Winter Wedding

And with a little help from above

You feel the power of love

~ Huey Lewis

Chapter 1

There is no passion of the human heart that promises so much and pays so little as revenge. ~ Henry Wheeler Shaw

The departure from Holfort had been full of pomp and ceremony. Professions of friendship between the nations had been made by both Hertrude and by King Roland. She suspected that the king believed them as little as she did, but he'd at least made an effort to pretend otherwise.

She'd still washed her hands thoroughly as soon as she was in private aboard the ship Count Garrett had brought to collect her. Holfort's kiss on the back of her hand had been an itch that required soap and water to get off.

And after that, with the continent still in plain view out the aft windows of her cabin, the Count had requested her time.

Not really a surprise, and while she could technically decline, it wasn't really a request. She'd been away for months and Garrett was probably twitchy about that. After all, she'd had some freedom away from him and his careful shepherding. It was likely that he was wondering just what she might have been doing - or worse, thinking - with that time.

"Of course, please show the Count in," Hertrude told the maid.

Immaculately dressed and coiffed, his precious moustache actually waxed, Count Garrett bowed sweepingly to her once he was admitted. "Your highness, it warms my heart to see you returning to us."

"You have no idea how welcome a sight you are," she reassured him and took a seat at the table. "Please sit down. I didn't realise until I was here how hard it would be to have so few people around me that I could trust."

"Your bravery does you credit." The man sat opposite her and tea was served. "Allow me to reassure you that we have faced no new disasters in your absence. And as of our own departure, your sister has suffered no misfortunes in her extended tour of the outlying counts and viscounts." Garrett twirled one of his moustaches.

"I'm pleased to hear that."

"I must enquire, your highness. Is there news of your family's treasures?"

"More than I had feared, but far less than I had hoped." Hertrude indicated the casket, laid out with her other belongings. She'd hidden the copy of the treaty away but the flutes she would have to admit to. No doubt much of her possessions had already been checked by Garret's agents. "They were indeed within Holfort, but not in the hands of the crown."

"May I…?" the count asked, lowering his hand from his moustache.

The princess shrugged. "If you must. Holfort's Ministry of Magic was close to acquiring them, and just ensuring that they didn't learn that they had been taken from us was not easy." If you counted not giving it away to Marquis Frampton as difficult. Then again, Leon seemed to have close ties to the Department of Magical Tools, so it was possible that the current Minister of Magic knew far less about what was going on than he believed.

Garret pushed back his chair, went to the casket and opened it. The sharp breath was perhaps the first unfeigned reaction she had seen from him today, Hertrude thought coldly. "Destroyed? Both of them?"

"I was able to piece them together in form, but not in function. Unless one was able to create such items I am reluctantly confident that this is all of both." She steepled her fingers. "We have lost our key weapon against Holfort, which leaves us the bluff… the small consolation that Holfort has not gained them for their own use, and a few other small trifles I was able to obtain."

The count returned to the table. "The arm that Marquis Frampton presented to you. I confess that I did not expect him to have such influence, but unfortunately it does not redress our loss, your highness."

"I am painfully aware of that." Having sipped from her tea, she placed the tea cup on its saucer just barely too late to hide a tremble marking high emotion. "Armed thus, a knight might win battles for us, but the flutes could have won us the war." She paused, letting him see her gather herself. "Holfort is weaker than it has been since our secession from it… I could have my revenge now, but my best weapons were stolen and destroyed!"

"It is a painful reality," Garrett conceded. "It would seem then that we are faced by three possible choices."

We. Not you.

How many times had he slid that past her?

"We could ignore the opportunity," she forced herself to say reluctantly. "Hope to grow stronger while Holfort slides further into degeneracy."

"Unfortunately, having weathered a storm, one is likely to take precautions against another." Garrett toyed with his moustache again. "If the Holforts survive, they will forge a new alliance of lords to stabilise their position. They have done so before."

"I must agree. Their next generation are not all as dissolute as their parents." Hertrude shook her head. "Our second option is to take Frampton's offer. If he is dealing in good faith, we could expand considerably - take the lands of the Field, Seberg, Olfrey… Bartford now, and the petty lordships around them. But to assume a traitor can be trusted…"

Garrett smiled. "I see you are wiser than that."

"He has a dark mage in the ministry," she warned him.

The count's eyes widened slightly. "Has he now?" While Fanoss was divided from Holfort, they did revere adventurers as a tradition. And the saintess' exploits were still repeated - if with a caution that she surely had been less fond of Holfort than the kingdom claimed.

"He does. A captive in the Ministry of Magic, but one who is co-operative to some extent. One reason I avoided visiting the place. From what I gather, long term control requires that the mage have frequent access or I would trust no one I took with me to Holfort. But as a tool - and one that can be taught to others..."

"Not as easy as it may sound." Garrett sounded thoughtful. "I agree that in the long term, this brands the good marquis as no one we can trust, but it does at least suggest one means by which he might live up to his promises in the shorter term: replacing Count Ascart at foreign affairs and sending his rivals into battle against us."

Hertrude nodded. "The good news is that my sources both informed me that the dark mage himself is a thief and a conman, not some legendary mage. A bare trace of magical talent that he can use judiciously to good effect but not a power in and of himself."

"I stand relieved. Still, we must assume that once he has brought down his rivals then Frampton will seek a more favourable bargain to himself."

"Agreed. Which leaves us the third option, the one I would have favoured without question six months ago."

"Play along with Frampton until we can strike for the jugular of Holfort," the count agreed.

"If we had the flutes," she said a little bitterly. "But without them, I suspect we would over-reach ourselves. The Holforts themselves would fall, but some other more vigorous dynasty would rally Holfort's numbers against us."

"Perhaps not." Garrett smiled, baring his teeth. "Your highness, I would like to introduce you to a young lady that we met on our way to retrieve you."

"Oh?"

A message was sent and a few moments later, Hertrude was looking at a neatly but cleanly dressed young woman - perhaps her own age and with coarse black hair cut at a similar length to her own. "Greetings your highness," the girl said with a clumsy curtsey.

"Greetings, Miss…"

"Sarah," Garrett introduced her. "Is also a victim of Holfort's crimes and corruption, your highness. A child taken from her family, who found refuge from the tyrants in a border barony. Alas, she was recently driven from it by fire and the sword."

"How terrible." Hertrude hid a frown. One of the many conflicts raised over the legitimacy of various lords? But why was Garrett strutting like he had accomplished some coup?

"I don't mind much," Sarah told her, with an innocent smile on her lips. Her fringe parted and Hertrude met her eyes, a cold chill going down her spine. "Struggling is what makes us strong, your highness."

"Miss Sarah possesses a prodigious talent for magic," the count declared. "And the nature of her mistreatment has led it into a… shall we say, unconventional direction? One that makes her a powerful ally for us against Holfort."

The afternoon shadows seemed to shift behind Sarah, though the princess doubted that the girl was actively doing anything. It was simply that they danced for her attention. "You are a dark mage?" she said with certainty.

"Yes, your highness." Sarah's eyes were without guile or even the slightest guilt. "You want to destroy the kingdom, and I will be ever so happy to help you!"

"Bartford."

Leon didn't have to leave in time to get out to the family barony or county this winter - his parents had decided to spend the holiday in the capital for once. Ruth had never done that before but with Zola out of the way they'd decided to enjoy a few weeks of warmer weather and oversee refurbishing the Bartford house in the capital to a less lavish style than the woman had demanded. It wasn't as if either of Leon's parents planned to live there full time but for a count it made sense to have a permanent residence so selling it would be a mistake.

As a result, Leon was free to stay at the academy and study for the next term. While he didn't have to stay in the top twelve to keep his place on the student council, slipping too far could lead to problems and he couldn't exactly count on practical magic to keep his grades up.

Besides, what was he going to do all alone in the family mansion until they arrived? Throw wild parties? As if.

"You managed to identify me," he greeted Prince Julius. "And on your first attempt. Do I really look so much more identifiable now that your nose isn't on the way?"

"I never looked down on you," the dark-blue haired young man protested.

"I really doubt you even knew my name until the end of last term." Leon put his book aside. "Take a seat, your highness. What do you want?"

Julius pulled back the chair across the table, reversed it and sat down. "I always wanted to try sitting like this," he confided. "But Angelica said it wasn't proper."

"And because she said it, the people with actual authority over you didn't have to tell you that. Seems like she caught a lot of blame for other people." Leon leant back slightly, "But for what it's worth, I don't care how you sit on a chair."

"Thank you. And don't feel like you have to call me 'your highness', it just gets in the way."

"Let's not get crazy here, Julius."

That got him a grin. "Look, you're an adventurer. And a good one."

Leon gave him a piercing look. "You're buttering me up. What is it?"

"Why are you so suspicious?"

"I have a well honed sense for when someone wants something and doesn't think I'll give it willingly. That's why Lafan has so little of my cash in her pockets."

Julius sighed. "Look, Marie has a lead on an island that she thinks there could be considerable treasure hidden away on. We won't know for sure without going there, but as far as any of us can tell, no one has ever been there and reported it, so there's a chance."

"Good for her. What's that got to do with me?"

"I'd have thought you'd be interested in treasures, Bartford. You lost your knight-armours rescuing Lord Claes, so this is your chance to make the money to get a new one. Given your experience, I'm inviting you along as co-leader with me."

"Co-leader?"

Julius nodded eagerly.

Biting back his exact opinion of that idea, Leon asked instead: "And do you have a ship set up?"

"Well, not yet. I mean, if you're along then you already have one."

"Aha. Okay, that's a good plan but it has two critical flaws," the count's son warned in a reasonable tone.

"Like what?" the prince asked.

"I'd be missing Prince Ian's wedding, which is also my mother's first meeting with the young lady I'm courting -"

"Congratulations, by the way."

"It's early days yet, there's ample time for her to realise she can do much better," Leon told him. "But my final point is that you have zero clue what you're doing and what you're describing is you leeching off my ship and my experience while still having the authority to get us into trouble. So have fun but I'm not going near this little project of Lafan's."

Julius did an amazing impersonation of a kicked puppy. "But…"

"A ship has but one captain, Julius. Someone has to be responsible, and given that you gave up on being king as soon as it looked like it might involve doing something you didn't want to, I have doubts about your suitability for the role. Even so, if you were saying that you would be the leader and if it wasn't inconvenient for me in other respects, I might have given you a shot. But there is no way I am signing onto an expedition where it's not plain and clear where the buck stops - especially when one of the two candidates is at the beck and call of their friends, further dividing them. Having friends is a lovely thing, but if your responsibilities don't come first then you really don't belong in a leadership position."

"How are you going to get a new knight-armour then?!" the boy asked as if that was a decisive argument.

Leon shrugged. "That's really not your problem. Look, go ahead and mount your expedition. I really can't stop you. Be resourceful and find a ship. Be effective and prove me wrong. I'll be very happy for you, really I will. But that doesn't mean I'll put my life on the line for a proposition I think is likely to end badly."

"I hadn't thought you'd hold our previous disagreements against us."

"Well, I'm trying to be nice."

"What's nice about insulting me to my face?!" Julius demanded, trying to stand and finding it a little harder to get the chair out of his way than he'd expected.

"Well I didn't bring up the fact that Jilk's a dishonourable piece of pondscum that threatened my family so he could get in good with your mutual love interest," Leon pointed out reasonably. "And for that matter, your lack of anything resembling a backbone, to the point you've reneged on your sworn word about avoiding Lafan, doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. But I was trying to be nice. I'm not sure why, maybe it's the impending wedding. I have a delicate romantic heart, you see."

Julius stalked out of the room, white faced and shaking with rage.

"That went well," Leon announced to the empty student council library. "I think that went well. Don't you think that went well, Luxion?"

"Very well, master. And may I say that I am deeply appreciative of you electing not to allow a pack of new humans to take up residence on the Dreadnought for another extended journey. Last time you got mind-controlled by dark magic. I shudder to think how much worse it would be with the leadership being shared with Holfort."

"Fortunately, I'm not a suicidal idiot." Leon checked the clock and then started packing up his books. "Anyway, it's almost time to give Olivia a lift over to the port. No problems with the new airbike?"

"None at all, master. I suppose your brief flirtation with not helping new humans wasn't going to last long anyway," the AI said in a resigned tone.

"I'm only taking her to the port for a merchant ship," pointed out Leon. "It's not as if I'm ferrying her all the way to her home island."

Luxion muttered something about 'small mercies', at a volume low enough that Leon could pretend not to have heard it. In the interests of keeping the peace, he decided to maintain that pretence. It would be good practise if he did marry Clarice - as unlikely as it seemed that they'd not drive each other to frustration or possibly murder over the next five or six years. He sure as hell wasn't marrying her before she was twenty, or before he was twenty if he could get away with it.

The arm that Princess Hertrude had brought back from Fanoss was proving more of a problem than Garrett had expected.

His initial reaction had been delight that Marquis Frampton was apparently so eager to destroy his own immediate enemies that he was stupid enough to let the princess swindle him. Although the fact that she could swindle him suggested that she might be showing some signs of intelligence.

Raising children was hard, or so Garrett had always been told by his mother and then by his wife. He'd assumed that they were complaining to try to guilt trip him but perhaps he had misjudged them. After all, he was basically raising Hertrude and it was certainly getting harder. She'd been easier to manage right after her parents' death - shocked at the loss, angry at Holfort. Unfortunately, he'd taken those as fixed qualities and it was now apparent that they weren't entirely characteristic of her.

A shame really. It would be much easier for him and infinitely easier for her if she'd just been a biddable puppet.

Oh well. She wasn't free of his control by any means. There was plenty of time to find her some good looking but not too bright young man - one of his cousins perhaps. And the same for her sister. One baby, one little accident and then there's a new regency council - Princess Hertrauda could sit on it as a token presence and back-up, at least until she also had an heir.

All of that would wait though. Plans for the future, things to ruminate over. Right now there was the arm. Who would have thought that chopping an arm off a knight and grafting a magical weapon onto them was so hard?

"So what is it you have to show me?" Vandel Him Zenden grumbled. The old knight had rushed back to Castle Fanoss at Garrett's request and the journey did seem to have him out of sorts.

Really, it would be best if he died a heroic death in the coming campaign. He was useful right now, but the future didn't have a place for him. The greatest knight in Fanoss needed to be younger, better looking, more controllable. Not this old veteran who was white-haired where he wasn't bald and had opinions about absolutely everything.

"Our venture into diplomacy with Holfort has yielded a few unexpected benefits besides learning of their current state of weakness," the count explained, gesturing to the glass case that currently contained the arm. The rest of the room was scrubbed up - if Sir Vandel agreed then they'd have it on him before the day was done.

The old knight examined it casually. "The arm of a small knight-armour? Not much use without the rest of it."

"Not a bad guess, Sir Vandel but no - that's not quite what it is." Garrett tapped the glass, watching as dozens of eyes formed on the metal limb. They glanced around, then went away as if eyelids had covered them. "This is a lost item, part of something greater, but by no means useless in its current state - although it does require someone capable of wielding it."

"You really think Holfort would give up something useful?" The old man still looked dismissive, but the tone of his voice was at odds with his words. He was interested.

"The kingdom is riven by dissent. The man who gave it up is a venal fool."

"That much I can believe."

Garrett smiled. "It is possible they have simply lost records of what this really is, whereas our own archives have mention of it. This isn't the arm of a knight-armour, it is the arm of a construct that our ancestors once built knight-armours to fight, back in the days before the kingdom or the principality. And if a knight can control it then all that power will be at their disposal."

"And you didn't try it on a knight you trust more than me?" Vandel folded his arms, giving Garrett a sceptical look.

Damn, he also hated that the man was as sharp as his sword. "We did. But as I said: if a knight can control it. If."

The old knight scowled at him. "How many of them did it kill?"

"Three." Granted, expendable men for the most part. But you couldn't just keep disappearing knights forever. People got suspicious. Three was about the limit without anyone noticing. If Vandel failed then there would be little to lose by admitting he'd tried and failed - it wasn't as if there was any better candidate. Chalk it up as a tragedy, mourn him publicly and enjoy the silver lining of being rid of the old goat. And if he succeeded?

Vandel wouldn't just be fighting to subdue the arm once. He'd have to keep winning… and the arm only had to win once. How long could one old man last? Hopefully long enough for just one last war. He might even get a heroic death. That would be neat and tidy, wouldn't it?

"Three," Vandel repeated and shook his head. "And why do you think that this is necessary?"

Garrett sighed. "Respectfully, Sir Vandel, while you remain the most able knight in Fanoss, the Masked Knight is almost certainly younger than you. He may not have been in his prime when you last faced him. And there will be other young knights rising from their ranks. The princess herself admits that some of Holfort's younger generation have potential. We must take every advantage we can, anything else would be neglectful."

Stormy eyes glared at him. "And you don't want this power for yourself?"

"I know my limits." The count sighed. "It's a tool, sir knight. Like your sword, it should be in the right hands."

Slowly, Sir Vandel Him Zenden reached back and drew his famous black sword. It was unbelievable to Garrett that he held it at all, much less singlehanded - the blade was sized for a knight-armour! The knight still had monstrous strength despite his age. "The difference is that this sword is in my hand. But that thing has its own hand."

Behind the glass, the arm's eyes opened again, the eyeballs - or appearance of them - flicking around as they scanned the room for something. Garrett wondered what they were looking for. Something to kill?

Then Vandel frowned. "What…"

"Eh?" Garrett stared at the knight, then at the case he was looking at. One of the eyes had locked onto Vandel… or, no. Not the knight. His sword.

"Out!" With his free hand, Vandel yanked Garrett off his feet and hurled him at the door.

The glass shattered as the arm flexed, springing free of its frame. Garrett scrambled up, seizing the door handle and pulling it open. Whatever was happening, he wanted nothing to do with it!

A hand like iron seized him and dragged him through the door, then slammed it shut behind them. Something - the arm? - hammered on the door for a moment, a vicious tattoo like a drum.

Fortunately the thick door, held in place by the towering knight, remained closed.

And then the entire building seemed to heave and roar for a moment. Garrett fell to the floor and closed his eyes. The door disintegrated - Vandel was flung across the room and hit the ground rolling.

When the count's ears were no longer ringing, he looked up and saw the armoured knight slowly and painfully pulling himself to his feet.

"What… what happened?" Garrett asked.

"Your great opportunity was a trap." The 'you fool' was implicit in the tone, but it stung as much as the bruises from the manhandling that the moustachioed man had just gone through. Vandel adjusted his armour and harrumphed. "Three of our knights died, and you didn't suspect a thing."

"The princess was fooled!" he asserted. She'd thought she was so clever to get it from Marquis Frampton, but the girl had been outplayed from the start.

Vandel shook his head. "So when it is a prize, you claim credit and when it blows up in our faces the fault is someone else's?"

Well obviously. "She was the one who brought this to us." He looked through the door and winced at the damage done to the equipment within.

"She and her sister at least owned their mistakes with the flutes." The old knight shook his head. "She has my loyalty for that."

"You know she is at best ambivalent about taking war to Holfort!"

With narrowed eyes, Vandel looked down on Garrett. "I am aware, Count Garrett. And for that campaign, you have my support. Not my loyalty, just my support. We will take war to Holfort and I will do everything that I can to make a success of it. But if you get us in over our heads then don't expect to save me from the consequences of your mistakes."

Well, don't expect me to save you either, Garrett thought. Because you're the one most likely to overreach yourself, Sir Vandel. "It seems we understand each other then."

And I understand your intent to betray us, Marquis Malcolm Fou Frampton. But we'll play dumb, as if we think it was just an accident. You still have something to do for our benefit. The one who laughs last, laughs best - and I will be one who lasts longest!

"Leeeeeon!" Jenna called, hopping down from one stair to another of their mansion. She'd put on a new dress. "Stop fooling around, you dunce."

"Who is fooling around?" he asked, adjusting his bow tie. Leon had grown a couple more inches since he last needed a suit, but fortunately Luxion was an amazing tailor - at least in terms of technical work. Style might be harder for the AI to grasp. The tuxedo fit, but it was likely also subtly off the intended proportions.

He wasn't going to spend a day getting an entirely new fitting done though. This was comfortable and chances were pretty good he'd not need it again. Maybe in the summer - or when he was sure that he'd hit his full growth.

"You have to take me to the wedding," his sister insisted. She was dressed up for it, which made her a fool since they'd already told her that she wasn't going.

"I don't think that I do."

"It's the social event of the season! Don't you understand? I can't miss it!"

"Well, you're gonna have to. Even if I didn't already have the plus one for my invitation set up -"

"She's just a baron's daughter! Stand her up!"

Leon pinched the brow of his nose. Clarice didn't need an invite, since her father was bringing her. As such, he'd been asked as a favour to take Baron Tucker's twelfth child. Ginger was enrolling in the academy next year so this would be her first social event. The Tucker barony neighboured the Bartfords' so they weren't someone that could be just brushed off.

And the request hadn't even come from the Baron. Leon suspected that the man had little time for his youngest daughter since Ginger Tucker's dress and accommodation were being provided by Marquis Randall's brother's household here in the capital. It was Suzanna Rafa Stuart, the marquis' daughter, who had asked Leon to bring the young Tucker to the wedding.

"The fact that you even think that that's politically wise tells me how careless you're being. Weren't you supposed to be smarter about social affairs than I am?" Leon shook his head. "And besides that, mother told you that if you didn't stay in the top half of your class' grades then you'd have to skip social events this winter to study."

"I ought to be in the top half! I'm a count's daughter now!"

"Jenna, have you been slacking because you thought mother's status would make up the difference?"

"I need to keep up with my peers!"

Her brother groaned. "If you mean that pack of count and viscount family children, you're being a complete idiot."

Jenna stamped her foot. "Someone has to help me make connections! Lord Dieke is engaged now, but did you ever introduce me to him so I had a shot first? You wouldn't even brush off the girls around Viscount Bourdon. He's inherited his title already, and there's a lot of money in that family."

"Allen Bourdon? He's an idiot and he's letting his mother and sisters run a pretty healthy holding deep into debt," Leon told her. "If he makes it past twenty, the entire viscounty will be wrecked. Stop using Zola as your benchmark for what a successful lady is like. You do remember what's happened to her, don't you?"

"I won't make those mistakes, but I need to meet proper gentlemen!"

Leon sighed. "You're making quite a lot of mistakes. Look, Bourdon's heir is still his brother Alan and he's got a lot more of their father's brains. I told you before: approach him and there's a decent chance you could snare a gem before the rest of your pack of merry idiots notice the guy."

Jenna huffed. "He's not going to inherit once the Viscount marries and has children."

"You're assuming he'll live that long." The third year had inherited far too young, after his father died in a clash with the Holy Kingdom of Rachelle. The late viscount hadn't strictly needed to involve himself, but he'd been supporting House Redgrave out of loyalty to the Duke's factional politics. The new viscount had fallen in with a very different crowd, but he was also eager to show himself to be a great warrior like his father. That was going to get the idiot killed, in Leon's not so humble opinion.

Turning to the door, he shook his head again. "Look, you need to get back to your studies. Good grades mean that mother will give you more freedom. If you don't waste that, then I like your chances of finding a marriage that'll make you happy. But if you want my support, or mother's support, you need to stop filling your head with the blithering nonsense your so-called friends are peddling. They're only trying to sponge off you because of mother and I. How many of them would have given you the time of day last year?"

"Stop running away, Leon!" Jenna called as he went out the door. She stamped her foot again and he heard the heel of her shoes snap. "Fuck!" she added as she stumbled. "I'll give you a piece of my mind when you get home!"

"Are you sure you can spare it?" he called back and hopped into the carriage that was waiting to take him to Lord Randall's house.