Hohenfels

Katharina regretted not introducing herself at the beginning of their interaction. Though flaunting her status as the daughter of an Imperial Count just to claim a cozy corner of the library would have been a diplomatic blunder, the current situation was even worse.

She stared at her book, trying to read but failing to concentrate on its contents. The young lord sitting across from her was, infuriatingly, not suffering from the same problem. When the two of them had first turned from their conversation back to their reading material, he seemed just as distracted as she was. Unfortunately, it had taken him ten minutes at best to get absorbed again. Every now and then, she could hear him huffing softly in amazement as he discovered yet another comically gruesome ritual.

She tried again to focus on her own tome, but ‘Cultural and Economic Ties between Arvorig and Ériu’ had never seemed more tedious. She put the volume back on the pile to fish for another one – and spontaneously came up with a daring plan instead.

Her arm ‘accidentally’ collided with the stack of heavy books, causing one of them to fall on the table with a rather loud bang.

The young lord flinched, ripping a small tear into the page he was in the process of flipping over. He threw her an accusing glare before clumsily catching himself and adopting a more neutral expression.

His initial reaction actually caused a pang of guilt, something she found herself utterly unprepared for. ‘I caused damage to a book… Father would be furious,’ she forced herself to think to distract herself.

“Goodness me. I apologize for the commotion, Mylord,” she whispered quietly as if to make up for the noise.

“No harm done,” he magnanimously offered, but Katharina knew he did not buy it for a second. She could see it in his narrowing eyes.

She felt toyed with.

It had been a rather long time since that had happened outside of training sessions. She had forgotten just how… frustrating it was to be on the back foot.

‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’

She stretched her magical senses towards him. It was a crude, undignified way to gauge an opponent’s motives, and a botched attempt would almost certainly be regarded as an insult – but she was a trained expert.

What she found waiting for her was an aura as tightly controlled as her own, obscured by an unusually strong warding amulet. It was tricky to circumvent, but her experience did not betray her. Now it was only a matter of–

Bewilderment. Curiosity.

He had noticed.

Worse, he had, for some reason, decided to make sure Katharina knew he noticed.

When her awareness returned to her physical senses, she found herself staring right at his face, with him staring right back at hers.

= = = = =

Arne was stupefied. The young lady had intentionally disturbed his reading, and then tried to probe his aura. She had been so smooth in the earlier conversation, so what was she doing now?

During her – admittedly very competent – attempt at probing, he had gotten so surprised that he lost his grip on his magic for a short moment. He was unsure what had gotten out, but from the way her feelers retracted in a flash, it must have been intense.

Was this just another approach to catch him off-balance? Had he accidentally given her exactly what she was looking for? What was her goal in the first place? Was she just toying with him for the fun of it? But if so, why would she go this far?

He suddenly felt very anxious.

= = = = =

Katharina did not understand what was going on. Her opponent was clearly extremely skilled with aura, perhaps as skilled as her. So what was he doing right now?

His feet were nervously tapping on the ground. His hands were restless, and his eyes darted around as if looking for an escape route.

Everything about him screamed ‘amateur’. ‘Unless–’

What if this was part of his game? Was he intentionally pretending to be a novice to keep her off-balance?

She had to go on the offensive again. There was no other option. Keeping the fragile stalemate was undoubtedly playing right into his hands.

“Mylord, may I be so bold as to offer a humble observation?”

The nervous tapping of his fingers on the table grew faster. “I’m listening.”

“Your body language is rather expressive,” she stated, emphasizing the last word to make completely sure he got the double entendre.

He froze.

A second passed. Two. Three.

“...I see. Thank you for the advice, Mylady. I apologize for the unsightly display.”

He abruptly closed his book, rose from the bench, and took three steps back.

His quick movements had raised a fair amount of dust, making Katharina blink. When her eyes refocused, she thought she was looking at an entirely different person.

He was tall. Much taller than she had thought when she saw him sitting down. His eyes were distant and hard, hands clasped behind his back. The saber sheath on his hip gleamed in the dim light of the stained glass window.

“Is this better, Mylady?” the young lord asked with a voice like steel.

Katharina did not find words. She clamped down on both her magic and her jaw in a trained reflex so as not to make a fool of herself by stuttering nonsense.

He did not wait for her to recover, instead grabbing his book from the table.

“Farewell,” he said, not even looking at her.

Then, he left.

= = = = =

Katharina paced around her room at Sonnenfeld Hall, her mind still racing despite the sun having long set.

‘I made so many foolish mistakes today,’ she despaired. ‘I didn’t even get his name!’

She had allowed her irritation to control her. She had severely underestimated an opponent and let herself get goaded into unseemly, desperate actions. Mother would have her head if she ever found out.

The one silver lining was that he was just some minor noble. She had never seen him at any of the countless events her mother forced her to attend all over the Empire. If a name held any real weight in the Empire, she could put a face to it.

Still, this was a disaster. Even the son of a backwater baron could potentially cause her and her family serious trouble if he managed to get into the good graces of a ducal heir. House Silberthal barely counted as part of the high nobility – of all ranks holding imperial immediacy, an Imperial Count was the least by a wide margin.

Her ancestors had eked out a niche for themselves over generations, carefully investing every spare coin in education and culture. Among the big houses, they were known as trustworthy negotiators, diplomats, and scholars.

And because of that, a single foolish scion could poison that reputation for decades to come. Her horrible blunder four years ago was still a matter of contention between the Silberthals and House Sonnenstein. It was a miracle they even allowed her into their dorm.

‘Why am I like this? Why can’t I just back down?”

She fell face-first onto her bed, feeling tears of frustration well up. She ruthlessly suppressed them, biting down on her lips. This was not the time to feel sorry for herself.

After calming down a bit, she rolled over and considered her options going forward.

‘Should I avoid him or would he perceive that as an insult? If I choose not to avoid him, how should I deal with him from now on?’

She only saw three options.

One: Turning him into an ally, and taking the necessary time to figure out what made him tick.

Two: Either interfering with any attempts of his to build connections with higher nobility, or utterly ruining his reputation to where they wouldn’t associate with him anyway.

Three: Ignoring the entire thing. Never mentioning it, never acknowledging it even happened.

Option three would have been the best by far – but for some ungodly reason, he showed her his true colors at the very end, answering her cheap provocation. An obvious challenge, and one she had not been prepared for in the slightest. It meant: Even if she ignored what had happened, he would not.

‘Just why did he do that?!’

= = = = =

Arne screamed into his pillow. “Why?! Why did I do that?!”

He had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. After performing the social equivalent of slapping him across the room, that damnable woman had directly and unmistakably made fun of him by pointing out just how bad he was at controlling his expressions.

And he had responded in the most childish way possible. By poorly imitating Father, he had essentially stomped his foot on the floor and shouted ‘Look at me, I’m a truculent child and I can do what you said I can’t do!’

The young lady had – for the first time in their conversation – been at a loss for words after witnessing that humiliating display, and he had promptly fled the scene to hide his rising blush.

There was absolutely no way he was leaving his chambers any time soon.