PROLOGUE

Granzreich, 1878

Evening had just begun to settle when heavy rains started lashing against the stained-glass windows of Maria Vetsera. Heine Wittgenstein looked with concern at the small group of children gathered in the church's doorway, staring out at the growing autumn storm.

"So much mud!"

"And rain!"

"I can barely see!"

"It's so dark!"

"How will we get back to the orphanage?"

Heine had been considering that very problem himself. This deep in the woods, there were no cobbled roads, and it would be more dangerous to try and lead the children back to the nearby orphanage than it would be to remain here at the church overnight. If it were only himself, he might have attempted it, but with seven small children aged five to seven, it would be a risky enterprise.

He sighed, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Unfortunately, there is not much in the way of food or blankets here - my own small cell will barely hold all the children. I am afraid we will all go hungry tonight, but at least we will be safe.

A sudden clap of thunder made the children squeak and squeal in panic as they scrambled away from the doors, and Heine made sure all of them were inside before closing the church doors.

"There is no need to be frightened. We cannot travel in this storm, so we will remain here for the night."

The children gaped at him.

"Stay here?"

"Where will we sleep?"

"But my dolly is in my room!"

"What will we eat?"

As their voices rose in concern and protest, another deafening boom of thunder brought their complaints to a halt, and the youngest boy and girl in the group began to cry.

The one thing Heine could never bear to see was a child's tears, and he knelt before the two and rested one hand on each of their heads.

"It is all right. Here we are warm and safe and dry. And we are all together, and I am here with all of you. Everything will be fine."

They sniffled and wiped at their eyes, but nodded.

"Yes, Professor Heine."

He gently tousled their hair, then stood up again. I need to keep them busy and distracted, at least until the storm passes. Once things quiet down, we still won't be able to leave, but they won't be as frightened.

"The first thing we must do is make sure that everything stays dry. Jochen, Leonore, you two are the tallest. Please check all of the windows and be sure they are firmly closed."

The two eldest children nodded and dashed off down the aisle toward the classroom.

"Anton, Kurt, Henny, please return to the classroom and light three of the lamps."

"Yes, Professor," they chorused and ran after their classmates.

The two youngest looked wide-eyed at the tutor. "What about us?"

"You two will come with me to the storage room. I will see what we might be able to prepare for our supper."

He set off for the storage room behind the chancel with the little ones in tow. While the church did not have much, it did have some donated foods from the parish for the poor in the area.

The children gave the food a doubtful look.

"Are we allowed to eat that, Professor Heine?"

"Normally, no, but we do not have much choice this evening, Madeleine. We will eat as little as we can, and save the rest for those who are more unfortunate than ourselves."

The youngest boy poked at some of the boxes and cans.

"Do you know how to cook, Professor?"

"Indeed. I am not a professional chef, Niklaus, but I think I can manage for tonight."

As the older children returned, Heine informed them that they would all be eating in the classroom, and then bedding down in his room for the night.

It was an admittedly meager meal, even by Heine's standards, but the temporary excitement of treating the whole thing like an adventure was a sufficient distraction from the limited amount of food. Henny and Niklaus asked several questions about cooking and food that made Heine wonder if perhaps culinary training might be a viable path for them. Kurt and Jochen wanted to start telling ghost stories amidst the flickering lamplight, but Heine put a firm stop to that.

After dinner, Heine and the children made one last round of the building to make sure everything else was closed up tight and that nothing was leaking, but as they trooped back into the nave, Heine suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"All of you, be silent and don't move."

When Heine spoke in that voice, none of the children dared argue.

Voices... right outside the church doors. Could it be someone from the orphanage braved the storm to check on us?

The tutor had barely gotten two steps further before the doors swung open, but a swift glance told him that this was no rescue party.

Five men, drenched, filthy, and unkempt, were standing in the doorway. The last one to enter took a final look around, then nodded to the others.

"I think we lost him."

Heine's eyes narrowed. Refugees? Bounty hunters? Who are these men?

"This'll do for now against that damn storm, and we'll clean out anything of use as soon as it's clear. This place is far enough out of the way that no one will even find out for a couple days."

Heine growled to himself. They're thieves. I'd heard rumours from the nuns that some lowlifes were in the area, but I didn't think they'd stray this far from the outskirts of town.

The leader peered through the gloom of the church and spotted Heine and the children.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Then he got a better look and laughed. "A bunch of brats. Well, you won't give us any trouble now, will you?"

Heine stepped forward. "You have no business here. I suggest you leave."

"You're a bold one, aren't you, kid? Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?"

The tutor felt a familiar calm come over him, and his body tensed as his hands clenched.

"I am no child, I am a full-grown adult, and I would advise you to leave before you and your colleagues come to harm."

The thieves advanced down the aisle, and the children whimpered and clustered behind Heine, but Heine kept his body between the thieves and the children.

Damn it... I can't fight them and keep an eye on the children at the same time. If it were only me, this would be no contest, but I can't put them at risk!

"To threaten children... ye are truly the lowest of the low."

Another voice rang through the church, and the thieves whirled around.

"Damn it, he found us!"

Heine couldn't see past them, but whoever the newcomer was, it clearly had the thieves on edge. But another part of Heine's brain was already racing ahead. That voice... he's speaking Eise, but that's not a Granzreich or even an Eise accent.

Slow, measured footsteps approached, and the rasp of steel being drawn caught another piece of Heine's attention.

A sword?

"You're outnumbered," the leader sneered. "There's no way you can take on all five of us."

"I beg to differ."

The footsteps continued to advance.

The leader growled, and Heine gasped as the leader lunged toward him, grabbed him by the collar, and held a knife to his throat while the children behind him cried out in fear.

"One more step, and they're dead."

The footsteps stopped.

"You may not care about your own life, but I haven't met a Knight yet who'd put innocents in harm's way just to save their own skin."

Knight? Heine wondered if he'd heard correctly.

"Don't listen to him!" Heine suddenly shouted.

"Shut up, you little brat!" the leader yelled, but then he abruptly howled in pain, dropping his weapon to the floor of the church, as a slender knife flashed down the aisle and embedded itself in his wrist. Heine fell to his hands and knees.

"Get his knife!" he heard the newcomer shout, and he scrambled forward to grab the dropped weapon.

As the thieves spread out to take on the newcomer, Heine rounded on the children. "All of you, into the classroom!"

"But Professor-" Madeleine began to wail.

"GO!" he snapped, and the terrified children dashed back through the door and slammed it shut.

A second steely rasp drew Heine's attention back to the fight, and the tutor turned just in time to see the newcomer drawing a second dagger as well, weapons poised to attack.

"Don't just stand there – kill him!" the leader shouted, and the thieves charged, knives drawn. The newcomer, however, held his ground, and soon his blades were flashing in the lamplight, deflecting the thieves' attacks with ease. Tall and lithe, he held the swords with confidence, his face shadowed beneath the brim of a wide hat. But Heine froze when he saw the royal blue tabard the newcomer was wearing, trimmed in gold and embroidered with a four-armed cross and four scarlet roses.

The Rose and Cross?! Here?!

The Knight was fencing with cold, swift precision, deftly leaping over the pews and weaving through the thieves as though they were standing still. One after another, the thieves fell to the Knight's swords, while Heine watched in fascination. Such economy of movement, and so quick! This Knight fences nearly as well as Viktor does. I'd heard the Rose and Cross Knights were superior swordsmen, but I've never seen one in action myself before.

With a snarl, the leader finally pulled the knife from his wrist and flung it to one side, and Heine's eyes went wide as the thief drew a revolver. But before he could take aim at the Knight's back, Heine leapt at him, knife in hand.

"No, you don't!"

The two landed hard on the church floor, and while the thief was much bigger than Heine, the tutor's quick reflexes and wiry strength, plus years of living and fighting on the streets, went a long way toward evening the odds. They rolled over and over, trading blows until Heine grabbed the thief's wrist and slammed it repeatedly against the floor, trying to make him drop the gun. The thief wouldn't give up that easily, though, and a shot rang out, barely missing the Knight and gouging a hole in one of the wooden wall beams.

"Damn you!" the thief shouted as the gun clattered from his grip, and he grabbed Heine by the hair and slammed his head twice into the nearest pew. Heine gasped as pain lanced through his skull, and the thief reclaimed the gun. "Just for that, you die first, brat or not." But before he could bring it to bear, the Knight leapt over the nearest pew and tackled him, pulling him off Heine. The tutor lay dazed and dizzy on the floor, only vaguely aware of the two struggling in the aisle. His vision blurred, and everything was spinning. He heard another howl of pain and a dull thud, but he couldn't move, could barely even breathe.

No... the children... I must... get up...

Then quiet.

Then footsteps approaching.

"'Tis all right," he heard as the Knight knelt beside him. "Ye and the other children are safe. I give ye my word."

Heine looked up through eyes clouded with tears of pain.

Then darkness.

Then nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, Heine opened his eyes, his head aching, vaguely aware of several weights pressing down against his body. A cautious glance revealed that he was lying on his bed, with Niklaus and Madeleine curled up against him, asleep. He looked to one side, and saw the other children asleep on the floor, sleeping on what looked like a rough blanket covered with a sheet. The curtains had been drawn against the storm, and a single lamp was the room's only illumination.

That's right... we were stranded here... then those thieves... and...

Heine blinked, remembering those last moments before falling unconscious, lying on the floor of the church and looking up into the Knight's face.

"'Tis all right... ye and the other children are safe. I give ye my word."

Then he looked toward the bedroom door, and saw it was blocked by a chair, and dozing in the chair was a woman, a girl, really, no more than eighteen years old. Her long black hair had come loose from her crown of braids to fall in tangled disarray all the way to her waist, and her sword rested across her knees, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

She... she's the Knight?

As though aware of his gaze, she slowly opened her eyes, blinked, then focused on him.

"Oh, good," she whispered. "Ye're finally awake. Ye had me worried." Setting aside her sword, she rose and approached the bed, careful to avoid the children sleeping on the floor.

"W-what happened? How did I-?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, then reached out to gently turn his head to the side, and Heine realized she'd bandaged his temple where the thief had beaten it against the pew. She'd also apparently treated his scrapes and bruises from his brawl with the thief, and then carried him to bed.

As he tried to sit up, she rested one hand firmly on his chest and pushed him back down. "Careful now, try no' to move much. 'Twas a wicked blow ye took."

"But... those thieves..."

"Trussed up in the church, and each lashed to a pew so they'll no' be givin' ye further grief. I'm only sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but the storm made their trail that much harder to follow."

Heine turned his head to look at her, but she was looking at the children sleeping on the floor. She speaks Eise fluently, but that accent wasn't my imagination earlier... she's from the Highland Marches. Up close, even in the dim light, she was striking rather than pretty, with a surprising gentleness and sadness to her face that made her seem both older and younger than she probably was.

"I'll give the wee ones credit, they were quite anxious about ye." Then she glanced back at him, her mouth curving into a smile, and he saw that her eyes were pale blue. "They were also quite fierce about tellin' me how ye're their professor and no' a child."

Heine felt his cheeks go red. It was one of the banes of his existence to be forever mistaken for a child rather than the full-grown adult that he was.

"I... thank you for saving us."

"No thanks needed, 'twas my duty and my privilege." She rose and made her way to the window, and as she twitched the curtains aside, Heine could see that the dawn was slowly beginning to break. "Now that the storm's blown past, if ye'll excuse me, I'll ride back to Wienner for the constabulary. 'Tis best for ye and the children to stay in here while I'm away. I'll be back in no time."

She buckled her sword at her waist, then moved the chair so she could leave. But then she turned, her hat in her hand, and swept Heine a graceful bow, with one finger against her lips for silence.

Then she was gone.

"Professor Heine? Who was that lady?"

"Did you know her, Professor?"

"Are you okay, Professor Heine?"

Once the children had awoken, they clamoured around and on his bed in concern and excitement. Now that Heine was more awake, he looked them all over. They all seemed unharmed and unfazed by the incident the night before.

"I'm fine... our rescuer took good care of me, and it seems of all of you as well. I gather that she was pursuing those thieves as part of her work for the Knights of the Rose and Cross. We were fortunate she was there to lend assistance. However... I have never met her before."

"The Rose and Cross?" Jochen asked, and Heine nodded, mindful of his still aching head.

"Yes. I will teach you about them in one of our next lessons. For now, she has returned to Wienner to fetch the constables, and then she will be returning here. For our own safety, we will remain in here until she returns."

Henny sighed and rested her chin in her hands. "I hope soon, my tummy won't stop growling."

As the children clambered off the bed and sat on the floor, chattering in excitement, Heine lay back and thought.

Interesting... a Highlands Knight here in Granzreich. I had not realized the Rose and Cross were active here as well. To the best of my knowledge, they have no chapterhouse here, but they do go where they are needed. And even with the improvements that the king has made over the past twenty years... the kingdom still suffers in many places.

True to her word, within the hour, the Knight returned with some of Wienner's constables in tow. After confirming that Heine and the children were safe, the police gathered up the thieves and hauled them outside.

"We appreciate your assistance in this matter, madame," one of the constables said quietly while the children watched wide-eyed as the thieves were led away. "I suspect these were the ruffians that we'd received other reports of, but it was a damnable problem trying to find them."

"I'm just glad I was able to help. I was passin' through from Fleur to Freiburg, and local gossip on the train told me of the problem. I'd have been remiss in my duty if I'd done nothin'."

The constables completed their reports after obtaining her account and Heine's of the incident, saluted her, and departed to the grateful cheers of the children, who then cheered even louder when the Knight explained that she had brought food with her from Wienner.

"Why are you doing this?" Heine asked her softly as the children ate with all the appetite of youth.

"Doin' what?" she asked. "Feedin' ye? I saw the state of your storeroom last night after I'd tended to ye. 'Twas nothin' for me to at least provide a simple meal."

The tutor's eyes narrowed. "But most Knights take a vow of poverty."

"Most do, aye. But 'tis no hardship for me to miss a meal or two, and besides... I've no likin' of seein' children go hungry." Then she sighed, her pale blue eyes sad. "Though after last evenin', I suppose I can't blame ye for bein' distrustful. But don't ye worry. I'll be off again after this."

Once she'd reclaimed her saddle blanket from his room and prepared herself to depart, Heine sent the children to wash up and get ready to return to the orphanage, then he followed her outside.

For a long time, both were silent, then Heine sighed, a sigh more felt than heard.

"I apologize, madame. You're right... I am by nature rather distrustful, but after all you've done, I admit I have wronged you." He held one hand out to her, and with a slow smile, she took it.

"'Tis nothin' to forgive between us, sir. I wish ye and the wee ones well."

They clasped hands firmly, and he surprised both her and himself by bowing politely over her hand. Then she swung herself into her saddle and turned the horse's head toward the main road to Wienner.

"Wait!" he called out.

She reined in her mount and looked back at him. "Aye?"

"I just realized... you never told me your name."

She looked startled, then she laughed.

"True. I'm TaraLeila MacIntyre. And ye?"

"Professor Heine Wittgenstein. Safe travels, madame."

She bowed her head to him. "Best of luck to ye and yours, Professor. May we meet again someday under better circumstances."

With that, she waved and galloped off, leaving Heine standing before the church, his eyes soft and thoughtful.

May we meet again, indeed, TaraLeila. Someday.