A/N: I'm so sorry it's been forever since my last post! It was midterm week and I didn't get as much free time as I thought I would. Anyway, thanks to all of you for sticking it out through a dark and creepy cliffhanger! In return, I present to you a nice, long one in which we learn a little more about our dashing young prince. Enjoy!

Luke stormed out of the meeting room and stalked off, ignoring his father's shouts for him to return. He hated council meetings, especially the war council. The main problem facing the country was the rush of men and boys returning to a place where they couldn't find work, housing, or food. Luke was a veteran, and understood the frustrations of his brothers-in-arms. They had just risked their lives for their country, and all they wanted in return was to get back to their lives. He was also a prince, though, and understood the troubles in the political aspects of providing for hundreds of soldiers. There simply weren't any jobs available for them.

"No, the biggest problem facing our country today," Luke groused to a painting hanging on the wall, "is that people make promises they don't intend to keep!"

"What?"

Luke turned and saw Annabella standing next to him, looking confused.

"Oh. It's nothing." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Annabella linked her arm in his. "Tell me about this 'nothing'. Why does it have you so angry?"

They strolled down the hall at a much more civilized pace than the one Luke had been going at moments before. "It's just...they don't understand the other side of the story. They refuse to acknowledge it. The council simply wants to forget that there are soldiers who desperately need our help."

"But that's why they have you," Annabella countered. "You're the soldier of the group. You are supposed to speak up and tell the council what needs to be done."

"That's just it. It feels as if they don't want to listen to me. They tell me I'm over exaggerating the problem. One of them even asked today if I had done my evaluations with a military doctor, and if I had passed."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Annabella cried. "Of course you passed, you're not crazy like those other men are." She blushed. "I apologize if I -"

Luke chuckled and hugged his sister. "No, you didn't offend. All of my old war friends are in perfect mental health, never you fear."

"Maybe that's the problem," Annabella said.

"What is?"

"They don't have any old war friends." Annabella paused and faced her brother. "Allar hasn't seen war before now in nearly one hundred years. None of the members of the council have seen war. They don't know how to deal with it."

The gears in Luke's head finally began turning. "The only reason we won the war was because Sylstran was basically starving and not united. All of our strategy came out of history textbooks or was made up on the battlefield."

"So if we research the problem, find an answer from history -"

"We can apply it now!" Luke spun her around in a circle. " 'Bella, you're a genius!"

"Well, you are tasked to make them listen," Annabella laughed. "I would not want your job. I hate diplomacy."

"But you're good at it."

"Not really. Everything I know I learned from Mama or...hey, that reminds me."

Annabella reached into her dress pocket and withdrew a letter. "Catalina wrote you. She's very good at diplomacy and persuasion, you ought to see what she has to say about your problem."

Luke took the letter. "And just how long were you going to wait before you mentioned this?"

Annabella shrugged, grinning. "If it makes it any better, I saw the council breaking up, so you have nothing to go back to just yet." She skipped off in the opposite direction.

Luke continued on his way, looking for a private place to read his letter. It was far too windy outside to go to the gardens, so he settled for the library. Since no one else was around, Luke decided to sit on one of the oversized floor cushions normally used by the palace children. He dragged it close to the hearth, plopped down in a very unprincelike manner, and tore through the seal.

A gloriously thick stack of papers fell into his lap. Luke unfolded them, and was met with himself.

Catalina had drawn a wonderful pencil sketch of him and Eric in the opera box. The skill made Luke raise his eyebrows. Eric had mentioned that she was good, but this was beyond just good. It was like looking into a mirror.

Luke propped the sketch up on his leg and turned to the letter. He could clearly hear Catalina's voice as he read as if she were standing beside him. She thanked him for coming to the show, and apologized for taking so long to write. She relayed to him the past few weeks of her life, telling him all about what living in a theatre was like, all the pranks the Twelve Swans pulled on the few house dancers who tolerated them, and how the ticket woman made eye contact and winked all the time at her now (apparently she thought Luke and Eric were "just adorable!"). There was an easygoing, relaxed cadence to her words that told Luke all was well far better than her written greetings.

Luke grabbed a pen and paper and began to write back as soon as he was finished reading. Unlike the first letter he'd tried to write, the words came to him easily, and before he knew it, he had filled three pages front and back.

He threw his head back against the cushion and sighed. Annabella was right; Catalina really would know what to do with the council. Luke had seen her persuade the most stubborn traditionalist while waltzing. Hardly anyone left Catalina's side without a smile; she even managed to make Emma and Lila get along. And besides, it wasn't like Luke was giving away military secrets. He just hated to burden her with such a situation when she already had so much going on.

Plucking another sheet of paper from the stack, Luke put his pen to work explaining the issue. Several wealthy merchants and private landowners had promised to create new jobs specifically for veterans at the beginning of the reconstruction period in the final year of the war. Based on the latest military census, it seemed that they had created just enough work, that this was the perfect solution for discharged military personnel.

Unfortunately, once the war ended and the soldiers started looking for work, the stories changed. The merchants claimed much of their cargo stolen overseas or a drop in demands. The landowners said times had gotten tough, they had sold land or the bookkeeper had given them false numbers. In any case, almost everyone had cut back on the number of jobs they were offering. Nearly fifty percent of the Allarian army was unemployed and starving, after promises of steady work and food in the postwar period. Luke was honestly afraid of a rebel revolt.

The council was made up of several of the would-be employers, and the rest were nobles. They were sitting comfortably; they could care less about hungry strangers. It frustrated Luke to no end, and there was nothing his father could do, because the king was considered an equal, and had no power over the other members.

Luke didn't like to end his letter on such a bad note, but it felt good to get the issue off his chest. He sealed the envelope, and went to find Annabella to address it.

The next council meeting was to take place in two weeks' time. Luke had to come up with something to present before then. The problem was becoming serious; the crime rate had steadily increased since the war.

"I understand how you feel," King William said to his son. It was late, and Luke had gone to his father's study to apologize for his earlier behavior." It is a difficult situation, and a personal one for you as well. But you must keep your temper in check."

"Father," Luke's tone was commanding and pleading all at the same time. "The members of the council are lying to our faces! We all know there have been no pirate raids or highwaymen or lying bookkeepers. They simply do not wish to help anymore, it's more difficult than they anticipated. Or they offered their services to get attention in court. Either way, they are not keeping their word, and are breaking a government contract in the process!"

"I know, but you are the future king," his father said, infuriatingly calm. "You cannot be involved in a shouting match and then storm from the room as if you were no older than Lila. It will affect the image you present when you do become king. No one will take you seriously."

"I may never be king anyway, if the country falls to ruin."

"That is not going to happen."

"It very well could! Look to history, this is how it all starts." Luke grabbed a book he'd found in the library. "See here? Every civilization, every country of old, prospers for generations, are invaded by enemies and dragged into war. Even if they win, they never fully recover. In less than fifty years after the war, the people either revolt or they fall to other nations.

"Don't you see, Father? If we don't make this right, Allar is destined to years of discontent, and we will fall."

King William sat back in his chair, studying his eldest child. No, not a child, a man. A man who had done something his grandfathers hadn't even done: gone to war and survived to come home. Luke had never before been particularly interested in ruling a kingdom; of course, he had gone about his studies wholeheartedly, and never complained, but it had been more of an expectation and a duty. Never before had his son been so passionate about one of the responsibilities of a king. In fact, King William didn't think Luke had ever been so passionate or expressed such strong opinions about anything.

"So," he said, "What do you suppose we do about our wayward council?"

Luke seemed to deflate a little. "I don't know," he sighed. "We've got to persuade them somehow, but I have no idea how to do it. I - I asked the advice of a friend who has experience in these kinds of things. And I'm going to figure it out before the next meeting."

The king nodded slowly. "That is all I can ask of you. Let us hope you have a wise friend."

Luke only nodded before leaving the study. His father smiled slyly at the closed door, a flush of red on Luke's neck telling him exactly who this friend was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fortunately, Luke did not have to wait long for Catalina to reply. Three days after he mailed the letter, Annabella passed Luke in the hall carrying an armload of parcels - and an envelope.

"Wait!" she cried, snatching the letter back just before he took it. "Did you ask her?"

"Of course I did," Luke said, sounding indignant. "Now give it here, I want to know what she said."

As she handed over the letter, Annabella lost several of her packages. Giving an exaggerated sigh, Luke helped her deliver the rest of the bundles before escaping to his room.

Luke was slightly disappointed when he saw Catalina had only written a single page, but she reassured him in the opening lines.

Dear Luke,

I'm terribly sorry this letter will be significantly shorter than the last, but I thought you would like an answer to your dilemma as soon as possible. I promise to write much more about everything else you wrote soon.

In regards to your war council...well, I wish I could say this was an abnormal occurrence, but that would be a lie. I mean no offense, but in my experience, people of wealth make promises that they don't intend to keep. Of course, I don't mean that about everyone of this class, because I have met very generous people of wealth and poorer folk who were incredible liars and manipulators as well, but it does tend to happen more often with the wealthy. Oh, I've dug myself into a hole now.

Anyway, my point is that you have to make it personal to them. Often those with money simply don't know what it's like to live without it, as they were most likely born into wealth, and they socialize with people in the same circles. If you give the problem a face, particularly one they weren't expecting, most can be convinced to change their minds. Unfortunately the only example of this I can provide has to do with us. Whenever a client backs out, and we need the money, we offer to perform for free. Afterwards, they usually will agree to a renegotiated contract. I don't know if this is because we can dance better than they expected, or because we're girls, but the method hasn't failed yet. It's just the concept of making the council members see faces, not numbers, and getting them to understand that all the reports and paperwork they see everyday actually equates to real, live people. You will have to give some as well, but from what you've told me, the fault lies completely with them, so I don't see you having to compromise too much.

Might I just add that what you are doing...it is excellent. We've met soldiers on our travels, and they complain about the lack of, well, everything. With your permission, I shall start telling them help is coming soon, that you haven't forgotten about them. Don't take it the wrong way - the soldiers aren't necessarily angry, just frustrated and disappointed. I'm sure they will willingly forgive the delay once help does come.

Let me know how it all goes!

Yours,

Catalina.

Luke couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Oh, Catalina! Why are you so afraid of stepping on toes? Your ideas are amazing!"

Give the problem a face. Luke grinned. He knew several faces who would be glad to represent the problem. Luke didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before.

After dinner that night, Luke saddled his horse and rode to the capital city. He wore the plainest clothes he could find, and used the oldest tack available on his horse. He rode right through the centre plaza of the city as darkness fell and the more respectable businesses closed down for the day. Luke ignored the various glances being shot his way when people noticed he was headed for a rougher neighborhood.

Luke expertly guided his horse through the narrow alleyways until he reached a run-down looking livery. A boy of no more than eleven professionally and skillfully took care of his horse. Luke paid for the night and continued his journey on foot.

He passed several street corners with the familiarity of dozens of trips, until he arrived at his destination: an apartment building with a crumbling brick face adorned with peeling mortar and plaster, all illuminated by a single, flickering streetlamp.

Luke turned the corner around the building and made his way down a flight of stairs to the basement. He could hear muffled voices coming from inside, which stopped abruptly when he knocked.

The door opened a crack. "Who you be?" a man's voice called.

"It's me, you bunch of miscreants," Luke replied. "Let me in already, it's cold out here."

Before he even finished speaking, the door was thrown open and he was yanked inside.

"Well, if it isn't ol' Lukie himself!" The voice belonged to one Andrew Dartmen, Luke's drill sergeant from his army days. "Clean up a bit, lads, we've royal comp'ny."

Two other men jumped to their feet to give Luke a good slap on the back. They were Connor Salysson and Romeau Porteal, the two privates who had been Luke's tentmates.

"Your Highness," Romeau said in an exaggerated snooty voice. He bowed with many flourishes and heel-clicking.

"All right, you've had your fun. Now stop it," Luke tried to sound annoyed, but he was grinning from ear to ear. These were the only friends he had made as himself, not with a title, and their attitude towards him hadn't changed a bit when they learned who he was. Except for the teasing.

"What brings you here so late?" Connor asked.

Luke crossed his arms. "I should be asking you the same question. Why is it that whenever I find work for you, you can never keep it for more than a month?"

Connor shrugged. "We always find others who need it more."

"Yes, not everyone has such a cozy basement." Romeau spread his arms wide to encompass the two cold, dark rooms they lived in.

"In all seriousness," Andrew said, "what are ye doin' here, lad? They don't like strangers here, 'specially after dark."

"I have a favor to ask of you," Luke said, "but I'll tell you over dinner. Swallow your pride, Andrew, and let's go."

"If he swallows his pride," Romeau whispered to the other two behind Andrew's back, "I'm not sure he'll have room for supper!"

They travelled down the block to an inn that looked nearly as bad as the apartment building, but was well-known among the locals to serve the best meals for cheap. The innkeeper and his wife were nearly run off their feet trying to keep up with the crowd, but nevertheless had a smile for everyone who sat down.

"Now see here," Connor said after they'd placed their orders, "You know you don't need to ask us any favors, Luke. You're one of us, we'll do whatever you need us to."

"I'm afraid this is a bit complicated," Luke admitted. "I need you to speak to the council of war next week."

Over bowls of warm, savory stew, Luke explained the entire, long-drawn-out situation. Then he described what he needed his friends to do before the council.

"I've told them my story a thousand times," Luke finished. "I've told them about you and all the others out there. But they refuse to believe me. They insist I'm over exaggerating because I am more accustomed to a wealthy lifestyle, or whatever excuses they like to make."

"Ye were right when ye said 'twas complicated," Andrew mumbled.

"But I still agree with Connor here," Romeau said, slapping Luke's shoulder. "We'll tell our sob stories for your stodgy old council."

"And if they still won't listen, well, I'm sure a classroom lecture from the sergeant here will change their minds," Connor added, jokingly referring to Andrew's rather intense interrogation techniques.

"I just might let you," Luke laughed, "so be ready, won't you, Andrew?"

They spent about an hour at their corner table, getting caught up. Luke wisely left out any mention of Catalina, not wanting to offer up more for his old friends to tease him about. It was quite late when Luke slid from his chair and approached the front to pay.

He had brought only smaller coppers and bits with him, to better blend in and avoid getting robbed. The harried innkeeper's wife totaled the bill and waited patiently while he carefully counted the coins. Two small heads peeped out from around their mother's skirts, dark smudges under their huge blue eyes.

"Thank you, sir. I hope you all enjoyed your meals."

"Very much so." Luke reached into an inner pocket and discreetly withdrew a silver, the largest coin he dared carry.

"Oh, no, I couldn't - " the woman whispered.

Luke dropped it into her purse, along with the rest of his bill. "Of course you can." He winked at the children. "Buy your children something sweet."

The poor woman looked as if she might cry. "Thank you very kindly, sir. You are a godsend."

Romeau and Connor half-wrestled him as they left. "Good ol' Lukie. Making maidens weep at the mere sight of him."

"And busy spoiling the children. Speaking of which, how are those sisters of yours, anyway?"

"Sleeping. It's past your bedtime, too."

"Would ye quit askin' after the princesses?" Andrew playfully cuffed Romeau's ear. "The Princess Lila is far to young for ye."

The night felt even lonelier and colder than before as Luke left his friends and made his way back to the livery. The watchboy was fast asleep at the desk; Luke covered him with a saddle blanket as he left.

His father was waiting up for him when he slipped back into the family's private wing of the palace. King William readily agreed to Luke's plan, even going so far as to have nothing to add. Luke had never created a political move his father had no way of making better.

The day before the meeting, Luke set out to the city bright and early, on foot. There was no way to get four horses to the apartment, especially if three were rider less. Ten miles was far shorter than any military march anyway, and the walk gave them time to discuss their "battle plans".

By the time the group made it back to the palace, it was late afternoon. Brieanna and Lila raced down the long palace drive to greet them.

"Uncle Andrew! Connor! Romeau!" Lila cried as she launched herself into Andrew's arms. The sergeant was only in his forties, but he doted on Luke's sisters like a long-lost, elderly uncle from the moment he set eyes on them. Having no uncles by blood, the girls were more than willing to allow him to fill the role.

"Princess Brieanna," Connor bowed low. "Why, you look more and more like a lady every time I see you." He took her hand and kissed it.

Brieanna giggled and blushed. With two older sisters and her faraway personality, she didn't usually get much attention. "That's because you never visit enough."

Connor clutched his heart dramatically. "Princess! You wound me with your accusations."

They went through the main halls of the palace, ignoring the stares from visiting nobility and their travelling staff. Luke's sisters immediately dragged their honorary uncle and brothers into a game of chess - well, a unique version of chess that was more like the battles Luke commanded his army of toy soldiers through as a boy, invented by Romeau and Annabella after a failed chess lesson. King William and Queen Victoria, understanding that the soldiers were uncomfortable dining with them in an informal setting, sent word that they would take dinner with some of the visiting nobles, and the girls could entertain their guests however they pleased.

Right after breakfast the next morning, the king and four former soldiers went to the meeting hall. Lord Pentron spoke up as soon as he saw men of a lower class, for even their army uniforms were significantly careworn.

"Who are these men? This is a private, political meeting."

"Lord Pentron," Luke said smoothly. Pentron was by far the man causing the most trouble. "Please, allow me to introduce you to Sergeant Major Andrew Dartmen, and Privates Connor Salysson and Romeau Porteal, of the 7th Infantry Division of the Allarian army."

Lord Pentron nodded sharply, still looking like he was sucking on a lemon, while the other members of the council mumbled greetings. Before anyone else could protest, Luke plunged on, "These fine soldiers are here to speak to you gentlemen about their lives in the army and their experiences after the war."

"Don't tell us you're still harping on that issue, my prince." This came from Mr. Jefferson, a merchant.

"Indeed I am," Luke answered, doing his best to keep his cool. He took his seat. "Private Salysson, would you kindly begin?"

Connor straightened his jacket as he walked to the front of the room. "Good morning, gentlemen. My experiences in the army were some of the best times of my life, and the worst. My father is a farmer in a country town about a three days' ride from here. As the second son, I always knew I would have to make my own way in the world. I was nineteen when the war began, and a career in the army didn't seem like such a bad idea. My older brother is dear to me, but he was always busy learning how to manage the farm, something I couldn't relate to. The friends I made during my enlistment, however, shared a special bond that I couldn't have with my brother. We were all in the same place together, doing the same things, for the protection of our country. We are brothers-in-arms, willing to die for each other. Some did.

"Unfortunately, half of my family's lands were destroyed by raids. My brother is married, with a daughter and another child on the way. He lives on the farm with our parents, and they're barely making ends meet. I can't move back home, we'll all starve. So I stay here, finding work where I can, and send as much money home as possible, as I did with my army wages. The three of us, we're getting by all right, and we have Prince Luke to help us out. But there are others out there who are far worse off than us."

Connor bowed, a little uncertain how to end, and sat down next to Luke. Romeau got up next, but before he could speak, another lord piped up, "Are you sure you're a soldier, boy? You don't look old enough to have fought."

"Yessir, I am a soldier," Romeau answered with pride. "I was nearly fifteen upon enlistment." He paused a moment to wait for the whispers to die down.

"My family lived right on the border of Allar and Sylstran. We owned a flock of sheep, and it was my duty to care for them whenever I was not in school, so my parents could prepare and sell the fibre. I was in the fields when the Sylstrans attacked our village. I don't know if it was rebels or the king's men; both sides were just poor men, and poor men will do desperate things to try and save themselves and their families. Either way, my family was killed, and in the following weeks, most of our flock stolen.

"None of the other survivors could afford to take me in, so when the enlistment notices passed by us, several other boys and I joined. We agreed to send all our wages to the village as a whole, and the recruiting officers pushed us through despite our age, whether through desperation or pity, I haven't a clue. I was basically the baby of our regiment, and everyone treated me as such, but they couldn't protect me from everything.

"I had no one to go home to after we won. My village was still being rebuilt, and I have no extended family that I know of. Sergeant Dartmen and Private Salysson invited me to bunk with them in the basement of an apartment building, and we've been there ever since. Sometimes we get hungry, but it's better to be hungry in like company than hungry alone, in my experience."

Andrew went last. "Well. Ye can tell from me accent that I'm not from near here. I was born way up north, married a lass an' lost her, and 'twas such a bad time, felt better t' leave than stay. Joined up in the military long before any fightin', so 'twas not a difficult question in me mind whether to fight or not. Come wartime, I was a sergeant for nigh on five years.

"Aye, 'twas good comp'ny I be in! These lads here, all I trained, includin' our prince - although, nary a soul knew who he be. Meself, I didn't know what to make of 'im. One glance, he be starin' ye right in th' eyes, the next, backin' away. Private Salysson be a hardworkin' lad, an' more than willin' to do the job of two men if it please ye. An' Private Porteal, aye all o' heaven above! I never thought he'd get th' chance to be a man, what with all the dotin' from the others! But they all became fine men an' fine soldiers.

"And now, well, times be tough all 'round. Prince Luke here does his best when he can, but one lad can only give so much silver to starvin' beggar children. An' he does right by us. We get work regular, but there always be a poor lad with no home an' no food at all, while we got some bread and roof. So we give 'im our work, an' we mean no offense to ye, Prince, but we 'ave our part to do, too."

Andrew sat down. Luke had planned to deliver an argument here, his best yet, but his father spoke. "Thank you, gentlemen. Your stories are enlightening to a group of wealthy men unaccustomed to hardship. And, might I add my personal thanks for serving our country."

Lord Pentron cleared his throat. "It is obvious, Prince Luke, what you are doing. You are trying to get us all sentimental so that we will find a solution to your quite imaginary problem."

Luke could feel his temper rising. Angry words formed on his tongue, but he was again interrupted.

"I agree with you, Lord Pentron," Lord Hassel, another landowner, said. "But I must say, Prince Luke, that your approach is remarkably effective. I haven't really thought of the discharged soldiers as men - not really, honestly thought and believed it. I stay on my estates, or here in the palace, and don't see the world around me. We all do it. And today, Prince Luke and the soldiers have reminded us that we are not dealing with paperwork and numbers, but rather men of flesh and blood. I say we motion a new vote on the article of post military employment. I, for one, will be changing my ballot."

The ball was rolling from there. Within the hour, a new contract was written and voted upon. Lord Pentron was the only one who voted against it.

The rest of the meeting progressed smoothly, with everyone working together better than they had in nearly two years. The soldiers were even invited as permanent consultants to the council, to give the insight of ordinary, honest citizens.

"We've done it!" Luke cheered when the meeting adjourned. "I really can't thank you all enough."

"'twas nothing at all," Andrew scoffed.

"And look, you found us work again," Romeau said.

"Don't you dare give it up next month."

The soldiers were saying goodbye to the princesses when a maid delivered several letters to Annabella. The princess shuffled through the stack, removed one, and handed it to Luke.

"What's that?" Romeau asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Nothing," Luke insisted, but since it was impossible to keep secrets with little sisters, Lila overpowered him with, "A letter from Miss Cat."

"Miss Cat?" Andrew said. "An' who be this Miss Cat?"

"A ballerina," Emma cheerfully supplied.

"Lukie li-ikes her," Brieanna added in a singsong voice.

"Our Luke, writing to a ladylove?" Connor said, shocked. "I never thought the day would come! I always believed him to be nothing more than a heartbreaker."

The girls giggled and started to tell them all about Catalina, what she looked like, how she and Luke had danced onstage, and walked in the gardens every day, and how sad he had been when she left. The more information Connor and Romeau gathered, the wider they grinned.

Annabella came to Luke's rescue. "All right, girls, that's enough! Say goodbye."

Luke could feel his face getting hot as he avoided eye contact with his friends. He sighed, tucked his letter away in his breast pocket, and braced himself for the merciless ribbing he was about to get.

A/N 2: Also, a shout-out to silverliningineachcloud, for offering free advertising. If you're reading this per her recommendation, a digital cookie for you! And if you're not, thanks for reading anyway!