May 486 I.C., Odin

"My father isn't going to live forever, you know," Princess Amarie said, almost directly into Baroness Magdalena von Westpfale's ear. Magdalena jumped, surprised, knocking her bare arms on the balcony railing she had been leaning on. It was a warm summer night, and Magdalena and Amarie were both at a party hosted by Count Hartlieb. Magdalena was not yet as drunk as she wanted to be, and she had judged the guests inside to be incredibly boring.

"That's an odd way to open a conversation, Princess," Magdalena said, turning and leaning back against the railing so she could talk to Amarie. The princess was dressed in a gauzy blue gown— new, Magdalena thought, since she hadn't seen it before. It was rather fetching, and she was almost jealous. She would have to make a note to ask her tailor to make her one with sleeves just so. The fabric fell around Amarie's shoulders in such a way that her neck and upper arms were perfectly framed by the delicate, almost sheer, material. Magdalena let herself look, then met Amarie's eyes.

"Is it?" Amarie asked. She had two wine glasses in her hands, and she passed one to Magdalena. "I think that talking about the health of one's family is the usual beginning of any conversation. How's your mother?"

"Fine," Magdalena said. "And I was under the impression that His Majesty was also in fine health."

"Oh, he is, he is," Amarie agreed. "But he's not precisely youthful. And even if he were, as I said, there is no such thing as immortality."

"It's simply an interesting topic for you, of all people, to speak about," Magdalena said. "One might think that you and your husband are getting ideas."

"Mmm," Amarie said. Magdalena could see that she was a little drunk, from the flush in her cheeks, but she was clearly speaking to Magdalena with an agenda, and Magdalena had no idea what that agenda was. "I think my father is likely to name an heir before he dies. I'm not concerned."

"Really?" Magdalena asked.

"It is the kind of thing that is best done on the deathbed, you know. It saves a lot of trouble that way."

"And if he should die unexpectedly?"

"I wouldn't concern myself with that," Amarie said.

"You're the one who brought up the subject."

Slightly annoyed, Amarie said, "There's no reason that you should be concerned about who will be kaiserin."

"I shouldn't? Am I not a citizen of the Empire, with my small future tied to her large one?"

Amarie leaned on the balcony railing, looking out across the estate's lawn. Magdalena's eyes lingered on the way the fine hairs at the top of Amarie's neck fluttered in the breeze. "I think there's something more pressing that you should be concerned about."

"Oh?" Magdalena asked. "And what's that?"

"My husband is very unhappy with your friend."

"Which friend?" Magdalena asked, feigning ignorance. "You know I'm a social creature."

"The one whose fortunes would be most imperiled should my father die," Amarie said.

"And what did Countess Grunewald do to upset your husband today?"

"If it was something that she had done directly, I probably wouldn't be speaking with you," Amarie said lightly. "It was her brother."

"The social chain that connects me to Admiral Lohengramm is quite the tenuous one," Magdalena said. "What did he do, then?"

"I'm not particularly privy to the details, but there was some sort of altercation in which Fraulein Grunewald's brother interfered in a Braunschweig family matter that had nothing to do with him." The use of 'fraulein' rather than 'countess' from the princess put Magdalena on edge, and her tone indicated that Amarie was perfectly aware of all the details of the matter, and was simply choosing not to share them.

"And what type of altercation was it?"

"The type of thing that men get up to," Amarie said. "An armed confrontation in a prison, I believe."

Magdalena laughed and took a sip of her wine. "That is the kind of thing that men enjoy."

Amarie was silent for half a second, then said, "Baroness, may I say something to you quite bluntly?"

"You may say whatever you like to me, Princess," Magdalena said. "I have never been known to take offense."

"You have taken offense on Fraulein Grunewald's behalf several times."

"I'll trust that you aren't about to say anything that would cause me to upend my wine glass on your dress. It's lovely, by the way."

"Thank you," Amarie said. "But what I was going to say is that I think it would behoove Fraulein Grunewald's brother to understand that while he may have his sister's protection, and thus my father's, now, that favor will only last as long as my father is alive. When my father dies, there will be someone else on the throne."

"Elizabeth, you mean."

"Gods willing," Amarie murmured. "But even if it is not Elizabeth, Admiral Lohengramm should be careful not to step on too many toes now. The positions will reverse, you see."

"What do you mean?"

"He's hiding in his sister's skirts for protection, right now," Amarie said. "But when my father dies, his sister will have no one to rely on except for him, and his position and talent as an admiral. It's clear to me that he holds his sister in the highest regard, and would not want to put her in undue danger. You may wish to mention these future prospects to him, since it's clear he's not thinking about them."

"You know, Countess Grunewald will also have me to rely on."

"Is that so?" Amarie asked, and her tone was a warning one.

"She's not your enemy, Princess."

"So long as she bears no son, perhaps." And that line was delivered with such bluntness that it made Magdalena shiver.

"She won't," Magdalena said, lowering her voice.

"Oh?"

"The kaiser likes her too much to want to risk her life like that."

"My father is a considerate man."

Magdalena wasn't going to argue with that. "So, what do you want me to do, Princess?"

"I would be most appreciative if you could remind Fraulein Grunewald and her brother exactly what their station in life is," Amarie said. "If they continue to make enemies of my husband, I do not think that even being a victorious admiral will be enough to safeguard them."

"I will make a note of that," Magdalena said. "Thank you for speaking with me about it."

"Of course," Amarie said. "It may not seem like it, Maggie, but I'm on your side here."

"Is that so?" Magdalena was surprised by the suddenly informal address, and she smiled at Amarie.

"Women need to stick together, don't we?" Amarie tilted her head to look up at the starry night sky. "It's not that I have no sympathy for Fraulein Grunewald. After all, I know something of what it's like to have a tenuous position in life, based on the whims of my father."

"True," Magdalena said, though she had to think that Amarie's tenuous position as a young woman, years ago, was quite different from the position that Annerose found herself in. "I promise I will pass your message along as delicately as possible."

"Thank you," Amarie replied, straightening up. "I appreciate that very much. It's a load off my mind when people understand what their place in things is."

"Yes, Princess."

"Enjoy the rest of the party, Baroness," Amarie said. Magdalena gave a little curtsey, and Amarie vanished back into the estate. Opening the doors to the balcony sent a few bars of string music drifting out into the outside air, and hearing the jaunty melody, Magdalena was tempted to return inside, reevaluate her opinion of the other party guests, and find a man to follow home for the night, but the talk about Annerose had put her in the forefront of Magdalena's mind, and that made the idea of finding some distraction less appealing. Magdalena sighed, leaned over the balcony, and drank.

Magdalena paid Annerose a visit the next day. Annerose had an estate of her own, not on the grounds of Neue Sanssouci, but close enough that it may as well have been. Magdalena knew that every coming and going from this place was watched, and that most people needed to request permission to visit Countess Grunewald. Magdalena did not need permission, however, or if she was supposed to need such a thing, she ignored it. Her sleek car roared as she drove up to the front of Annerose's estate, sending loose gravel spraying out behind the tires. It was better than ringing the doorbell, anyway.

Magdalena hopped out of her car and presented herself at the door. One of Annerose's servants, a timid young woman, escorted her out to the back of the house, where Annerose was having lunch in the garden. Annerose stood when Magdalena appeared. She didn't really smile— Annerose almost never smiled— but it was clear that she was glad to see Magdalena.

"You should have told me you were coming," Annerose said. Magdalena swooped towards her and took her hand, then kissed both of her cheeks in greeting.

"Don't you like it when I surprise you, darling?"

"I certainly like when you come to see me," Annerose said as Magdalena released her and took a seat at the small garden table. "But if you had given me forewarning, I could have made something special for you."

"You'll spoil me," Magdalena said. "I have to stop you from doing that somehow."

"I worry that if you insist on surprising me, you'll try to come around while I'm out." And by out, Annerose could only mean one thing, which was with the kaiser.

"Then I would wait oh so longingly for your return. Or come back later. Whichever one suits my schedule and whims of the day." Magdalena was joking, but seeing Annerose was a pleasure, and she couldn't quite disguise that all the way.

Annerose was, after all, the most beautiful creature that Magdalena had ever seen. Everything about her was compelling: her tender voice, her figure, the way she moved her hands, the way her hair seemed to shine in the light, the way she seemed so earnest and fragile. Her face was delicate, and the melancholy that seemed to be a permanent fixture drove Magdalena insane. She would have done anything to make Annerose laugh. Being around her always made Magdalena feel both desperate and ridiculous in equal measure.

"I'm happy your whim was to come visit me today," Annerose said. "Have you had lunch?"

"I have," Magdalena lied. She didn't want Annerose to bother getting the servants to come in and out bringing an extra meal, interrupting their conversation. Seeing Annerose was about to put her napkin across her plate to signal that she was done with her own meal, even though she had clearly barely started, Magdalena said, "But please, don't let me take you away from yours."

Annerose nodded, and Magdalena leaned her elbows on the table, propping her chin in both her hands, watching Annerose as she took a sip of tea. "How have you been, Magdalena?" Annerose asked.

"Since I saw you last? So lonely without you. But other than that eternal sadness, quite well."

"I heard that you went to see the duel between Viscount Hassler's son and Count Bohnitz."

"I'll confess that I did," Magdalena said. "I know you don't approve."

"I don't approve of dueling, but I can't stop the court from having its entertainments."

"It is entertaining, I'll admit. I know I look down on the things that men get up to in their spare time, but I fear that if I had been a man, I wouldn't be able to refrain from participating myself."

"I'm glad you're not, then," Annerose said. "I think it would break my heart to see you getting shot at."

"Why, darling, I think that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say to me," Magdalena said.

Annerose looked away. "Do you think that Reinhard holds it against me that I didn't go watch him duel?"

"Of course not," Magdalena said. "Isn't it enough that he knows you wait so anxiously for news of how he's fared in battle?"

"I don't know," Annerose said.

"I hear he's back on Odin. Is that true, or is it just a rumor?"

"He is here. Why do you ask?"

"I had an interesting conversation with Princess Amarie last night," Magdalena said. She reached over, stole a strawberry out of the fruit salad on Annerose's plate, and ate it.

"Oh?"

"I hear your brother has been causing trouble. You know anything about that?"

"I wasn't aware that there was any trouble per se," Annerose said.

"What did you hear?" Magdalena asked. She leaned forward, trying to project an air of childish conspiracy. "Tell me."

"I don't know anything about the fleet," Annerose said, trying to deflect. "I think it was an official matter."

"I think you know more than anyone wants to think. And that includes yourself." She stole another strawberry from Annerose's plate. "Tell me."

Annerose watched a bird flit by for a second, then began, prefacing with, "I'm not sure I have all the details…" but continuing anyway. "I overheard the prime minister talking to High Admiral Ovelesser about it."

"What were you doing anywhere near Ovelesser?"

Annerose flushed. "I was on my way out of Neue Sanssouci, and they were speaking in the hallway near the kaiser's offices. I didn't want to interrupt, so I waited for them to leave."

No, she had been eavesdropping.

"I can certainly understand not wanting to walk past Ovelesser," Magdalena said, trying to soothe Annerose's nerves. "Go on. What were they saying?"

"They were talking about— Reinhard had interfered in a military prison, and Ovelesser was unhappy about it."

"What was he doing there?"

"He told me about it, earlier," Annerose said. "I only got to see him briefly."

Magdalena waited in silence for Annerose to continue. She seemed hesitant.

"He can get so worked up, you know?" Annerose said, after a minute. "It worries me, sometimes."

"I think it's an admirable trait," Magdalena said. "I like some passion in a person. It makes them exciting."

"He told me this story about, would you know him, Rear Admiral von Reuenthal, the grandson of Count Marbach?"

"I have met Count Marbach, but I'm not familiar with his grandson. What about him?"

"He came to Reinhard, asking for help. His friend, Rear Admiral Mittermeyer, had executed a subordinate who had murdered a civilian. But he was part of Braunschweig's family, so Rear Admiral Mittermeyer was arrested."

"I suppose Duke Braunschweig is used to doing as he likes. And why did Rear Admiral Reuenthal ask your brother for help?"

"I don't know," Annerose said. "But Reinhard agreed to help. I didn't know exactly what he was planning to do, at the time. But that's what I heard happened."

"Hunh." Magdalena took another strawberry. "I can see why Duke Braunschweig is upset. Your brother stepped on his toes."

"Reinhard has never liked the idea of nobles being able to do what they like to the common people," Annerose said after a moment. "I suppose that goes for rear admirals and murdered civilians alike."

And yourself, Magdalena thought, but she didn't say that aloud. "Well, I can't fault his spirit," she said. "What was the outcome of all this?"

"Reinhard asked me to ensure that Rear Admirals Mittermeyer and Reuenthal were transferred to his command. I asked that of the kaiser. I don't think there will be any more trouble."

Ah, so there was why Amarie had talked to Magdalena about Annerose and the kaiser's favor. Annerose hadn't just been a passive safety valve; she had been pulling strings herself. Magdalena smiled. "I'm glad you think there won't be any further issues."

"What did Princess Amarie speak with you about?"

"Oh, nothing, darling. Just gossip. You know how it is."

"Sometimes I worry that there is no such thing as 'just' gossip."

"I don't think the princess was saying anything that you don't already intimately know," Magdalena said. "She would like your brother to step on fewer toes, especially if those toes belong to her husband."

"I should have told him to stay out of it," Annerose said. Her delicate fingers were pinching at the lace tablecloth, the one sign of her anxiety. "His position—"

"Your brother seems very capable of taking care of himself," Magdalena said.

This only caused Annerose to sigh heavily, and Magdalena mentally chided herself.

"You think he isn't?" Magdalena asked.

"He's just a boy," Annerose said. "He's a boy who makes stupid decisions, and sometimes he leans on me to help him. I won't always be able to do that."

Magdalena had been right: Annerose already knew exactly what Princess Amarie had been trying to warn about. Still, the fact that Annerose thought her brother was incapable was funny. "He's not just a boy, you know. He is an admiral in the imperial fleet. If he were nothing but a boy, he would still be in school."

"I wish he was, sometimes," Annerose said. "It would be less a burden on my heart, you know."

Magdalena tapped her fingers on her chin for a second. "What was it that caused Rear Admiral Reuenthal to ask your brother for help, do you think?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he thought that he was young and easily manipulated. Perhaps he's right."

"Hm," Magdalena said. "I think I can help take some of that burden off your heart, darling."

"How?" Annerose asked. She seemed unconvinced, despite how confidently Magdalena had delivered her line.

"I'm going to find this Rear Admiral Reuenthal, and I'm going to find out what exactly he saw in your brother. And then I will tell Reinhard that he needs to stop letting people use that to take advantage of him."

"Reinhard won't take your advice."

"No?" Magdalena asked. "I can be very convincing."

"He only listens to Sieg."

"Oh, I know," Magdalena said. "But I think in this case, should Princess Amarie ever ask me about the subject again, I would like to be able to say that I put some fear, or at least common sense, into him."

Annerose was quiet as she looked away, the distant sound of birdsong the only thing that passed between them.

"Do you object to that?" Magdalena asked.

"No, I suppose not," Annerose said. She was sad and distant again. "It's not like you can do any harm."

"You wound me," Magdalena said. "I like to think of myself as capable of great destruction." But Annerose didn't crack a smile, so Magdalena tried to change the topic. "I heard you went to the ballet last week. I'm rather disappointed with the offerings this season, but did you have a good time anyway?"

"The costumes were quite nice," Annerose said. She wasn't really paying attention to Magdalena anymore. It was clear in her expression that her attention had drifted elsewhere, probably to her brother.

They talked further, but no matter how much Magdalena joked or tried to distract Annerose, her melancholy remained. Magdalena was undeterred, finding some small pleasure just in the attempt, but as the lunch hour crept to a close, one of the servants came out of the house and whispered in Annerose's ear. She nodded, her face twitching in a pained expression for a fraction of a second, but then she covered it up. Annerose folded her napkin and placed it on the table, smiling a false and wan smile at Magdalena.

"I'm sorry to cut your visit short, Baroness," Annerose said, all formal again, the mask slipping into place. "But His Majesty has requested my presence at the palace, so I shouldn't delay."

"Oh, that's fine," Magdalena said. Both women stood. "I can't keep you from your duties."

"Yes," Annerose agreed. They looked at each other, and Magdalena thought that there was something painful in the parting for both of them, though Annerose's pain was the greater. Magdalena, despite Annerose's formality of a moment ago, reached over and took Annerose's hand for a moment, holding her slender fingers lightly and pulling her hand to her chest, both hands clasping it in a plea.

"Trust me to take care of this, okay?" Magdalena said. "I'll make sure this won't happen again."

Perhaps sensing how genuine Magdalena was being, Annerose nodded. "Thank you," she said. But then she pulled her hand away and walked inside her house, leaving Magdalena alone in the garden, watching her go.

Magdalena became somewhat worried that she wouldn't be able to keep her promise, since she didn't know how to go about contacting this Rear Admiral Reuenthal, but the opportunity came to her sooner than she was expecting: a ball for all the officers stationed in the capital was being held. That happened on a fairly regular basis, twice a year at least. It was the kind of thing that younger daughters of families liked to get invited to, as a chance to meet men who had good careers, and for the officers to meet women who would be good, stable wives. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. Magdalena herself had never gone to one of these events; being a baroness by birth, she was far above this maddening crowd, but it was simple enough to get herself invited.

She didn't know for sure that this rear admiral would show up, but, unless the officer was already married, or himself of high enough station to not need this matchmaking assistance, it was generally frowned upon to not attend. She could be reasonably assured that Admiral Lohengramm would not be on the scene, and if he wasn't going to be there then Captain Kircheis wouldn't be around either, but Rear Admiral Reuenthal was not married, so this was the perfect opportunity to speak with him. Well, she would probably have to get him to come somewhere private with her, and then speak with him, but that, Magdalena was sure, would be no issue whatsoever.

She dressed in one of her more interesting gowns for the ball, a red dress that walked the line between "Phezzani inspired" and "downright scandalous" with how tightly the waist cinched and how low the neckline was. Magdalena thought she looked good.

The ball was taking place at a very nice hotel outside the city limits, and Magdalena drove herself there. It was somewhat unfortunate that her arrival and entrance caused heads to turn, since she was here for only one man, whom she needed to find.

The place was glittering and crowded, and Magdalena was glad for practical reasons that her dress left so much of her chest and arms bare; the air conditioning was not enough to relieve the heat of the crush of bodies. Half were dressed in the black uniform and red sash of the imperial fleet, and the other half of the guests were women, dressed gaudy like butterflies to attract attention. They hardly needed that help, Magdalena thought. They could have all been dressed in rags, and they would have had as many slavish admirers.

Magdalena took some time to get her bearings at the party, circling the room, watching the ebb and flow of people through it. There were patterns. Aside from the refreshments areas, which were populated by all and sundry, the room segregated itself by social status, which usually, though not entirely, correlated with rank. The population of the room skewed younger than the average age of fleet officers. Magdalena watched the women, seeing how so many of them hovered near the small cadre of flag officers, not quite bold enough to approach, but then were picked off by the much larger number of captains and lieutenant commanders and the like.

Magdalena watched the room, rejected several men who asked for a dance in rapid succession, and began to think that her target was not going to show up. But then she spotted him. He was further away from the flag officers' corner than she had thought that he would be, a drink held loosely in his hand as he spoke with a moustached captain, both of them looking somewhat bored. When his conversation partner stepped away for some reason, Rear Admiral Reuenthal's eyes bounced over the top of the crowd, watching couples twirl and dance in the center of the room. He had a hawk-like expression on his face, and his mouth was a bitter line.

Magdalena pushed herself through the crowd towards him. He noticed her immediately, perhaps because she was the only person in the room moving in a straight line, and quickly. He watched her approach, his expression unchanging.

"Rear Admiral Oskar von Reuenthal, correct?" Magdalena asked when she got close to him.

"I am," he said. He had a low voice. She could see up close that his eyes were two different colors. It might have disconcerted someone else, but Magdalena was undeterred. "And you are, Fraulein…?"

"Westpfale," she said. "Baroness Magdalena von Westpfale." She extended her hand, and instead of shaking it, he gave a small bow, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. Hah.

"Pleasure to meet you, Baroness," he said. "To what do I owe the honor of your acquaintance?"

"It's a dance. Ask me to dance with you."

He smirked. "Very well. Would you care to dance with me, Baroness?"

"I would," she said, taking his offered hand. "And call me Maggie. Everyone does."

"Do they?"

"Anyone who's my friend," she said. "And I believe since we have a mutual acquaintance, we should be friends."

"Oh?" he asked, placing one hand on her waist and taking her hand with the other as they stepped into the swirl of dancers on the floor. "And who would that be?"

Magdalena didn't answer for a long time, focusing on the thrum of the music and the motions of the dance, feeling Reuenthal out in the way he moved. He was controlled, coiled tight, but graceful. He was probably quite strong. He waited for her response, using the time to observe her in the same way that she observed him. She could feel his gaze, his eyes on her bare throat.

"I'm told that Admiral Lohengramm did you a favor," she said after a while. "I'm his sister's closest friend."

"Is that so?"

"You can confirm it with the admiral yourself, if you like, but I have no reason to lie to you."

"Did I imply that you were lying?"

"No," Magdalena said. "But I didn't want to give you a chance to do so."

"For someone who has such a low opinion of me, you were eager to dance."

"I wouldn't say my opinion is low, Rear Admiral. I'd simply say it has come to me through an odd route."

"Hm." He twirled her lithely under his arm. He was a good dancer. "And what route is that?"

"Through bits and pieces of a story told by many different people," she said. "Princess Amarie being the first, which tends to color things quite strongly."

His smile was tight. "Yes, I can see that."

"But I have a more open mind and nuanced view of things," she said. "And beyond that, you are a handsome, single man with a good career. It would be reprehensible of me not to dance with you."

"This event is entirely filled with single men with good careers," Reuenthal pointed out. "That is its purpose."

"Ah, but few flag officers. They're usually married."

"Yes," Reuenthal said shortly.

"Your friend, Rear Admiral Mittermeyer, he's married, isn't he?"

"Yes," Reuenthal said again. Oh, the note of something in his voice, it was delicious to Magdalena. She made a note of it.

"Who were you talking to, before I asked you to dance?"

"Captain Mecklinger," Reuenthal said. "He's one of Admiral Lohengramm's staff officers."

"Ah," Magdalena said. His tone had been even and honest— not some kind of sore point, then. That was fine. "Admiral Lohengramm himself isn't here tonight, is he?"

"He has better things to do than attend parties," Reuenthal said, indicating that he himself wished he could be elsewhere. "And being a count, he hardly has need of matchmaking."

"Oh, are you saying that I shouldn't be here tonight either?"

"You put words in my mouth, Baroness."

She stepped closer to him during the next movement in the dance, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, and close enough that the fabric of his uniform caught on the bodice of her dress, but not close enough for the feeling of pressure, of real touch. "I'm the baroness by birth," she said. "I can afford to marry whom I like. Perhaps I came here to find someone handsome, and single, and intelligent, and ambitious."

"No," he said. "I don't think you did."

"Really?"

"It's painfully obvious that you came here to find me."

"And are you not all of those things?"

"Why did Countess Grunewald send you to me?" he asked.

"She didn't," Magdalena said. "I'm here of my own volition."

"I would demand proof, if that were a thing that could be proven."

"It is, I think," Magdalena said. She did touch him, then, as the music changed to something slower. She moved against him, and her hand slunk down to the small of his back, where she traced a lazy circle. They danced in silence until the song ended, and then Reuenthal pulled his hands away from her.

"Can I get you a drink, Baroness?" he asked. "Or are you going to disappear as soon as I walk to the bar?"

"Vodka cranberry," she said by way of an answer. "I'll stand over there." She pointed to the window.

As she waited for him to return with drinks, the moustached captain, Mecklinger, walked up to her.

"Don't ask me to dance," she said, preempting him. "I'm afraid I'm not here to socialize."

"Of course not, Baroness," he said.

"Oh, you talked to him."

"Caught him on the way to the drink line. I was curious what lady was monopolizing his attention for so many dances. He said that you knew my CO, Admiral Lohengramm"

"I do," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet so many of his staff. A glimpse into his world, where usually he gets to peek into mine. Have you known the rear admiral for long?"

"Not in particular. We went to the Officers' Academy at around the same time, but I don't believe we ever spoke."

"Hunh. Well, now you're on the same staff."

"The fleet is a small world, Baroness. He's competent. That's good for Admiral Lohengramm, and that's good for the fleet."

"And do you know the other one, Rear Admiral Mittermeyer?"

"I met him for the first time the other day." Mecklinger seemed disinclined to divulge too much. "I should give you something," he said, changing the topic. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, hardbound notebook. He thumbed through it to somewhere in the middle, then ripped out a page, which he handed to Magdalena. She took it, confused, then looked at it. It was a pencil sketch, done in a very practiced hand, of herself, dancing with Reuenthal. It captured only the silhouette of her outfit, but the tension in the poses was… something. There was something erotic and strange in the way Mecklinger had drawn him touching her, in the way she was leaning her head back, and he was staring at her neck. She glanced at Mecklinger, who shrugged.

"Did he really look like this?"

"I may not have spoken to him much in the past, Baroness, but he has a reputation," Mecklinger said. His tone sounded almost like a warning. She nodded, folded the drawing, and tucked it into a hidden pocket of her dress.

"It's lovely, thank you," she said.

He inclined his head, then walked off. It only took a moment more for Reuenthal to reappear, and he handed her her drink.

"Captain Mecklinger told me that you have a reputation," she said, holding it up. "Should I be concerned about your offer to get me a drink?"

"What benefit, exactly, do you think I would get out of drugging you?"

"Oh, I don't know. What does anyone get out of it?" She smiled, then held up her glass. "Prosit!"

Reuenthal smiled as well, but there wasn't any amusement in it, and they both drank. "What kind of reputation did the captain say I had?"

"How old are you, Rear Admiral?" she asked, not answering the question.

"Twenty-eight," he said.

"Not quite too old to be shamefully unmarried, then. But close."

"My father didn't marry until he was in his forties."

"You say that as if it's a defense. Children should not want to repeat the mistakes of their father."

His lip curled up. Perhaps she had hit a sore spot. "And you, how old are you?"

"You should know better than to ask a lady that."

"If you're going to lecture me on my age—"

"Twenty-five," she said lightly, finishing her drink. "Though it would be funny to lie and say I'm seventeen, just to see what you would do."

"You don't pass for seventeen."

"Oh, you're rude," she said, but she was smiling.

"I have the sensation that you won't be deterred from whatever it is you want from me, so I have no need to be too polite."

"And what do you think I want from you, Rear Admiral?"

"You said that you're not some emissary from Countess Grunewald. I'll confess that I don't entirely believe you yet."

"I shall have to work harder to convince you of my sincerity in wanting to get to know you," she said. "Shall we dance some more?"

"As you like."

She pulled him back to the dance floor, weaving in between other couples, until they found an empty space. It was difficult to speak, with the music so energetic and being surrounded on all sides by other twirling bodies, so they didn't. Magdalena wondered if there wasn't an unspoken competition between them, to see which of them would ask to leave the dance floor first. Magdalena was not the type to back down from a challenge like that, even if it was entirely in her head, and she rather wanted to cow this man by being indefatigable.

When Magdalena had been in school, she had danced ballet. She was well practiced at dancing beyond her limits.

They only spoke once, during the long period of dancing.

"You're monopolizing my time, Baroness," Reuenthal said. "I hope you're going to make that worth my while."

"Rear Admiral, I also have a reputation to uphold," Magdalena said. "I'm surprised you didn't know that about me already."

"I don't pay much attention to the affairs of the nobility," he said. No wonder he had been standing away from the rest of the flag officers, then. She didn't think he was lying.

"Well, Rear Admiral, I shall remain as unfazed by your reputation as you remain unfazed by mine, and we shall be equals."

"No, I don't think we are," he said, which made her laugh, though his tone had been severe.

They danced. Magdalena's shoes pinched her feet, but she didn't let it bother her. In the end, neither of them ended up exhausting the other. The band at the front of the room ended their set, and there was a brief, odd minute of silence before recorded music struck up. In that gap, people began leaving the hall in droves.

"I can tell you from experience that these events become unbearably depressing if you stay too late," Reuenthal said. They were still on the dance floor, and he seemed as collected as he had been all evening, though some of Magdalena's hair was sticking to her face with sweat. The sudden clearing of the room and the cessation of dancing had made her chilled, though, and goosebumps were rising on her bare arms.

"All the people with good sense or good taste are leaving? Shame," she said. "I could have danced all night."

"I'm sure. Did you want another drink?"

"No," she said. "I want to be sober to drive."

"Oh?" he asked, annoyance flitting across his face.

She grinned and cocked her head at him. "Herr Reuenthal, I'm sure you have something more pleasant to drink at your house, anyway. But I prefer to go there in my car."

"You weren't driven here?"

"I like to drive myself." She crooked her finger at him, and he obediently followed her out through the crush of people to the cool night air. They waited for the valet to bring her car around, and she took off her shoes while she waited, bare feet getting some relief on the pavement. When her convertible pulled up in front of them, she tipped the valet, tossed her shoes in the back, and slid into the driver's seat, waiting for Reuenthal to get in next to her. He did, after only half a second of hesitation.

Magdalena reveled in the feeling of the wind in her hair, speeding down the highway, taking the long loop around the outside of the capital, her bare foot pressing hard on the accelerator and screeching on the brake as necessary. She glanced over at Reuenthal occasionally as she drove, but he seemed unbothered by her recklessness, his arm casually draped over the side of the door.

Reuenthal's house was the kind of imposing that nouveau riche and reichsritter would have called austere, but Magdalena found simply dull. At least it was in silhouette, with the moon behind it, as she pulled in through the gate and parked at the front.

Reuenthal eschewed the front door and led her around to the side, which he opened without a key (the man was asking to be robbed, she thought) and led her into a dimly lit kitchen, then on a circuitous path through the house to a drawing room. He opened the liquor cabinet and poured them both drinks before he said anything. Her cup was dangerously full when he handed it to her. They sat down on two armchairs across from each other, as though they were about to have an intellectual discussion, and not get drunk and fuck each other.

"We're alone, so you can grill me on whatever Countess Grunewald wanted to know, now," Reuenthal said, sipping his drink.

"I think you have a strange idea of who the countess is," Magdalena said. "She detests asking things of people."

"She whispers into the kaiser's ear often enough. I was under the impression that she had secured me my new post."

Magdalena bared her teeth, then. "She might ask something of him. But she would never demand anything from me."

Reuenthal raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Magdalena tried to shake off the feeling that she had revealed too much by accident. "It's the least he can do for her, anyway," she said, keeping her voice light. "It isn't as though her brother is untalented. Keeping him out of real trouble, smoothing things over, is good for the Empire."

Reuenthal's lip twitched minutely, and he hid it by taking another sip of his drink. "Indeed."

"Do you not believe he's talented?" she asked, picking at that amusement he had displayed.

"He's a tiger that everyone thinks is a housecat," Reuenthal said. "I have the greatest respect for him."

"Even though he's nine years younger than you are?"

"Him passing for seventeen has no bearing on his talents," Reuenthal said, which made Magdalena snort with laughter.

"Oh, you go ahead and call him the blond brat too. Everyone does."

"I feel no need to denigrate him like that."

"Everyone's desperate to talk about the pretty boy-admiral, though. It's the first thing anybody says about him when they mention him."

"If you wanted to sleep with him instead, his address is—"

"Ohhh, jealous. I know where he lives. Linbergstrause. With Captain Kircheis."

Reuenthal raised a silent eyebrow, then poured her another drink when she held out her empty glass to him.

"What made you go to Admiral Lohengramm for help with your problem?" she asked, blunt.

"I thought he would be able to help me."

"Sure," she said. "Clearly he was. I'm not saying you have bad judgement. I'm just wondering why you went to him. There were other people you could have asked."

"Who, in your opinion, should I have gone to?"

"Littenheim," Magdalena said. "If you want an enemy of the Braunschweigs, he's almost always ready to start a fight with them. Or it wouldn't have been unreasonable to petition Fleet Admiral Muckenburger."

"The fleet admiral's ability to govern his fleets effectively relies on him remaining a politically neutral party. This was a charged matter, and he would not have intervened."

"And Littenheim?"

"Baroness—"

"Surely, we're on a first name basis by now, Oskar?"

His face twisted. "Magdalena, then," he said. "You hardly need to be told that a commoner executing a noble, in keeping with military procedure or not, is not something that Marquis Littenheim would look kindly on, nor any of the other nobles around court."

"But Count Lohengramm…"

"A man who became a count so recently has a far different relationship to the politics of the court than everyone who has inherited their title. That's the other thing they whisper about him, isn't it?"

"That he's a status seeker?" she asked.

"Or something like it."

"He's the least of the nouveau riche I've ever seen," Magdalena said. "He rents an apartment and doesn't even own a car. He walks everywhere. It's almost shameful." She smiled a little. "It's ironic," she said with a little laugh.

"What is?"

"The court would probably welcome him more if he did put on more airs. That kind of behavior makes sense to them."

"I wouldn't be able to say."

"Of course not. You're not like them , are you?"

He glanced at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. "'Them,' Baroness?"

"Don't dismiss me as being a part of that den of vipers," she said. "I told you, you're not the only one who has made friends with certain unpopular blondes."

"And what are you getting out of your friendship with Countess Grunewald?"

"Getting? I've made myself a pariah for no reason," she said. "And I would die of shame if the countess asked some favor of the kaiser on my behalf."

"It seems to me that women are usually after something," Reuenthal said. "I find it hard to believe that you would risk your own social standing to be her friend if you thought nothing would come of it."

Magdalena scowled into her drink. "Is simple human kindness not enough reason to befriend someone in need? I don't know what you think that I could want from her."

"The winds of power are going to shift sooner or later," Reuenthal said. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were trying to tie yourself to her boat."

Magdalena blinked. "I'm not sure what winds you're talking about."

"She could bear the kaiser a son."

"No," Magdalena said, looking away. "No, she won't."

"Oh?"

Magdalena couldn't keep the emotion out of her voice when she said, "The one kindness he gives her is that one."

He made a bitter sound that might have been a laugh. "Maybe it is a kindness to not have a child."

"So, I don't know what winds of power you're talking about," she said. "When the kaiser dies…" Magdalena finished her drink again, and Reuenthal reached for it to refill without even her asking. "She will have no one but her brother and myself. It is she who will rely on me, and not the other way around."

"She's beautiful enough to find a husband, even if she is—"

"If you describe her as damaged goods, or anything of the sort, I will make you wish that you had never asked her brother for help," Magdalena said.

"Oh?"

"You don't believe me?"

"I have nothing against Countess Grunewald," he said. "But you must admit that it will be difficult for anyone to think about her without thinking of the kaiser."

"You think that doesn't go both ways?" Magdalena asked bitterly. "Annero— Countess Grunewald… I do not think she would want anyone to touch her, once the kaiser is dead." It was a bitter admission, for reasons that Magdalena was never going to explain to anyone.

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "And so you take care of her out of the kindness of your heart?"

"As Admiral Lohengramm helped you out of the kindness of his, I'm sure."

Reuenthal's mouth twisted again, this time in a frown. "He saw that I could have value to him, and Mittermeyer. He's pragmatic."

"You convinced him of that, I'm sure."

"I can be very convincing," he said, voice dipping low, signalling the end of that line of questioning.

"Is that so?" she asked. She didn't feel like she had gotten any answers out of Reuenthal, even though she had asked directly. He had brushed the polite edges of the question, things that anybody could have surmised if they looked, but he hadn't said anything that got to the real heart of why he had chosen Reinhard, and, more importantly maybe, why Reinhard had risked helping him. But if he was done talking about it, then she couldn't really continue to press the issue. Besides, she was drunk now, having downed every over-full glass he gave her faster than she really should have, and he was, too, having been drinking even faster than she was, like it was a race.

Magdalena stood, putting her empty glass down on the side table, and wandering over to the empty fireplace. She felt unsteady, and realized that she was still barefoot. She was looking at the decor on the mantle: some ugly paintings, a little statuette of a kneeling archer, a glittering chunk of rock, when Reuenthal spoke directly behind her. She hadn't even realized he had gotten up.

"I like to think that I'm convincing, anyway."

"And what are you going to convince me of, Oskar?" She turned her neck slightly, catching a glimpse of him in a decorative mirror, his profile illuminated by the dim light. He had his hands stiffly by his sides, and he was close enough to her back that she thought she could feel him, even though he wasn't touching her at all.

"Do I need to convince you of anything?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," she said. It was intended as an invitation, and he took it.

He didn't even touch her as he leaned in, first kissing the crook of her neck, then biting it, his breath hot and his teeth hard and sharp. Magdalena thought of the folded drawing in her pocket. Magdalena thought of Annerose. Magdalena thought about a lot of things as she tilted her head and hitched her breath. She reached behind herself blindly, grabbing at the sides of his jacket and tugging him closer to her. She leaned back into him, and finally his hands found her waist, sliding up and down the stiff fabric of her dress, moving aimlessly.

She tried to turn, but he held her still as he marked her neck, not that she really minded. She kicked her foot back and slid it up his leg, and eventually he released her enough so that she could turn, which she did. She grinned, then, and reached up to grab some of his neat hair, pulling his face to hers and immediately biting his lip harder than he had gone after her shoulder. He didn't make any noise, but his hands, tugging at the buttons on the back of her dress, became more insistent.

She let him go for a second to say, "It's too cold in here to fuck me on your couch. Where's your bedroom?"

It wasn't clear if he pushed her or if she pulled him, but somehow they made it fumblingly, through the dark, out of the drawing room, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom. It was even colder there than it had been in the drawing room, but at least there were blankets on the bed, Magdalena thought.

She had plenty of time to examine the room, moonlight slipping in through the window, as they divested each other of their clothing. It was practically sterile, which she would have chalked up to Reuenthal being a freak (which he clearly was), but he didn't seem the type of freak to leave the bedside alarm clock blinking with the wrong time, as though it had never been set.

It was clear that he didn't actually use this bedroom. Odd. But as she peeled off his shirt and raked her fingers down his chest, she decided she would think about that later.

He wasn't gentle, but Magdalena was capable of giving as good as she got, and it was far from the worst sex she had ever had. That was somehow true even though he seemed to barely want to touch her except for what was necessary for the mechanics of the act, his hands on her hips, nails digging into her skin, leaving gouges and divots that she could feel the echoes of when he moved his hands to new postions for better grip.

When it was over, he vanished into the bathroom for a while, and Magdalena wondered if he wasn't giving her the opportunity to get re-dressed and to creep out of his house. She was exhausted, though, and that would have been beneath her, so she didn't leave, and instead pulled the silk sheets up around herself and stared at the blinking red light of the unset alarm clock. She was half asleep by the time he returned.

"I thought you brought your car so that you could leave as soon as you had what you wanted."

She laughed, which turned into a yawn. "The annoyance of calling a taxi or my driver in the morning is enough to be worth avoiding," she said, then kicked at the blankets so that he could get into bed. "You're welcome to kick me out, of course."

"Thank you for the invitation," he said. "I don't care."

"Ohhhh," she said. "Now you have to be mean to me so that when you never speak to me again, I won't come chasing after you."

"Yes," he said. He did get into the bed, though, and he laid on his back with his eyes closed. "That's precisely it, Baroness."

He wasn't being sarcastic, but she laughed anyway.

It didn't take her too long to fall asleep after that, but she woke at one point during the night. Reuenthal was asleep. His face was lax and peaceful in a way that it hadn't been at any point while he was awake, and he was snoring lightly. She looked at him for half a second, then got up to use the bathroom, disentangling herself from the sheets as quietly as she could, so that she wouldn't wake him up.

After she had relieved herself, she was feeling too awake to go immediately back to sleep, especially in the strange master bedroom. She decided that it wouldn't hurt to indulge her curiosity while she was here, and she crept down the upstairs hallway, opening the closed doors as quietly as she could, wanting to find the bedroom that Reuenthal actually used. She passed some empty guest rooms, an office, and finally found what seemed to be it.

This bedroom, while neat and clean, had a glass of water on the bedside table, along with a photograph in a frame, and the closet door was ajar, revealing a neat row of uniforms. Magdalena stepped inside, curious as to why Reuenthal had kept her in the unused master bedroom. Curious why he himself didn't use it. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with it, and the view out both windows, looking out into the back of the house, was the same.

Her bare feet were quiet on the wood floor, and she picked up the photograph on the bedside table, tilting it so that she could see in the moonlight what it was a photograph of. She was startled, to say the least.

The photograph showed Reuenthal and Rear Admiral Mittermeyer, though they were both wearing the uniform of lieutenant commanders in the picture, so it was an old, old photo. It was the kind of photo that had clearly been taken on a timer, because Mittermeyer's hands were blurred, like he was reaching out towards the camera to adjust it. They were close together in the frame, so close that she couldn't even see what the background was, and they were smiling, a genuine smile on Reuenthal's face so unlike the one that she had seen him wear during the evening that he might as well have been a different person.

She was studying the photograph so intently, and Reuenthal moved so quietly, that she didn't notice him come up behind her until he grabbed her wrist. She yelped and dropped the photograph, and she was glad that it landed on the bed rather than the glass shattering on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Reuenthal asked. His voice was poisonous. For the first time that night, Magdalena felt like she was in real danger. Her heart was beating in her throat, and he had her wrist gripped so tightly that she was sure that he could break it, if he wanted to.

"Finding out why Admiral Lohengramm decided to help you," she said.

"And does the answer satisfy you?"

"Yes," she said.

He squeezed her wrist, a threat, then dropped it, disgusted. "Get your clothes and get the hell out of my house," he said.

Magdalena scrambled to obey.

In her car, after she had driven a few miles away from Reuenthal's house, she pulled off onto the side of the road and leaned her head back on the headrest, staring up at the cloudy, early morning sky above her. She took a few steadying breaths, feeling bitterly like she had lost the opportunity to make a real friend, and simultaneously lucky to have escaped Reuenthal's house alive.

She understood him, which would have to be enough.

Magdalena would have to tell Reinhard to be more circumspect, but she didn't think he would listen.

Author's Note

Uhhh Happy Belated Birthday Reuenthal?

This (obviously) isn't part of Wheel Inside a Wheel, but it hits on basically some of the same themes (because I am a predictable creature). I suppose this is a glimpse into an alternate universe where, instead of writing a complicated AU, I was instead writing a quasi canon-compliant novelization of the OVA. That would be a more boring universe, though lol. I just couldn't get this snippet out of my head, so I had to write it.

I think this marks half a million words of logh fanfiction published lol. Why am I like this.

Reuenthal has terrible straight sex in his parents' bedroom because he has Problems. I think that this is implied enough in the text here, but there's this other snippet I've written but haven't yet published (that is ALSO about Magdalena being generally annoying in Reuenthal's direction that makes this clearer). That's part of WIaW though, and I'm not sure when you'll actually get to see it lol. I simply am interested in having silly continuity between my different fanfictions lmao. The decorations on Reuenthal's mantle make an appearance in Speaking in Tongues/Talking Without Speaking.

I know Magdalena gets approximately five total minutes of screentime across the entire OVA and gaidens but god I love her. A chaos agent after my own heart.

I could have written the 'Magdalena tells Reinhard to be less obviously gay' conversation but I didn't think it would be that interesting haha.

Title is from the Mountain Goats song Bell Swamp Connection.

Thank you to Em for the beta read! You can find me on tumblr javert or on twitter natsinator . My original fiction is at /shadowofheaven and /arcadispark .