for today,” Melchior praised anyway.

“I can't do it,” she sighed.

“It takes time to learn. You can give yourself time to learn,” he assured her.

“How long did it take you?”

Melchior tried to remember a time when he didn't know how to give blessings. “At least a week, I'm sure,” he replied. At the rate she was going she would have it in a matter of days so a week felt fair as an estimation.

She nodded. A week was a long time and she could show him her success when he came again.

“Shall we sing?” he asked.

She looked absolutely delighted. “Sparkles?”

“I do not have enough mana for sparkles this time. It will have to be a normal song,” he said with a sad look. She looked so genuinely sad that Pepin felt his heart ache. All the more since he knew it was a lie. “Why don't we sing about Flutrane since you just learned her name,” he offered.

She was consoled only a little but moved to climb into his lap anyway. Pepin noticed the movement and lifted her up straight away. She looked at him. “Thank you,” she said.

“Did you learn that recently?” Melchior asked brightly. She nodded. “How refined and polite you’re becoming,” he praised. Henriette was once again delighted enough to wiggle. Only once Melchior mimicked her exactly did Pepin realize it was the rudlehuete snack dance he learned during Spring Prayer.

He held her and sang until she fell asleep then followed her attendant as she carried the sleeping child to bed. Pepin watched him hold her hand with a dull pain in his heart. He remembered clutching his brother’s hand in that exact pose while awaiting a disaster he couldn't prevent. Eventually it was time to go.

“Thank you, Pepin for accompanying me so late in the day. Please feel free to return home now. Kolteruze and Haldis will see to my evening care,” he said with a slight bow.

“I will be going now,” Pepin replied. He crossed his arms and bowed more deeply. “I shall return as the Goddess rises.”

“May our parting be brief,” Melchior replied.

The Most Important Tea Party

Melchior was deeply saddened that his tea with Brunhilde and Bonifiatus could not be held in the atrium. Even though it was a castle day, it was being held at the temple so that Sheila could prepare the refreshments. The invitation was for after lunch to give everyone plenty of time to dress. Melchior hadn't had a needlessly fancy tea in a while so he invited everyone to dress extravagantly for their meeting about fashion. He spent the morning going over his designs with Isolde and, to his surprise, Kolteruze. Melchior expected Sigsnyr to be there but he had the day off and hadn't elected to visit for this meeting.

With his small team he went over his ideas. They began with the accessories he wanted to use. There were the brooches, of course, and the silver hair clip Sylvester still hadn't sent him. He also created some understated options for leafy and floral hair clips. Being both small and without large blooms, they felt appropriately demure to him. Kolteruze didn't agree.

“No amount of flowers can be seen as masculine. I think you will have to give up,” he said. He was not as sad as Melchior but wondered if he shouldn't also grow his hair longer in anticipation of the day he could put plants in his hair.

“I think you could be a pioneer but maybe Ehrenfest is not ready. Let us cement the floral brooches then look at it again,” Isolde concluded.

He also liked the wide belt Rozemyne wore for graduation. Kolteruze confirmed that no one would know how to tie it but wider sashes were an option. His potion belt was already fairly wide compared to the ones knights wore. Plus, sashes were well away from his face.

Melchior had a couple of designs using Autumnal colors. He prepared swatches with his hair and eye colors to compare to things. Isolde brought her collection of colorful scarves and some bits of fabric. Next to the yellows and golds, the blue seemed to almost pulse. The effect was most pronounced next to orange which made sense since they were opposites.

“The paler colors do not clash as much. There is no way to make yellow a cooler tone but the purplish reds do not look as out of place,” Kolteruze agreed.

Isolde enjoyed the asymmetrical tunics both with and without bright gold panels. The gold dust paint was proving its worth. Melchior’s embroidery tended to be silver if it was metallic. Gold would make things look less cold, he thought.

Of course, there were some blues. Blue was still the seasonal color of summer. Melchior also didn't dislike the color. He just didn't like it being the only option. There was a tunic the deep blue of Flautzeal's eyes that everyone agreed was likely impossible to replicate but would look incredible. He experimented with turning the gossamer Alexandrian fabric into an attached cape and sleeve like Charlotte’s set gave the impression of. He could flap his arms like wings which would be fun.

Isolde had no problems with the idea but men’s clothes didn't tend to be as fitted. Adding even more loose fabric would make for a sloppy silhouette. They put it to the side.

Kolteruze also brought ideas of his own based on Isolde's notes. He was more interested in the shapes of the bottom of his surcoats. Dagged edges were becoming popular in other duchies. He also wondered if he was old enough to have his drag the ground at formal events.

“Men’s coats aren't usually that long,” Isolde noted.

Melchior thought back to all the clothes he saw men wear. He’d never noticed exactly how long their tunics were, only that his were only half the size relative to his body. They now came to his knees and wouldn't move to mid calf for a couple of years. It was kind of odd that your clothes got longer as you got taller, he thought.

They decided that a train on his formal wear was something to test as an adult. Kolteruze also brought some motifs to add to his embroidery. Isolde stifled a giggle at the wheat stalks but had genuine praise for the stylized wind. They would include them either way.

Melchior had lunch early then was dressed in a lightweight tunic more appropriate for the height of summer. He was going to wear two cloaks though, so it wasn't too cold in the end. The white capelet was beginning to look a little too short, much to his delight, so this felt like his last opportunity to wear it. With white over ochre over blue over darker blue and back to light blue socks into black boots felt like too much. Kolteruze suggested leaving his duchy cloak out but Isolde thought being a little garish was appropriate for the discussion.

“If only I had little cloth shoes like yours,” Melchior mused. Isolde's shoes could be any color fabric could be. A pair made from the dark blue his breeches favored would be easier to coordinate than black. Even the blue leather used for Veremund's gloves would be nice. Isolde added that as a note. Men didn't usually wear the cloth slippers but she couldn't get the image of them on Melchior's still small feet out of her mind.

In the end, he wore the busy collection of clothes. He didn't need his red registration brooch so a blue faestone was used to replace it. Isolde collected his drawings and notes and they made their way to the temple.

Kirk and Lothar greeted him at the Noble's gate. Sheila was apparently putting finishing touches on the sweets. Haldis had arrived early to set up the receiving room. He was laying out the scarves and fabric samples as well as every scrap of cloth and thread in as many colors as Kirk could find around the temple.

Kirk also had a report about his day by the fountain. People had questions about the flier, yes, but they also wanted to know about the nobility. Once it was clear that Kirk was not a noble himself and Damuel wasn't going to kill anyone for annoying him, people came to ask all sorts of bizarre things. “They are very curious about magic and fashion. Some people want to know how noble's reproduce.”

“How we reproduce what?” Melchior asked.

“More nobles,” Kirk replied.

Melchior looked to his retainers but everyone shook their heads. “Please ask the Archduke,” they said. Melchior frowned. He wanted to order someone to answer him. Isolde looked like she knew while Kolteruze did a good job of looking curious himself. He decided to let it go for the time being.

“I assume it is the same way commoners produce more commoners,” Melchior replied. “Is there anything else you struggled to answer?”

“Well, a great many people don't know who the Archduke is or what he does and, by extension, who you are. They have some understanding that the High Bishop gives blessings and the High Priest gives sermons but your other work and what offering mana means and does is a mystery to most people. I would say that less than one in twenty questions is about the flier.”

“I wonder if we should have a scholar stand there instead,” Melchior mused.

“I do not think it would be as effective,” Isolde replied quickly. “The people are not afraid of Kirk, they would be afraid of an adult scholar.” They couldn't place an apprentice there either. Kirk was instructed to record any particularly strange questions and allotted paper to do so. He was also given the original copy rather than a printed one. Anyone who wanted to use the proper colors could check with Kirk.

The report set them back a little. Melchior had to rush to the meeting room to beat his first guest. He hurried in and sat down. He expected to see Brunhilde enter but was surprised to be greeted by Sigsnyr instead. Sigsnyr strode in wearing an appropriately elaborate outfit in goldenrod and light green. Instead of an ochre cape, his was a deep emerald with decorative tape around the edges that matched his golden eyes. In contrast, his hair was done very simply with two braids holding it out of his face while the otherwise loose locks fluttered about. “I offer greetings…” he began with a smirk. Fridegern quietly took up his place to attend.

Melchior was too shocked to speak. “I accept your greetings. This is a pleasant surprise, Lord Sigsnyr.”

“It has been a very long time since you called me that, Lord Melchior. We hoped to surprise you and it seems that we have,” he replied. He cheerfully took his seat farthest from the head of the table. Brunhilde would sit across from Melchior with Bonifiatus at the head. She arrived soon after. Melchior took a moment to be amazed by her vibrant red hair next to her green dress.

She wasn't wearing a cape at all. Instead, her dress was partially covered by a lighter green wrapper. Unlike the usual kind which fit close to the garment it covered, this one boasted a generous excess of fabric in the skits with a large panel of cloth making a mock cape. He was confused by how this piece was both cinched by and rested on top of her sash. She was accompanied by two knights and Bertilde. She tossed her many layerd skirts elegantly as she knelt to give greetings.

“I accept your greetings. You are most welcome, Lady Brunhilde. Thank you ever so much for coming,” Melchior said.

“When I heard we would discuss how best to please Kunstzeal, I simply had to make a bit of time.” She looked over the assorted colorful textiles. “I see you've prepared quite the collection of options. Even Forsernte would struggle to produce such a bounty.”

“It was the diligent work of my attendant and the generosity of my scholar that created the display you see before you. I hope that your wisdom will illuminated those options which would best suit me,” he replied. “Have you met, Lord Sigsnyr? He serves me as a knight. As you can see, he is nearly as passionate about fashion as yourself.”

“I have indeed. Who could not know the famed Sir Sigsnyr. Even Verfuhremeer has heard of him⁴³,” she said with a smile in his direction.

He was still standing since she’d yet to take her seat. “You flatter me, Lady Brunhilde. Mestinora has yet to record my deeds⁴⁴,” he replied. “If I might be so bold, you look lovely.”

She smiled. “You are most generous with praise. I could say the very same of you. Where did you come by such an impressive green cloak?” She walked over and moved part way to touching it. He gave a slight nod and held up the fabric for her. “This is very fine stuff,” she murmured.

“It was a gift, I am afraid. I could not direct you to the artisan responsible,” he sighed.

Had Melchior not spent so much time around Sigsnyr, he wouldn't have guessed he was lying. There was only the slightest tell in his voice and expression. Melchior thought better of pressing him while others were present. He would have time to demand answers later.

Brunhilde and Sigsnyr were standing next to each other when Bonifiatus arrived. This time Melchior rose and knelt. “I accept your greetings. Now, how is this for glittering adornment?” He asked and struck a pose. Bonifiatus generally wore a fancy variant of the knight's uniform or some other outfit with less than bountiful sleeves. Today he wore a full length golden surcoat with black embroidery and a light blue accent strip down the front. It shimmered with metallic inclusions and boasted tiny black beads. His cape was secured at both shoulders by rondels carved with lion heads.

“Granduncle, it is amazing. I have never seen its equal,” Melchior replied.

“It is a sight to behold,” Sigsnyr added.

Brunhilde looked more fascinated than impressed. “Where do those beads come from? I have never seen such fine glasswork nor such a rich color.”

“We received them from Hauchletze ages ago. When my father was still Archduke in fact,” Bonifiatus said as he took his seat. His knights and older attendant looked around with more confidence than the young people present. They even conferred briefly about the table of samples while settling him into his seat.

“I received an amazing fabric from Hauchletze. They must have incredible artisans,” Melchior replied. He also took his seat and Kolteruze settled his napkin and poured a cup of water.

“I would love to see this fabric, Lord Melchior,” Brunhilde said.

Melchior blushed realizing that he'd once again forgotten to include her. Isolde paled. Her hard work of keeping it secret was being undone. “It is being made into a housecoat. Naturally, it will be presented to you first when it is finished,” Melchior promised. She seemed satisfied enough with this so Melchior continued his introduction. “Thank you all once again and from the bottom of my heart for entreating Dregarnuhr to weave our threads together. Today I will present ideas for my wardrobe and hope to make use of your collective wisdom and instincts.”

Bonifiatus chuckled. “It's been some time since I was part of building a trend. Angriff is often distracted by armor, you know.”

“It is impressive then that you manage to always dress so well, Lord Bonifiatus,” Sigsnyr said.

“The key is to collect good pieces that all match one another,” Bonifiatus replied.

“That's easy when one's wardrobe need not conform to seasonality,” Brunhilde grumbled. The men at the table consoled her as best they could though she clearly had no qualms with owning an elaborate and colorful collection.

Kolteruze appeared with a cup of Melchior's favorite tea. Haldis had prepared everyone's favorites since they were so well known. He was worried they might not pair well with the food but Sheila had created something undeniable. Melchior and Kolteruze wanted a blenrus seed. The accounts from Haldenzel did nothing to illuminate how they could be sprouted without spring summoning, just as the giebe said. They were not deterred. As such, the fruit needed to be used somehow. Benedikt had nearly cried when Melchior decided it should be eaten rather than used in brewing. He only had four fruits for his own use. Eating one only left three for experiments.

Blenrus were not large. The flesh of one even chopped and poached in syrup wouldn't have been enough for more than a couple of people. Since he was just as invested in this tea party’s success and the blenrus tree operation, Sigsnyr gave one of his in exchange for getting to attend as a guest rather than a knight. Sheila enhanced the fruit's flavor with some of Melchior's blenrus leaves. The nearly spent leaves were then packed in honey. It was unfortunate that they’d been chopped at some stage of the drying process. Their dull golden color might have made a pretty garnish, were they intact.

The resulting syrup and chopped fruit were served with crepes and whipped cream. Melchior finished his introduction to the abject shock of Brunhilde and the open horror of Bonifiatus. “This is made of blenrus fruit? The sacred faefruit of Haldenzel famous for its use in powerful rejuvenation potions?” Lord Bonifiatus stuttered. “You have elected to eat it?”

Melchior nodded. “Are you not curious about its flavor? The tea made from the leaves is delicious after all,” he replied calmly. He hadn't expected such an outsized reaction and was reminded of how Zargerecht felt about gold dust paint.

Brunhilde recovered quickly. “I do admit to being curious. I simply must advise that there are better uses.”

“A better use than enjoying it with friends?” Melchior asked. Sure, consuming the entire slightly bitter fruit, according to Sheila who was the only person to try a raw piece, by himself would be insane, but sharing it between so many people felt worthwhile. Lord Bonifiatus sighed. Such extravagance was dangerous.

The crepes were served and tasted. The bitterness was well tempered by cream and sugar. Melchior felt he could appreciate the complexity at least a bit. He was reminded of apfelsige rind in honey. By itself, it was inedible but after a soak in sugar, he found them delightful. Perhaps soaking blenrus in honey would give the honey healing properties too.

While he was distracted with his snack, Brunhilde and Bonifiatus had a more advanced conversation about the flavor. Sigsnyr listened intently but could only think that he might have wasted a valuable resource on this experiment. As a medicinal plant, the flavor was fine but as a dessert, it wasn't superior to the other options.

Once everyone had tasted and commented on their dessert. Pepin placed a table easel at the empty spot next to Melchior and placed a thin wooden board down to support the papers. They began with the motifs Kolteruze drew.

“These are quite interesting. Charlotte told me that embroidered words were debuted at graduation. Perhaps this will spark the adoption of many bolder designs,” Brunhilde said. She asked to view some close up and inspected them with Sigsnyr.

Lord Bonifiatus looked pensive. He’d favored a stylized leaf motif for many years but moving into floras felt like a step too far. “As I recall, your highbeast boasts a crown of flowers,” he said.

“Yes, Granduncle. I think they are pretty,” Melchior replied.

“It is good to appreciate their beauty but you need not add them to your own clothes,” Bonifiatus said. Melchior felt confused. It was a booming trend to add floral motifs. “Yes, for women.”

“Are women's and men's trends mutually exclusive?” Melchior asked.

“In general,” Brunhilde replied. “I don't think a decorative tape would be too much, Lord Bonifiatus. It would only look like flowers on very close inspection,” she offered.

Bonifiatus frowned. “There are many masculine motifs. There is no need to intrude on the domain of Efflorelume.” He could already imagine the whispers. Melchior was not like his father had been at his age. He was already overly polite and gentle. Wearing flowers would give people the wrong ideas.

“There is always the wheat,” Sigsnyr mused with a smile in Kolteruze’s direction. The attendant narrowed his eyes ever so slightly in reply. “Its natural golden color would even pair well with your wardrobe, Lord Bonifiatus.”

“It is complex but the repetitions makes for a beautiful effect, I think,” Brunhilde added.

“Yes, the wheat is nice,” Bonifiatus admitted.

They moved into the summer options. Brunhilde suggested making the sleeve and cloak biased to one shoulder. The slit would allow for easy use of the right hand but render the left completely useless for most things. “Still it would be most elegant and create a more interesting silhouette.”

“Being unable to use one arm would be disastrous in an emergency,” Bonifiatus argued.

“Perhaps the cut could allow for the use of both arms? Maybe a relief slit could be employed,” Sigsnyr suggested.

Melchior did a small sketch based on their recommendations. The cloak color was changed to blue to better suggested it was a part of the tunic. “This would leave the sleeve of your undershirt exposed,” Bonifiatus observed.

“That is true. You will need an especially nice one for this outfit.”

“Could I attach a fake sleeve to the tunic?” Melchior asked. Saving one whole pristinely white undershirt just for one outfit he would barely wear was unreasonable.

Brunhilde clasped her hands together. “Oh but, would this be the only tunic you own in this style?” They would reconsider the logistics of the outfit after Charlotte debuted the trend when he was ordering for next summer. “You might have your uniform done in this style,” she suggested.

“Then I will have to wear my cloak over a cloak,” Melchior pointed out. That would make him look more ostentatious than the prince. Though she seemed to want to discuss it further, they had to move on. Preparations for the Archdukes Conference were still underway and though they had more free time than the Aub and his older children, they couldn't waste it.

The wide belt was dismissed since no one knew how to tie it and the large knot would get in the way of his cloak. He could make his normal slash slightly larger but it would only make him and his torso look shorter.

“You want to look tall and wide, my boy,” Bonifiatus counseled.

“But I am still so small,” Melchior lamented. “No amount of clothing will make me look imposing.”

“Give it time. As you continue to train you will get bigger,” Bonifiatus assured him.

“There's nothing wrong with being smaller,” Sigsnyr grumbled. Bonifiatus just fixed him with an apologetic smile. There was no helping it when one's father was petite as well.

The wide belt was not a polarizing topic but his next design made Bonifiatus flinch. “Children and men do not show their collarbones,” he declared with finality.

Melchior wanted to argue but cowed under his granduncle’s sharp look. He loved the embroidered collars that were growing in popularity. He wanted one for his Autumn wardrobe of bright golds. He expected people to say it would be drafty not to dismiss it out of hand. Though, after a deep thought and a glance around he realized that he'd never seen most of his retainer's lower necks; only those knights who slept at the temple or went with him on trips and thus wore their bedclothes in his presence.

“What if I wore something underneath?” he asked. That was his solution to the cold neck problem as well.

“It could be made rather dense as well. This design is quite open,” Brunhilde added.

Bonifiatus still looked at the work with a frown. Melchior was clearly being too influenced by his sisters. Perhaps that wasn't surprising when Charlotte made time for him while Wilfried did not. He would tell Sylvester to correct this.

Sigsnyr looked at it with great interest. Gold would be a bad choice for himself but it would allow his neck to breathe more. The high, close style could be stifling in summer. He also wasn't a child and was already known as something of an eccentric dresser.

Melchior sadly put away his dreams. He even imagined the tight embroidery snaking onto his shoulders but he couldn't ignore propriety all together. “When you are an adult. You can consider it again,” Brunhilde said. “I very much like the design you’ve created. May I borrow this drawing?” It was based on men's embroidery designs rather than women's, giving it a unique look. He handed it over with a smile. Kolteruze and Sigsnyr watched it disappear into Bertilde’s skirts with well contained envy.

Having so many of his ideas rejected was making it difficult to continue. Melchior wondered whether his mother had similar opinions but was saving him the distress of hearing them. He whispered to Isolde to skip the hair clips and move straight to the shiny panels. They were displayed beside other asymmetrical tunic drawings.

Bonifiatus sighed in relief. This was finally something based on a man’s clothing. So many people had seen Ferdinand's outfit as well. Other boys and men were bound to emulate it too. He nodded. “Gold might offend the royal family but other colors would be appropriate,” he said. Melchior beamed up at him with such naked joy that he had to look away.

“Do you know how the panel was made?” Brunhilde asked. Charlotte hadn't been able to identify the material.

Melchior's joy tempered immediately. Having seen it in person, he knew it wasn't any material he knew of. “I don't. Perhaps the effect could be replicated using… using..” he really had no idea. He looked at Bonifiatus again.

“Perhaps paint over leather. It was both smooth and flexible without any creases. I would not be surprised to find it was a magic tool of some kind,” he said.

“You truly are wise, Granduncle,” Melchior said seriously. How hadn't he immediately considered either paint or magic.

Bonifiatus was very still for a moment. “Those are the benefits of age,” he said eventually.

“Lord Bonifiatus, you say gold might offend the royal family,” Sigsnyr began. “What colors would you recommend?” He was considering silver but knew it would be impossible to match his hair exactly and would look strange if it did. Ochre was the next obvious choice but it was very close to gold.

“There is always ochre,” Brunhilde confirmed. She looked at Sigsnyr for a long moment. “Perhaps a glossy or satin black. That way you wouldn't risk breaking the dress code.” She suggested.

“But it replaces embroidery. Would black not blend in too much?” he replied.

She considered this. “Not as a metallic, I think.”

They discussed the minutiae of the panels and other more orthodox tunics for a bit. It was conditionally accepted. They would need to see the mock-up in Autumn were he to order new uniforms this year. Melchior was planning to use Wilfried 's again if he could.

The final portion of the afternoon was picking colors and holding them next to Melchior’s face or the painted swatches. Bertilde took the swatches and compared them to the table. Bonifiatus’s attendant simply picked with nothing to immediately compare too. Melchior dutifully sat still while they were held close to his head and commented on.

“I know it's your mission to escape it, but blue really looks so nice,” Brunhilde sighed.

“It is a strong color. There is no need to shun it,” Bonifiatus added. “The purples do not look bad but orange should be avoided no matter how pale or muddied.”

“Oh but how exciting it would look,” Sigsnyr argued.

“It is better to look refined,” Bonifiatus said.

“I think I agree, Granduncle. The orange next to blue looks like it's moving somehow. It would make people dizzy,” Melchior said. He sat for a couple more colors before growing tired. “You have all given me much to consider. I thank you ever so much for your generous advice,” he said.

Brunhilde took the final bite of her dessert. “It seems Dregarnuhr has woven today's threads with exceptional grace and speed. We simply must meet again before Autumn,” she said.

“It is good that you asked for our opinion. I see you have many bold ideas but there is no harm in using established methods,” Bonifiatus said. He rose from his chair prompting everyone else to stand. “It is always a joy to visit the temple. May Flutrane bless your endeavors, Melchior. I will speak with my niece on your behalf,” he declared.

Melchior struggled to contain his joy. “Oh thank you, Granduncle. No one's intersession could be more powerful,” he said then remembered that Brunhilde was there as well. “May I rely upon you as well, Lady Brunhilde? Mother trusts your taste so very much. If you are my advisor as well, she will be able to rest assured.”

She giggled at his quick recovery. “I would not mind saying a few words. Do be sure to seek my advice in the future as well. I have greatly enjoyed our fellowship.”

“You shall be among the first to see my ideas,” he promised. “Allow me to walk with you to the nobles gate.”

“Aren't you returning to the castle too?” Bonifiatus asked. This wasn't a day Melchior was usually at the temple. In fact, it was the most common day for Bonifiatus to be invited to dine at the castle largely because Melchior would be there, among other things.

“There is much to oversee before I can leave things here,” Melchior replied. There was a whole tea party still out. Haldis took the opportunity to get rid of his meddlesome lord who insisted on trying to help other people with their work.

“You may leave this to me, my lord. It will be easier to lend you their support if you are seen together,” he advised.

“Yes, we should be seen, today of all days!” Bonifiatus boomed. He’d dressed up just to hide in the temple otherwise.

Melchior nodded. “If you would not mind,” he said.

“It will be a lovely stroll,” Brunhilde said. She took his arm when offered and they followed Bonifiatus to the nobles gate.

Footnotes

43. Ehrenfest’s lack of an ocean makes Verfuhremeer easy shorthand for things that are either far away or obscure^

44. “I’ve done nothing worth remembering yet”^

Chapter Text

The Eve of the Conference

The trip through the castle from the Archductal family entrance to Brunhilde's rooms wasn't long enough for Lord Bonifiatus so he brought them to the knights launching platform. There was a group of knights preparing to leave who had to give way. They looked at the gaudy group with curiosity but had enough presence of mind to look impassive. As dinner time was approaching, many nobles were making their way home.

Melchior began to regret agreeing to be seen in his many colored outfit. It was fun when they were having a casual tea party but the many eyes of the nobility looked both calculating and judgemental. Thankfully, Lord Bonifiatus, in his golden surcoat and billowing cape, held most people's attention. Those with more time then moved to Brunhilde. She normally dressed so as not to outshine the First Wife and would continue to do so in the future. It was nice to remind people that she was making a conscious choice though.

Everything would have been fine had they not encountered the Archduke. They were nearly to the tunnel to the Western building when he appeared out of the walls looking testy.

“So this is what everyone is muttering about. What event are you hiding from me this time?” Sylvester questioned.

Melchior stepped forward to defend his guests. “I know you are very busy working for the duchy. I did not wish to disturb you, Father.”

“It's difficult to work when all anyone can talk about is Bonifiatus in some incredible coat. Why have I never even seen that before?” he asked and began inspecting his uncle.

“It would never be appropriate to outdress you,” Bonifiatus said smugly. His expression suggested he was more than capable of doing just that. “This is just an old thing, from my youth.”

Sylvester played with a beads angstily. “You still haven't told me why you are all dressed like this,” he said. He looked to Brunhilde.

“My lord, we were having a tea party,” she said. It was technically an explanation even if it revealed nothing of note.

“I used to enjoy dressing up for tea with Wilfried and Charlotte,” Melchior added. “They have not had much time as of late.”

“Yes, it seems that Wilfried has abandoned his duty to guide and instruct,” Bonifiatus said. “Just because he's moved into his own estate, doesn't mean he can shirk his responsibility to Melchior.”

Melchior looked back and forth between his father's exhausted expression and Bonifiatus’s reproving glance. He wanted to see Wilfried more but wouldn't say he had a duty to spend time with him. Nor did he understand why Bonifiatus suddenly thought so.

“Yes, yes. I’ll talk to him. Whatever this was,” he gestured to their collective, “I expect a report,” he said, then took Brunhilde’s arm from Melchior. It was strange to see another woman stand so close to his father. Melchior fell into thought as he walked toward the Northern building with Bonifiatus.

“Does father love Lady Brunhilde?” he asked after a long pause.

“I do not think so. He respects her and will fulfill his responsibilities to her?” Bonifiatus replied.

“What responsibilities?” Melchior asked.

Bonifiatus was quiet for a long time. Only once they were standing before the barrier to the Northern Building did he stop and meet his nephew's curious eyes. “When you are older, you will have multiple wives of your own. They will lend you their abilities and connections. You must make entreaties to Entrindunge on their behalf⁴⁴.”

Melchior paled. “What if I do not love them or do not like them?” he asked. Nikolaus said his parents were not on good terms anymore. He assumed that was why Nikolaus was an only child.

“That is why I say it is a responsibility. It is a great insult to marry a woman then refuse her,” he said.

“I shall only have one then, and choose very carefully,” Melchior declared. He didn't want to insult anyone after all.

“It will not be your choice,” Bonifiatus replied then whirled away before Melchior could ask for more details.

Pepin patted his shoulder as he sat before his desk feeling deeply shaken. “I will not get to choose,” he muttered. “But why? They are my wife. Why wouldn't we get to decide together?”

“I think it is because of the political implications,” was all Pepin could say. His own parents had actively chosen to marry one another and were very obviously, perhaps too obviously, still in love. “The Archduke got to marry his love. You just have to find a way to account for the political ramifications.”

Melchior didn't have much more time to wallow in confusion and misery. He had to dress for dinner. Pepin took off his capelet and extra accessories. He also redid his hair to mimic the Archduke. It would be harder to grill him at dinner if the Archduke had to see his younger self staring back adorably.

Haldis and Kolteruze returned in time for dinner so Pepin returned home. They were confused by the sudden shift in mood and regretted asking immediately.

“Did you get to choose your wives?” Melchior asked Haldis.

“I only have one and we had a lot of say in the matter but I wouldn't say I got to choose,” Haldis replied.

“Do you love her? Does it feel like a responsibility to entreat Entrindunge?”

“I… yes I love my wife. It's… that isn't something I feel comfortable talking with you about,” Haldis replied.

Melchior sighed and turned to Kolteruze who instantly felt the need to run away. “Is there a girl you want to marry?” Melchior asked.

Kolteruze just shook his head as he turned bright red. Melchior watched his reaction persist for several seconds. Even though he knew on instinct that it wouldn't yield any more information, he felt the strong urge to press for answers.

“These are very personal questions, my lord. When your retainers find partners they prefer, they will bring them to meet you,” Haldis said. “Until then, they would greatly appreciate your discretion.” Melchior reluctantly took his advice and didn't needle Kolteruze. He began to look over the notes and drawings again. “My lord, there is one thing I would like to discuss with you,” Haldis continued. Melchior turned his attention back, hoping to gain more wisdom on the previous topic. He was not so fortunate. “There is a little time before the conference and visit. As you do not have any more events planned, I wish to request a few days to dedicate to a family matter.”

Calling something a family matter was a signal to avoid asking too many questions. Having just been denied the joy of asking Kolteruze questions he could not answer, Melchior felt like being nosey. “Would you elaborate on the nature of this business?” he asked. They both knew his answer would be yes regardless of what the reason was.

The attendant struggled not to sigh. He knew his lord well enough to know his meddling was only just beginning. “I must plan an event for the early summer, just after the visit. As there will be little time in the ensuing weeks, I hope to complete most of the preparations now.”

Melchior narrowed his eyes. Haldis was being so vague about the party he was throwing. Even if it was only for adults, he didn't need to hide its nature. “An event for the beginning of summer. I do not see a reason to refuse,” Melchior said. He tried to gather information from Haldis's expression but he was a master at maintaining his noble smile.

“I thank you. You can expect an invitation soon. We would be honored for you to join us for the celebration,” Haldis replied. He hoped that the promise of future excitement would distract him. Instead the light of recognition finally dawned on his charge’s face.

“Will you be hiring the High Bishop for your daughter's baptism?!” he cried, a joyful smile spreading through his whole body. It would be his first noble baptism outside of winter.

Haldis finally released his deep sigh. “Even archnobles could not command your presence, High Bishop. You are an Archduke Candidate. Perhaps Lord Bonifiatus’s sons might obtain the Aubs permission but my family's ties to the Archductal family are much too thin. Even if you volunteer on account of our close relationship, the cost would be exorbitant.”

“But I want to bless your daughter,” Melchior squeaked.

“I am deeply appreciative of your generosity, my lord. We would be honored to have you in attendance,” Haldis replied.

Melchior sat feeling distraught. If what Haldis was saying was true, unless Lamprecht had a secret child, he would have to wait until Henriette's baptism to perform one. There was still a bit of hope though. “Would she like to have tea before her baptism? Sister and I took great courage from meeting with our officiant beforehand.”

“As I recall your eldest sister performed both of your baptisms,” Haldis noted. “ And, as Kazmiar will officiate, why would you need to come for tea?”

“Wouldn't she be more comfortable to have someone near her own age present?” Melchior asked. They swapped sly glances for a few moments.

“Very well, my lord. You may visit beforehand,” Haldis sighed. There was a very real possibility that Melchior would find some more tedious way to meddle otherwise.

Melchior smiled and clasped his hands before him. “Oh how wonderful. I cannot wait to meet her,” he said.

The wait was even more agonizing with the fate of his wardrobe up in the air. When Melchior visited his office to assist, the Aub received his report only to say that he didn't have time to consider it. Melchior's retinue did they're work in a nearby meeting room. It was a lot of transcribing things neatly so they were presentable to other duchies. They got to read about the planned meetings and what Ehrenfest would say.

Melchior had long imagined the Archdukes Conference to only concern itself with the most important of topics: trade and marriages and the like. Both he and his retainers were surprised and entertained by the pettiness of some planned meetings. “A student lodged a complaint about something our student said, now the Archduke has to meet with their Archduke,” Isolde giggled. “I cannot imagine wasting so many people's valuable time.”

“We will be able to counter their complaint with that very notion and might build some political capital in the process. Even things that feel petty can have great influence, especially for lesser duchies,” Kazmiar explained. He was assisting Wilfried and the Archduke with the talks between Ehrenfest and Gaussbuttel. Since he was already at the castle, he chose to join Melchior for the day.

“I cannot wait to go. It all sounds so exciting,” Isolde replied.

“It sounds tedious,” Benedikt sighed. “Are we truly spending an entire bell talking about bugs in Frenbeltag?”

“Shram bugs are an important commodity for the printing industry. Obtaining a ready supply from Frenbeltag will benefit us both,” Melchior explained. He handed Benedikt the second half of the presentation they were transcribing.

“So I see,” he replied. “Don't we have these bugs here?”

Melchior nodded. “We do but our climate isn't as beneficial for farming them nor do our provinces have the manpower to spare. Frenbeltag is looking for an industry to build a steady stream of wealth.”

“It is as Kazmiar just said,” Isolde added,” Even petty concerns can have great impacts at the Archdukes Conference. You get to attend next year and you don't even appreciate it.”

“I serve Lord Melchior, why would I be needed at the Archdukes Conference?” Benedikt asked. It looked like an incredible amount of work when his lord wasn't involved.

“Mother and Father often need help. Sister sent her adult scholars to negotiate her printing deals and provide general assistance,” Melchior replied.

“It is only at the moment that Lord Melchior does not have his own business at the conference. In fact,” Kazmiar paused and grabbed a blank board, “Is there anything you would like me to do while I’m there?”

Melchior considered this for a moment. There was a lot he could imagine doing other than passing the hairpin order to Lord Ferdinand. “There is nothing serious,” he replied.

“It doesn't have to be serious, the later days are often filled with less serious talks and personal get-togethers.”

“In that case, I would like to acquire a small amount of rime honey from Gilessenmeyer,” Melchior declared.

“You want to open talks with Gilessenmeyer?” Kazmiar asked with a shudder. They were as bad as Hauchletze if not worse.

Melchior was lost in his reverie. “I want to preserve blenrus in honey but I feel it should be just as special as the fruit itself,” he said. Zipporah held her head, she would have to work hard to keep knowledge of her lord's frivolity from her father.

“Is rime honey also a sacred product of one province?” Kazmiar sighed.

“I’m not sure. We should begin by collecting information about it before we ask. It was just listed as an interesting fact about Gilessenmeyer that they have faebees that are active in winter and create a honey that tastes cold.”

“Tastes cold?” Gerianne asked. Melchior shrugged. It was anyone's guess what that meant.

Kazmiar dutifully wrote it down. “Are you certain, my lord? Escaping the notice of Gilessenmeyer is one of your goals is it not?”

“I try to avoid Lady Samira because she doesn't like me but the people of Gilessenmeyer are nice enough. Oh, do you think Lord Lorgzwane will make it this year?” he wondered.

“Who is that?”

“He liked to spend time near the hall to the scholars building and hoped to join the retinue of the first husband,” Melchior explained. “He likes calligraphy.”

“I will inquire after him. Since you are acquainted, it will be better to speak with him than another more mature scholar,” Kazmiar said as he made another note. “Is there anything else?”

“Just our previous business,” Melchior said.

“Very good, my lord. This will keep me quite busy. Can you write down anything else you know about this honey, Gilessenmeyer, Lord Lorgzwane, and whatever else comes to mind?” Kazmiar asked.

“Yes of course,” Melchior promised.

“I have notes as well,” Gerianne said while Isolde wrote down a reminder. Isolde looked a little skeptical but wrote it down anyway.

Spy Work - A Noble Interlude

Melchior raised his hands in the air and prayed for a blessing from Mestinora before giving Kazmiar some final words of encouragement. “You are my oldest scholar. I have faith in your abilities. Do not be disheartened if our efforts do not bear fruit. It is nothing serious.”

Kazmiar watched his lord warp and disappear as he traveled with two other scholars to the Royal Academy. They broke into restrained laughter the moment the dormitory guards gave their greeting.

“Lord Melchior certainly thinks highly of you,” one said as she hurried away.

“Its only natural that he have faith in such a mature scholar,” said the other.

Such jeers about his age were nothing new. Kazmiar just sighed and smiled as he carried his precious box directly to his room. Inside was a lions-head peony, freshly picked that morning by Kolteruze. The lad had woken up before dawn to retrieve it along with the High Bishop's bible and Melchior’s noble temple apprentices. Such was his enthusiasm for the plant. Kazmiar looked at it for a while. They were truly amazing flowers.

Unfortunately, he had many things to do besides stare at his delicate cargo. He had to coordinate with Wilfried 's scholars, an unpleasant task if there ever was one, contact Justus, and find a way to open communication with Gilessenmeyer. It would be best not to open official talks before he knew absolutely everything about rime honey. He would begin in the library. Hopefully, Aub Alexandria would appear with her fiance and their retinues as she was want to do. He decided to go himself just for the chance to meet them.

He was not so fortunate. The most interesting person in the library was Prince Hildebrand. He was standing behind the counter with Professor Solange, awaiting their first Archductal guest. A brush with royalty was a terrible way to begin the day. The Prince’s attendant indicated that Kazmiar was free to enter but not to speak with his highness. This was ideal.

“Welcome to the Library. How can we be of assistance?” Professor Solange asked. Kazmiar did his best to calm his heart as he asked for information on the rare commodity. “That is an uncommon query. I believe we have books which mention it but it does not feature often in research.”

“My lord hopes to taste it so I must learn what I can,” Kazmiar replied. Solange followed Weiss into the collection while Kazmiar waited by the desk. He thought he might have to stay for sometime so he moved to ask for a corral. He’d done a very good job of putting the prince out of his mind since he only remembered once he looked up into his purple eyes and bright smile.

Kazmiar could not ask his royal highness to rent him a corral so Kazmiar smiled and bowed his head before touching the clear orb on the desk. This was a new addition since his time at school. Isolde described it as a donation orb. He gave it a little mana.

“Thank you for your generous donation,” Hildebrand said.

“It is an honor to be of use,” Kazmiar replied. He wanted to slip away and find Solange in the stacks but the prince was holding his gaze. He resigned himself to kneeling. “May I offer a blessing in appreciation of this serendipitous meeting ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane the Goddess of Water?”

“You may,” Hildebrand replied happily. His attendant looked upset but Kazmiar couldn't back out now.

“May his royal highness be blessed,” Kazmiar said and produced a small green blessing. “I am Kazmiar of Ehrenfest, scholar of Lord Melchior and High Priest of Ehrenfest.” The attendant relaxed upon realizing who Kazmiar served while Hildebrand beamed with joy.

“You are a friend of Lord Melchior?” he asked.

“I think he would say so,” Kazmiar replied. Melchior was given to calling his retainers friends. Though he was too distant in age to truly befriend his lord, they were on very good terms.

“What are you here to study? Perhaps I can help,” Hildebrand offered.

Kazmiar held in another sigh. That the prince had become friends with Lord Melchior felt like an inevitability. “I could not make requests of your royal highness. Professor Solange has gone to retrieve materials on the subject of rime honey. I am well provided for,” he replied.

Hildebrand gestured for him to rise like he'd forgotten about it. “I see. Well, that is good. Why do you want to know about rime honey and what is it?”

Kazmiar glanced at Hildebrand's scholars. This was really a question to save for them to answer later. Holding a long conversation with a random noble wasn't something a prince would normally do. “It is a speciality of Gilessenmeyer. I have been tasked with acquiring some if it would not insult them to ask.” Hildebrand looked pensive. Kazmiar didn't know this child well and he was around the age where children grew more skilled at hiding their intentions, but he could spot the urge to meddle in any young boy. “It is practice for our retinue as Lord Melchior has only just begun interacting with the other duchies. It is a task for us to complete ourselves,” he added quickly.

Hildebrand looked disappointed for a moment before returning to his noble smile. “I see. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors,” he said. They both glanced toward Professor Solange as she returned with three books from the closed stack archive.

“Will you be needing a corral, Lord Kazmiar?” she asked.

“That would be most convenient,” he replied.

Hildebrand brightened again as he moved to the cabinet storing the keys. “Do you have a preference, Lord Kazmiar?” he chirped.

“Prince Hildebrand, that is the work of the librarians,” Kazmiar chided before he could stop himself. He’d been teaching so many children as of late. On the spot corrections flowed from him like rivers from Flutrane. He went pale. Hildebrand's retainers gave him very sharp looks.

“It is as you say,” Hildebrand replied before Kazmiar could recover enough to drop to his knees and apologize. “I grow so excited to assist the library that I forget my only job is to provide mana and open the archive,” he admitted. He moved out of the way so Solange could select a key.

“Do not be to cross with yourself, my lord. Our work is quite fun,” Solange consoled.

“It is beyond me to surmise, your highness, but the restoration of old texts is elegant work,” Kazmiar noted, again before he could stop himself.

Hildebrand looked to Solange for confirmation. “It takes a great deal of time to learn and is a delicate business. However, it has been a pastime of past Zents,” she explained.

Hildebrand beamed. “Thank you for your generous advice, Lord Kazmiar. I will consider learning the process,” he said.

“Allow me to show you to your corral,” Solange said.

“I thank you ever so much,” Kazmiar said. He gave a final bow to the Prince and could not hurry away fast enough.

The information on Gilessenmeyer’s signature specialty was little and poor. It was mentioned in lists of facts about each duchy with nearly the exact words Melchior used. The only other account was from a recent donation from Alexandria. It was a tasting diary of some traveling merchant. He spoke of his inability to try the food. “It is not sacred except that it is in very short supply,” he’d written. The cost for a commoner was immense. They had to find a noble who’d been gifted some and was willing to sell. It was the exclusive privilege of the Aub to give bottles away to her supporters each spring. This gave rise to a slang term. Those in her best graces were described as ‘honeyed’ or having ‘gone sweet’ when no one important was listening.

Kazmiar pinched the bridge of his nose. Avoiding speaking with Aub Gilessenmeyer was his highest priority for this deal. It would even be worth reporting his failure if he could manage not to draw her attention. It would be a delicate thing to convince her to give up a bottle without meeting her directly. They would also need something valuable to trade. While Melchior could, theoretically, pay the high price, using something other than money would be best. The rock-eating-tree fruits and seeds were interesting and largely unknown even in Ehrenfest but he didn't know if he could convince someone they were incredibly valuable. His lord was also liable to let slip one day that they'd taken advantage of Gilessenmeyer, souring relations. From the sound of things, the only thing he currently owned that was worth trading was the very thing he planned to preserve in the honey he hoped to obtain.

Thankfully, the business with the hairpin was more straightforward and more fun. Kazmiar didn't have many opportunities to engage in subterfuge. With the stakes being so low, it was going to be fun sneaking around Charlotte’s allies. She had a few more scholars and knights in attendance while Melchior only had himself and Dedryck. Dedryck was all but glued to the Archduke so he wouldn't even be helpful.

It didn't matter. Kazmiar only needed to contact Justus without Aub Alexandria finding out. He could not call himself friends with the famously eccentric attendant of the pen but they had worked together before. He could send an ordonnanz but he was likely to be with his lord who was likely to be with his lady who might demand answers. A letter would be better since the issue wasn’t all that pressing either. Even without a time stopper, the flower wouldn't die in the next couple of days. After that it would be Alexandria's problem.

Melchior was strangely attached to the original flower. Now that they had more, he insisted on keeping it and continuing to power its magic tool. The burden was spread between several people but stopping time was still expensive.

He decided to write a letter. Isolde believed that the chances were still good that a letter addressed to Ferdinand's scholar would only pass before him and not his fiancee. “‘All mail passes our desks’ he said. He seemed surprised that she’d read his mail as well,” she’d said. Kazmiar was careful not to include his true reasons. He was Lord Ferdinand's nephew's scholar. Given Melchior's personality, anyone would assume his business was either shockingly serious or delightfully frivolous. There seemed to be no in-between the way Isolde described it. As a professor, Justus was bound to know this and that would hopefully compel him to seek a meeting.

Communicating with Gilessenmeyer was more complicated. Kazmiar didn't know anyone himself and couldn't know whether Lorgzwane was in attendance. Still it was all he had to go on so he sent an introductory note to the dormitory office by magic letter.

The letter for Alexandria he got the chance to deliver himself. The least busy scholars were often tasked with delivering correspondence. This was especially true when the attendants were busy setting up for a feast. Ehrenfest had so much mail for Alexandria that use of magical means was unfeasible. There were letters from family members and invitations and objects. It ended up being a sizable crate. It was carefully tied to his highbeast in the usual fashion since Kazmiar hadn't changed to a driveable one. It wasn't sealed so much as closed so Kazmiar found it simple to slip in his own letter.

He had to wait for a return crate to be quickly filled as he’d strategically failed to send word of his coming. “I was in such a rush. I truly thought I sent word,” he told the guards at their forest entrance. Were he from any other duchy, he predicted being turned away but Alexandria graciously allowed him to wait in the crisp spring morning.

Kazmiar hoped but did not expect to see Lord Justus appear while he waited. They greeted each other professionally then Justus handed him his letter back. “Could Ordoshnelli not be entrusted with this?” he questioned.

Kazmiar dangled a sound-blocker from his hand as he stroked his chin. “The great courier need not be disturbed for so small a thing,” he replied.

Justus took it. “What business do you bring?” he snapped.

“I see you are quite busy as well. I won't waste our time,” Kazmiar replied.

“The weave ravels as we speak⁴⁵.”

“Lord Melchior and Lady Charlotte are engaged in a battle of subterfuge over an accessory order from Torsten Sonn Bershmann. It could not be produced in Ehrenfest for fear of the secret being revealed.”

Justus closed his eyes for a long moment. “This is the careful business of which you spoke? A game between children?”

“The engagement will be put before the Zent but not announced. Alexandria is the first to know,” Kazmiar replied. It wasn't just a game between children. There was real intelligence to be gained.

“You wish for my lord to oversee its creation?” Justus asked. He paced a couple of steps and checked the crate being brought out and tied up. It was shut and sealed with Alexandria's crest. Only the Aub would be able to open it and he would know if anyone else tried. “You have not made this request of the Aub despite her great fondness for her siblings.”

“Could she keep such information to herself?” Kazmiar countered. Justus chuckled. They both knew she could not.

“And what can you offer us for our troubles?”

“My lord has information about a previously abandoned project of your lord’s. A certain magic tool has been revived in our temple. We have also prepared novel ingredients,” Kazmiar replied.

“How do you know they are novel?”

“I suppose we do not but they are unknown to any of us. Perhaps one such as yourself, better versed in the esoteric, already has knowledge of a faetree that consumes rocks,” Kazmiar said. He tugged on the knot a final time and gave his thanks to the attendants. A glitter had entered Justus’s eyes. “That is all we could think of. I ask that you keep this private and do let me know if you think of any preferable compensation.”

“On the day that Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time weaves our fates so,” he replied and tossed the magic tool back.

Kazmiar crossed his arms and bowed. “May our fates be woven together.”

Their fates were woven together the very next night at the feast. Alexandria was planning their own celebration back in the duchy so Ehrenfest was once again hosting Alexandria and Dunkelfelger in their tea party room. There was a large orchestra and delicious food.

Kazmiar didn't have many friends in noble society and none of them were at this celebration. He mingled politely and sipped wine slowly. Getting drunk was always a recipe for disaster in his case. While he was between conversation partners, Justus slipped into his personal space.

“Yes. In five days, at fifth bell, at my lab. Bring what you have,” he said before walking away. No one looked their way but Kazmiar had to assume at least one person heard besides himself. He felt his heart race. It was easy to enjoy this special kind of anxiety when no lives were held in the balance. He hoped to never be involved in the work of destroying political rivals. That the Ehrenfest siblings were on such good terms was a Goddess given blessing. He gave a prayer of thanksgiving in his heart and looked for someone new to talk to.

His contact with Gilessenmeyer was even stranger. Rather than send a reply, the young man in question chose to waylay Kazmiar in the hallway after the opening talks with Gaussbuttel. How he knew who to talk to was a mystery but Kazmiar gave him an ear.

The medscholar knelt and gave greetings. “I must extend my gratitude to Lord Melchior for summoning me. I would not have this opportunity to prove myself otherwise,” he said.

“I do not recall including a summons,” Kazmiar replied. He wasn't going to admit that a boy of 17 was the only person he could contact in Gilessenmeyer. He couldn't even recall the names of any classmates from that duchy. They'd been so far out of his league at the time.

“I suppose that is true. But you did send a message with my name attached. How can I assist Lord Melchior?” Lorgzwane asked. Kazmiar watched as a flood of people swirled all around them.

“This is not the best place for a conversation. Would you join me for tea?” Kazmiar asked.

“I would be happy to,”Lorgzwane replied.

Kazmiar sent a message to his attendant to secure a tea party room. They were all filled. There was always the option to use the gazebo’s or a room in the attendant building but traveling to each place to check for space would take ages.

Lorgzwane sent off his own bird. It returned with the happy news that Gilessenmeyer had a free room. “Allow us to host you,” Lorgzwane said. He looked far too delighted for this to have been a coincidence.

Kazmiar smiled. This boy was young but he was already employing strategies. “Thank you. I apologize for imposing upon you on such short notice,” he replied. Were this a more important matter, he wouldn't have agreed but it would be fun to allow himself to be outmaneuvered a little.

“It is no trouble, Lord Kazmiar.”

They flew across the sunwashed, spring campus. Kazmiar loved attending the Archdukes Conference specifically to see this view of the vibrant green forests and glittering white buildings. He always felt most at peace flying and such sights filled him with bliss.

From the air Gilessenmeyer’s dormitory looked like a great bird taking flight into the sun. The sun, he knew, was a tower where the Archduke and her retinue stayed during visits. There was a tunnel between it and the main building where the children and other nobles stayed. They also boasted gardens like many of the oldest dormitories. Kazmiar had long wondered what the Academy had been like so long ago that gardens were a reasonable addition. These were predictably sparse with only a few long lived trees and bushes and what wild flowers could burst forth after the snow finally receded from the grounds. They landed near the bird's feet and Kazmiar was guided to a balcony off the hallway with their tea party rooms.

An archattedant appeared with refreshments. They were served tea and a dense cake filled with nuts. There was a dish with little gem like sugar crystals provided as well. Kazmiar didn't take his tea particularly sweet but he took one rock just to be polite. Gilessenmeyer was trying to introduce people to well sweetened tea and he would oblige to make a good impression. Lorgzwane took a couple with a slight frown. He was doing his best to push the trend but he obviously wasn't a fan.

“This is the very first time I’ve been invited to Gilessenmeyer’s dormitory. It is just as lovely as everyone says,” Kazmiar began.

“We take great pride in our little palace,” Lorgzwane replied. “I hear Ehrenfest was given leave to change yours recently. How is the new design?”

“What has served Dauerleben will serve Weigemilch⁴⁶. We only added a couple of training rooms,” Kazmiar said. He struggled not to sound disappointed. He was ecstatic at the prospect of a new design then demoralized by the conservative approach.

“That is so. That is wisdom,” Lorgzwane replied. “In your note you said you simply wanted to learn more about us. What questions does Lord Melchior have?”

Kazmiar chuckled to cover his whirling thoughts. “I suspect my lord has a great many questions. He is very curious about other duchies,” he replied. He didn't want to give the impression that Melchior was specifically interested in this duchy. “He hopes to bring the joys of his travels home to Ehrenfest one day,” he added.

“Who would not wish to share their joy with family,” the boy replied.

“At this time, he has taken an interest in rime honey. There is so little information on it besides what the duchy lists will say,” Kazmiar said. He began to wonder if he shouldn't try to talk with some other duchies about their equally vague descriptions. Lorgzwane looked far too happy to be making connections with Ehrenfest's youngest son.

“He did ask about that once. I recall saying I knew very little. In truth, he inspired me to learn more about my own duchy,” the medscholar said. He began to wax poetic about Gilessenmeyer. He’d gone to see the country gate and visited the temple to ask about the Divine Instruments only, he insisted. “As for the rime bees. They are as terrifying as they are cute from far away. They are this big,” he said and held his arms out to the sides. “I had no idea. Thankfully they are as docile as normal bees. They won't attack if not provoked. They may even allow you to touch them gently though I was too afraid of the one that came near.”

He talked about their cycle of gathering through the winter and huddling together in the summer. They produced cold instead of warmth it seemed. The area around their hives was permanently frozen with tunnels of ice leading in and out of the hives. “They have to carry icicles out of the hive in their mouths. It's very dangerous below the hives because of this.” It was not uncommon for foolish visitors to be knocked unconscious by falling ice.

“My only regret is that I could not taste the honey nor smell the wax. It is said to be more fragrant than normal beeswax and strong in the life element. They say the honey is not ‘honey’ as it's made through a different process. It is all but indistinguishable from honey, except for the taste, and totally mundane if you can believe it.”

Kazmiar took careful notes, first in his new diptych, then on a sheet of paper. It almost felt like a waste to record this on expensive paper but his lord asked for the information specifically. “I hope this will sate his curiosity,” Kazmiar said once the lecture concluded. “If not even a noble from Gilessenmeyer could obtain a taste, I fear I will have to report that it is impossible,” he sighed.

“You were hoping to trade for rime honey?” Lorgzwane asked. He sat back in his chair. “I don't think anyone has tried before. As you say, it is not well known outside of Gilessenmeyer and students quickly forget their geography lessons after the first years.”

“It does not sound like something one trades for, rather something one earns for rendering service. My lord will be disappointed but he will accept this in time. I thank you for passing me this knowledge,” Kazmiar said. He began to get up but no one came to assist with his chair. He cursed his lack of foresight at not bringing his own attendant for a casual, impromptu tea.

“One need only ask her highness. The Aub is generous and looks for good reasons to bless others,” Lorgzwane said. He leaned forward. “With so much time left in the conference, I would have plenty to ask for a meeting.”

“A meeting with Aub Gilessenmeyer over so small a thing? What good fortune,” Kazmiar said with as poisonous a smile as he could muster. He would need his own strategies to escape such a fate.

Lorgzwane seemed to take the bait. He sat back immediately. It would not be ideal to allow a foreign scholar to weedle his way into a meeting with the Aub over nothing. Lord Melchior seemed like a sweet boy but there was the smallest possibility he was a prodigy political machine projecting a saccharin aura. “You are right. Better to bring your petition myself. I will ask though I cannot promise anything. As you know, it is a sacred thing,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“But of course. It was but the whim of a child and a forgiving one. Just this knowledge is gift enough,” Kazmiar said. “This has been most productive but I must return. The Archdukes Conference is a busy time as you know.”

“This is my first one,” Lorgzwane replied.

“You will either love the thrill or dread the intensity,” Kazmiar counsel. “I pray that Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has woven our threads tightly together, Lord Lorgzwane.” The attendant finally came to free him from the chair arms and table.

“May our threads be woven together,” Lorgzwane replied with a bow.

The balcony was wide enough to allow a highbeast to depart. Kazmiar got confirmation it was alright and leapt into the sky.

“A strange request,” said Lorgzwane’s attendant.

Lorgzwane let out a deep breath. “Archscholar’s are terrifying. What could he possibly want with the Aub. It is beyond me.”

“Perhaps it is nothing. He seems content to accept failure so it cannot be deathly serious. This is a good first job for you,” he replied.

“I felt so ready after graduation. I know now how much I must improve if his lordship is to show me his favor,” Lorgzwane said. He stood up straighter. “Thank you for your assistance. He would have left before I could say everything without your help.”

“Our lady wishes to nurture talent. A small bit of assistance is well worth the expense.”

Footnotes

44. Have children with them.^

45. You are keeping me from important things.^

46. “If it aint broke, dont fix it” Or “we saw no need to make changes” ^

Chapter Text

Staying Home

Melchior stood with his parents in the teleportation hall all but bouncing with excitement. Sylvester had promised to leave him with the bible’s key. Rozemyne said he would be able to read more as he gained mana and elements. He hoped there would be a lot more to read since he felt like he gained a lot of mana since the last Starbinding. Even if he hadn't, he would have a whole two weeks to look at it.

Sylvester removed the key from his pocket and rested it in Melchior's hand. “Be sure to protect it,” he charged.

“Better than my own life,” Melchior promised. Sylvester looked at him quizzically. “If I perish, I cannot protect it. So I will ensure its safety before that happens,” he explained.

“Better not to ascend to the distant heights at all, eh,” Sylvester said. He rested a hand on Melchior's head then turned to Charlotte. “I leave the duchy in your hands. Make wise choices,” he charged.

Charlotte crossed her arms and bowed. “I will do my utmost, Father. Please rest assured.”

Sylvester couldn't help but smile. They were very diligent children. “I know. I trust you,” he said. He released Melchior and stepped back onto the teleportation circle.

“Would you like a blessing?” Melchior asked as he clutched his prize.

“I wouldn't mind a bit of protection,” Sylvester replied.

Melchior prayed to Gluckitate, and Greifenchan, and Mestinora. “Oh and Chaosfliehe,” he began.

Florencia placed a hand on his shoulder. “There is no need to be anxious dear. We have done this many times before,” she said. He would need his mana for replenishment after all.

“That is true. Please be well,” Melchior replied. He watched Sylvester disappear then heaped blessings on his mother as well.

“Thank you dear. Remember to take care of your health. Mana replenishment can take quite a toll,” she charged.

They promised to be careful and watched her go. Melchior stood staring at the circle for a long moment. Having done this several times before, he expected to be used to watching his parents disappear but couldn't shake the feeling that they might not come back. “Shall we commence replenishment for today?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. I will be stronger this year,” Melchior said. He put away his fears and offered his arm. He was fairly sure it was less awkward than ever.

Melchior was much stronger than the previous year. He’d trained his stamina and had grown his mana. Despite this, he was still given a bag of faestones to use.

“Father has left these for us to add,” Charlotte assured him. “We know you have more mana of your own now but you have done so well with faestones before that we will leave this task to you once again,” she said. Melchior knew she was trying to reframe his relative weakness but he returned a determined smile anyway. He would have to prove himself for people to have faith in him. Nikolaus carried his bag of faestones into the office since his other retainer's couldn't follow.

Charlotte had no retainers with direct bloodties to the Archduke so her guards waited outside the office while she activated the door. Bertilde and Traugott stood to the side with Nikolaus while everyone entered the replenishment hall. Charlotte had the most mana by far so she performed her replenishment alone. Then Melchior knelt with Bonifiatus and Brunhilde and chanted the prayer while forcing mana out of the faestones. He could use one in each hand now and hoped to empty his bag in time to offer his own mana. He wondered whether it would be alright to switch back and forth.

It wasn't a time consuming process so they were done before dinner. Melchior felt strong enough to stand and walk or even run. He rejoiced with Nikolaus as he exited the mana replenishment hall. “I could continue training for these two weeks, I think.”

“That's the spirit!” Bonifiatus boomed and gave him a crushing hug about the shoulders. While Melchior caught his breath, Nikolaus took a moment to speak with his grandfather.

“Will you come and train with us? My sword dancing has gotten much better,” Nikolaus said.

“You want me to dance with you?” Bonifiatus asked. “Shouldn’t we have a bout?”

Nikolaus paled. “I am not your equal, Grandfather. I fear I should find the distant heights.”

“I know how to temper things. And you aren't a fragile whelp,” Bonifiatus assured him.

“You could also sing with us,” Melchior said brightly. “We are preparing a choral piece for Sister.”

Bonifiatus smiled. “A choral piece for Rozemyne. I would like to hear it. Oh, but should I wait until she is here so we can listen together?” he fretted.

“You do not wish to join our choir?” Melchior pressed. A deep grandfatherly voice was sure to add a magical element.

“Would there be time for him to learn? I would like to join as well.” Charlotte asked.

Melchior and Nikolaus exchanged a glance then mournfully shook their heads. “It's in another language,” Nikolaus said sadly. “But we could do a duet of a song we already know,” he suggested.

Bonifiatus looked pensive. “You would not prefer a bout?” he asked.

Nikolaus's shoulders fell. “I would be glad of your instruction,” he replied.

Bonifiatus smiled. “He will fight if that is the only reason you will spend time with him,” Traugott interjected.

The whole office grew still and looked from grandfather to grandson and back. Bonifiatus grimaced as he usually did anytime Traugott spoke for any reason.

“I… I am happy to spar,” Nikolaus insisted.

“But do you want to?” Traugott asked, seemingly headless of the wrath boiling beside him. He just moved into his position to follow Bonifatius out of the room.

Nikolaus hung his head. Bonifiatus was quiet for a long time. “I see,” he said. “I will come watch you dance,” he promised before leaving. Traugott tossed Nikolaus a smile as they left. He seemed unfazed by his grandfather’s sharp looks.

Melchior placed a hand on his shoulder but Nikolaus lifted his head to display a radiant smile. “I will have to practice,” he declared and hurried Melchior out of the room.

It was very strange to eat without his parents. No one would sit in either Sylvester or Florencia’s seat, making their absence even starker, but dinner with Brunhilde and Bonifiatus was a joy. They chatted about the conference and made predictions about what reports would be sent home for Bonifiatus and Charlotte to review.

No one could have predicted the order from the Archduke that came during lunch on the second day. He’d gone to the first all Aubs meeting to find both Aub Alexandria and Aub Hauchletze had wax tablets painted extravagantly. They were happy to show them off and to credit Melchior of Ehrenfest with the idea. Sylvester had made up some speech about them being tools for scholars in Ehrenfest and how it was difficult to detect greatness when it was so familiar to you already and thanked them for reminding him to see the beauty all around him, or something. His orders were to have a painted diptych ready by morning so he could pretend he owned one he’d chosen not to wear.

“We will miss our own trend,” Charlotte gasped.

“Why doesn't Sylvester own one already if they're so popular?” Bonifiatus asked.

She summoned Melchior immediately. He bounced into the office looking delighted and ready to assist only to collect himself upon seeing their faces. “You summoned me,” he said.

“We have a directive from the Aub,” Charlotte declared.

Melchior paled. Those always seemed to end in people leaving the duchy. As Charlotte read out the missive he relaxed and even had to hold back a giggle. “Father wants a tablet? He was not excited by them before,” he mused.

“Now he has seen others with them,” Bonifiatus scoffed. Of course he would need one now.

“I will have it finished forthwith,” Melchior promised. He could not be happier than to receive work only he could do

As he exited the office, Kolteruze offered him an ordonnanz. “This is Melchior, I would like to order a simple diptych, finished for further embellishments, sized for the Archduke. Flautzeal tells me this can be done within a bell,” Melchior said. Kolteruze flicked his wheatstalk, sending the message to Lady Zerafina.

They received a reply by the time he reached the tunnel. “We can have that completed within a bell. Is such haste required?” she asked.

“All haste is required,” Melchior replied.

It did not take Flautzeal even the better part of a bell to appear with his mother, the tablets, glue and leather to connect them once they were painted, and a case of styluses for them to choose from. Melchior allowed Charlotte to both choose and pay from the duchy's coffers. She selected one with gold inlay and a swirling design. “I do not think anyone else is producing styluses as fine as these,” she praised. She also picked a less decorated one for herself and another for Florencia. Their mother might not have an urgent order but the children didn't want to leave her out.

Sylvester had neglected to include any requests for subject matter. Melchior stared at the swirling stylus for a long while but couldn't draw very much inspiration. He created a border pattern based on the design then sat and thought a bit more. His father seemed to love very few things. His wife, his family, and anything novel or interesting. There was always the option to use generic landscapes or the duchy or something similarly austere but Melchior didn't think Sylvester would enjoy that.

In the end, Melchior fell back on what he was good at. He sketched out a portrait of his mother from the shoulders up. He was tempted to use a rare expression but remembered how upset that seemed to make Sigsnyr and chose her usual smile. He was planning an arrangement of his siblings for the other side but Haldis stopped him.

“You should select something less personal. It will be seen by the other duchies,” he counseled.

“Isn't it well known that Father’s weakness is his family?” Melchior asked. Was there a reason to hide such common knowledge?

“There is no need to remind them. The existence of a fifth child has not been announced either,” Haldis pointed out. Melchior was planning to include Henriette but not even all of his retainers would admit to knowing he had a sister.

He still liked the idea of making the second side a picture of him and his siblings. There was nothing else he knew his father to like. He compromised by drawing one large lion with four juvenile’s and one cub. Doing so many animals was a tall order but he had no plans yet and would need to have canceled them to fulfill a directive from the Archduke anyway.

Melchior was never more grateful for the oil paint sticks. They could prepare two colors while he was at home and had some already prepared but the sticks helped to round out the range of pigments. He purchased a few small faestones from Sigsnyr to turn into dust for accents. Benedikt was reduced to clutching his head and silently screaming as the promise of paint made from gold dust was realized before his very eyes.

“Do you have any idea how much brewing could be done with so much gold dust?” he cried.

“If you have ideas for how to use the paint, we are hoping to research it next year,” Melchior said absentmindedly. Zargerecht placed a comforting hand on the young scholar's shoulder as they struggled not to weep together.

Through the power of magic tools and staying up later than he should, Melchior finished his order. In the morning, Pepin packed it nearly into a small box and delivered it to the scholars to be included with the morning mail.

After mana replenishment on what would be his normal temple day, Melchior traveled with his knights to the temple to train with Sister Streita. Eikestine felt unsure about going along. She was on duty to guard her lord but he was going to a place she was not allowed to work.

“You may be relieved of duty until we return,” Sebastian said. She nodded and bowed and made to go back inside. “Would you like to visit the temple and train with us?”

She paused. “Is that allowed?” she asked

“That is what we do,” Helenwig assured her.

Eikestine had heard bad things about the temple for a long time. She’d assumed they received permission to work there. Her own parents were deeply reluctant and stressed that she should delay as long as possible, preferably until she returned to Charlotte’s service. She hesitated.

“You do not need to come if it makes you uncomfortable,” Melchior said calmly. He failed to fully hide his disappointment though.

She gathered her courage. If Helenwig and Cecilia were going, perhaps it would be ok. “I will go and see for myself what it is like,” she declared. Melchior smiled brightly and began regaling her with Sister Streita’s many accomplishments.

Since Melchior proved he could train at the temple after Mana Replenishment, he also had to go to the Knights Order later in the week. There were only a few more weeks remaining in his season in the introductory class. The youngest knight was finally able to perform all the strikes even if he wasn't exactly good at it. Melchior and Gerianne had gained other apostles. Any student who was struggling to keep up made their way over to stand between them. Brunschwart grew increasingly annoyed but couldn't tell an Archduke Candidate to stop encouraging his classmates.

Instead, he added more running to the curriculum than initially promised. Melchior still disliked running. The other boys also hated lagging behind Gerianne in both speed and stamina. She was a hero to the other couple of girls and Melchior, but Brunschwart ensured the boys hated her by reminding them that she was both chubby and a girl and shouldn’t be faster than them.

“It's due to hard work,” she grumbled. “Why can't I enjoy being faster for now.”

“If you learn enhancement magic, you can be faster forever,” Melchior assured her.

“It takes a great deal of mana,” she replied sadly.

“Cecilia can use a bit of enhancement even though she's a mednoble,” Melchior noted.

“I will attempt to learn,” she decided.

“Me too,” Melchior said.

Sealing of the Deals

At the beginning of the second week, Melchior received an update on his business from Kazmiar. He read the note in the Archduke's office with Charlotte and Bonifatius nervously. Such a missive could easily be sent to his room. In fact, they'd already read it but hoped to gain more understanding by watching and listening to Melchior read aloud.

“Ordoshnelli has been my banner. Efflorelume will rejoice at our triumph. Gaussbuttel has been most accommodating to our efforts as have those others we’ve spoken with. I have information from the Goddess of Light and request two of the promised blessings. May the gods preserve you,” he read with zero inflection.

“Is this good news?” Charlotte asked.

“I believe so,” Melchior replied. He assumed he knew what was being said but the confusion of his family made him rethink it.

“What blessings did you promise?” Bonifiatus asked. He also felt sure he understood that Melchior had sent his scholar on some extra business that he didn't want anyone else to know about.

“That confuses me as well, I will have to consult with my scholars. Blessings cannot travel that far away,” Melchior replied. He also couldn't remember promising any particular compensation.

“These papers were also included,” Charlotte said and sent over the notes about rime honey written out twice using different language. Melchior was baffled.

“Thank you ever so much for receiving these on my behalf. Is there anything else?” he asked.

“That is all. Do tell us what you figure out,” Charlotte replied.

Melchior took his spoils back to his room. He passed the papers to Isolde first and finished reading the passage he’d been called away from. He, Nikolaus, and Gerianne were reading the bible in their spare time. His other retainers wanted to see too but he was fairly certain that only clergy should be allowed. Rozemyne had tried to show him when they first met and been chided for trying to show a non priest the sacred text. At least, he remembered it that way and didn't want to break any more of her rules. Kazmiar also wasn't around to ask.

Isolde read over both copies of the information several times while tapping her head with her pencil. She was tempted to bite it but they were too expensive to destroy. “What is he trying to say?” she mumbled. It was a grave waste of paper to repeat the same information. Was one for the Archduke and the other for his lord? They were obviously transcriptions of notes, not his original sheet too. She read his missive again.

“This is more clear,” she began. “Our talks with Alexandria were a success and the compensation was transferred. Gilessenmeyer has been pleasant so far which is surprising. I think he has come to an agreement for the exchange but didn't want to write what you were sending for some reason. Did we talk about what we could trade?”

Melchior shook his head. He was trying to piece together the missing words of a prayer and not really listening.

“What could be unspeakable?” she muttered.

“Paint made from good dust,” Benedikt offered. “What were we talking with Alexandria about, again?”

“The upcoming visit,” Isolde lied without hesitation. Melchior didn't even look up.

“I see. You think Gilessenmeyer has agreed to trade us rime honey for something so valuable that Kazmiar doesn't want to tell the rest of Melchior's family?” he checked.

“That's what I think it means,” she replied.

“I think I know,” Zipporah said while holding her head. “There is only one thing our lord owns multiple of with such a high value.”

“It cannot be the lightning mana then,” Benedikt mused.

“But he only has three left,” Nikolaus said. “He can't preserve one in honey and experiment with one if he trades two away.”

“We will have to find a way to grow the seeds,” Kolteruze said.

“You must summon spring,” Zipporah sighed. “We tried for generations and that is the only thing that works.”

“You did not have a magic tool specifically for growing fae plants,” Kolteruze argued. “Besides, we know what you tried and can build our experiments from there.”

“It will never work indoors,” she said.

“Do you want it to work?” Kolteruze asked. “Or are you offended by the idea.”

“I'm not sure yet,” Zipporah replied.

“In any case. If you want rime honey, you must trade two blenrus for it,” Isolde declared. “Now that the deal is struck, I do not think we can back out. You might claim to have used them already but we have nothing of equivalent value.”

Melchior sighed. He didn't regret tasting it and he was excited to try the honey but he wondered whether using his last blenrus for desserts was the right choice. He didn't need the highest possible quality potions at the moment. He could wait for Kolteruze's experiments to bear fruit. They could also summon spring in the central district or use a circle to limit the area like Ferdinand did for the Purging of the Lanzenavians. He didn't know how to alter such a complex circle yet but there was time to learn and scholars to help him.

“Send them with the morning mail in a sealed box,” Melchior answered after much thought.

“You can't be serious?!” Benedikt cried.

“You don't want to taste the honey?” Melchior asked. There wasn't likely to be another chance especially if they pulled out of the deal at this stage.

Benedikt fell into thought himself. “Perhaps it can be brewed into something useful as well,” he muttered.

“It is mundane,” Isolde replied while tapping the line on one of the reports. “Perhaps it has very faint mana and could be added for taste,” she added.

“My lord,” Benedikt began,” are you sure about this. You are trading something so valuable for so little.”

“Only those with direct favor from Aub Gilessenmeyer ever get to have this product. It is possible to obtain more blenrus. It will never be possible to obtain more rime honey. They say it is mundane and useless but we will not know unless we test it,” Melchior said. He looked at Zipporah. Anyone else's opinion he felt could be swayed but she would have the strongest feelings.

She met his gaze for a moment. “They belong to you. Use them as you will,” she said.

He tried to read her expression. Having worked together for such a short amount of time, it was impossible to tell what she truly felt. Hopefully Haldenzel wouldn't be any more annoyed with him than they already were.

Pepin collected his blenrus that evening. They were placed in a small wooden box, wrapped with an ochre string, and sealed with ochre wax. Melchior secured a slip of parchment with his name under the wax. Besides the listed recipient, only the First Wife or Archduke would dare break the seal. Since it served as proof that Melchior was the last person to look inside, Kazmiar couldn't be compelled to open it for inspection unless ordered by those same people. Melchior hoped that wouldn't draw his father's curiosity.

The next morning he sent Flautzeal to the mail handling scholars before explaining things. Isolde argued that he could give nothing away if he truly knew nothing. Once he found out, he expressed mixed feelings. “From what I’ve heard, they are the best ingredient for rejuvenation potions. It seems unwise to give them to another duchy even in so limited a quantity. Then again, there can't be many people outside of Gilessenmeyer who've tasted rime honey. It is hard to decide which is better.”

“How could you be anything less than ecstatic at the prospect of tasting something so rare?” Gerianne asked. She was almost shaking with excitement. “And a honey produced by winter bees, servants of Ewigeliebe, sisters of snow!”

“Sisters of snow?” Isolde scoffed. “They are mere insects.”

“Have you ever seen a bee? They are very cute,” Gerianne replied.

“They are insects,” Isolde said with a shiver. “And these ones are large enough to mount apparently.”

Gerianne’s eyes gained a dangerous sparkle. “I could not treat the schnestrum as our lord treats the lion. Bees are much rounder by nature,” she mused.

Isolde paled even more. “You intend to create an insect shaped highbeast. I must urge you to reconsider,” she said.

Gerianne bounced on her toes. “It will be both fierce and adorable. Do you think I could teach it to sting my enemies?”

“Highbeasts are not real animals, they cannot learn,” Haldis reminded.

Flautzeal scratched his head. “It would be more that you learn how to maneuver your mount to sting your foes,” he added.

Gerianne fell into a fit of giggles while Isolde shook her head with a vacant expression. Melchior entered from his private chambers just in time to witness this tableau.

“Did something happen?” he asked. He needed to go to mana replenishment but had a little time to listen.

“I have had the best idea,” Gerianne began. Melchior agreed to the plan wholeheartedly.

There were only a few days remaining when Melchior finished his bag of faestones. He’d developed a method for using three at once, burning through even the spare stones that were prepared for him. Charlotte looked at him with worry but he assured everyone he was capable enough to do a couple of days under his own power. He was instructed to drink a rejuvenation potion before bed just to be safe.

The next day he returned full of determination only to find that another stone had been found for him to use. “We will be able to secure a few more so you needn't worry,” Charlotte assured him.

“I would like to give my own mana,” Melchior replied. “I won't earn more protections if I use other people's.”

Charlotte placed a hand to her cheek. “You give so much at the temple and pray so often. Do you still have doubts that the gods will favor you?” she asked.

Melchior did have some doubts. There was no way to know whether you prayed enough. He was hoping to gain the last two elements he needed, though he was more interested in gaining Light than Life.Still, it was more that he wished to prove he could do it. “Hadn’t you begun at my age?”

“I had acquired my schtappe already. It greatly aids in the process. Without one… well, we do not want you to fall ill so soon before Sister's visit,” Charlotte said.

Rozemyne would be worried to hear about something like that, he knew, but she’d begun offering mana at an even younger age. “I can stop early if it is too much. I am well practiced,” he assured her.

Charlotte looked him over. He was slightly smaller than Wilfried had been at his age and his gentle countenance just made him look more fragile. She patted his head. “Next year we will try it,” she said.

He stepped back, out of her reach. “I am already eleven,” he declared. Brunhilde arrived but slowed to a quiet crawl. “I will not collapse after two days.”

“It takes a great toll on young bodies,” Charlotte replied as she folded her hands over her skirts. “Mother has charged me to look after you,” she added.

“Your care and assistance are always appreciated, dear sister. In this case they are not needed.”

“That is not yet known,” she replied.

“We will never know if I do not try,” he snapped.

Charlotte deepened her smile. She took a step forward to better tower over her little brother. “Dear brother, I have gone to great efforts to prepare additional faestones so that you may participate safely. Are you content to pass on your responsibility should you become indisposed?”

Melchior did his best to hold her eyes without shaking. He took a breath to steady himself. “You may rely upon me, Charlotte,” he replied. They stared for a moment longer. “Please rely on me,” he pleaded.

She placed the faestone in his hand. “I have the utmost faith,” she replied. Melchior’s shoulders sank. The small stone felt far heavier than it was. Bonifiatus appeared only a moment later as though he knew to stay away until the fight was over.

Only on the last day was Melchior allowed to offer his own mana. He knelt with Brunhilde and chanted the prayer almost bitterly. It was not a competition, but doing so little mana replenishment would surely leave him with fewer protections than his siblings such that he would disgrace his sister's legacy. Rozemyne had so many protections that she was reluctant to speak about it. They meant she could give blessings and perform spells with ease to shower her people with assistance. If he couldn't even be trusted to replenish the foundation, wouldn't he need as many protections as he could acquire? Ehrenfest's turn to redo the ritual would take place the following year and his own ceremony at the Royal Academy the year after. He would have to wait nearly a whole decade to try again.

Afterward, he spent time in his hidden room painting and sulking. The task hadn't taken much of a toll at all. It did drain more mana than he was likely to recover overnight but with potions he could give everyday. He wouldn't be able to do anything else with his mana, of course, but the abundance of caution wasn't necessary.

Knowing he’d given so little of himself to the efforts, it was hard to accept his parent’s praise upon their safe return.

“I see nothing's burned down,” Sylvester said brightly as he stepped off the circle. “Good job you two. Bonifiatus wasn't too harsh I hope.”

“Not at all, Father. Granduncle provided very welcomed assistance,” Charlotte replied.

Melchior clutched the bible key. He was the High Bishop. It was registered with his mana but he placed it back in the Archduke's hand without protest. Sylvester tousled his hair. He noticed the string holding it back and recalled a promise he’d forgotten. “We have so much to talk about. I think we should begin with dinner though.”

The children agreed. They waited for Florencia and Wilfried then traveled as a family to the dining room. The conversation was quite lively. Wilfried had much to say about his first conference while Melchior and Charlotte had many questions.

“Konradin had convinced them it was going to be much more expensive so they agreed very easily to our price. I didn't expect it to feel so much like socializing at the Royal Academy,” Wilfried said.

“It is that similar?” Charlotte asked.

“Well, there's more wine involved. You have to be very careful not to drink too much,” he noted.

“Children do not normally do so much negotiating as you have. Your tea parties with Rozemyne were excellent preparation,” Florencia said.

“And we were so harsh with Sister about her socializing,” Charlotte lamented.

“It is very different from Ehrenfest socializing. It was still true that she never learned how to do that,” Wilfried replied. “I still think she’d be a bad first wife but she's a great Aub.”

“She certainly jerked us around in negotiations. She claimed her duchy can't take over supplying the greater duchies while sitting in a room full of paper sculptures,” Sylvester wined.

“Alexandria wouldn't take on any trade contracts?” Charlotte asked.

“We talked them into Dunkelfelger but Drewanchel and Klassenberg are still closer to us,” Florencia sighed.

“That will be good for our forest,” Melchior said.

“I do not think this means we can reduce production,” Charlotte said. “We will have to find a way to replenish our trees instead.”

Melchior was reminded of the hideous trees from Hasse. “We could try coppice,” he offered.

Sylvester paused his eating and narrowed his eyes. “What is that?”

“It's where you turn trees into ugly bushes that grow new sprouts every year. That's where broom handles come from,” Melchior replied.

“How would this help maintain our forests?” Florencia asked.

“I don't know how well it would scale up but Hasse had been using it to gain ready access to materials,” he replied.

“Hasse?” Sylvester asked. It took him a moment to remember the monastery even existed. “When did they do that?”

“Three years ago,” Melchior replied. “They have a record of their progress and notes on how much it's improved early spring productivity to have easy access to wood at the start of the season. It means they can plant crops rather than forage for materials.”

“Why do you know so much about this?” Wilfried asked.

“I read their report.”

“Their report?” Sylvester repeated with narrow eyes.

“Oh, yes. It's very thorough. I’ve been meaning to negotiate a price for their technologies but was so busy I forgot,” Melchior declared.

Sylvester held his head. “Didn't we just talk about you keeping vital information to yourself?” he asked.

Melchior blushed. “I’m sorry, Father. We have both been so busy, there was no time to discuss it.”

“Send me this report,” Sylvester sighed. It would probably go to Charlotte and Elvira in the end but it should start on his desk.

“According to my printing specialist, it contains many valuable insights and Charlotte tells me I should not give away trade secrets for free,” Melchior replied.

“She means to other duchies,” Wilfried cried. “You intend to charge us too!?”

“It represents several years of hard work. Do the craftspeople not deserve compensation?” Melchior countered. It was Rick’s life’s work after all. He’d promised to negotiate for a fair deal.

Sylvester looked at his son as he gleefully ate and basked in the exciting banter. Rozemyne hadn't even spent that much time with him but had rubbed off to a shocking extent. He wondered if it was from Charlotte’s breathless praise. “We will discuss it after the visit. Have your scholars prepare, Charlotte. We will see how valuable this information turns out to be,” he declared. “Now, we were discussing our newest trade deals.”

Dunkelfelger was being replaced by Hauchletze and Gilessenmeyer. As middle duchies and lower ranked, they were forced to accept three slots each rather than the six for Klassenberg, Alexandria, Drewanchel, and the Sovereignty respectively.

“Being higher ranked made negotiations much easier than they've been in the past. We must strive to maintain our position,” Sylvester said the next morning, mostly to Charlotte and Melchior. The big post-conference meeting was barely getting started but Melchior was already feeling anxious. Their rank had largely come from helping to defeat the Lanzenavians and restore the Grutrissheit. Not only did Melchior not know how to maintain the fifth rank, no one else did either. In addition, Hauchletze and Gilessenmeyer were well versed in raising and holding ranks just below the greater duchies. Unless they could manage to send more nobles to the Sovereignty or continue producing earth shattering trends, they were destined to fall.

His anxious musings were interrupted by the conversation moving to the deal with Gaussbuttel. “We promised to send a delegation of scholars to assist them in performing their first ritual next year. They hope to create their first stage this summer for use next spring.”

“Who can we send? They’ll need to know a lot about the ritual proceedings.”

“We can send priests surely.”

“They just failed to assist Herzfeld this year. I do not think the temple can be entrusted with teaching another duchy.”

“You would think since it's a religious ceremony.”

Eyes fell on Melchior as though judging him for the temple’s failure. “The temple does not perform the Spring Summoning Ritual. It is carried out by the provincial nobles themselves,” he said.

“Then what do the priests do during Spring Prayer?”

“They fill the land with additional mana to support the harvest,” Sylvester snapped. “Perhaps you would like to accompany them next year to be enlightened,” he added. Talk ceased at once. “Since the giebes perform the ritual, we can ask them for volunteers.”

“May I recommend someone?” Melchior asked. He nearly retracted his outburst as even more eyes fell over him.

“They must be an adult,” Sylvester replied.

There was a vanishingly small hope in Melchior's heart that died. “Lady Nantfelda of Haldenzel has much experience preparing for and conducting the ritual. She is a crucial part of Haldenzel’s Spring Celebration but they have been performing this ritual successfully for generations. They might be able to spare her,” he said. He wished he could have spoken to at least Zipporah before speaking up but it was said now.

“The second wife?” someone muttered.

“You believe Haldenzel would avail us of her services?” Sylvester asked.

“We cannot be sure without making inquiries,” Melchior replied diplomatically. He couldn't say whether she’d be willing to miss her own Spring Prayer to winter in another duchy.

Sylvester signaled for someone to make a note. “Does anyone else have recommendations?”

“If we send one of our printing scholars as well, we can judge the region's viability at the same time,” Charlotte suggested.

“They might give away our technologies,” Wilfried replied.

“We can place them under magical contract,” Florencia reminded. “We have some time to plan and select the best collection of ambassadors. We have less time to prepare to welcome our new brides and grooms,” she added. The conversation shifted to the nobles marrying into the duchy and visiting to exchange faestones. Melchior would be in charge of transferring medals and giving the Starbinding blessing but none of his friends or retainers were due to wed so he had little interest in the matter.

Of great interest were the invitations to the Sovereignty. A stack of invitations on black parchment were extracted from a silver box and handed to various scholars to distribute. The black cards for his retainers were given to Isolde at the end of the meeting. Normally, Melchior would only hear about them in passing since none of his retainers had planned to go to the Sovereignty before. This year was different. They were usually given to all third years who made honors grades to tell them that the Sovereignty was watching their progress. Should they maintain their honors status for the last three years they could apply to the lowest positions with confidence of being chosen. If you wanted a more prestigious position or had a particular career in mind, you would need to become the disciple of a current Sovereignty noble, then an apprentice who could move there full time.

It was therefore quite strange for Kolteruze to receive an invitation since he had just completed his fourth year. “It says I could begin apprenticeship at my earliest convenience but that I should not see this as an order.”

“‘I’ve never heard of an invitation like that. You must have left a very strong impression on someone very powerful,” Isolde observed. She was struggling to contain her own excitement over her black letter.

“Can I look at it?” Dedryck asked. Kolteruze handed it over. “This is from the desk of a royal. You can see that the parchment is different and the seal is unique,” he said as he pointed out these differences.

“Whose desk is this from?” Kolteruze asked. He squinted at the tiny seal and tried to piece back together the wax he broke.

“There is only one option . You only know one royal after all,” Isolde said.

Melchior took the letter and examined it. He was first distracted by the silver ink then by the handwriting. Prince Hildebrand hadn't written it himself but he might have asked a scholar to take dictation. Having never seen the prince's official seal, he couldn't say whether this was it. “Do you wish to go?” he asked. He watched Kolteruze’s face for indications of dishonesty. Any noble raised well enough would know to keep their intentions hidden until the very last moment.

Kolteruze looked first surprised then pensive. He shook his head. “I do not think so,” he replied.

“This is a rare and valuable opportunity, are you sure?” Isolde asked.

“Do you want to move to the Sovereignty, Isolde?” Melchior turned to look at her instead. She was much easier to read. It was clear that she did. “If that is what you want, I won't stop you,” he said.

She paused. “This is no guarantee of placement. I would not discount the opportunity but I have no such plans at the moment,” she replied.

It was as close as she could politely get to saying that she wished to leave Melchior's service and go to the Sovereignty. She looked at Kolteruze enviously and seemed unhappy with his choice to remain in spite of his open invitation to become an apprentice Sovereign archattedant immediately.

“This isn't a choice to rush into,” he challenged.

“Better to wait until it passes by,” Isolde scoffed. “Even this does not stir your ambition?”

“Third sons do not have the luxury of ambition,” Kolteruze snapped.

Melchior sat off to the side feeling conflicted. He wanted Kolteruze to do well and Isolde to follow her dreams but he also wanted to keep his retainers. He glanced at Pepin who wore a similarly mixed expression. “Please let me know when you decide,” Melchior said. They looked back at him like they forgot he was there.

Kolteruze nodded and walked away to find some busy work. Isolde corrected her face and turned back to their discussion about the Archdukes Conference.

The post-conference excitement wasn’t even close to finished. Kazmiar had returned with a wooden box, looking exhausted while Dedryck looked radiant in spite of the dour mood. He got an almost nostalgic look in his eyes as he described his work standing behind Sylvester and contacting the Sovereign nobles he knew. “Mother and Father are both well. My little sister is due to be baptized this year. It is a shame I will miss it but I cannot take such a long trip,” he sighed.

“I would be willing to give you leave,” Melchior replied. He would have been quite sad had work kept his older siblings away from his baptism.

“The Sovereignty is very far to travel,” Dedryck said. And wasn't he afraid of his retainers going there at the moment.

“What season is it in?” Melchior asked. Unless it was in summer and therefore within the next couple of weeks, Dedryck could be spared the time.

“Autumn, my lord. There really is no need for you to worry anymore about it. I am dedicated to service. She does not expect to know me very well anyway,” he added.

Dedryck was baffled by the tears pooling in his lord's eyes. There was nothing so sad in his declaration. He had long since contented himself with the realities of being an Archductal retainer and functionally an only child. From his experience, his sister would be just fine if their only relationship was based on the opportunities he could provide.

“You do not love her?” Melchior asked.

“I… I have some familial attachment but we are very disparate in age and she lives in another duchy,” Dedryck replied.

“She would still appreciate letters,” Nikolaus said. Dedryck glanced towards him. He looked equally shaken by Dedryck’s revelations which was even stranger for a boy so old. Between them he felt the oppressive sorrow of younger siblings abandoned by their seniors.

He sighed. “I'll write her a letter,” he relented.

“You will journey to the Sovereignty for her baptism to deliver my congratulations,” Melchior added.

“My lord…”

“That is an order,” Melchior huffed.

Kazmiar made a mental note not to mention his niece in another duchy and to write to his little sister while Dedryck tried in vain to convince his lord such a long trip wasn't feasible. Melchior would not be swayed. He even offered to pay for Dedryck’s expenses which the knight roundly refused.

“How strange for a loyal knight to argue so strongly against his lord’s explicit orders,” Isolde mused. She didn't look up from reading Kazmiar’s reports and was better at hiding her negative emotions than either of the boys but there was still a sharp edge to her voice. Kazmiar had only ever heard criticism fall from Isidore’s mouth on the subject of his sister. She likely carried just as much wrath if not more than the other younger siblings in the room. Even Kolteruze, who was comparatively close to his brothers, wore a rare scowl.

Being hemmed in from all sides, Dedryck was forced to accept his fate. “I only ask that you save any exciting adventures for my return,” he grumbled. Melchior was stunned silent. He didn't intend to take any more excursions either with or without his head knight. He certainly wasn't trying to get rid of him.

Kazmiar decided to save the situation by giving his own report. “Shall we begin with the most surprising news?” he asked. Melchior put away his other worries to give his scholar the attention he deserved. Kazmiar produced two small wooden boards and a parchment contract that had already been signed by Sylvester. Melchior and Isolde looked them over quizzically.

“Are these commissions?” Isolde asked. The promised amounts looked too large to be real.

“Indeed they are. Aub Hauchletze has commissioned a diptych for his wife,” he flipped the wooden board over to reveal a short poem. “He would like you to create a piece based on this verse.”

“To gaze beyond the heaving wind, I lay down burdens bright and grim. My blade, my cape, the searing sun. A chorus rising though as one,” Isolde read first to herself then out loud. “What is this?”

“A strange choice of lyric for a child,” Dedryck commented.

Melchior paused his musing to shoot him a glare. He was not yet ready to receive insults from the world's worst older brother. Dedryck looked confused but went silent. “It is hard to understand,” Melchior admitted. “I am to make a pair of paintings based on these words?”

“Yes, you will be paid three large gold for your efforts,” Kazmiar replied.

“That was not just Sister being overly generous?!” Melchior asked. He swapped boards with Isolde then held his head. “But why? They are so inexpensive? Lady Zerafina will give you one for free if you purchase a stylus.”

Kazmiar made a mental note of this as well, then explained that Hauchletze valued artistic talent very highly. A piece commissioned from a known artist would fetch a higher price there than anywhere else in Yurgenschmidt. As an Archduke Candidate at the beginning of his career, Melchior's work would only grow in value over time. They also couldn't insult Ehrenfest by offering too low a price. The negotiations occurred at a tea for the higher ranked duchies where Ferdinand pointed out that the gold on Rozemyne's diptych was made of gold dust. “These factors combined to produce the air of a very expensive product made using only the best materials. I believe Alexandria regretted speaking up since they were obligated to match Hauchletze’s price when ordering their own.”

Their order was also more straightforward. Aub Alexandria just needed another diptych with shumil motifs and a green color scheme. It was a gift for her mednoble attendant. “And they will still pay three large gold?” Isolde asked in disbelief.

“Sister did say they had transcended the need for physical objects,” Melchior muttered.

Kazmiar wanted to giggle at that assertion but he had harrowing insights to share. “I fear Hauchletze is issuing a challenge. Anyone can see that even with paint made from gold dust, a diptych is not an expensive object. They have even produced their own. They want to see if you are capable of elevating such a simple thing to those staggering heights,” he said and watched the blood drain from his lord's face. He allowed Melchior to process that while he continued. “They have also promised one large gold for any additional pieces of archnoble quality and will purchase up to twelve.” He tapped the contract. Melchior didn't have to fulfill any of those orders but the prospective rewards were worth considering.

Even Isolde was left speechless. Having tried and failed several times to create art, the task looked insurmountable. However, the Aub had agreed to the terms. That had to mean he had faith in his son.

“Is that why they sent a poem instead of a normal request?” Melchior asked. He looked daunted but not crushed.

“Apparently it is a common practice to create paintings from poems and to write poems based on paintings. They hold competitions for such things. There is even a noblewoman who has spent sixteen years having people paint and write poems alternatingly. Ehrenfest has been invited to send delegates to view the unveiling of the collection four years from now.”

Melchior counted on his fingers then groaned. “I will not have come of age yet!”

“I will go on your behalf and take many notes,” Isolde promised. Melchior did not look mollified.

Kazmiar thought it best to move on while his lord was distracted by these frivolous thoughts. “Thanks to Prince Hildebrand’s passionate intersession, they were clear to inform us that it was his idea, you have been rewarded with two small golds for each of the slates you transcribed. Of course, this further advertised your abilities. Did the Zent truly mention that at the Interdutchy Tournament before all?” Isolde nodded while Melchior was too distracted calculating how much money that would turn out to be. “Fascinating. In any case, several duchies have inquired about hiring you to do their translations next year.”

“Are there not scholars who could do this work?” Isolde huffed.

“Lady Magdalena had effusive praise for your translations. Lady Margerethe kept her promise but her father, Aub Losrenger, was willing to be more vocal about how much they paid. Some duchies are happy to pay slightly less than that to ensure a passing grade they aren't sure their own duchy’s scholars can procure.” Translating ancient text wasn't a popular career path. Even Hauchletze, who were actively raising scholars for the task, didn't yet have students capable of the work. “You are not trained either and I am only proficient now that I serve as High Priest.”

“Can Nikolaus or Gerianne translate?” she asked.

They both shook their heads. “There are modern translations so we didn't have to learn. Only the prayers are still in archaic language,” Gerianne explained. “Lord Melchior worked hard to read every book in the book room and hopes to read every book in the castle.”

“Even the ones that look very dull,” Isolde asked.

Melchior nodded. He put on his best Rozemyne impression. “Knowledge can be obtained from anywhere. How you capitalize on those opportunities is up to you.”

“You haven't been reading much of late,” she noted.

“That is true. I will have to spend less time drawing and more time reading.” he sighed. He’d exchanged his reading time for more work hours but hadn't sacrificed any drawing time. Somehow it felt more sacred.

“You read the Klassenberg book and the transitional texts for the blenrus accounts,” Nikolaus pointed out. He wasn't reading for fun but he was doing plenty of it nonetheless.

“I will see what Dirk is capable of. We have time to prepare. Hopefully this work will not need to fall to you,” Isolde said.

“Be sure to ask Lady Philine about her process before she leaves,” Kazmiar instructed. “It may turn out that the most you can do is negotiate the crest work.” Isolde nodded and made another note in her tablets. Melchior looked at them again. He already had plans for painting many things he felt were more important than Hauchletze's order regardless of its compensation. He’d never expected his hobby to turn into work.

Ehrenfest was planning to charge two large golds for translations with at least three days of notice. Combined with the payments from Hauchletze and Alexandria, Melchior was well on his way to earning quite a lot of money. “We are charging too much,” he sighed. Each translation could feed multiple families for a year. Maybe it would be better to turn them away and encourage them to find less expensive solutions.

As his mood began to darken, Kazmiar made his final report. He reached into the wooden box and set two white jars and a pale wine skin on the table. “This is the honey. Dedryck and I have checked it for every kind of poison already,” he touched the wine skin with a sigh. “I was clear that my lord is a child but they still sent this. It is mead; a wine brewed from honey.”

“Wine can be used in cooking,” Melchior offered. He picked up one of the bottles. They were large enough to hold an entire pitcher's worth of water. They had stoppers formed from bronze, overlaid with silver, in the shape of queen rime bees. He couldn't help but be excited about using the jars afterward.

“You would use one of the rarest wines in the world for cooking?” Kazmiar asked.

“I could also wait until I’m old enough to drink it. I hear that wine lasts for a long time,” Melchior replied.

“It does not last that long. At most it would last three to five years but in this format, it will spoil in two seasons,” Kazmiar explained.

“Why would they send this!?” he cried.

“As I said, I do not know.”

Kolteruze appeared with a tea cup and every spoon in Melchior's chambers. He carefully dolled out drops of honey. Melchior held his spoon for a long time. This neither looked like honey nor carried its normal scent. It was fragrant and flora and light blue. It looked so much like his own mana that he wondered if it was some manner of trick.

Once everyone had a spoon they looked at each other, waiting for the first person brave enough. As one of the mednobles and the most adventurous eater, Gerianne barely hesitated. Everyone watched her expression shift from surprise to pensiveness to a smile.

“What is it like?” Melchior asked.

“It does taste cold,” she replied with a grin. It would seem she did not intend to spoil the experience for her fellows.

Pepin felt some pressure to go next but Kazmiar slipped the spoon into his mouth first. He’d spent a harrowing two weeks obtaining it just for this moment.

“How did the negotiations progress? You haven't given a full report.” Isolde asked as she observed her light blue syrup.

The brisk sweetness turned bitter in his mouth and he couldn't hold back a grimace. “That duchy is always painful to deal with. I worked so hard to avoid meeting their Aub,” he rested his spoon on his saucer and began his tale.

Lorgzwane was only a mednoble. For a duchy with such a strong population, Gilessenmeyer didn't need to use mednobles for negotiations so he was ecstatic to be requested by name. Of course the Aub didn't trust a freshly graduated medscholar to handle even the most frivolous deal and sent one of her archattedants to assist. “Anyone who thinks attendants are weak or passive has fallen for their trap,” he grumbled.

Kazmiar began by just asking for information. He stressed that Melchior had no expectations of success and only wanted to ask to feed his curiosity. He did not wish to cause offense by requesting a sacred product nor was he implying any desire for closer relations. He was a child with a whimsy.

“No one seems to believe this. They thought I was playing some incredibly intricate political game with who knows what goal. I just implied to Lorgzwane that meeting the Aub over something so small would be fortunate to inspire him to keep us apart.”

“A bit of reverse psychology,” Isolde commented. “Most people would assume you weren't planning to meet the aub but were happy to take advantage and try to keep you from seeing her at all costs,” she chirped.

“That's what I thought too. Aub Gilessenmeyer deduced that I wanted to avoid her.” She sent her own scholar to the second meeting where the trade agreement was negotiated. The man either accepted Kazmiar's pretext of serving a child who wanted to try a novel sweet or believed that no harm could come from trading one exotic ingredient for another. Kazmiar explained what they planned to use the honey for, even extolling the virtues of blenrus and lamenting his lord's extravagant tastes. “It did not help that all of Yurgenschmidt had recently been informed that you make paint from gold dust. I fear you have gained a reputation as a voluptuary⁴⁷.”

The alternative was to pay the usual price for the honey. It was available for sale to those willing to donate generously to the duchy. Providing large sums of gold was a type of service after all. Each bottle could be bought for ten large gold. “They use solid silver stoppers for those ones.” As that was beyond what a child could pay to another duchy for ‘honey’ Kazmiar struck a deal for blenrus instead. One fruit for one bottle.

“I then received a letter explaining how the Aub had chastised her scholar for failing to think things through. He begged my forgiveness profusely. You see, Gilessenmeyer cannot experiment with blenrus and have a blenrus fruit if they are only traded one.” They wanted to double the original deal or halve their offering since a fruit they could not use was worth half as much. “I knew you also wished to experiment, so I agreed. My lord, I must apologize myself. I am out of practice and made many mistakes.”

“You agreed to an impromptu tea, didn't bring an attendant, accepted an altered deal, spoke ill of your lord to another duchy. Is that all?” Isolde asked.

“I also told Prince Hildebrand about your endeavors,” he sighed.

Isolde covered her mouth to hide a giggle. “How amateur, Lord Kazmiar.”

Melchior was deeply confused. “How did you end up talking to the prince?”

Kazmiar explained his bid to meet Alexandria in a seemingly casual way. “I even scolded him,” he said. The children could only laugh.

“He is just like you, my lord. I can see you attempting to help the librarians in just the same way,” Isolde teased.

“We are talking about Kazmiar’s mistakes, not me,” he muttered.

“Ah, yes. If only my amateur performance were taken at face value. Aub Gilessenmeyer was convinced that I wanted to meet her and had accepted the new deal to ensure negotiations didn't break down. She said that she had to reward our tenacity and oversee the presentation of the honey herself.” Kazmiar held his head. “I urge you, my lord, never send me back there again.” She'd asked him an endless string of questions about blenrus. What were its elements? What did Ehrenfest use it for? What recipe base did we use for blenrus potions? How were the trees cultivated? Why would we give away something so powerful to another duchy.

“She understood once I told her that the ingredient was rare because the trees were going extinct. We could not get more to sprout through generations of effort.”

“That's technically true,” Melchior said. “I wonder if they will figure out a way. Do you think they would tell us if they did?”

“I suspect they will attempt to sell it back to us for an exorbitant cost. So long as I need not be there to see us inform them that we’ve found a way in the interim, I hope they try,” Kazmiar said with a smirk. “What was most amazing is how her position changed once she saw the fruits. Before we talked about its properties for the Water element. Its light properties are all but useless and not very strong but, they revere the Goddess of Light. A golden faefruit it seems, was a richer prize than they expected.”

He reached into the box and presented a block of bright white wax the size of his hand. “The wine was incidental, apparently Lady Beatrice included it in error, but this was sent after. The honey is a fun toy. This they do not give to outsiders.” Melchior touched the wax, its smell rubbed off on his hands. Nothing he’d ever encountered smelled like this. It was both warm and refreshing and woodsy. There was a hint of spring rain and a touch of autumn breeze. “They say in Gilessenmeyer that it smells like the first flakes of snow. I don't agree but it is evocative.”

Gerianne came over immediately. Melchior wasted no time placing it into her hands. His hands didn't feel waxy but the smell still clung to them. His growing reputation would only get worse if he used it to scent his clothes but the temptation was very strong. The smell was also very strong, he could probably get away with using the smallest corner frivolously while treating the rest with the respect it deserved. He thought it would mix well with lions-head peony.

“I know I am being silly,” he began.

Kazmiar sighed deeply. “You want to use it as perfume,” he guessed immediately. Melchior blushed and looked away. Kazmiar took out a second smaller block, about three fingers wide. “They agreed that we could not experiment with our wax and enjoy owning it.”

“You are the most brilliant scholar, Kazmiar,” Melchior cried. He felt giggles burble up like a spring. Maybe he didn't treat valuable things with the proper reverence, but there was a real joy in sharing and trying unique things. “Can you cut the small one into pieces?” he requested.

Kazmiar got as far as summoning a knife and touching the surface before he stopped. “Why, my lord? Into how many pieces?”

Melchior looked around. “I don't need one,” Dedryck said immediately. Zipporah, Pepin, and Zargerecht also demurred. They wanted to smell it but were satisfied after that.

“Maybe we should send some to Haldenzel,” Melchior suggested.

Zipporah shook her head. “You would have to explain how you acquired it and get Father to understand how valuable even a tiny piece is. It is not worth the trouble.”

A bit was shaved for the Aub and First Wife. Isolde accepted a very tiny piece which she wrapped in paper before stowing it away. Kolteruze and Haldis did the same. Only Gerianne took as large a piece as Melchior offered. It was only as large as one section of a finger but everyone was still scandalized. They saved similar bits for Flautzeal and Sigsnyr and agreed not to tell Benedikt for fear he wouldn't recover.

Melchior was left with a chunk that half covered his palm. He wondered how long the scent would endure and how it should be preserved. “Did you ask what they use it for?”

“That is my greatest mistake. As this was sent after our final meeting, I did not get to ask. It is absent from all published literature available in the Royal Academy library.”

Melchior was only momentarily disappointed. “We can ask Sister. There must be information in the Grutrissheit.” His retinue swapped many an amazed glance at his casual reference.

“What could we possibly trade for such knowledge?” Kazmiar groaned. He asked but he knew there was only one answer.

“If anyone can find a use for this material, it is Lord Ferdinand,” Isolde said.

Melchior's eyes danced. He placed his chunk back on the table. “I shall give half to uncle,” he declared. Finding good gifts for him was next to impossible. That a singular treasure had fallen into his hand was a stroke of great fortune.

Kazmiar didn't even resummon his knife. “That is more than anyone else,” he noted.

“He could not use so little. I don't think he would make perfume from it,” Melchior replied.

“Please consider that this is all you will see for the rest of your life,” Isolde charged.

Melchior looked at the piece on the table and the block they hoped to use properly. Ferdinand was probably more deserving than himself yet he and his inexperienced scholars were getting to play with this extremely rare and magical material. “What is one frivolous use compared to another,” he asked. He pushed his little piece towards Isolde. “Please cut it in half.” She didn't even hesitate.

Footnotes

47. A lover of luxury or a devotee to sensual pleasure. I learned this word for this sentence and had to share. It might be my new favorite. It sounds so much like reliquary that I'm imagining a high fashion lich. ^

Chapter Text

Final Preparations

There was little time before the visit and Melchior couldn't assist anyone with their work. Haldis was off speaking with Zerafina about slicing a carriage in half, while his knights were doing last minute gathering. Sigsnyr and Benedikt were preparing a magic tool presentation for the sitting that was so complicated Melchior couldn't begin to understand.

To stop him from trying to meddle despite his lack of knowledge, Sigsnyr set him to the task of preparing his highbeast to pull the cart for the parade. Zargerecht argued in vain that such an activity was beneath an Archduke Candidate. Dedryck assured his lord it was too dangerous an endeavor. Melchior could not be contained once Gerianne noted he could summon the flaming bird of Alexandria as his beast of burden for added effect.

“No one else would have enough mana for moving flames,” Melchior argued.

“They are an extraordinary waste of mana, my lord. And to move a heavy load requires a great deal of mana as well. What will you do if you find yourself in the middle of the lower city, unable to go on?” Zargerecht pressed.

Melchior was still hurt by Charlotte’s lack of faith. He couldn't endure his head attendant’s skepticism as well. “I am capable of doing this small thing,” he replied with a glare. “I will need a cart or carriage to practice with. Please, secure one,” he ordered. Zargerecht gave a last sigh and went to fulfill his orders.

Before he could practice pulling anything, a faebird covered in ever burning fire needed to be summoned using a highbeast faestone. Neither Sigsnyr nor Zipporah had any knowledge of such a creature. Benedikt held that its very existence was impossible.

“Do you know how much mana it would require to create so much fire let alone at all times,” he lectured. “Even reisenfalke, which nest in volcanos, do not use their mana to create heat. In fact, they convert heat into mana to maintain a survivable body temperature. No creature turns mana into heat,” he said.

“I think those lizard like things…” Sigsnyr interjected.

“Eidestahl,” Zipporah offered.

“Yes, eidestahl aren't very hot but they can melt metal as part of their digestive process. You could say they use mana to create heat,” he corrected.

“Are they perpetually covered in active flames?”

“No.”

“I would say my point still stands. It is very possible that these birds are a fabrication of Aub Alexandria’s,” Benedikt argued.

“Perhaps they only occur in Alexandria or were recently discovered,” Melchior suggested.

“I do not think so,” Benedikt maintained.

“That is less important than the fact that you have never seen one before,” Zipporah said. “It will be impossible to form something you cannot imagine.”

“If I can draw a realistic enough picture, I can do it,” Melchior said.

Zipporah and Benedikt shook their heads while Sigsnyr just looked pensive. “It would help to base it on something you know and make incremental changes to it. This creature is also a bird which are not known for their ability to pull carts.”

The other retainers began to argue that it was pointless to try but Zipporah stopped them. “I do not have much faith myself but if you convince Lord Melchior it is impossible, he will never be able to do it as opposed to now when it is simply unlikely.”

“You don't think it's possible either, Zipporah?” Melchior asked.

“I am looking forward to being proven wrong,” she replied

“That means she has more faith in you than the idea,” Sigsnyr added.

She shot him a frown but didn't correct him. It was enough encouragement, Melchior felt. He had Pepin retrieve the bird book from the castle book room and poured over the illustrations looking for anything that looked like it could pull a cart.

The birds of Ehrenfest tended to be squat with tiny legs fit only for jumping around. Melchior lamented that he'd never actually seen Torsten's highbeast and only heard a vague description of its capabilities. One bird had slightly longer legs owing to its tendency to walk around in ponds and shallow lakes. It would have to be a start.

He drew the bird with fire for feathers then with fire only at the end of its feathers. Eventually, he had to unearth his Ferdinand scroll from his hidden room again to look at the sketches from graduation. It seemed like fire came off the end of the wings and tail as though only the flight feathers were replaced by flames. It was a baffling creature. That the only depictions he knew were stylized to allow for embroidery didn't help.

Only a model could solve his problems. He had the large table in his outer chamber cleared and used his highbeast faestone to form knee high faebirds. Any smaller and the fine details were lost. Gerianne suggested making the legs less spindly while Flautzeal thought the head needed showier plumage. Melchior added a rudelhute-like crown of feathers. He preserved the center spine while exaggerating the rest into fire. Doing this for every feather consumed more mana than he felt confident in maintaining for the long trek. He settled for full flames on the plume and tail with some long trailing feathers on the wings. They would generally be folded anyway. Even at its small height it was impressive, especially when it shook out its wings.

On the morning of his carriage driving practice he presented the small version with pride. “Perhaps I should have had more faith,” Zipporah muttered as she inspected the exotic animal.

“I had absolute faith!” Sigsnyr said. “Should I change my highbeast to this one?” he wondered.

Melchior shook his head. “Even at this size the draw is noticeable. I cannot normally sense the use of mana until I am flying at traveling speeds,” he explained.

Sigsnyr had to try anyway. Melchior’s prediction proved to be correct. Only an Archduke Candidate would have the mana for such a thing. Sigsnyr tried to compromise by forming his horse with a flaming mane. This small experiment confirmed their suspicion that perpetual motion was the real mana drain.

“If you want a more interesting highbeast, you should change animals,” Nikolaus suggested. “Its surprising that you use a normal horse.”

“Why is that surprising?” Sigsnyr asked.

“You are so… idiosyncratic?” Nikolaus ventured. It would be rude to call him weird to his face even if he was the most eccentric person Nikolaus knew.

“In what way?”

“Ah…” Nikolaus looked around for help. Everyone watched and waited for him to continue. “I feel I have spoken in error,” he said and fell silent.

“I support you changing your highbeast,” Zipporah said as she not so subtly summoned her shirjack.

“Can those even seat two people?” he asked.

“Is it important that your highbeast allow you to ride double?” Isolde asked with a teasing grin.

“I…” Sigsnyr frowned. “Until recently I was often called upon to transport another. When my lord, with the completion of the weave, has children, I may be called upon to do so again.”

“You will sooner need to carry your own children,” Isolde noted. Sigsnyr didn't reply. Instead he began to inspect Zipporah’s highbeast more closely. It was more wide than long. A child would fit but not another adult.

“You need only use a drivable highbeast when that time comes,” Melchior said. “Or change back to a horse when you need extra space.”

“Rapidly switching between highbeasts is not usually done,” Zargerecht noted. It would be more accurate to say that switching highbeasts, no matter how rapidly, was rare. He was amazed and impressed the bird had been formed but still unhappy with the reasons for its existence. At least Melchior wasn't planning a permanent switch.

“I will consider this another time. Can you make one without flames for our first attempts?” Sigsnyr asked.

Melchior morphed the flames into standard feathers and increased the size. The coachman Zargerecht brought to teach his lord the craft noted that while the animal was majestic, there was no way to attach it to the cart. He allowed Melchior to inspect the horse saddles and the reins and other bits. With their mental connection, Melchior could do without steering. After a little trial and error, they arrived at a tackle configuration that would allow the bird to pull a load without detracting too much from its gravitas.

One afternoon was not enough time to become a seasoned driver but Melchior would only need to travel in a straight line or large curves. He also didn't need to learn how to work with a living creature. Still, carriages were heavy and normally teamed by two horses. One highbeast could do the job when it belonged to an archnoble but it took more mana than Melchior was comfortable with. His one test walk with the full size flaming bird had to be short since he'd already used so much practicing.

“The lower city is smaller than the Noble's Quarter. You will not need to draw the carriage for very long,” Sigsnyr encouraged.

“It is somehow worse than our whole journey to Haldenzel,” Melchior admitted.

“Sigsnyr and I will practice to pull the carriage through the Nobles Quarter,” Zipporah declared. “You need only make it from the Southern Gate to the temple. Be sure to conserve your mana for the next few days and drink a strong potion the night before. If you find once you reach the gate that it cannot be done, we will draw the carriage.”

Sigsnyr didn't look as confident about their abilities but refused to demure. Zargerecht had other concerns. “You are apprentices. You cannot perform work outside the Nobles Quarter.”

“We cannot allow our lord’s careful planning to come to naught,” Sigsnyr replied. “I’m sure Father would agree.”

“Indeed, Father would be honored to have me transport a fellow daughter of Haldenzel,” Zipporah added. They had permission after sending a single ordonnanz each. Zargerecht was forced to accept the reality that his charge and coworkers would be doing the work of commoners once again. He worried that the children would gain a poor reputation and could only do his best to frame things well to other nobles.

At the final meeting before the visit, Wilfried looked drained of all life. Haldenzel was making coordinating the hunt as annoying as possible. Leisegang had requested to provide food for the day while Kirnberger and Groschel were sending knights. “They are conspiring against me,” he complained. Everyone had to agree. They were doing their best to steal credit for Wilfried 's big event.

There was another group creating strife around the hunt. Since Charlotte planned to stay at the castle, rumors were spreading that she was afraid of faebeasts and too delicate to lead her knights in gathering. “I apologize, dear brother, but I must put these whispers to rest.” She was going to leave Melchior by himself at the castle since neither Brunhilde nor Bonifiatus were going to miss the golden opportunities presented by this trip to Haldenzel.

“At least they are deeply grateful for us choosing their province,” Wilfried sighed.

This was no consolation to Melchior. Only Ortolf and Sebastian were staying behind with him. Even Isolde and Kolteruze had found reasons to be included.

“Would you like to go to Kirnberger to meet them?” Sylvester asked.

“That would be wonderful, Father. It would make it easier to coordinate the parade as well,” Melchior replied. It was an exciting prospect if not perfect compensation.

“This parade. Is it really just walking from one end of the city to the other?” Sylvester asked.

“That is how it is described. We will be using carriages and highbeasts though,” Melchior explained. “Are you certain you do not wish to join?”

“It is tempting but I still need to teleport all the luggage and prepare for the reception,” Sylvester sighed. He was amazed that he’d ended up working behind the scenes so much. He had so much work before lunch on the day that he would never be able to delegate enough to attend the parade.

“It wouldn't be proper for the Aub to walk about the lower city,” Bonifiatus added. How undignified it all sounded. That Rozemyne had agreed was even more baffling. “We will see them when they reach the castle.”

No matter how curious Brunhilde and Wilfried were, no one had time to attend. They didn't need to plan for that day but they had their own complex work to do for subsequent events. Brunhilde had several tons of food and supplies to manage as well as a faction full of nobles angling for last minute invitations. Melchior was lightly chided once again for spreading a trend without telling her.

The brooches for the Archductal men were presented. None of them were happy about how flowery they were but they swallowed their complaints after seeing what Ferdinand was being called upon to endure. “It is such a profusion,” Charlotte said. Indeed, the finished piece would cover his entire shoulder and half his chest in golden flowers. Since they were made by so many different people, the color and thread quality variations made each flower stand out as an individual while creating a cohesive bouquet. The cord of additional blue flowers was long enough to wrap around one's waist twice. Rozemyne's diadem was just as impressive but it would be behind her head not seemingly sprouting from her heart.

Melchior was delighted with them. The blue centers and pods would match their hair colors exactly while the variety of yellows would look like their eyes under any light condition. He was deeply saddened by being left out but no one would support Wilfried 's wish to trade for a cockade. “If I have to wear it, so do you,” Sylvester grumbled.

“Do you dislike it, Father?” Melchior asked. He thought it looked festive and pretty with the ochre capes.

“I did say I preferred leaves,” Sylvester replied.

“I think they are beautiful,” Florencia said with a rare look of envy. She would wear a hair pin she already owned while the Aub was unhappy with his gorgeous new accessory.

“You can have it if you like,” Sylvester offered.

“You would leave your brother to wear his alone?” she asked. He accepted his fate without further complaint.

Visiting Alexandria

Melchior didn't get a rairein flower brooch, instead he would nest one of the last all white branches into a cockade sewn by Helenwig. She and her friends from the Knights Order and Charlotte and Melchior’s retinue had a party to sew them together. “It was such good fun, I wonder why I haven't thought to embroider with companions before,” Isolde said. She'd helped to add gold and yellow designs to the edges of the whorls of fabric.

“We made this one especially for you, Lord Melchior. It is the finest of them all,” Helenwig said before presenting him with a small box. Inside was a cockade boasting five whorls of alternating blues and yellows. Both hair colors and eye colors were represented as well as the duchy ochre. The girls had embroidered gold on the blue whorl’s outside edges and dangling tales. On the yellow they attached fine lace and faestone beads. It was aggressively festooned and large enough to obscure his face when held in front of it.

“Thank you, Helenwig. It looks very festive,” was all he could say. With the branch as well, it was a gaudy sight but no one could say he wasn't participating in the trend.

Helenwig also presented Kolteruze with one made by her own hands. “I embroided the tails with magic circles. It will protect you from thrown projectiles,” she assured him.

He held it reverently, barely able to speak. “Thank you. You did not have to craft it yourself.”

“I did indeed. I could not allow another girl to gift you her embroidery,” she said. He turned even more red while she beamed happily. “Shall I help you put it on?”

He couldn't say no as she took it from his hands and pinned it to his chest because he was frozen so still Melchior wasn't sure he was breathing. Once she finished with a final pat to the front of his uniform, she skipped away to bask in the jealousy of Eikestine.

It was all the apprentices turn to be jealous when Melchior, Zargerecht, and his adult knights prepared to fly to Kirnberger. They gathered just after first bell to see him off and mutter their complaints.

“I shall return before lunch. I entrust the final preparations to you,” he said, mostly to Haldis.

“We will be ready at the South Gate, my lord,” Haldis assured him. “Be safe on your journey.”

Melchior could hardly contain his excitement as they launched from the castle. The great ivory building quickly fell away to trees and meadows. Once they slipped through the barrier he felt his heart begin to pound. He was on his way to see the Country Gate for the first time and it would activate to mark Rozemyne's arrival. Theodore spoke about the Country Gate like it was the most beautiful thing in existence. He was filled with solemn determination to protect it and the duchy as generations of his family had done. Having seen the rainbow pearlessence of Theodore's schtappe, Melchior was sure it would be the most amazing sight.

By the time he landed after second bell, he was shaking with anticipation. Zargerecht reminded him to be calm. They had to greet the giebe and prepare to meet Aub Alexandria. Melchior tried to take deep breaths and think relaxing thoughts but it was all too much. He nearly dropped his highbeast faestone but called it back to his hand before it could clatter across the ivory pavement.

“I offer greetings…” Giebe Kirnberger began with an amused smile.

“I accept your greetings. Thank you ever so much for your assistance this morning. We deeply appreciate your efforts to welcome Aub Alexandria once again,” Melchior replied. Kirnberger really was doing a lot. They would provide refreshments and stand guard over the gifts and luggage until the Archduke arrived to transport them to the Knights Order for inspection. They had also thrown themselves into brooch production.

The giebe was a tall, broad man of a build his Granduncle would find commendable yet he wore a riot of gold and blue flowers without even a hint of shame. Most of the men wore cockades while the women either went with hairpins or living flowers. Some honey yellow variety grew nearby in great quantities, Melchior assumed.

“We are honored to be entrusted with this duty. It seems our yearly ditter has been replaced with a hunt. Was that truly your idea, Lord Melchior?”

Melchior heard the light tapping of Zargerecht’s heel. It was their new signal for him to pause and think before answering. Giebe Kirnberger might look like he was more muscle than mind but much like Giebe Haldenzel, he was always looking for advantage.

“It was an idea born of collaboration,” Melchior replied.

“I did not think Lord Wilfried would forgo the bouts of his own accord. It seems he heard the call of Erwachlerhen.”

Melchior maintained an impassive smile but felt conflicted. That's exactly what had happened. He wouldn't say that he’d chided or instructed Wilfried but Melchior brought new insights gained from talking with his uncle and Wilfried had altered his plans to suit their guests. There was no need to make it sound like Wilfried was a stubborn idiot.

“The event was entirely his to decide. Naturally he would choose what he believed to be the most enjoyable option. And we do hope you enjoy the hunt. Both we and Haldenzel are delighted for the assistance of Kirnberger’s skilled and well mannered knights,” Melchior replied.

The Giebe chuckled. “Kirnberger is rich in resources, we need not scrounge about the sparse northern border. Ah but the Nobles Forest is quite small. Be sure to remind the knights and their commander such that they do not stray from the path.”

Melchior glanced at Theodore. He stood next to Judithe looking sheepish while she looked smug. Wilfried had already been removed from the line of succession. When would people stop bringing up his past? “The night sky is already without stars. Do you hope to pull down the moon as well?⁴⁸” Melchior asked with a bright smile. He did his best to imitate Ferdinand in both tone and countenance. He had little hope of intimidating Giebe Kirnberger but this had to be the only way.

“When the Dregarnuhr of a certain set of nobles begins to weave again, we will stop encouraging her⁴⁹,” Giebe Kirnberger whispered loudly and leaned in with a performative gesture. “I think I see the gate beginning to glow. Shall we go and see?”

Melchior was calmer now. He didn't want to be drawn in by the promise of excitement but did want to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible. He maintained his mildly annoyed smile and accepted the giebes invitation.

The gate was impressive. It was not active as the giebe had implied but the rainbow ivory still lived up to its reputation. He felt his joy returning as he gazed up at it. Melchior didn't want to wait outside with the count and his smug knights so he climbed the stairs to wait in the dim teleporter room. Only the soft glowing of the walls illuminated the space. The circle also glowed very faintly. Much like the temple atrium circles, there was nothing to disguise this one.

Other than the entrance to the stairs, there was nothing else inside. He quickly grew bored of waiting with baited breath, and began to pace. There was a lot of empty space around the circle. Certainly enough for a group of knights to wait in ambush. Just as his imagination began to overflow with unlikely scenarios, the whole room began to brighten.

The knights outside began to cheer as rainbows surged quickly around the walls while gold and black sparkles filled the center of the room. A circle appeared in the air then split into two identical circles which moved up to the ceiling and down to the floor. The moment they were flush with those surfaces, there was a burst of sparkles and Rozemyne appeared surrounded by knights, attendants, and luggage.

“Sister!” Melchior cried. He nearly ran over but remembered to stride gracefully and kneel properly. She set her feet squarely while the teleportation sickness faded then turned to him with a bright smile.

“Melchior, how wonderful! What a surprise!”

“I am pleased beyond words that Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has answered my prayers and woven the threads of our fates together once again,” Melchior intoned.

Rozemyne reached down and took his hands. She pulled him up and looked into his face. “Look how you've grown. You're getting so tall,” she said. He wasn't taller than her yet but he would be soon.

Melchior couldn't help but smile. “I have tried very hard to grow taller. Fear not, I shall tower over you one day,” he promised.

She took her hands back with a pout. “Is that so? I have no head pats for those taller than me,” she teased.

Melchior returned a look of faux contrition. “It is not within my power to return the gifts of Entrindunge or to pass them to another. Of course I will always be willing to lift you up once I am able.”

They stood in the center of the room and continued to trade idle chatter while the luggage was moved to the side. She would be going back to retrieve the rest of her retinue and stuff so the circle needed to be cleared. With the knights helping, everything was moved quickly. Most of them then lined up along the walls to await the Aub’s return.

“We are ready to proceed, Lady Rozemyne,” her attendant announced.

“Splendid. Let us hurry or we will miss our appointment,” she said with a teasing smile at her brother. The parade was scheduled for just before lunchtime. They would use the excuse of needing to arrive on time to Florencia’s reception to ensure everyone not yet informed wouldn't dally.

Melchior nodded and moved to take a step back as the circles glowed. Melchior and both sets of retainers made a collection of undignified sounds of alarm but it was too late. “Kehrschluessel Alexandria?” she chanted while glancing at everyone's shocked faces.

Zargerecht felt faint as the world spun around him. He watched in both awe and misery as the circles flew together like clapping hands and whisked them away. He wasn't sure whether he felt normal dizziness from the experience or a special stress induced nausea.

Melchior felt the noticeably warmer air and smelled an entirely new smell. His surprise turned to excitement as laughter bubbled up inside his heart. “This is Alexandria,” he breathed. Rozemyne's knights and attendants politely scolded their lady.

“It is alright. He will only be away for a moment. And Melchior has always wished to see other duchies. It is a shame we do not have time to show him the libraries,” she replied. They continued their conversation about the serious political ramifications while Melchior’s gaze flitted around. The room looked exactly the same except for the different set of people and profusion of light. The roof was open, letting in the morning sun. Under the golden glow of a new sky, the bright cloaks of Alexandria danced as people worked except for in one corner.

He wasted no time looking around at the identical scenery. Instead he skipped over to his uncle where he was giving final warnings to Letizia. She was listening intently and nodding along until she saw her cousin. Her eyes grew wide as he dodged crates to come over.

“What is it, Letizia? You are normally so focused.” Ferdinand asked. She could only point to where Melchior was beginning to kneel.

“Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has answered my prayers and woven the threads of our fates together once again!” he cried.

Ferdinand froze and blinked several times before returning a brilliant smile. “Lord Melchior Sonn Ehrenfest,” he said, the disbelief apparent in his voice.

“Greetings, Lord Ferdinand Sonn Ehrenfest Herr Alexandria, and Letizia. It is wonderful to see you again.” Ferdinand rested his head in his hand.

Letizia finally recovered from her shock. “Melchior, what brings you to Alexandria?”

“I am only here for a few minutes. Oh but how exciting. We are in another duchy,” he chirped.

“Indeed. You have allowed yourself to be kidnapped by a greater duchy,” Ferdinand replied. “I am beginning to understand what Wilfried meant when he said that the two of you together was the most dangerous thing he could think of.”

“How rude! I am not dangerous. And I have not been kidnapped,” Melchior replied. “It was merely a happy accident that I was standing within the teleportation circle when Sister activated it.” He turned to look towards where Rozemyne was receiving counsel and caught sight of his retainers. They were all deathly pale. Suddenly he wasn't as confident. “Sister said it was alright,” he said.

“My lord, regardless of the length of this visit, it can not be described as ‘alright’,” Zargerecht said.

“Why did you enter a magic circle you did not intend to use? Why did you allow Rozemyne to begin before excusing yourself? You cannot both be so thoughtless that neither of you saw the problem until it was too late.” Ferdinand chided. He made a performance of looking terribly worried. “Now we will have to issue a ransom.”

Melchior felt his mistake. He was in another duchy without his parents' knowledge or permission with no way to return by himself. Did this constitute endangering Ferdinand's brother’s son? Was a ransom actually necessary between family members? He tried to project a calm indifference. If he could convince them it would be a waste of time to hold him for ransom, things could be recovered. “I… I do not think you will be able to ask much of Ehrenfest for my return,” he said and crossed his arms.

Ferdinand grinned and stroked his chin. “Indeed, Gerlach would not be a great loss.” He watched Melchior’s face contort in horror. “Rozemyne,” Ferdinand called.

She paused her discussion with her attendant. “Yes Ferdinand?”

“How much are we asking of Ehrenfest for the return of their Archduke Candidate?”

She looked confused then caught the glint in his eye and tapped her chin. “Perhaps all their books. No, I have read most of them. All the books I've yet to read,” she declared.

“Is that all? They just reduced the quantity of paper they would sell us. Surely we could remedy that,” he offered.

“You're right. Haven't you been running out of that grass you like as well?”

“I have. It's so difficult to cultivate and only grows in Ehrenfest. I think an entire year’s harvest would supply me for a while.”

Melchior listened to them contemplate the exorbitant cost of his return with a growing sense of dread. “Sister, you wouldn't, would you?” he pleaded.

“You are so adorable. Who would not be tempted to steal you away?” she asked with a hand to her cheek

“And you have secured four additional archnobles as well. They will not be as valuable but will command a reasonable price. It will be a lucrative exchange for Alexandria but I am not looking forward to the paperwork,” Ferdinand added.

“Uncle…” Melchior whimpered.

Letizia rolled her eyes. “We are not going to hold you for ransom, dear Uncle. It will be far more advantageous to keep you here forever,” she said with a smirk.

“But then we would be forced to support his extravagant lifestyle and spendthrift habits,” Ferdinand replied. “Better to send him back immediately before he bankrupts our duchy.”

Melchior returned a scowl. He was mostly sure they were joking now. “I am not a voluptuary,” he grumbled. “I ask that you not paint me in such a poor light before my beloved niece.”

“My opinion reaches the stars, dear cousin. I am ever so glad you risked your freedom to visit,” she said. “I would not get to see you otherwise.”

Melchior's mood lifted all over again “I am happy to see you too, Cousin. How was Spring Prayer? I went to Herzfeld and helped them summon spring for the first time. Do you still assist with rituals too, Uncle?” he babbled.

Letizia smiled triumphantly. “I did not collapse once this year. Next spring I shall have my schtappe and will be able to go gathering along the way.”

Melchior clapped. “My exceptional niece, you inspire me. I hope to follow your example.” She blushed a little at his praise.

“Do not follow too closely. She will charge recklessly forward, dragging you both into danger,” Ferdinand warned.

Letizia turned up her nose. “Now you are painting me in a poor light before my beloved uncle. Who is it that says ‘caution can be taught but courage is intrinsic’?”

“You cannot take Lady Hannalore’s advice uncritically just as you cannot take Rozemyne's advice uncritically,” Ferdinand lectured. “Their success is not so easily repeatable.”

He turned to Melchior to fix him with a reproving look too. The boy was too busy filling his head with foolish determination. “I see you embody the spirit of Leidenschaft himself who charges at the fore when fire razes its enemies,” he praised.

“That is not what that means,” Ferdinand sighed. “Also, the two of you must agree on a consistent term of address. Are you cousins or is Melchior your uncle?”

“Now he is both,” Letizia replied.

Before a consensus could be reached, Rozemyne returned. “It is nearly time to go. Would you like to fly out of the tower and look across the sea?” she offered.

“Oh yes!” Melchior replied.

“You fools!” Ferdinand said. “We must pretend this never happened. What will we do when he paints a sight he should never have seen?”

“I promise not to paint it,” Melchior said.

“You will inadvertently include details in something that reveal you have seen an ocean.”

Melchior scowled. “I keep my promises, Uncle.”

Rozemyne looked pensive for a moment. “He could just as easily have seen a picture in a book.”

Letizia shook her head. “The experiences do not compare. There is much nuance lost in depictions.”

“I cannot accurately represent something I have only seen for a moment,” Melchior insisted.

Ferdinand walked onto the circle. “Your art captures your emotions. You will never forget your first look at the sea. Therefore, it cannot occur today.”

Melchior turned his pleading eyes to Rozemyne. She'd offered after all. Wouldn't she be on his side? “I’m sorry, Melchior. I think we must trust Ferdinand's judgment,” she said and pressed her slate-like Grutrissheit against the nearest wall. The roof slowly closed, leaving Melchior and his dreams in shadow.

He sighed and turned to Letizia. “I pray that you live well with the divine protection of the gods until Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time weaves the threads of our fates together once again.”

“May our threads be woven tightly together,” Letizia replied. She stood with her retinue and watched everyone disappear.

The Alexandrian knights knew without being told that no one could witness Melchior returning from Alexandria so they’d blocked anyone from entering. Because of this, all the luggage could only be shifted to the walls. The room suddenly felt a bit small. There was still space to allow for the summoning of a small Pandabus. Melchior offered to help with his own utility-beast but the space was too cramped to accommodate two. He was also informed that only those with Grutrissheit could enter and exit through the roof.

“I see, I will exit using the stairs and meet you outside,” he promised.

Footnotes

48. “He’s already lost his future as the Archduke. How much more of his future do you hope to ruin?”^

49. “We will keep reminding his supporters until they accept reality”^

Chapter Text

The knights of Kirnberger were a bit testy at being left outside but still cheered for the opening of the roof and emergence of Lessy. Everyone else took the stairs then flew over. Ferdinand landed his lion beside Lessy and waited for Rozemyne to exit so they could greet the delegation. Melchior took his place in the front and knelt with everyone.

Of course he’d already made formal greetings so he simply said, “Uncle, Sister, welcome home.”

Giebe Kirnberger looked momentarily stunned by the lack of verbosity but Rozemyne smiled brightly, her cheeks pink with joy. “And so we have returned. How wonderful it is to be back.”

The Giebe then began his prepared greeting full of exaltations and gesturing. Rozemyne responded with a highly embellished speech about the joys of visiting one's homeland and seeing one's kin. “I see you have all adorned yourself in celebratory colors,” she noted.

“Indeed. We wish to show our support and offer congratulations,” the Giebe replied.

Rozemyne looked all around at the delegation. Not a single person was without. “It is so wonderfully heartwarming to see such an outpouring. We thank you ever so much for your well wishes,” she said.

By the time they were done trading formalities the Pandabus was empty and ready to fly back for its second load. “We will be transporting your things to the estates teleportation circle. The Aub will arrive soon to teleport them to Ehrenfest,” Giebe Kirnberger explained.

“Splendid, it was such good fortune to discover those circles. We will not need to fly so far this time.”

Melchior put on his best show of contrition. He knelt again. “I must express our utmost apologies. Father will be delayed for sometime. While your luggage will be delivered later today, we ask that you fly with us back to the city. Of course you may remain here and wait if that is preferable,” he said.

Rozemyne made an exaggerated face. “Oh no, we will have to travel to Ehrenfest and enter the city by the normal gates,” she lamented. “While it would be lovely to take in the sights here in Kirnberger we shall miss the special lunch Lady Florencia always prepares to welcome us.”

“Mother has put so much care into the reception again this year. She would be so disappointed if our poor planning prevented you from attending,” Melchior replied just a little too loud.

Ferdinand narrowed his eyes. He was not privy, as Rozemyne was, to the impending festivities. He also knew that not even Sylvester would plan something so poorly as to force his guests from a greater duchy to choose between waiting for several bells or flying across the duchy.

“I will go and collect the rest of our things. Let us rest for a little while then begin our journey. It would be best to arrive before fourth bell,” Rozemyne said before returning to her highbeast and flying away.

“Allow me to assist, Uncle. I cannot make my Lion-pandabus as large as Sister’s, but it can still carry a great deal,” Melchior assured him.

Ferdinand smiled. “A Lion-pandabus? You say. Florencia allowed you to distort the heraldic animal of Ehrenfest into one of those creatures?”

Melchior summoned it to universal amazement. “Mother said I could not use a grun,” he replied.

Ferdinand looked at the bulbous animal with tiny legs. “Aberrance begets aberrance,” he muttered. “It is simultaneously better and worse than Rozemyne's attempts.” He paused to grimace again. “This is no longer my burden to bear. We will make use of it.” He directed the retainers to begin filling it. The hide stretched open to reveal a space devoid of seats. Justus made a minor nuisance of himself as he disappeared inside.

“How do you see out of it?” Ferdinand asked.

“There are windows inside but it looked strange with windows on the outside,” Melchior explained.

“It could not look stranger than it already does. That is also not how windows work. They must be clear on both sides to be seen through,” Ferdinand insisted.

Melchior made the entire side of his highbeast roll back until they could see straight through it. With windows on every wall, it looked as though the highbeast was merely an archway and the crates were floating over the ground.” Melchior smiled smugly as his uncle froze to contemplate for the second time that day. “The windows work perfectly well.”

Rozemyne returned again and leaped from her highbeast. “I forgot you have made a Lessy too!” she cried. She stopped abruptly once she reached an angle to see the inside. “How (surreal),” she muttered.

“Only a newly minted word could describe it,” Ferdinand agreed.

“Ferdinand would not allow me to use a lion,” Rozemyne huffed.

“And we see before us exactly why.”

“The Lion-pandabus is convenient. Only armor concerns Angriff,” Melchior mumbled.

“I think it is… did you say Lion-pandabus?” Rozemyne asked. Melchior nodded. “A panda is a type of animal while a bus is a type of vehicle. This would be a lion-bus.”

Melchior blinked in confusion. “I’ve never heard of either a panda or a bus,” he said.

“Well a panda is what Lessy is based on; specifically a lesser panda. A bus is like a large carriage designed to move several dozen people,” she explained. “I assure you ‘lionbus’ would be the correct term.”

“That is good to know. I hope I shall see a bus one day. They sound fascinating,” Melchior replied. The lionbus was filled so Melchior closed its side. Rozemyne was surprised all over again.

With two large highbeasts, they flew to the giebe mansion. After a brief rest and chat with Giebe Kirnberger, they prepared to fly back to the city. Melchior apologized again for their poor reception. Ferdinand, again, didn't verbalize his incredulity as they gave farewells and summoned their highbeasts. Melchior summoned his regular lion next to his uncle’s lion. He noted that it was only the second white highbeast he’d noticed.

“Is that also your highbeast?” Rozemyne asked in disbelief. “How do you have more than one?”

Melchior snapped out of his reverie. “I like both designs for different reasons. This is my regular highbeast and battle-beast. The lion-pa… lionbus is my utility-beast,” Melchior explained. “I intend to become a knight, so I cannot rely only on a drivable highbeast.”

“Their nature is not what interests her,” Ferdinand began. He inspected this second, properly proportioned animal, with the same expression he used for the first. “It is more confusing that you can summon two distinct creatures.”

“Rozemyne summons her highbeast in different shapes too,” Melchior countered.

Rozemyne shook her head. “They are variations on the same thing,” she explained.

“Why have you added so many superfluous details. This hair is a waste of mana as are the flowers and the tail.” Ferdinand compared it to his own mount. Its tail was little better than a surface detail on what was more sculpture than living animal.

“But they are nice,” Melchior said. The increased mana cost was negligible. “And people like to pet it.”

“You allow others to touch your highbeast?” Ferdinand asked. “They could easily sabotage it.”

Melchior nodded. “If they ask nicely. It has not been a problem. Raphaela’s friends even cuddled with it.”

Ferdinand shook his head yet again and muttered something unintelligible. “Are you saying that you preserve these details because girls enjoy them?” Rozemyne asked.

“It is not just girls, but that is partly why. I also just enjoy them myself,” he replied. Rozemyne could not restrain a look of amusement.

“It is a waste of mana,” Ferdinand declared.

“I have mana to spare,” Melchior said.

“Did you not just say that only armor concerns Angriff? When you are called to battle, that will not be the case. What will you do when you need to fly despite being nearly drained of mana. Then these small luxuries will show their true costs.”

Melchior grimaced. He wasn't going to leave his friend bereft of beauty because of a promise of potential future emergency. To prove it was unnecessary, he shrank his lion down to the size he used for parue gathering. “On that day when the Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time weaves my threads so, I will make adjustments as necessary,” he huffed and sat down on the tiny animal. It nearly disappeared under his formal clothes.

“Does that fly,” Justus asked, his eyes sparkling. Melchior proved that he could fly by doing a little circle around the amazed visitors.

Ferdinand watched him pensively. “As a knight you must be able to summon your mount with no delay,” he said. Melchior proved he could summon his lion with all haste. It took longer to summon the lionbus but it wasn't his main mental image and was only used when there would be abundant time to form it. “Can you summon other animals?”

Melchior tried not to look shifty. He put the fiery bird out of his mind and imagined a wolf. It took about as long as the lionbus. He could also do a horse. Other, lesser used animals, were more difficult since he didn't have as clear an idea about what they looked like.

Ferdinand wore the same expression the entire time. “Weren't we hoping to leave in time to make the reception,” Zargerecht asked as the display dragged on.

“Ah yes,” Ferdinand mumbled. “We will talk about this more later. For now, summon your normal highbeast at a normal size,” he instructed. Melchior wondered what more he could want to know about something so well researched. That highbeasts could take multiple shapes and be many different sizes wasn't a groundbreaking discovery.

They would still arrive on schedule so long as they flew a little faster. Melchior and his knights led the way. All his worries about the poor aerodynamics of noble sleeves were realized. He was also anxious that accessories would be lost but everyone landed with the festoonments they began with. It was a good thing they saved the gifts until their return. Haldis stood beside the carriages with Lothar and Kirk who carried a box.

It was normal for foreign nobles to move to carriages when entering the city. Rozemyne and Ferdinand were normally exempt from this rule yet he didn't seem suspicious immediately. When the larger than normal collection of Ehrenfest knights greeted them he didn't react. Only when it was revealed that they were to ride in an open carriage did he begin to voice concerns.

House Klavier had outdone themselves. They were not carriage makers and hadn't constructed this one either. Melchior asked them to remove just the roof and half the sides which they’d done easily. Instead of merely neatening the cut area, they’d added decorative molding and little hooks to hang bunches of orange-red flowers. What was left was a plush seating area on wheels with intentional looking little doors made to be pulled by a single animal or a team of two. That would be a tall order for a living creature but Melchior’s highbeast was stronger than a horse assuming he used more mana than normal.

“What do you think, Ferdinand? It's stylish, no?” Rozemyne asked.

“It's exposed on all sides and has no beast to draw it,” he replied.

“Fear not, I will summon Schutzaria's shield,” she declared.

“That should not be necessary and does not solve our other problem. There is no reason not to use a normal carriage. We can fly over the city later if you wish to view it,” he said.

“Fear not, uncle. I will pull it with my highbeast,” Melchior declared.

Ferdinand looked baffled. “There is no reason to go to these lengths. Summon another carriage.”

“Then you will not be able to see very well,” Melchior replied before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth.

“What is there to see?” Ferdinand asked.

Before anyone could give things away, Melchior's attendants stepped forward with the box. Leiseleta also produced an empty box for Rozemyne's current hair pin.

“What is this?” Rozemyne asked. She hadn't been informed of this surprise.

“Through my incredible lack of foresight, we did not bring your gifts with us to Krinberger. As you can see, we have donned blue and gold accessories in honor of your blessings from the Supreme Gods. We have prepared celebratory accessories for you as well,” Melchior said. He could not hide his burning anticipation.

Ferdinand didn’t think Hartmut's older brother or Lady Florencia's trusted attendant would be so slack. Such a collection of incompetence could only be intentional. His and Rozemyne's retainers inspected the offerings while he interrogated his nephew.

“What are you planning?” he asked with an intimidating smile.

Melchior stood up straighter but managed to maintain his composure. “A great many things, dear uncle. You will have to be specific.”

Rozemyne was first to be adorned with her profusion of blossoms. The golden curtain seems to scintillate over her fiery cloak. She interrupted their conversation. “Does it suit me?” she asked while shaking her head a little to play with the dangles.

“Sister, you look radiant. As though the sun had descended to shine among us,” Melchior sighed happily. Her retainers glanced at Haldis nervously only to remember that he was not his brother and his brother had remained behind with the luggage. Ferdinand said nothing but watched Rozemyne wiggle her new hair ornament with a gentler smile.

“There is one for you as well, Lord Ferdinand,” Justus said. He stepped forward to attach the second large bouquet to Ferdinand's cape. The cloak was set on two shoulders for this occasion. Its highly decorated ribbon was replaced by the cord while the flowers covered one shoulder and dripped down over nearly half his chest.

“Aren't you going to ask whether it suits you?” Rozemyne teased.

“I do not require affirmation as you do,” he replied. He moved to assist her into their half carriage signaling that no further comment was needed.

“Even though he cannot see it, I’m sure Uncle needs no one to tell him his delicate beauty is enhanced by a bouquet of flowers,” Melchior said. Ferdinand frowned and continued climbing the carriage. There were nods from some of the women but most people struggled not to laugh. Melchior chided himself for calling yet another man beautiful despite repeated warnings and made his way toward the front of the cart.

Haldis helped him to climb onto the driver's bench. He took his faestone from its medallion and held it out before him. From his palm lept the giant flaming bird. For this particular purpose, Melchior felt it was unfortunate that his mana was blue. He’d contemplated trying to borrow a red highbeast faestone but using someone else's would be even more mana intensive than pulling a heavy cart. It was fortunate that the celebration colors included blue so the blue flames seemed to match everything else.

“Tada!” Melchior said after summoning the bird. Its feathers fluttered with realistic flame as it strutted more like a shirjack than a bird on its long thin legs and wide taloned feet. He hoped that Alexandria didn't think his rendition of their heraldic animal was too strange. He twisted around to observe their surprised faces.

Rozemyne's eyes sparkled “Ferdinand, you told me nothing like a (phoenix) exists in Yurgenschmidt,” Rozemyne huffed.

“They don't,” he replied as he and everyone else regarded the bird and Melchior with amazement.

This reality was lost on Melchior as his anxiety began to rise. “It is based on a walking bird from the book in the castle. I will admit that making the flames and pulling the cart is very mana intensive so I ask that we begin forthwith,” Melchior replied. If they dallied too long, he would have to drink one of his nasty potions.

The Alexandrians continued to mutter while the bird was attached to its cargo and an ordonnanz was sent saying they were going to begin. The main street couldn't be totally closed for so long but would need to be cleared for them to pass. Ferdinand watched the proceedings with narrow eyes. Once things were in order Melchior asked his highbeast to begin. There were no reins for him to hold so he just sat stiffly with his hands folded and tried not to distract from the guest of honor.

Rozemyne and Ferdinand sat side by side in the open carriage with a very thin shield covering them. Their knights rode their highbeasts in front and beside while a train of carriages conveyed everyone else. It was not the first time Melchior had traveled through a gate but the anticipation was like never before. The commoner guards watched them with dopey smiles and glittering eyes. Rozemyne gifted them all with smiles as they passed.

Eventually, the ivory walls gave way to ivory streets. Nearly the entire Ehrenfest Knights Order was lined up down the main street in front of throngs of commoners. As the first people saw the procession and began to cheer, Melchior felt his heart melt. Not everyone had a brooch of some kind but so many people did. From little kids to old men, blue and gold whorls of fabric adorned many a chest. In addition, people held and hung blue and yellow fabrics from their windows as they yelled and waved to the noble couple.

“What is this!” Ferdinand growled.

“It's a parade. Like the children do for their baptisms,” Rozemyne explained. She began waving in a slow and deliberately way.

Melchior's cheeks warmed as he looked around. So many people were watching them. They all looked either amazed or excited. He could tell certain people had caught Rozemyne's attention and received a personal wave by their sudden bursts of joy. The small children look enraptured. Girls that had contributed flowers giggled with joy and pointed out the accessories and accents. Very rarely was there someone standing with a frown or a look of derision. Melchior wondered if their parade had interrupted some important business for some people. Thankfully for them, it was a once in a lifetime event, assuming Charlotte and Wilfried didn't beg for similar treatment. They didn't have the same connection to the lower city, so Melchior predicted they would not care. Then again, Wilfried was a fan of ostentatious things. Nothing could better describe calling an entire city to cheer for your sister's marriage.

By the time they reached the temple, his cheeks hurt from smiling and his body was nearly devoid of mana. After a long morning of flying and pulling carts, he felt ready to lie down but there was still the lunch reception to attend.

His apprentices jumped from the tops of the gate houses where they’d been watching. Melchior could detect both envy and fascination behind their careful smiles. There was a final loud cheer from the populous as the Knights Order all ascended at once and flew away. Once Melchior and his guests had traveled out of sight of the backgates and roaring citizens, he desummoned the bird.

Sigsnyr and Zipporah took over pulling the cart with matching shirjacks. They'd added faestone details to the foreheads in honor of the library duchy’s magic tools. Melchior was moved to the main compartment and given a normal potion and water to help him endure the litany of questions sure to come his way.

Ferdinand did not finish lecturing the siblings about safety and giving people warnings about impending crowds until they reached the archnoble estates. “How have I earned your revenge this time?” he asked Rozemyne.

“This was nothing of the sort. I thought you would enjoy seeing all the people you saved from certain doom,” Rozemyne replied.

“Sister, have you used a similar event to exact revenge before?” Melchior asked.

“Indeed. She also printed hundreds of illustrations of my likeness without my permission,” Ferdinand replied.

“That was so long ago,” Rozemyne said with a dismissive gesture. Melchior didn't think that sounded particularly vengeful. Had she added features from adorable animals, he wondered. “I do not think the women of Ehrenfest could have endured such a sight,” she replied. “As someone oft likened to shumils I would not be so cruel.” Sigsnyr shuffled in his seat and played with his reins.

“You still invited over three hundred people to what was supposed to be a simple tea party,” Ferdinand continued. “All because I would not allow you to read a couple of books.”

“You stood between Sister and books, I am amazed you did not find the towering stairway,” Melchior said solemnly.

“I would not have done something so cruel!” Rozemyne insisted again.

They soon arrived at the castle just in time to have lunch with the rest of the Archductal family. Bonifatius was there to welcome them and lift his granddaughter out of the half carriage like a toddler out of a chair.

“Grandfather!” Rozemyne cried. “How lovely to see you.”

“Rozemyne! Ahh you have returned,” he cooed. “You were not accosted by any commoners were you?” He shot pointed looks towards the guard knights who sighed.

“You are a greater threat than any commoner, Grandfather,” Cornelius reminded.

“Greetings Master, I have gotten stronger,” Angelica declared.

“Splendid. We will have to have a bout,” Bonifiatus said. He guided his grandchildren and everyone else through the castle, telling stories of his previous years exploits all the while. “I got quite a large beast two months ago. There was enough to share with Melchior even.”

“It was delicious, Granduncle. Thank you again,” Melchior called. He was completely ignored by Bonifatius.

They met the second half of Alexandria’s party during their walk. Sylvester had gone to Kirnberger relatively soon after they left. Hartmut skipped over greetings to his brother to begin grilling him about the parade. “I was told that the entire lower city gathered to worship?” he began.

“I accept your greetings, Brother. I would also remind you that I am working at present and do not have time to describe the event in the detail you desire,” Haldis replied. He’d been looking forward to seeing his brother somewhat. Perhaps because he’d forgotten just how fanatical he was.

“To think I should miss my lady being exalted by all as the pure incarnation of the goddess descended to earth,” he lamented and began looking for a new victim.

Cornelius grabbed him and pulled him away from Isolde before he could begin interrogating her. “We have only just returned. Leave the apprentices alone.”

“Indeed we were only allowed to watch from the temple gates,” she huffed.

“You were blessed to witness the arrival from the seat of the gods! Blessed with sweet anticipation as…”

“That is enough, Hartmut. Have you taken a moment to consider why you were asked to guard the luggage,” Rozemyne snapped.

“My lady! You excluded me intentionally?” he asked in disbelief. “I will reflect. Next time I will not allow myself to be distracted by insinuations about the fecklessness of Kirnberger knights.”

“The knights of Kirnberger are very reliable, Lord Hartmut,” Melchior noted. “You worked with Lady Judithe, so you must be aware.”

“Indeed only Lady Judithe has served by Lady Rozemyne’s side. For the rest I cannot vouch,” he replied.

Melchior wasn't happy about Hartmut's insinuations but they were approaching the exit to the castle gardens. For the reception, large tents and tables were set up on a lawn surrounded by hedgerows. There were many different colors but the Archduke’s table was covered by an ocher tent. It was the first year they were having a garden party for the lunch reception. Melchior craned his neck to see everything as they approached.

Sylvester and Florencia rose and walked over to greet their guests along with Charlotte and Wilfried. Melchior walked over to stand with his siblings and knelt again. “There's no need for this Sylvester,” Rozemyne said before he could speak. “Please rise.”

Both Ferdinand and Sylvester rolled their eyes. “It wasn't true last time and it's not true this time. Can't you accept deference with grace?” he complained.

“From my dearest family while at home?” Rozemyne countered.

“Isn't Alexandra your home now?” Wilfried asked.

“They are both home. Home is where those I love are gathered. Be it a glittering library or the smallest bookless apartment in the poorest part of the city. So long as those I love are there, it will be home to me,” Rozemyne declared. Charlotte and Melchior traded looks of blissful wonder while Bonifatius froze with a grimace.

“Oh Sister!” Charlotte sighed. “How beautiful.”

Sylvester coughed while everyone tried to recover from the saccharin scene. “Yes well, Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has answered our prayers and woven the threads of our fates together once again.”

He led everyone back to the tent. “This is the first time I’ve been invited to sit under this one,” Ferdinand mused. Sylvester flinched but didn't respond.

“This is my first time too,” Melchior replied. Garden Parties were quite rare in his experience. Even Charlotte was too young to have attended the last one. “It's so pretty.”

“It is,” Ferdinand replied. They took their seats and Sylvester thanked the guests for coming to welcome his family from afar. Then they could finally eat. Melchior found that he was starving. It was difficult to eat with grace when he felt famished beyond anything he normally experienced. He wondered if it had something to do with how little mana he had.

Unfortunately, the fare was light. Bunches of greens tossed in oil and vinegar served beside roasted tubers and grilled birds. There were more vegetables available than in early spring or winter but few animals were fat enough to butcher and little hunting had been done since the Knights Order was occupied with other things. At least it was tasty.

He had to stop after eating only slightly more than usual but his hunger hadn't abated. It was definitely something other than a physical sensation. He was supposed to begin socializing so his attendants could eat but he sought out Zargerecht anyway. “I do not feel well,” he whispered.

Zargerecht looked neither surprised nor worried. “You have likely expended too much mana.”

“Then I just need a rejuvenation potion?” Melchior asked. Zargerecht nodded. He went to find Haldis who was carrying Melchior’s potions since the formality of the event precluded his potion belt. He made a mental note to include pockets with loops in his clothing orders. Whether he had any say in the rest of the process, the pockets would be nonnegotiable.

While he fretted in the corner, Ferdinand and Rozemyne were swarmed by friends and family. Rozemyne had plenty to say about her new printing projects and libraries. She waxed poetic about all the stories coming in from everywhere. Thanks was distributed to all those writing new works and depositing their books. “Oh Mother, while I still struggle to empathize with the heroes of your stories, I do enjoy them,” she told Elvira.

“My my, one who so easily found their God of Darkness would struggle to understand those who had to work for it. As one never visited by the Autumn winds, you may never understand,” Elvira replied.

Rozemyne seemed to want to dispute these facts but kept her peace. Ferdinand, meanwhile, was surrounded by knights who were lamenting that they would have no chance to challenge either him or Eckhart. “The ditter has been replaced by gathering?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes, and there's almost no free time between all the other events. I feel like we could have skipped the portrait sitting and do you really need to visit the temple, Lord Ferdinand?” Lamprecht asked.

“Rozemyne wishes to see how our reforms have survived. I could not allow my wife to visit the temple alone,” Ferdinand replied.

The knights all nodded knowingly. “She couldn't let you go alone either,” one teased. Ferdinand just returned his usual smile to this comment but quickly found a reason to talk to someone else. That person ended up being Giebe Groschel. He didn't seem any happier for his company.

Melchior was eventually given his potion. Haldis had been waylaid by Hartmut and Clarissa once again. They continued to ask him questions while he stomped over to Melchior with the medicine.

“How many times must I describe the scene to you?” he grumbled.

“How can you tire of expressing the majesty of the Avatar of Mestinora?” Clarissa asked. “Oh how I long to have seen the city arrayed in her divine colors.”

“Just stand there. I will describe it again if you give me but one moment of peace,” he begged. The couple dutifully stopped until they saw whom he was going to speak to.

“Lord Melchior, I am told this glorious happening was of your design,” Hartmut began.

Melchior handed the empty vial back before turning to answer. “Yes. I passed out fliers asking anyone who wished to don celebratory accessories and cheer for the procession. I believe Kazmiar sent one to Alexandria as well,” he replied.

Hartmut touched his cockade lovingly. It was only dark blue and deep gold, completely disregarding Ferdinand's colors. “Ah, yes. It is wonderful to see so many people arrayed with my lady’s hues. It is only a shame we did not receive word sooner or we might have prepared floral arrangements.” His face turned sour on the last sentence as he glanced at Clarissa's hairpin.

Melchior thought better of saying that it wasn't his idea to give them a flier. He hadn't intended to exclude Alexandria, but forgotten that they would bring a large retinue of their own. “I was both touched and amazed by how many people wanted to celebrate with us. Even people without custom items waved blue and yellow scarves and handkerchiefs and blankets,” he said instead.

Hartmut stepped closer. “Yes and what did they're faces look like?”

“Were they transported by bliss?” Clarissa added.

His initial anxiety continued to mount. “Some people looked very excited. The craftswomen who helped prepare flowers for the ornaments seemed to be the most enthusiastic along with children who looked happy just to witness it.”

“Ah, the pure understanding of youth. Even the unlearned child understands my lady’s beauty.” He stepped closer again. “Can you describe the parade from the beginning? What did Lady Rozemyne say during the procession? Did anyone faint?”

Gerianne pulled Melchior back and stepped between them. “That is too close,” she growled.

Hartmut looked down at her then at Clarissa. “You can also see a miniature knight, correct?” Clarissa nodded.

“I am not miniature, Lord Hartmut.” Gerianne replied.

He looked between her and Nikolaus who was a more reasonable size. “In any case, you are interrupting,” he said and looked back at Melchior with hungry eyes. “You were blessed to pull the carriage with your highbeast, no?”

“We should go, my lord,” she whispered.

Melchior had to agree. The look in Hartmut's eyes warned that every question he answered was pulling him deeper into a bottomless mire. The reverence in Hartmut’s gaze was fundamentally different from the respect and awe of Charlotte or the dotting joy of Bonifiatus. “I promised Mother I would give my opinion on the food, I’m sorry that I cannot entertain all of your inquiries,” Melchior said and began backing away.

“But you were perfectly positioned to witness the piety of the masses!” Hartmut called after him as Haldis stepped between them as well. Melchior knew he would have to reward Haldis for his noble sacrifice as he hurried away.

The only place truly safe from Hartmut was beside Rozemyne. She’d made her way through most of the ladies and circled back around to speak with Florencia and Charlotte. They were chatting about the accessories and brooches in general. “And it is Melchior, just in time to tell us about your process,” Florencia said, drawing him in.

Melchior was happy to hide amidst their skirts. “I just draw what I think looks nice,” he admitted.

“I leave all of the designing to my craftswoman so I am impressed by your talent,” Rozemyne said.

All his anxieties melted away. “I will design many more for you, if you like, dear sister.”

“Sister has her craftswoman. Who will create our designs if you work for her as well?” Charlotte asked.

Melchior was caught between their amused smiles. “You all have different taste, I am inspired to create different things for each of you,” he said.

“So you enjoy giving accessories to women?” Florencia teased. “We were fortunate that Wilfried did not cause a great stir. It seems we will have to be more careful with you.”

“He is much more social,” Charlotte noted.

“Wilfried has many friends as well,” Melchior countered. “And Charlotte is popular too.” He couldn't be more deserving of care than his sister, could he.

Rozemyne giggled. “Time will tell,” she said. She also answered his prayer for someone to change the subject. “I’m excited to see what this week has in store for us. Is it true that you have prepared four whole events?”

Melchior counted in his head. “I am only in charge of the parade and the portrait sitting. Oh and your visit to the temple but that's slightly different.”

“The hunt was not your idea?” Rozemyne asked.

Melchior sighed. “Wilfried planned and facilitated that event. I do not know why everyone keeps saying otherwise.”

“They are just surprised he would forgo the chance to play ditter,” Charlotte replied. “It is not well known that he enjoys gathering just as much.”

“Sylvester and Ferdinand seem excited too. I see it was the best choice despite all the extra planning it required,” Florencia observed.

Charlotte and Rozemyne nodded. “It will be fun to spend time with everyone. Will you be leading your knights as well?” Rozemyne asked. Charlotte proudly declared that she was while Melchior tried not to grimace. “Worry not, dear brother. We can drink tea and read Haldenzel's books together while everyone else runs around.”

His mood sank even lower. “That sounds delightful, Sister, but someone must remain at the castle. This time it is me,” he tried to look determined or happy about his responsibility but he couldn't.

“Oh, that is disappointing but I have brought new books for you. You can read them and it will feel like no time has passed,” she encouraged.

“I am grateful and excited to read them but it is no replacement for your company,” he sighed. Florencia made a small sound of confusion. Melchior tried to correct his smile. He’d gotten complacent since he was with his sisters but Rozemyne was still a foreign dignitary and there were many other people around. “But we will have other opportunities to see each other. I will look forward to that,” he added.

Rozemyne was kind enough not to call attention to his mistake and the conversation turned to how far Charlotte had come in her knight training. Melchior stayed near Florencia while looking out for the fanatics and being as inconspicuous as he could. The lunch event dragged into the evening. Instead of retiring inside, food and insect-repelling magic tools were brought alongside lights. The colorful tents were transformed into a glowing forest of luxurious fabrics and laughter.

Melchior was feeling better after the potion but socializing was always draining even when he hadn't spent his stamina on flaming birds. It didn't help that Gerianne and Sigsnyr would subtly nudge him around to avoid people making him increasingly anxiou. There were nobles in addition to Hartmut who were unpleasant to deal with and being guided around only made him more aware of their prescence. Eventually, he sought solace next to Ferdinand who was doing a good job of hiding how annoyed and tired he was.

“Did you enjoy the food?” he asked. Better to go with a safe question.

Ferdinand looked down at him with the same expression he used for everyone. Then he frowned. “You seem to be ill,” he said.

Melchior blushed. “Am I doing so poor a job?” he asked.

“I am a doctor. I would notice even if no one else did,” he replied.

“I used a lot of mana today. Do not worry, I will not collapse,” Melchior assured him.

Melchior thought Ferdinand looked pensive though his hair obscured some of the finer changes in his expression. “You should still call your doctor to look at you,” Ferdinand replied. He didn't attempt to make additional conversation so Melchior stood quietly as well. They still looked like they were talking so it was enough to keep some people away. Melchior wondered whether he could employ such a tactic on purpose at the winter feasts to reduce the number of mean nobles he needed to greet.

The adults seemed like they might continue deep into the night but Melchior was directed to take his leave. His doctor was called to give him a look over. “He is tired. Nothing more serious,” was the conclusion. His bath and massage were abbreviated so he could go to bed early. He would need his strength to sit around by himself.

Chapter Text

The Great Hunt - A Noble Interlude

Gerianne did not enjoy leaving her lord behind when she went on adventures but she was not above doing so. So long as he was well guarded and relatively safe, she could even put her anxieties out of her mind. Lord Melchior had plenty of guards but not all of them seemed to take the responsibility seriously. Ortolf was never paying enough attention to his surroundings but Sebastian was dedicated to seeing his lord grow into a brilliant leader. He would part a sea of spears to ensure Lord Melchior lived long enough to realize his potential. That would have to be enough since all of his other knights were going on the hunt.

In fact, most of the Knights Order was traveling to Haldenzel at her lord's recommendation. It was clear from Zargerecht’s retelling of the events at Kirnberger that other nobles saw it that way. Melchior tried to maintain that it was Wilfried's doing but anyone that knew them both knew who was more likely to hear the subtle requests for aid in Giebe Haldenzel’s attempts to steal a guard knight and respond by sending three provinces worth of knights to them. He’d even publicly reminded his own knights to be respectful of Haldenzel’s resources before they teleported while Wilfried hadn't even instructed the Knights Order the same way.

Gerianne listened to Melchior’s instructions and accepted his snide insinuations that she was leaving him behind, as always, before promising to bring back tales of heroics and another plant. “Zipporah, I entrust Gerianne to you. I know you will ensure she is not mistreated,” he said. Zipporah gave her word. So did Sigsnyr and Dedryck and Fonsel and Helenwig, one after another in louder voices than were necessary. It made Gerianne feel embarrassed but also warm. She dared to hope that were Eikestine and Cecilia not standing with Charlotte for the day, they would offer their protection as well.

Melchior then went to entrust Isolde and Flautzeal to Charlotte, Nikolaus to Rozemyne, and Kolteruze to Brunhilde. Only once he’d extracted promises for all his vulnerable retainers and was teased by the Archduke for trying to keep everyone at the castle with him for as long as possible, did Melchior step back and give his final farewell. He was still exhausted from his mana expenditures the day before so he couldn't give a massive blessing. As the scholars knelt to power the circle, he looked disappointed by this fact and sad about being left behind.

They had only just been to Haldenzel for Spring Prayer, so Gerianne thought she knew what to expect. Everything was different. From the army of attendants swirling around the previously empty halls to the colorful encampments of Kirnberger and Groschel speckling the meadow around the winter mansion, there was more life and warmth than on their previous visit. Giebe Haldenzel greeted their party with near abject delight instead of perfunctory politeness. Then again, they were bringing his sister, daughter, niece, dozens of trained knights, and a feast.

Only Leisegang, and a few knights with personal invitations, were allowed to teleport from the castle with the Aub. They were almost as far south as Haldenzel was north and they were bringing enough food for everyone in spite of it being only the end of spring, long before the first harvests. Melchior had expressed worry they were taking food from the commoners to facilitate this feast by Kolteruze had assured him that wouldn't be necessary while Zargerecht warned him not to say anything to that effect outside his chambers.

Kolteruze melted into the army of attendants, immediately striking up a happy conversation with his brothers. Isolde hid her boundless delight as she followed Elvira and Rozemyne into the estate to socialize with those not participating in the hunting. Dedryck was drawn by some unseen force to stay as close to the Aub as possible. Everyone seemed to have something they wanted to do or someone they wanted to see.

Gerianne could only trail behind Zipporah and Sigsnyr while trying not to get in anyone's way. Few Ehrenfest nobles would speak to the daughter of convicted criminals and some were willing to openly sneer. She resisted the urge to fiddle with her shield or the bow Zipporah lent her again and appear as nervous as she was. It was difficult not to be nervous around so many unfriendly people and beautiful women. She was envious of Nikolaus getting to flutter around Aub Alexandria all day but there were still plenty of nice looking ladies to observe. It was a small comfort.

Even better than that Zipporah placed Gerianne with Helenwig in an all girls hunting group for the morning. She would get to watch Dame Judithe shoot and Dame Brigitte wield her halberd. It was especially nice to see how female mednights could rise to the heights of skill and fame. The only way to make their team more perfect would be to include the beautiful and deadly Dame Angelica but she refused to hunt with anyone except her mentor, Lord Bonifiatus. Perhaps, Gerianne would get to see her shimmering blue hair smeared into a blur by her preternatural speed in the afternoon.

Each group would be led by a knight of Haldenzel. They'd split the region into nine zones. The hunting parties would spend one and a half bells moving on their assigned circuit and hunting faebeasts. They were asked not to kill normal animals or gather plants without permission. Before they set off, Gerianne went to her captain to ask about acquiring another ambassador.

“Your lord would like a living plant?” Dame Grabalba asked.

“Yes. I promised to return with a specimen for his collection as he was not able to attend himself,” Gerianne replied. “I need only one plant and any species is alright. It need not be magical either.”

“Your lord is the Aub's younger son, then?” Gerianne said that he was. “I see. We would not begrudge our benefactor a single sprout,” Grabalba said. Gerianne felt she should try to correct her and say that Wilfried was more deserving of the title of benefactor in this case but she didn't feel like arguing for the man who forced Ortolf into her life.

“We are most grateful for your generosity,” Gerianne replied.

“We will find you something worthy of your lord,” Grabalba promised.

They spent a bit of time checking their equipment and planning strategies. Gerianne was not the only girl with a physical bow. A tiny girl from Groschel, who was one year younger and boasted beautiful maroon curls, also had a bow while an archnoble woman had a magic tool that could collapse to the size of a potion vial. The assembly was disappointed to find out it was not a bow version of a mana blade.

“How would that be useful for a bow? It would just alter the draw characteristics constantly.” she countered.

“My mentor, Sister Streita and her friends created a manabow in school. She said it stored mana for arrows so you could shoot more at once,” Gerianne offered.

“That does sound useful. Your mentor is a shrine maiden?” Brigitte asked.

Brigitte didn't sound particularly judgemental but Gerianne was still hurt by everyone's surprise. Did no one remember the great Dame Streita? “She has retired to the temple to spend her final years in pious service to the people of Ehrenfest. However, Dame Streita once taught apprentices and girls specifically as an instructor at the Knights Order.”

“I have heard that name before. That must have been some time ago,” Grabalba noted. “If she still has the recipe for that bow, I would love to see it.”

“She believes it is with the things of her departed friend. You would need to inquire with her son.” The women looked disappointed.

“It is gone forever,” Judithe muttered. Indeed, convincing a son to sort through his mother's ancient parchments from her Royal Academy days would be next to impossible. “But we can also attempt to reinvent,” she encouraged.

Judithe also had a physical throwing sling, and Helenwig had her manablade, but Gerianne was the only person carrying enough rations to feed fourteen people. She needed to eat one and a half herself and didn't want to risk having her meal taken by a higher status noble. Sigsnyr and Sheila made some of his special rations for Melchior's knights and even shared the recipe with her chefs. Of course Helenwig had her own but there were no guarantees others wouldn't covet their superior sustenance. Better to have enough for everyone than to eat salty mush handed down from someone else.

They began their hunt in high spirits. Grabalba lead them to some common keiferdecke nesting grounds. They collected eggs and killed the beasts. Gerianne made sure to break any eggs they couldn't carry since Alix told her that was how her tribe controlled faebeast populations. Raiding nests and burrows while the parent animal was away was safer than fighting. She also wasn't a good enough shot to kill anything.

The ten year old, Alexandra, was a much better shot. She struggled to hit the mana organ, but could consistently kill a keiferdecke. “I have been shooting since I was five,” she declared when complimented.

Gerianne gripped her bow tightly as she went to retrieve yet another miss. She'd broken several of Zipporah’s arrows by hitting the hard ground yet hadn't so much as grazed a single beast. She only received any points towards loot by acting as a beater and spotter and using her knife to process other people's kills.

“You have only been shooting for a single season, Gerianne. There is no need to compare yourself to anyone else. How much have you improved since last time?” Helenwig encouraged.

“I still cannot hit anything.”

“You have good form and seem strong,” Judithe said. “Are you having trouble aiming?”

“I don't feel like that's the case. My arrows go where I shoot them only the faebeasts move out of the way,” Gerianne replied.

“Remember to shoot at a small point on the animal instead of the whole animal. Aim small, miss small, still hit,” her young rival advised.

“Yes, that is good to remember. You must also shoot where the faebeast will be instead of where it is,” Judithe said.

Gerianne couldn't hide her confusion. That would require clairvoyance. “Only Sehweit could do that,” she replied.

Judithe chuckled. “It is only an informed guess. As you study more faebeasts, you will learn their tendencies. Then you can predict how they will move.”

“I will remember your advice. Thank you for your counsel.” Gerianne said. Gaining an extensive knowledge of faebeasts wouldn't help her kill anything today.

They carried on hunting and raiding. There were a couple of larger fae which the older women dispatched. Gerianne watched them float around from the safety of her schnestrum. They were just more graceful and precise than Dedryck or Fonsel. Still, nothing could oppose them.

“You are all so incredible. I hope to be like you one day,” Gerianne fawned.

“We shall be even better,” Alexandra assured her.

“We look forward to witnessing your strength,” Brigitte replied.

It was a glorious morning all around. Eventually it was time for a break. They flew to an area with many flowering bushes and grassy slopes. “This looks like the kind of place shumils enjoy,” Brigitte noted with a smile.

Grabalba sent people for firewood and water and began setting up a little camp. They were all supposed to have an early breakfast before coming but it was nearly third bell and they’d been quite active. A little snack was in order. “Go and fetch us a few shumils to add to our refreshments,” she ordered Gerianne.

“I cannot shoot even a shumil,” Gerianne admitted sorrowfully.

“I will assist you,” Judith said. She put a hand on Gerianne's shoulder and flashed an invincible smile.

Gerianne would really be the person assisting her, she thought. “Thank you ever so much,” she replied and allowed herself to be guided away. They flew a little way out over the rolling hills. The wildflowers nodded in the breeze. A small group of shumils dotted a slope.

“Shumils are good jumpers. They can climb a slope faster than most of their predators so they prefer to flee uphill then find a bush to hide in,” Judithe explained. She pointed to the bushes near the group. “There should be more hiding so be very quiet. If we spook one they will all run.”

They landed downwind and began to slowly approach while staying low to the ground. Gerianne wondered whether Judithe could hit a shumil from their current distance. She, herself, wouldn't be able to send an arrow more than forty paces and not accurately more than twenty. They crept closer and closer coming painfully slowly into arrow range. Gerianne had only shot from a standing position so far, but Judithe instructed her to kneel. She was reminded of Strieta’s explanation that archery was about doing the exact same thing from different positions.

Judithe leaned very close to whisper, far closer than any noble would normally get to another. Gerianne felt a shiver run down her spine. “Shumils have very sharp hearing. They will hear the bowstring and the arrow and run. Consider what I’ve told you and aim where you think it will go,” Judithe said at barely above a breath. Gerianne hoped her ears weren't turning pink as she did her best to focus. Dame Judithe had been Rozemyne's knight. She was a devout user of rinsham and hair ornaments. Even on a hunt she smelled sweet and her nodding flower dangles caught one’s eye while you were trying to focus on shooting your first shumil.

The world was full of pretty girls, and Gerianne was adept at keeping her focus. They were not usually so physically close but it was much the same. She took a deep breath, stilled her racing heart, and tried to predict the closest shumil's intentions. It was happily nibbling a dense flower bud, seemingly unaware of its impending doom. Gerianne steadied herself on her knee and drew her bow. It would run uphill, she thought, so she shot a little ahead of it. It did bolt uphill but to the left instead of right.

“It zigged instead of zagged. That's just bad luck.” Judithe said. They watched the collection disappear into the bushes at the top of the hill. “Let us find another group,” Judithe suggested.

It was easy to find a second and third group but Gerianne had no success. Still Judithe led them from hillock to hillock and dispensed sage wisdom with a youthful smile. “So you’ve watched many shumils flee by now. I reckon you are an expert on their behavior. Now's the time. You can do it,” she encouraged.

Gerianne didn't have much faith that anything would be different. She snuck forward by herself and knelt in the tall grass. Shumils were cute which made them hard to kill but she was determined. Would it zig or zag, she wondered as an oblivious animal nibbled away. There was nowhere to hide at the top of this particular hill. Something told her it would prefer the direction with bushes. She took a deep breath and drew her bow. With a soft twang and sharp thud a pool of goop with a faestone replaced the shumil.

“You did it!” Judithe yelled. She ran over while slinging faestones at four more shumils. They each took a rock to the head and fell over. Judithe ignored her easy victory to celebrate with Gerianne. “Your first kill! I’m so proud.”

Gerianne thought she would feel elated but it had been such a long and frustrating journey since Spring Prayer that this victory felt unreal; both inevitable and impossible at the same time. “We cannot eat it,” was all she could reply even as she shook with delight. Her body seemed to know it should be joyful while her mind rejected celebration.

“You can still keep the faestone. Worry not. We can eat mine,” Judithe encouraged and gave her a pat on the shoulder. They retrieved their quarry and returned to the others for a snack and some rest. Gerianne didn't manage to hit any of the much faster and less predictable keiferdeckes but she had her shumil faestone to prove it was only a matter of time.

The lunch feast prepared by Leisegang was served in a variety of areas. Platters were taken to the Kirnberger and Groschel camps. The Ehrenfest Knights Order gathered at tables set up outside the giebe estate while the guests of honor, the Archductal family, and those closest to them ate inside. Gerianne was certain their meal would be more elaborate than what she received but couldn't complain about her lunch. The chefs had employed Rozemyne's revolutionary cooking techniques, even producing a new variety of fluffy bread. It was less fluffy than the castles and less flavorful than Sheila's but leagues better than the hard crusts once served throughout the land. It wasn't as chewy so she suspected they were using deer horn or another chemical leavener which would struggle to overcome the strong fibers of well kneaded breads.

There was also a creamy soup of strained potatoffels and various meats, roasts seasoned with salt and herbs, baked fruits stuffed with pork, and a version of the boiled grains that were Kolteruze's favorite food. Gerianne wasn't surprised that Leisegang would take to a recipe that showed off their signature wheat so well. No one would want to eat the boiled mush they used to make primarily for the ill and weak, but the chewy and flavorful wheat kernels mixed with spring vegetables were enjoyed by anyone that tried them. She wondered if Kolteruze would be disappointed this recipe also included bacon. Gerianne was not.

She quietly focused on trying everything and listening to the knights chat about their hunt. Sigsnyr had been pulled into the Giebe's party yet again while Zipporah was tasked with leading some apprentices from other provinces. Isolde listened with a listless posture and glassy eyes. She was disappointed at being sent outside and going over the morning's conversation in her head to distract from her sorrow. She ate some of the grains and a stuffed fruit before having her dishes cleaned and sipping water. Her reverie was occasionally interrupted by Gerianne requesting a bit more of this or that. ^skip?

“Perhaps you should slow down,” she said after observing Gerianne request another half cup of soup and more bread.

“Food is best eaten while it is warm,” Gerianne replied. Besides, she was taking this very conservatively compared to the boisterous men elegantly cramming entire legs of roasted animals down their throats. Her attendants always told her to take smaller portions of seconds and she agreed it was a good way to get a second taste while not overfilling her belly.

“You have already consumed much. Cuococalara must have business elsewhere⁵⁰,” Isolde said with a glance up and down.

Gerianne smiled. Such a thin and slothful girl would never understand the appetite of a knight. “I should not risk collapsing on sortie. Will you have enough strength for your conversations?”

“Haven't you enough energy held in reserve? I dare say your seamstress must be oft vexed,” Isolde replied. “Not to mention the distance Blaunfah will need to travel⁵¹.”

Gerianne set down her utensils and Isolde smiled. “I do not care if Blaunfah never finds me. Indeed I shall flee her up the towering stairway without issues as I discharge my duty with no less grace and speed for my communion with Cuococalara.”

Isolde blinked in surprise. “But you will never leave the temple without prospects,” she replied.

“Indeed. That is the idea. I suspect your prospects would not be damaged by a few extra spoonfuls,” Gerianne said and resumed her feasting. Isolde grew quiet once again. She looked at the older women in their finery sipping water and the men inhaling wine and roast meat.

SummaryThey were all lounging contentedly when the Archduke burst out of the estate with a riotous laugh. Gerianne had spent enough time around her lord to recognize his father's sounds of mischief. Melchior's other retainer's knew it just as well so they all shuffled closer to the commotion.

“Yes, a competition is what we need to liven things up!” the Aub cried.

“Indeed, my dear. Wilfried can rest assured of a fair contest with you overseeing the proceedings,” Lady Florencia said.

The Aub looked disappointed but didn't attempt to weasel his way in as a competitor. “Yes, fine. We shall have Wilfried represent us,” he grumbled.

“If you will not lend your famous skills, Aub Ehrenfest, then we shall accept a handicap,” Aub Alexandria teased.

“I don't need an advantage, Rozemyne,” Wilfried scoffed.

“Do you truly wish to win?” Lord Ferdinand sighed. “We are in an unfamiliar place which is enough of a disadvantage.”

“Lord Wilfied is not familiar with our province either,” added the Giebe. Wilfried grimaced slightly at this jab.

“I’m sure Wilfried has hunted here as many times as Ferdinand,” Aub Alexandria replied, not really helping her brother’s case. “So… let me think… ah, we will only take apprentices.”

“We will allow you to pick whoever you want,” Wilfried replied. Alexandria had enough knights to protect its leaders but not enough to also form hunting parties. Since they were from Ehrenfest anyway, they could fill their numbers with old and powerful friends of the former Knight Commander, unless they took only apprentices.

“We shall select the best and brightest of Ehrenfest’s future. I trust all questions about the capabilities of a hunt leader will be best answered that way,” Aub Alexandria teased.

Gerianne wondered what Wilfried could have said to goad their guests into such a one sided competition. Wilfried would obviously know every knight apprentice in Ehrenfest but he was getting to take his adult knights as well. Lord Ferdinand was allowed his personal knight, Sir Eckhart, and as many apprentices as he wanted. Throwing large numbers around might help but the uncoordinated mass could get in each other's way. His other guard knights would follow but not participate so he would need to choose hunters that he could hold against should they turn on him or else children he felt he could trust to some extent.

Lord Ferdinand looked over the mass of knights coming to watch the entertainment. The apprentices who were excited to be chosen, rushed forward to stand where he could see them. He smiled brightly, which Melchior insisted was a sign of annoyance, and considered the volunteers. Melchior's knights stood to the side. A hunt with the famed Knight-scholar could be fun but was also an enormous risk for knights already in service. A disappointed word from him could very well end their careers. It was no reason to avoid being chosen, they were not cowardly by nature, but it was a good reason to stand back and allow others the chance at glory.

“Let's begin with him. Sigsnyr is your name, correct?” Lord Ferdinand said as he plucked the silver haired boy from among the throng.

Gerianne knew Sigsnyr to be both vaillant and helpful. His intensely nervous reaction to being called by name was confusing. She would be happy to know that such a distinguished person from another duchy had heard of her.

He stepped forward and knelt. “I am at your service,” he croaked.

“Select ten others to join us,” Lord Ferdinand instructed.

“As you wish,” Sigsnyr replied. He didn't even call Zipporah’s name before she stepped forward. Gerianne felt sure the slant of his eyebrows was a signal of some kind but everyone else looked both surprised by her boldness and amazed that Sigsnyr didn't question it. They conferred for a moment before selecting a few archnobles, Helenwig, Theodore, and Gerianne.

“I cannot slay anything,” Gerianne whispered alongside the cacophony of murmuring.

“You just finished your utility-beast. We will need someone to act as support. I can trust you to follow instructions,” Sigsnyr replied.

“She seems rather young,” Lord Ferdinand observed.

Gerianne paled but Zipporah was unfazed. “Lord Ferdinand, I should not expect Alexandria’s God of Darkness to disavow the strength of a knight based on her small stature,” she replied. There were a few laughs.

“No I would not,” he replied and took his group of excited youths to the starting position.

Giebe Haldenzel began to explain the contest. “We shall use the standard rules. Each keiferdecke shall count as one point. Only the stone need be collected. You may hunt larger prey if you prefer. They will be scored based on their danger. Any materials you find during the contest you may keep but plants will not add to your score,” he smiled slyly. Lord Ferdinand was well known for his love of rare and specialty ingredients. Perhaps this rule was just there to tempt people into wasting their time.

“Any materials I find?” Lord Ferdinand confirmed.

“You may not destroy any barriers but yes. Even if you find a rogue blenrus you are free to harvest from it. Of course we can trust you not to exert undue pressure on my daughter,” the Giebe replied.

“Naturally,” Lord Ferdinand replied.

“Well Uncle, it is a shame you will only have the support of Weigemilch. Hopefully you will not be disappointed in the outcome due to this self inflicted restriction,” Wilfried said.

“So long as you are not discouraged,” Lord Ferdinand said, this time with a real smile. Gerianne didn't know where he got the confidence in a group of children he didn't know but she felt motivated to support him and crush Wilfried.

The two groups mounted their highbeasts then shot off in opposite directions on the Aub's count.

Gerianne had to work harder than usual to keep up. She’d been compressing extra in preparation for the hunt and hadn't used much mana in the morning with her physical weapons, so she wasn't worried about running out. She still double checked her pouch to make sure she had her potions. A belt with potions loops would be nice, she thought, but they were also expensive. The estimate for something like what Lord Melchior wore had shocked her so much she begged her parents to forget she ever asked. Better to save the money for other things and use a simpler belt and pouches. Lord Ferdinand's was both larger, more complex, and of a finer make. She didn't want to speculate on how much it cost.

They raced through the trees for a long time before stopping at a permanent camp set up in the forest. Once on the ground the children stood at attention to receive instructions. “Ju… Sigsnyr, what can you tell me about these woods?” Lord Ferdinand asked.

Having seen the sheet of expressions, Gerianne knew Sigsnyr was feeling deeply conflicted. They were about to engage in one of his favorite activities with his best friend. She expected him to be happier. “I have not spent much time here. I can only say what I’ve observed,” he replied. Lord Ferdinand urged him to go on. Sigsnyr shared the keiferdecke nest locations he’d noticed during their flight, the trails he’d picked up of various larger beasts, the locations of specialty ingredients with particularly strong elements, and miscellaneous facts about the movements of hunting tribes.

“Yet you say you have not spent much time here. You have observed a great deal it seems,” Lord Ferdinand noted. He turned to Zipporah. “You grew up here. Which beast will fetch the most points according to the usual rules?”

She gave several examples of potential, competition ending prey and things that would earn fewer points but were more likely to be found. “Kelainne are the hardest for the tribes to hunt safely. Even the young beasts can influence the minds of commoners. Though they are not as difficult to kill with a group as large as this, they will be counted for more points than similarly difficult prey.” It was also considered fair, if bad sportsmanship, to use the Mathias Method of feeding a faebeast mana rich fruits then killing it before it could adapt to its new evolution.

“That is a waste of precious materials.”

“It is used most often at the Royal Academy where materials are in abundance,” Zipporah replied.

Lord Ferdinand considered their advice for a moment. “We will hunt a few large beasts. Then you can hunt keiferdeckes until the time runs out,” he declared. There was a hungry glint in his eye. The promise of materials was obviously a powerful lure. “Where can we most likely find a kelainne?”

Zipporah looked at Sigsnyr who returned a reluctant grunt then folded under her insistent gaze. He got on his highbeast and flew up to scout. When he returned his eyes were white and he was observing their leader with amazement. “It is rare to see a person with the life element as their primary. I apologize for saying so but you are much stranger to look at than Gerianne.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lord Ferdinand asked. He didn't sound upset either.

Sigsnyr scratched his head. His eyes reverted to their normal color. “It is difficult to explain. Your mana looks something like the wall were it made from snow instead of ivory. You must be omni-elemental.”

The first husband of Alexandria looked surprised then appraising. “That is not common knowledge but it is possible to learn. You seem to imply that you can see mana and detect people's elements.” Sigsnyr and Zipporah nodded. “That’s not possible.”

“It is harder to see with people who have less mana,” Sigsnyr admitted. “It is just that you are incandescent with mana, Lord Ferdinand. More so than almost anyone else I’ve ever seen.”

“Again, this is something you could learn other ways,” he replied. Sigsnyr eyes cycled through all seven colors. He seemed to be slower with some and spent longest with green eyes. “How are you controlling your eye color?” Everyone had seen someone lose their composure at least once. Their eyes would glow with their mana colors but it was never a complete and stable change like with Sigsnyr's eyes. The other apprentices' strained to see, except for Theodore who had likely seen it before.

“I apologize again. I know it is disconcerting,” Sigsnyr replied. He tried to shift everyone's focus. “I believe there are kelainne both north and southeast of us. They could be another faebeasts with similar elements but the movement patterns look like kelainne.”

“Hold on,” Lord Ferdinand said. “I was not complaining about your display. I am curious as to how and why you can change your eyes to the divine colors.”

“By enhancing my eyes with only one element, it allows me to focus on one type of mana at a time. The change in color is merely a side effect,” Sigsnyr explained.

“Are you omni-elemental?”

“At the moment,” he replied with a deep blush.

“So, not only are you isolating one color for enhancement magic, you are using someone else's mana for the colors you do not have?”

Sigsnyr looked like he wanted to talk about anything else. “That is correct.”

“And this allows you to see mana both around animals and people and as trails they leave behind?”

“I can see mana faintly all the time. Enhancing my eyes makes it stand out and isolates particular colors,” Sigsnyr said with a sigh.

He didn't look surprised by the response. “That shouldn't be possible,” Lord Ferdinand said. He tapped his temple and surveyed the young knight. Gerianne noticed the tell-tale glowing of someone enhancing their vision. Lord Ferdinand's light-gold eyes seethed with mana. He really was on an entirely different level than other people. He frowned. “Separating the colors is not as simple as you make it sound.”

“It takes a great deal of practice,” Zipporah said.

“Would one not be able to see all the elements by enhancing their eyes normally?” Lord Ferdinand asked.

“It is not as helpful, but yes,” Sigsnyr said.

Lord Ferdinand attempted again but didn't seem to have gotten the knack. “I have never heard of this phenomenon nor can I recreate the effect. I see no reason for you to create an elaborate ruse but doubt you are seeing what you claim,” he said.

“My lord, if you convince me it is impossible, I will never again be able to do it. Indeed it grows more difficult the longer we speak. That a noble with mana suffused throughout their body at all times can have enhanced vision compared to what is considered normal is not surprising, is it? It is also not strange for someone to interpret the same sight differently. Please consider this merely a natural part of human variations,” Sigsnyr replied. It sounded like he’d made this speech more than once.

Lord Ferdinand spent another few moments observing him then nodded. “Very well. If there is time I would like to discuss this again. I will not try to convince you it is impossible,” he turned to the assembly. “Let us begin. Follow behind. I will give orders once we find our prey. Tell me which of you are capable of throwing glares accurately.”

Gerianne once again followed behind on her schnestrum while the older knights hunted below. She ended up floating near the guard knights often enough. She'd eventually heard the story of Melchior's knights’ previous encounter with a kelainne. To watch the display now, she couldn't help but see Gottschalk as deeply incompetent. Perhaps it wasn't a fair comparison when Lord Ferdinand could rain dozens of arrows over the beasts by himself and Sir Eckhart was fast enough to take its head with a normal sword swing. The apprentices almost looked superfluous. It was over so quickly, she was surprised to be summoned.

Zipporah had included her to be their support person and carry their trophies. Having declared as much it was a wonder no one had questioned her choice of highbeast before this moment.

“How can you carry anything on that?” one of the archnobles she didn't know very well asked.

“I just need to summon my utility-beast instead,” she huffed. The schnestrum poofed back into a white rock. She then sat it on the ground and spent a moment conjuring the image of a bee. It was not as easy as Melchior made it sound, but she was able to put aside her normal image and bring forth the Highbeeest.

“High beeest?” someone chuckled.

“Highbeest!” Gerianne buzzed proudly. Before them stood a giant bee with six fuzzy legs, white and grey stripes, and an ornate crate attached to its back section.

“Where does the crate come from?” someone asked.

“The same place as your saddle,” she replied.

Lord Ferdinand seemed to have different questions swirling through his head. He looked from the bee to Sigsnyr's horse. Just the day before he had a shirjack like Zipporah and her shirjack had a feastone on its forehead. It was now back to normal. “As I recall, you also serve Melchior?” he asked. Gerianne nodded proudly. He tapped his head again. “Do all of his retainers have multiple highbeast iterations?”

“No but I’m sure anyone could if they tried hard enough,” she replied.

“Can you make it move without touching it?” Gerianne stood where she was and asked her bee to do a little dance. It was very easy to shake its tail section, almost like the real animal was made to do so. “Aberrance indeed,” he observed. They wasted no more time considering the apparent strangeness of Melchior's knights. Instead their time was used carving the kelainne and stashing its bits.

The crate and the tail end of the bee could both be used for storage. Gerianne explained that it made it easy to separate things you didn't want to touch like food and everything else. One of the stripes slid back to reveal the oblong compartment. It was unfortunate that animals had set shapes that weren't always the most space efficient but Gerianne didn't want to compromise the dignity of the rime bee by distending its proportions. As it was big enough to convey a person, there was still a lot of space. After everything was ready she moved to the front where another stripe moved to reveal a seat. Unlike most drivable highbeasts, this one didn't have an enclosed compartment. It was both more mana efficient and potentially easier to fight from while still allowing her to use it without riding gear if necessary.

It did not have the capacity of a large lionbus but was far more maneuverable. She could slip in between fights in progress to pick up loot then slip away. Between this and Sigsnyr scouting they were able to locate and bag several large and dangerous beasts quickly as well as many smaller creatures. Once Zipporah declared they likely had enough points to beat even Haldenzel's own knights at this game, the apprentices were instructed to hunt as many keiferdecke as time would allow. Lord Ferdinand sent them away with Zipporah but kept Eckhart, Sigsnyr, and Gerianne.

“Can you find a blenrus sapling?” he asked Sigsnyr.

“You wish to remove one of Haldenzel’s sacred trees?” Sigsnyr asked accusingly.

“I was given leave to harvest anything I could find including any blenrus not protected by a barrier. The Giebe cannot claim that I forced his daughter to assist now that I’ve sent her away.”

Sigsnyr didn't look happy to oblige but the logic was sound. “It will be difficult to find something so small,” he warned. “I also have a request.”

“You desire compensation?”

“Why did you choose me out of so many people?” Sigsnyr asked.

“I have reason to believe in your pedigree. From observations, it seems that faith was well placed,” Lord Ferdinand replied. It sounded like high praise but Sigsnyr looked unhappy to receive it. Their leader looked toward Gerianne. She was doing her best to be inconspicuous. “I wondered why Bonifatius would mention such a young apprentice knight. Is it proximity to Melchior that breeds this peculiarity or does he select those who are thus already.”

Gerianne didn't think she and her coworkers were strange at all. She wouldn't say so of herself, but the others were even stronger than the average knight. The new knights were also progressing more quickly than before thanks to Dedryck and Streita’s influence. “My lord provides ample opportunities to improve,” she replied.

“Lord Melchior attracts those with strong imaginations and unflinching courage,” Sigsnyr added. “If we seem peculiar, it is because we are encouraged to seek strength where we can find it rather than where it is usually understood to be.”

Lord Ferdinand didn't betray much with his expression but seemed to absorb these declarations without judgment. Eckhart wondered aloud why they would need so much courage during the peaceful days Ehrenfest now enjoyed. Neither apprentice wanted to explain the lingering resentments and pettiness they still endured and were shielded from by their lord. Gerianne also couldn't speak about her suspicions that Lord Melchior attracted those with uncommon preferences just like she would never comment on the look in Lord Ferdinand’s knight’s eyes when he gazed at his lord. Such things could not be discussed. Her parents were very clear about this fact.

“I know what to look for to find this tree but we will not have time to look everywhere,” Sigsnyr said, breaking the tension.

“Begin with those places you are most sure about,” Lord Ferdinand replied. They took off to begin their search.

Footnotes

50. “You are plump enough already” or “leave some for other people” depending on the context.^

51. The distance Blaunfah must travel refers to how likely anyone is to fall for you. The greater the distance the less appealing you are as a mate.^

T-Drop Summary

1. Isolde confronts Gerianne. Gerianne tells her that she has no interest in romance and that her eating habits will have no impact on her work as a knight.^

Chapter Text

Gifts From Near and Far

Melchior was delighted to welcome everyone back after the hunt. He was even allowed to teleport with Sylvester and Rozemyne to Leisegang to drop off their guests. There was much talk about a competition between Ehrenfest and Alexandria. Wilfried said something to provoke Rozemyne who convinced Ferdinand to compete on her behalf in some hunting excursion. For some reason he ended up with Melchior's knights instead of his own and still won with what sounded like an overwhelming show of force.

“Wifried was too amazed to speak,” Isolde informed him. “If he does not learn humility from this he is doomed.”

“It isn't quite fair to compare someone with so much more experience and Zipporah on their team,” Gerianne said. She still looked extremely proud to have contributed to the victory. “Oh, and look.” She retrieved a small faestone from her pouches. “I killed a shumil!”

Melchior wondered why she would be so excited to fell the weakest faebeast known to man. “That’s great, Gerianne.”

She shook her head. “It is my very first kill. I hit it with an arrow!”

“Oh! That is exciting,” Melchior said. That changed everything. “Congratulations. I’m impressed that you’ve improved enough to hunt.” He wasn't sure he'd be able to do it.

“I received much advice from Dame Judithe. It is thanks to her that I was able to hit my mark,” Gerianne said. She knelt and cradled the stone in her hands. “Please accept this, my lord. I can finally offer materials acquired by my own hands.”

“I couldn't,” Melchior insisted. “This is your precious first faestone. You should keep it.”

“There will be many after!” Gerianne assured him and set it into his hands. He looked at the tiny, cloudy faestone. It would be useless for almost everything but it was important to Gerianne to perform her duties as a knight.

“Thank you, Gerianne. I will use it well,” Melchior replied. She stood up with a bright smile and returned to her guarding duty.

Though everyone was tired from their long day of socializing, there were still a few things left to do. Isolde had to write a report since Melchior couldn't spend all night listening to her recount tea party conversation word for word. Flautzeal was making neater transcriptions of the music he’d heard. Most importantly, his attendants were finalizing his gifts. They would be handed over the next morning while he was away performing the Spring Coming of Age and the adults were spending the morning doing something or other. Before that, Lady Florencia wanted to see them now that they were all assembled.

She came with her attendants and a couple of knights after Melchior had his dinner. “Greetings, Mother. Did you enjoy the trip?” he asked after rising and kneeling.

“I had a lovely time, dear. It was nice to see more of the duchy rather than just the Knights Order,” she replied.

Melchior tried not to look annoyed since he'd only gotten to see more of the castle. “I am glad Wilfried's event was a success. I hope the sitting goes well too.” He directed Pepin to begin placing down the gifts.

Florencia waited as lids were opened and objects were presented. They began with the simplest things: the fabric and the pamphlet of music composed by Flautzeal. “Are these new songs?” she asked.

“Yes, Flautzeal composed them,” Melchior explained. He indicated the scholar who was huddled over a small table with Isolde.

Florencia spent a bit of time reading the sheet music and humming. “These are quite complex. Can you play this?”

Melchior shook his head. “Only Flautzeal and Trude can play them so far. They utilize a playing technique I haven't learned yet.”

Florencia asked for a bit of one to be played. Flautzeal was happy to oblige. The harspiel stored in Melchior's chambers for his use was brought out. “It is livelier than I imagined. I believe Ferdinand will be pleased.” Melchior beamed and looked at Flautzeal who was blushing as well.

She asked for a copy, which Melchior promised to have sent, then moved to examine the fabric while Flautzeal continued to play quietly in the background. Master Fred’s dyers proved skilled enough to perfectly recreate the simpler fabric. The large lettering did look like fire when folded over on itself. Melchior couldn't be happier. There was only one problem. Women's dresses required much more fabric than men's surcoats or tunics. It was a fact easily overlooked by a group of men adapted to commoner and children's clothing.

“She will not be able to create a full skirt but a dressing gown is within the realm of possibilities,” Florencia explained with a giggle. Her son could not hide his devastation at making such a mistake. He would certainly be forgiven since many adult men made similar ones. Indeed, the adult who’d assisted with the ordering looked just as crushed as his lord. Florencia thought it was best to move on to the ingredients.

There was one entire crate of dried frossas grass; a common ingredient in Ehrenfest’s rejuvenation potions. It made Florencia worry that they'd only acquired basic ingredients but that wasn't the case. There was quite a large variety of specialty and rare plants from various provinces. Melchior explained that Benedikt and Sigsnyr began with a long list of things to acquire but ended up telling the knights to ask the local giebes and nobles for recommendations. As a consequence, there were many things she’d never seen nor used in brewing.

“I think Uncle will enjoy testing new things or adapting old experiments. The knights say that Lord Justus did a great deal of exploring and collecting so these may not be as new to Uncle as we thought. Perhaps he will share with us what he learns,” Melchior said. He squeezed a strangely squishy mushroom a few times before returning it to its box. If only there were some extra, he could play with them more. Alas, anything excess was either given to the giebes as thanks or to the Archduke.

They spent a little time drinking tea and reading the stories together. Gerianne had written tales from the Rudelhutevolk while Kirk added stories given to the gray priests during their journeys. Apparently, Rozemyne had charged them to speak with the commoners and collect folktales. They were referred to as Grimm stories for some reason. In any case, the collection was growing with no one to convert them into printable manuscripts.

“This one is rather frightening, no?” Florencia noted. “Why would anyone begin eating faestones?” she wondered.

“Maybe they saw the faebeasts consume them and thought they would be tasty,” Melchior suggested. While he would never admit to wanting to eat a faestone, they occasionally looked juicy enough to consider it. Were he starving in the freezing cold, he might ignore his better judgment. “People cannot become the Lord of Winter, right?”

“Oh goodness no. That is a pure fabrication,” Florencia replied. Melchior suspected as much but he had to be sure. He sighed with relief. “There are still unpleasant consequences to having too much mana within one's body. That is why we wished for you to delay compression until the Royal Academy.”

Melchior blushed but stopped himself from looking down. “I know now it was for my benefit but I was sad to be refused,” he replied. There were any number of ways she might have found out. He couldn't be surprised. “Is it very important that I grow up to be big and tall?”

She looked confused for a moment. “Why do you ask?”

“I read in the compression guide that too much mana compressed at too young an age can inhibit growth. That was why Rozemyne was so tiny before being blessed by Anwachs,” he replied. “Isn't that why you wanted me to delay, so that I might grow up at the proper rate?”

In truth, they hadn't considered that he might compress hard enough to stunt his growth. It was much simpler than that. “We do not have the resources to manage a child with mana as strong as Rozemyne nor did we have the political connections to find a proper spouse. Without Ferdinand, Rozemyne would have perished long before reaching the Academy. We were confident you would develop as well as your siblings even without the Rozemyne Compression Method and thought it would be better to wait. I am curious to know how strong you've become and when you began compression.”

“It was a little after Sister left and I became the High Bishop,” he admitted. Florencia gave no outward response. That was even sooner than she’d predicted but was in line with when he began asking to learn.

“I see you've been very diligent in trying to fulfill your duties,” she said. “Still, I must chastise you for not listening to us and putting yourself at so much risk.”

Melchior nodded. He knew he deserved a scolding for leaving his magic tool lying around and making himself sick. “It is as you say, Mother. I have been irresponsible.”

She smiled a more genuine smile. “So long as you understand. Now, the God of Darkness grows in strength. We shall see each other at the feast.” She began to get up but Melchior gestured to stop her. They were having such a pleasant evening and he so rarely got to spend time with her like this.

“I have a gift for you too,” he said quickly. “For you and Father.”

He asked Pepin to bring out their wax curls. Next to the boxes of gifts for Rozemyne and Ferdinand, the two small spirals looked pitiful. “I received a small quantity of fragrant wax. I thought you might like to smell it,” he explained. There was no good way to say they were getting the smallest possible pieces since they seemed mostly disinterested in rare ingredients but he wanted to share it with them anyway.

Florencia explained her tube shaped curl and smelled it. “It has a pleasant aroma. Were you not given very much?” He indicated the size of the bonus block using his little hand. “That is quite small. Is it a rare ingredient or perhaps a chance discovery?”

“It was a bonus added on to a trade with Gilessenmeyer for a rare honey,” he explained with a touch of embarrassment. There was no way he could say he’d traded blenrus for a fancy snack. “I thought that a frivolous endeavor would be good practice for my scholars before I begin making more important deals.”

“There is no need to rush into diplomacy,” Florencia replied. She held the soft wax in her hand and considered how such a deal had occurred beneath their notice. Melchior only had one adult scholar and a total of two retainers at the Archdukes Conference. It was most concerning that he hadn't informed anyone of his intentions and that Zargerecht hadn't warned her. “You must also inform the Archduke before making any deals. Be certain to send a report on what was said and what the deal contained,” she charged. It was anyone's guess whether Sylvester would read it or it would turn out to be anything more than a child's whimsy but negotiations with another duchy, and Gilessenmeyer at that, couldn't be totally ignored.

“It shall be done, Mother,” Melchior promised. They would need to obfuscate some of the finer details but he wasn't ashamed of his dealings in theory. Florencia’s attendants wrapped the samples in their paper and prepared to take them away. With nothing left to detain her, Melchior had to say goodnight.

After she left, he gave Isolde a note for Veremund. It contained a gift for his Coming of Age; a schtappe design. “He will be grateful, I’m sure,” she said. “I will finish my report and deliver it in the morning, my lord.” She took her leave looking tired but content. Zipporah followed to escort her home. Flautzeal also took his leave with Nikolaus and Gerianne who would return to the temple.

While Melchior's new books had been delivered early. The rest of his gifts arrived after the official exchange. There were many rich offerings for the wedding. Those would be transferred on the last day. But the regular gifts from Rozemyne were usually given out early just in case they needed to scrounge together additional returns.

Melchior was confident in his offerings. Ferdinand did mention needing more frossas grass when teasing him about ransoms. The songs were unique and well composed and the stories were varied. It was maddening to not be there to watch the exchange even though the gifts would be opened later in private.

It was a good start that he was getting only three boxes of stuff. The crates themselves were made from a lightweight wood and could be closed with a cool dangly lock. Zargerecht took the large, ornate keys and removed the shackles. He’d done this before to check them but the anticipation induced by the display made it worth doing again in front of Melchior who shook with excitement. The first two were from Rozemyne. She included a card saying that she was now forcing Ferdinand to package his gifts separately. His crate was both smaller and lighter but included a card from him.

Rozemyne sent everyone paper, ink, and books. Melchior wondered what his parents did with it. His stationery was added to his existing stores. It was enough to replace the paper he used for the copy of Klassenberg's book he was giving to Rozemyne. There was more ink than he could reasonably use alone but that was easy to distribute among his retainers.

The second crate contained a large bottle of the tree sap his uncle wrote about. There was a long list of instructions and warnings. Once dry it could only be removed with more sap but the liquid could be thinned with water before then. He should also only use it in well ventilated areas as the fumes would make one light headed. In addition was a large purple rock and a jar of white powder. The powder was a white pigment which Rozemyne claimed would be better for his health than the normal white pigment. “Please use this even though its properties might prove less desirable than your current white pigment,” she stressed. Her warning included a long list of possible side effects from prolonged use of the other white. Despite the additional note that symptoms would take years to manifest, Zargerecht immediately confiscated his other white paint and dry powder.

The purple rock was supposedly an alternative to other purples. She predicted it being less expensive based on the idea that existing purple needed to be harvested from snails or something. “Is that how they make purple in Alexandria?” Melchior asked. No one had an answer but free pigment was free pigment. It was nearly identical to what he already had and needed to be crushed but his workshop could do that for him. She wrote that she was trying to make color from edible plants and other non-toxic things so that babies and toddlers could use them safely. Considering how much Henriette enjoyed her crayons, he was very supportive of her efforts.

It was ultimately, exactly what he’d come to expect. If the trend continued then Ferdinand’s gift should be charms. The box was a little too big to contain only a couple of bracelets though. There was one new charm for his collection, another handwritten book about brewing and basic magic tools, and one of the traditional registration brooch holders also etched with magic circles. The brooch was far simpler than what archnobles usually wore but next to a floral brooch, it would look understated. It might have looked understated were the magic circles not formed from metal wire laid over a deep red faestone. Such a pure Earth stone could only be one thing. “Those fruits were payment. Why did he give them back in such a way?” Melchior sighed.

Isolde held it and sighed as well. “It is so beautiful. You can easily appreciate the purity of the faestone and only someone with confidence in their mana capacity and brewing skill would use such fine mana wire. If you wear this, anyone would assume that someone powerful cares deeply for your safety.”

“They will wonder who can afford such luxury on a brooch holder,” Zargerecht added.

“So I shouldn't wear it?” Melchior asked.

“No, you can't insult your uncle since he's made such a gift. It even matches your registration brooch. You have no excuse not to wear it all the time,” Zargerecht replied.

“If people think you can be bribed with valuable things, that just means you’ll receive better bribes,” Sigsnyr said with a shrug.

“But I don't need expensive bribes,” Melchior cried. He rested his head on the table. “My debts shall never be repaid,” he muttered.

“I do not think he expects you to repay him or else feels that this is commensurate with what you've given him before,” Isolde offered. She flipped through the book. It covered from the very basics of mana colors all the way to an introduction to advanced brewing techniques. The language was technical but so similar to Ferdinand's other study guides that she knew he'd authored this himself. It was hard not to imagine him gleefully scribbling while thinking about sharing his hobby with a new enthusiast.

“I must learn to make charms too,” Melchior declared. It would be a long time before they were just as good as his uncle's but eventually he’d make something worthwhile.

“It would be better to focus on things Lord Ferdinand cannot produce for himself. You have different strengths then he does after all,” Zargerecht suggested. Melchior tried to list these unique strengths but found nothing he could do that Ferdinand wasn't better at. “Drawing, my lord,” Zargerecht offered.

“Maybe. He is very good at drawing magic circles. Maybe he can draw other things too,” Melchior said.

“Those skills are very different,” Isolde countered.

Melchior had to agree. Unfortunately, drawing nice pictures wasn't going to save the duchy while brewing advanced magic tools already had once before. He sat next to Isolde so they could read the book together until it was time to get ready for the feast.

A Feast for Some - A Noble Interlude

Nikolaus had received his own invitation to the feast celebrating Rozemyne's marriage. He wasn't sure that he wanted to go. There were very few people that he knew within Rozemyne and Ferdinand's safe circle of nobles. Not to mention that all of his half-brothers, including Eckhart, would be in attendance.

He wasn't the only member of Melchior's knights trying to avoid the event. Dedryck needed to dodge both Lady Brunhilde and Lady Florencia lest they arrange a marriage on his behalf while Sigsnyr had carried an uncharacteristically prickly aura all week. Melchior needed only two escorts so Sebastian took Dedryck’s place. Sigsnyr had a personal invite so being Melchior's second knight was the closest he could get to not going.

Everyone else was either excited to be included or lamenting their exclusion. Isolde was once again considering becoming a professional harspiel player since Flautzeal was joining the musicians while she could not attend. Dirk promised to tell her all about it before being taken back to the temple by a disappointed Gerianne.

“We cannot go together if you serve as a guard,” Zipporah complained.

“You would be the only person I know besides my family,” Sigsnyr replied. “I cannot spend that much time around Mother when he is here.” She nodded sadly and left to get dressed too.

Nikolaus was very glad he only needed one formal outfit at any one time. He would never understand why Melchior craved the seasonally dependent wardrobe of a woman. Karstedt covered his expenses as a blue robe and sent him additional funds for his necessities as a noble but it wasn't enough to afford him an extravagant, archnoble standard of living. He was still expected to look like an archnoble and behave like one though. At least Lady Elvira was kind enough to send him some of Lamprecht and Cornelius’s old clothes. She might have kept them for any possible grandchildren so he knew to be grateful. It was little consolation for being excluded from her home but it was her right to do so while he had none to her kindness.