One Summer, Then All of This Is Gone

"Did the date for our departure for Astarte finally get set?" Kircheis asked. He was standing at the counter in their little kitchenette, slicing some cake. They hadn't wanted to discuss work matters at dinner, not when they were in the communal dining room downstairs eating with their landladies and the other tenants. Now that they were upstairs for their own dessert, they were free to talk about whatever they liked. Reinhard was seated at their table, looking out the window at the garden down below. It was the pitch dark of a late autumn evening, so he could see very little. The wind rattled past the glass, sending its cold little fingers in to raise goosebumps on Reinhard's arms, his shirtsleeves rolled up.

"Yes, finally," Reinhard said. "I've been tired of the hurry up and wait."

"That's good. The fleet has been ready to go, so at least it won't be a rush to prepare."

"We're taking a smaller fleet anyway. It would hardly require that much time, even if we were starting from nothing."

Kircheis just smiled and brought the cake over, setting down Reinhard's slice before taking his own seat. The cake was decorated with fruit, and he had given Reinhard the piece with the nicest looking strawberry on top. Reinhard didn't comment on this, but he did pull the strawberry off with his fork, delicately, and eat it first, his eyes twinkling at Kircheis, who had his own little smile, looking down at his cake.

"I'm glad to be heading back into space," Reinhard said, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head to the ceiling. "Do you think Brunhilde has missed me?"

"As much as you've missed her, Lord Reinhard," Kircheis said, which just made Reinhard laugh.

"Soon, you'll have your own flagship," he said. "You'll be a commodore after this, and then…"

"There's no need to rush it."

Reinhard sat back up straight. "You should have a rank commensurate with your talent!"

Kircheis placidly took a bite of cake. "If I have my own flagship, there would be no reason to travel on Brunhilde with you."

Reinhard, who had not considered this until just now, and was rather horrified by the reality of the idea, hated backing down even more. He frowned, even as he said, "I want people to see you as my equal, and that means having a ship of your own. I don't want to stifle you by having you always at my heels."

Kircheis tilted his head but said nothing.

"What, Kircheis?"

"It is a matter of image, then," he said. "And we could bear to be apart in order to achieve-"

"You tricked me!" Reinhard said, annoyed. "Don't do that, Kircheis." He huffed and poked at his cake. "It would be one thing to have separate flagships, because we would always be able to come home…"

"Lord Reinhard," Kircheis said, then trailed off when he saw Reinhard's scowl wasn't fading, even with his gentle voice.

"It's like you don't want to be together."

"Please don't be cruel, Lord Reinhard," Kircheis said, and his voice was pained. "You know I want more than anything for you and Lady Annerose and myself to live together. It will just take time."

Reinhard looked away from him. "The Kaiser will promote me when we get back from Astarte," he said. "He said as much, last time we spoke. I'll be a fleet admiral." His eyes danced around the walls of their apartment, taking in the cozy hearth, the worn furniture, the open door to his bedroom where he and Kircheis had spent many long and cold nights curled up together, the creaky and pitted but still warm wooden floors, the space that was theirs and theirs alone.

These were the rooms where he had formed his first alliances with strangers, with Reuenthal and Mittermeyer. These were the walls that had held whispered plans and dreams. This was where he had celebrated with Kircheis after first touring Brunhilde , after every milestone of their careers. It had been his refuge after every social snub, every brutal fleet meeting that made him want to tear his hair out. He remembered- that time he had tried to fistfight Luneburg at a party- he had come home and stomped around on this floor until Kircheis had calmed him down enough to go to bed. It was not simple military housing: it was more of a home than he had had since he was ten.

"I know you will, Lord Reinhard," Kircheis said. That snapped him out of his reverie, stopped him from picturing the ghosts of himself and Kircheis inhabiting this flat.

"I won't have any excuses left after that, will I?" He turned back to his cake.

"You ran out a while ago," Kircheis said. "But I don't know if anyone will be able to ignore it anymore, not when you'll be the most celebrated admiral in the fleet."

Reinhard opened his mouth to try to change the angle of the conversation, but before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door to their flat. He glanced at Kircheis, whose face smoothed over into an expressionless mask. Kircheis stood up to get the door.

One of their landladies was standing there when Kircheis opened it. "Oh, Herr Red," she said in her lighthearted way, "there's a gentleman here asking after Herr Yellow."

"Who is it?" Reinhard asked, leaning back in his chair so that the landlady could see him past Kircheis.

"A Herr Crawley," she said. "He says he's your solicitor."

This disrupted even Kircheis's placidity. "Show him up, please," he said. The landlady nodded and headed back downstairs. "You weren't expecting him, were you?"

"I'd have told you if I was," Reinhard said.

They didn't have very much time to speculate about what it was that Matthew wanted, because he appeared at their door just a moment later, hat in hand, looking as desperate as a man could look. His hair was swept back from his face in the peaky way that hair got when one combed their fingers through it over and over. His face was drawn.

Reinhard stood to greet him, and Kircheis let him in the apartment and shut the door behind him without a word.

"Herr Crawley," Reinhard said, "I won't waste your time by pretending you haven't come on urgent business. Please, sit."

"Thank you, Count Lohengramm," Matthew said. He took the offered chair at the dining table. "I wasn't sure where else to go."

Kircheis went into the kitchen and put on water for tea, but while he waited for it to boil, he stood in the doorway to listen to Reinhard's conversation.

"I assume this visit is not on your business as my solicitor," Reinhard said.

"I'm afraid I've come to ask a favor. I'm sorry for barging in on you at home, but-"

"It's the kind of thing that can't be spoken of on the phone?"

Matthew nodded.

"This apartment is secure," Kircheis said from the kitchen doorway. "You can speak freely."

Matthew nodded, unsurprised. Still, it took him a moment to speak. When he did, his voice was rough, though steady. "My cousin, Lady Sybil, and one of the staff from Lord Grantham's house, a man by the name of Tom Branson, have both disappeared."

Reinhard balled his hands into fists under the table. "Taken by the police?" he asked, voice cold.

"No," Matthew said. "I don't think so, anyway." His brow was furrowed. "Some money was taken from one of Lord Grantham's accounts a few days before they left, a lot of it. It looks much more like she ran away with him. I suspect she's already on a ship bound for Phezzan."

"To be young and in love," Kircheis said from the kitchen. Although his voice was light, trying to relax Matthew, Reinhard caught something else in it. The kettle had finished boiling. He brought over a mug of tea and a slice of cake for Matthew. He didn't sit down, and he met Reinhard's eye. "I'm sure you remember- Baroness Westpfale had mentioned that Lady Sybil had a secret suitor."

"If that were all it was, I feel like she would have said something to her sisters, at least," Matthew said. "I have the horrible feeling that it's something else."

"Like what?" Reinhard asked.

"Lord Grantham is worried that Lady Sybil has been kidnapped, or is going to be used as a hostage. He's convinced of it. He thinks Branson must have been the terrorist who brought the police to the door."

"I assume he wouldn't even entertain the notion of Lady Sybil eloping with a servant," Reinhard said.

Matthew barked out a laugh. "No."

"But Lord Grantham hasn't convinced you of his belief?"

Matthew shook his head. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but was hesitant for some reason. "I convinced Lord Grantham to hold off on speaking to the police about this."

Kircheis turned and vanished into his bedroom.

"Why is that?"

"Lady Sybil could be said to have legitimate reason to go to Phezzan," Matthew finally said. "She has a grandmother there, and some other relatives. For a worldly young woman whose father has decided that she can't stay on Odin, it's not unreasonable for her to leave the country. But if attention is drawn to it, especially to her leaving without her father's blessing- the police might assume that she and Branson are running for other reasons."

"And what do you think, Herr Crawley?" Reinhard asked. He looked him in the eye.

"All I know is that Lord Grantham is desperate to bring his daughter home, and I don't think he realizes that his desperation could cause her to end up-" He cut himself off.

Kircheis returned. He held a brown envelope full of papers and he laid it down on the table in front of Matthew.

"I thought you were going to get rid of those," Reinhard said.

"I hadn't finished reading them," Kircheis said.

Matthew picked up the papers and flipped through them, his face growing pale as his suspicions were confirmed. "These were Lady Sybil's?"

"No," Kircheis said. "They were Herr Branson's. But Lady Sybil knew all about them, and knew to warn Herr Branson about the police."

Matthew was silent as his eyes scanned the top lines of the papers one by one.

"I don't believe Lord Grantham needs to know about this," Kircheis said, after giving him a moment to process their contents.

"No, of course not," Matthew said. He dropped the papers back down to the table like they were alive and malicious. "I never did thank you for your assistance, the other night."

"It was no trouble," Reinhard said. "I suggest that you try very hard to convince Lord Grantham that Lady Sybil is eloping, and mention none of this to him. If you need help convincing him of that, Baroness Westpfale would be happy to supply the evidence."

"If he is convinced of that, I'm not sure what I could do to stop him from contacting the police and trying to have her dragged back," Matthew said. "That's why I came to you."

"Please, go on, Herr Crawley," Kircheis said. He collected the papers and folded his hands over them.

"I hate to ask such a favor, but you're the only one-" He collected himself. "Admiral Lohengramm, Lord Grantham and I would be eternally in your debt if you could find Lady Sybil and bring her back home, without alerting the police. You have a ship of your own, a fast one. You're the only person who could stop her before she reaches Phezzan."

This was a major imposition. Reinhard's brow furrowed, thinking of the dispatch that his whole fleet was about to embark on. "I-"

"What if we find her, and she doesn't want to come back?" Kircheis asked. "I haven't spoken to her much, but Lady Sybil seems like a woman who knows her own mind. If she's left of her own volition, I doubt she would be eager to return."

"I know," Matthew said. "I can't ask you to drag her, kicking and screaming." He ran his hand through his hair again. "If I can show Lord Grantham she's alright, at least, that would be enough to keep things from getting out of hand."

Reinhard looked at Kircheis, their eyes meeting across the table. What did he see there? Kircheis gave him no indication of what he should do, his face totally still. But even so, Reinhard knew what Kircheis wanted from him. "Alright," Reinhard said. "If we can find what merchant freighter she boarded, we'll go after her before she makes it to Phezzan."

Matthew's posture changed in immediate relief: he smiled and his shoulders lost their tension. "Thank you," he said. "I can't express how grateful I am." He was an earnest man, in his tone and bearing- this softened Reinhard's annoyance somewhat.

"Finding which ship she's on may be more difficult than catching it," Reinhard said. "Kircheis-"

"You remember the man on Phezzan who helped us when we were chasing-" Kircheis asked, and then fell silent, since the details of that military mission remained secret, even long after the fact.

"Muller?" Reinhard asked.

"Yes," Kircheis said. "He might be able to get ahold of the passenger manifests as part of his official business, without alerting anyone that he's looking for it."

"Good," Reinhard said. "I'll get in contact with him tonight. I'll owe him, if he is able to do that."

"We'll worry about that later," Kircheis said.

Despite everything, it remained a pleasure to be back on board the Brunhilde . The crew of the ship were well trained to ask no questions about the nature of Reinhard's personal business. When the Kaiser had granted him the ship, he had also been granted the right to take her wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased, when he was not on the course of official work.

The Brunhilde was a slick ship, slipping through space with her well tuned engine. Even far from any star, under her own running lights, she glowed against the velvet blackness of space. Her white paint stood out, both when she was in port and when she was among the rest of his fleet. A more cowardly commander might have balked at having a flagship that announced herself so loudly, made herself such an easy target, but Reinhard was not that kind of man. If he was only allowed one vanity, it would have been in that ship.

Today, there was no fleet for the Brunhilde to stand out from: she was alone in space, stalking her helpless pray like a mountain lion stalked a deer. Muller, one of the Imperial attaches to Phezzan, had indeed been able to provide Reinhard with the name of the ship that Lady Sybil had boarded, and from there there it was a simple matter to chase the ship down. They would be coming up to the other ship soon: less than an hour, according to the navigator.

They were lucky that Lady Sybil only had a day's headstart. If they had needed to chase her all the way to Phezzan, it would have taken far too long. This jaunt would only take them about three days, to the ship and back. The Brunhilde was faster than any merchant vessel in the universe.

Reinhard sat in his customary place on the bridge, Kircheis standing at his side.

"You're in a better mood than you were when we left," Kircheis observed, leaning down to Reinhard's shoulder. Although he could speak freely when standing on the command dais, they both enjoyed the closeness of him leaning in. There was no need for him to whisper because there was no chance of being overheard, despite Reinhard's bridge crew at their consoles all around. There was a wall of modulated air that surrounded the admiral's chair and stopped any sound from escaping onto the rest of the bridge. It always felt strange to walk through, like an invisible, humming wall of static that raised every hair on the body.

"Am I?" Reinhard asked. He reached up to tug on a lock of Kircheis's red hair. "I hadn't noticed."

Kircheis just smiled. "You like being in space."

"And if I do?" Kircheis was right, of course. It wasn't truly an escape from the strictures of Odin, to be out here on his ship, but it was as much of his own world as it could be. When he had first been given his own command, there had been a part of him, tiny though it was, that was tempted to take the ship and fly it as far from the Empire as he could get. But even with the freedom a ship afforded, he was tied to the Kaiser by his sister.

"I'm just happy that doing a favor isn't making you resentful," Kircheis teased.

"Lady Sybil is a pleasant woman," Reinhard said, only grumbling a little. "I have no objections to making sure she's safe."

"We'll be within hailing range in a few minutes."

"Do you think we'll be able to convince her to come back?"

"Would you be convinced, if you had decided to leave?"

Kircheis always managed to echo his own thoughts back to him. "I never would have decided to leave Annerose," Reinhard said. Unspoken and bitter was the understanding that Reinhard would have spirited her away, given any fraction of a chance. But he had been a ten year old child when she was taken from him, and now all the power in the universe couldn't rescue her from the Kaiser's web. Not alive, anyway. "But no," Reinhard said finally, answering Kircheis's question. "I wouldn't change my mind."

"It's a brave thing, for a woman to leave her family like that," Kircheis said.

Together, they watched the action on the bridge, the navigator standing to alert the Brunhilde 's captain that the merchant ship had appeared on their sensors. Captain Steinmetz looked towards Reinhard for permission to hail the ship, and Reinhard gave it, dropping the privacy shield around the command dais so that he could listen to what the captain said. It was quite amusing to listen to him very carefully phrase the hail to the merchant vessel in such a way that it implied, but did not state, that Reinhard and the Brunhilde were on His Majesty's fleet business and requiring the merchant ship to come to.

"Merchant vessel Swan Lake ," Captain Steinmetz said. "This is Captain Steinmetz of the fleet vessel Brunhilde , under the command of His Excellency Admiral Lohengramm. Halt and come to."

The ship came to a stop relative to the Brunhilde , and there was a long and tedious radio conversation that followed, during which Captain Steinmetz explained Reinhard's urgent need to speak with two of the passengers. Reinhard had one of the Brunhilde 's shuttles sent over to retrieve Sybil and Tom, but they refused to leave the merchant ship and board the shuttle.

Reinhard got on the radio himself, then. "Lady Sybil, you have my word that I have no intention of kidnapping you. You may return to the Swan Lake if you choose."

There must have been enough sincerity in Reinhard's voice that Sybil was convinced, and she and Tom took the shuttle to the Brunhilde without much further argument. There wasn't much that they could say over the radio.

Reinhard did not greet Sybil and Tom in the landing area, but sent Kircheis to do so, and to bring them his personal quarters to speak. When Sybil finally arrived, her eyes were wide, and she was craning her neck to look at every detail of Reinhard's ship. The man following behind her, Tom, was far less impressed, and his shoulders were hunched in a defensive, suspicious way.

"Lady Sybil, I did say that you could have a tour of the Brunhilde , didn't I?" Reinhard asked, mildly amused as she entered his quarters. His suite was spacious and elegant, more akin to the Grantham house on Odin than it was to the flat he shared with Kircheis. There were couches set before a large plate window, one that looked out over the shining aft of the ship. Out the window, the dark and clumsy bulk of the merchant freighter Swan Lake could be clearly seen. Reinhard had chosen to talk in his quarters for this reason: it would certainly relax Sybil and Tom to know that their passage to Phezzan was not slipping away as they spoke.

Tom's eyes settled on the ship out the window as he walked in, and, though he didn't unclench his jaw, he met Reinhard's eyes with more of a look of respect than the bitter squint he had been wearing when he first entered the door.

Sybil smiled at Reihard's comment. "You did say that," she said. "The universe must have a funny way of making you keep your promises."

Reinhard walked over to greet them. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Herr Branson." Reinhard offered his hand. Tom hesitated for a moment before shaking it, but he did after a glance at Sybil.

"I'm sure it's an honor for me, Count Lohengramm," Tom said, only a hint of bitter humor in his voice. "Lady Sybil's confidence that you would not break your word and have me arrested speaks highly of you."

Reinhard inclined his head, then released Tom's hand. "Being known as a man who keeps his word is worth more than any title. Please, sit." He gestured at the couches, Kircheis already taking a seat on one. "I don't want to waste anyone's time: merchant ships have their schedules, and I have business on Odin."

Sybil and Tom sat down next to each other on one couch, and Reinhard settled next to Kircheis. He studied the way they sat: close, not touching, but still taking some kind of comfort from the presence of the other.

"I assume my father sent you here to fetch me back," Sybil said after a moment.

"That is what we are here to do, though it was your cousin who asked this favor of me. I believe your father doesn't want much to do with me or my staff, at the moment."

Sybil frowned, but smoothed the expression over. "I'm sorry that Cousin Matthew has made you go out of your way. There was no need."

"Lady Sybil," Kircheis said, "your family only wants the best for you."

This unexpectedly touched a nerve. "My family does not know what that is," Sybil said. "My father's idea of a person's best interests sometimes happens to look startlingly like his own."

Kircheis offered her a gentle smile. "I understand. But your family asked Lord Reinhard to find you because they were terrified that the worst had happened."

"And what is the worst that they thought might have happened, Captain Kircheis?" Tom asked.

"I don't think anyone needs to hear harsh words, which we might have, if any of your family had come to convince you to return home," Kircheis said. "Their concern is genuine, and that's all that needs to be said."

"You can tell them that I'm in no danger, from Tom or from anything else."

"I don't think that's true," Reinhard said. "You are very lucky that your noble privilege and your family on Phezzan have made it so that you were able to flee the country without attracting attention. You're lucky indeed that your cousin was able to forestall your father contacting the police. He might yet, if I don't bring you back with me. I don't think you need me to explain how dangerous that is."

"But we would be safe on Phezzan-" Sybil began, looking at Tom for confirmation. He nodded, with much more confidence in the motion than he deserved.

"Perhaps," Reinhard said. "It's not likely that you are valued highly enough that resources would be expended to catch you. But even if you weren't chased to Phezzan, if the police were on the lookout for you, you would not be allowed to return home."

"I don't need to go back to Odin," Tom said.

But Sybil's face was drawn. "Never?"

"Not until the world changes," Kircheis said.

"Lady Sybil hasn't done anything wrong," Tom said. "Even if I had to stay, she could go back."

"She's fled the country in the company of someone implicated in terrorism," Reinhard said. When Tom opened his mouth to protest, Reinhard held up his hand. "Please do not waste my time by lying, Herr Branson. Even if I did not know the truth- the truth, or even the presumption of innocence and a necessity to prove guilt, has ever been a high priority of His Majesty's secret police."

"What is going to happen?" Sybil asked.

"If you return to Odin with me on board the Brunhilde , likely nothing. If you go to Phezzan and live with your family there, and cause no trouble that would be noticed by the Imperial Embassy, maybe you would be able to return home. If you cannot do that-"

"And what about Tom?" Sybil asked.

"You are associated with him," Kircheis said. "Anything that he is seen doing may end up reflecting on you, just as his associations on Odin reflected on your family." As Kircheis said this, Tom looked straight ahead.

"May I ask what you were intending to do, upon reaching Phezzan?" Reinhard asked.

The pair of runaways looked at each other. "We were going to figure that out once we got there," Sybil said. "I think it will depend on what my grandmama says. If she'd let me stay with her, that would be the easiest thing."

"And Herr Branson?"

"I wouldn't want to leave Lady Sybil," he said. The tone in his voice was odd. "I have a responsibility for dragging her halfway across the galaxy." Sybil looked at him and smiled, which cracked his stony expression, at least momentarily. "But I doubt Mrs. Levinson would be happy with me coming by," he said. "Or with Lady Sybil's choices, generally."

"She might be," Sybil said. "She's-"

"Phezzani?" Kircheis offered with a particular amused tone and tilt of his head.

"Yes," Sybil said.

"That may be so," Reinhard said. "But if your mother is crying out for her daughter to return home, I doubt your grandmother would be willing to keep you."

"I won't go back until I decide to, regardless of what my family thinks," Sybil said, stiff and assured. "They can come to Phezzan."

"They might," Kircheis said. "And what will you tell them about running away with a servant?"

She looked at Tom, flushed, and looked away. "They don't need me to tell them anything. Tom is a free man. He can travel to Phezzan if he wishes."

"Lady Sybil," Kircheis said, gently, "I understand how you feel. But-" In a startling moment, Kircheis broke off and looked away. Reinhard gave him a sharp glance, concerned. Kircheis, feeling his gaze, elaborated. "I, too, followed someone away from my family. Because of that, I have seen my parents just once, in nine years. I understand why you feel the way you do, but the harder you push your parents away…" He looked back at Sybil. "They do love you, in their way." But then he hardened his voice, and his gaze flicked to Reinhard. "But you make the choices you can live with, for yourself."

Reinhard smiled back, but to take the pressure off of Kircheis in his confessional moment, he turned to Tom. "And you, Herr Branson, what do you intend to do?"

"It's difficult to answer that question in a place like this," he said, his glance around encompassing all of the Brunhilde , Reinhard and Kircheis in their uniforms, and even Lady Sybil.

"Then let me give you a word of advice," Reinhard said.

"Please." Though he didn't sound like he wanted it in the least.

Reinhard's voice was cold and hard. "Remain on Phezzan," he said. "You may think you will find kindred spirits in the rebel territories, but don't be naive and blindly chase them. It will be safer for you to stay on Phezzan."

"Why?" Sybil asked, leaning forward.

"The only reason that the rebel territories continue to exist is that no one within the Empire has had the will to commit to destroying them," Reinhard said. "And, besides that, their government is grossly mismanaged." He looked directly at Tom. "You won't find a brilliant cadre of utopian socialists. You'll find a shambling bureaucracy that is only holding itself up through inertia. When they're pressed hard enough, they'll crumble."

Tom had tensed in barely restrained anger during this pronouncement, but Sybil spoke next. "And you think that Phezzan will be safe?"

"Phezzan is valuable," Reinhard said, voice clipped. "I don't think its government- whatever little of it there is- is worth much, but its position in the corridor is, as is the amount of control it exerts on the galaxy's finances. People will go to great lengths to make sure all of that remains intact, no matter what comes."

"It's easy for someone with noble privilege and the Kaiser's favor to say that a government that wouldn't give you those things is a failure," Tom said, still hung up on Reinhard's dismissal of the Free Planets Alliance.

"Herr Branson-" Kircheis began, but Reinhard held up his hand.

"Noble privilege?" Reinhard asked. Annerose's face flashed to the forefront of his mind. He bit back everything he might have said. There was no sense in telling Tom that he would have run to the Free Planets Alliance himself if he could have to save Annerose, and he had no desire to explain Annerose's suffering to someone who did not want to understand it. "Everything I have has been more than paid for," Reinhard said. "And I despise any system which allows power to collect in the hands of those who are not fit to carry it."

"But you don't hate having power over others, do you?" Tom asked, unable to let go.

"Tom," Sybil said, but he ignored her.

"It's human nature, Herr Branson. Humanity will always require leadership- but the leaders must have the strength to lead, not just the charm to get elected, or the fortune of being born someone's son." He looked at Tom and offered an olive branch. "But perhaps Ale Heinessen will be vindicated in the end: the Goldenbaum dynasty will not last forever."

"And what do you think will replace it?" Tom asked. He was still bitter, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"That's a difficult question to answer in a place like this," Reinhard said, repeating Tom's words back to him. "But the times are changing."

"I hope you're right," Sybil said. Reinhard just inclined his head at her. Her father's alliance with Duke Braunschweig made it difficult for her wishes to be genuine.

"Kaiser Rudolph also changed the universe," Tom pointed out. "Forgive me for hoping that whatever change comes will be for the better, rather than for the worse."

"If you want to shape the Empire in your image, you should stay there and do it," Reinhard said. "I'll happily take you back to Odin."

"And I'll end up dead, and it will never concern you again."

"I have no more love in my heart for the military police and their duties than you do, I can assure you," Reinhard said. "But if you do not want to return to Odin, then very well. I wish you the best of luck on Phezzan."

"Or in the Free Planets Alliance," Tom said.

"As you like," Reinhard said.

But Sybil frowned. "Do you really want to go there so badly?" she asked.

"We can figure it out on the way." He looked at Reinhard and Kircheis, and Sybil was forced to nod. "Either way, we're going to Phezzan."

"We can't convince you to return home to your family?" Kircheis asked Sybil.

"I'm afraid you haven't tried too hard, Captain Kircheis," Sybil said. "But even if you had… no."

Reinhard just nodded.

Sybil reached inside the pocket of her dress, hesitated, then pulled out an envelope. She handed it to Reinhard, who took it. The envelope was addressed in Sybil's gracious script. "That's for my family," she said. "I wrote it before I left, but then I thought if anyone found it, they might try to stop me from leaving. Could you give it to them?"

"I think your cousin will be the one to ultimately deliver it," Reinhard said. "But I'll make sure it ends up in his hands."

A hint of a frown passed over Sybil's face. "I hope my mother and sisters aren't already on the way home before you get back."

"This letter says things you want them to remember you by?" Kircheis asked. He took the envelope out of Reinhard's hand.

Sybil opened her mouth, closed it again, then nodded. Kircheis smiled and put the letter down on the coffee table. "I suppose I won't see them for a long time," she said, very melancholy.

"Nobody knows the future," Kircheis said. "The civil war may be over sooner than you think, and after that, you may be able to return to Odin without fear.

"How long do you think it will be?" Sybil asked.

"I don't know," Kircheis admitted. "But I'm looking forward to that day, I'm sure as much as you are."

Tom's brow furrowed. "What exactly are you looking forward to, Captain Kircheis?"

Kircheis's smile was placid. "The same thing Lady Sybil is: returning home to the people I love."

It was a bittersweet pronouncement: there was the admission that they would be living apart for some time, but after the civil war, Annerose would be free, and the three of them could live together. Reinhard pushed the fantasy out of his mind, keeping his eyes on the pair before him. Indulging in that kind of fantasy was best suited for when he and Kircheis were alone.

"I doubt there will be a season again until then," Sybil said. "I suppose I'm in no rush to return to Odin, at least."

"There will likely never be a season like this again," Reinhard said. "I think the old ways are done. And that's for the better."

Sybil's face twisted. "Is it?"

"You seem to have more love for the nobility that I do," Reinhard said, casting an amused look at Tom, who scowled.

"No, I-" She hesitated for a second. "It's just the only world I've ever known."

"That doesn't make it a good one," Reinhard pointed out.

Sybil was silent for a moment, then said, "That's true." She steeled herself. "I am going to Phezzan, anyway."

"Well, if we have done our due diligence in trying to convince you to return to Odin today, and have failed, then we shouldn't hold the Swan Lake from her course any longer," Reinhard said, looking out the window at the waiting merchant vessel. He stood. Everyone else followed him up. He offered his hand to Tom, who shook it again. "I don't have many connections on Phezzan that I can offer to aid you with," Reinhard admitted. He was tempted to tell Tom of the deserter that he knew in the rebel territories, but he decided that he likely would have changed his name and been impossible to find. "But if we find ourselves in the same place again-"

"Thank you," Tom said.

"Lady Sybil, I hope you find what you're looking for on Phezzan," Reinhard said.

"I will," she said. "Thank you for not dragging me back to my family by force."

"I'm not that kind of man, though your family might like me better if I was."

"I know," Sybil said. "Count Lohengramm-"

Reinhard cocked his head at her.

"You stay safe, too."

Reinhard just laughed. "I don't think I need to worry," he said. "Kircheis makes sure of that."

Sybil looked at Kircheis, who smiles, his eyes crinkling up. "I hope you're right," she said.

"Have a safe trip to Phezzan, Lady Sybil," Kircheis said.

Author's Note

sowwy that this chapter took so long. everyone go wish ao3 user smithens a happy belated birthday 3

tom's incoherent politics vs reinhard's simply bad politics: fight! it's funny because they agree on plenty (the goldenbaums and the system of nobility sucks, maybe you shouldn't have a secret police that snatches dissidents off to labor camps, etc) but they're both also. you know. the wishiest washiest socialist vs mr i can be a benevolent dictator, rip to rudolph but i'm different, etc.

the old world is dying / the new world struggles to be born / now is the time of monsters

i, too, am capable of taking the kircheis knife and twisting it :p

you can assume that tom and sybil make it safely to phezzan. what happens to them after that is an exercise for the reader's imagination.

next chapter ties up our final lingering plot point: thomas and the duke. oh and robert being pissy that reinhard let his daughter elope (or whatever) without even trying to get her back. but who cares about that lmao. i think this story will also have a short epilogue, and possibly a spinoff short story about richard ellis and annerose :3c the kaiser's valet and the kaiser's, uh, favorite probably see a lot of each other.

anyway thank you for reading! socials: i'm on tumblr javert , on twitter natsinator , i finally got around to updating my carrd gayspaceopera. carrd. co , and you can join my discord discord. gg/2fu49B28nu