Chapter 3

Duran Agricultural & Mechanical, Duran

Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth

29 May 3016

The annual graduation ceremonies at Duran A&M had been kicked up a notch when Katrina Steiner had declared she would be visiting her cousin's homeworld for the summer. The Archon didn't leave Tharkad often, so this was a signal honor for the planet - and a sign that Frederick's months abroad weren't a matter of him being in disgrace.

Melissa Steiner had watched the parading planetary militia and Team Banzai before being quietly moved aside somewhere that she could study. The tedium of thousands of diplomas being presented was probably too much for a five year old to be expected to sit through.

Max had no such excuse to avoid it though, even if his own role was mostly just to make sure Frederick was being given the right diplomas for each graduate. That still left him up on stage though, something that had the Archon's security on edge.

He'd have said it was ludicrous that they'd expect someone would spend ten years undercover to get close to the Archon, but LIC had managed an even longer term infiltration once against the head of House Kurita so they would have reason to suspect the same being turned back on them.

It was a long, hot day. Fortunately, that had been taken into consideration and bottles of water had been provided - with short breaks so those on stage could refresh themselves. More water was passed out to the students and on sale for any of the audience - dignitaries hoping for their once in a lifetime opportunity to meet Katrina Steiner as well as the proud families of students - who hadn't prepared themselves.

The last graduate - by virtue of her name of Zoe Zachariah and not making any of the honor lists - accepted her diploma from the chancellor. He, Frederick and Katrina had all been carrying out the presentations, with the exact list for each selected by a mix of merit and random chances.

Rather than sitting down though, the Chancellor stayed at the podium. "It's a long-standing tradition of academia to recognise not only our students, but those who have contributed to our ability to teach our students. For this purpose, universities have the right to grant honorary degrees to those who might not meet strict academic criteria but whose contributions are undeniable."

This… was not not the schedule. Max glanced at the security but they didn't seem alarmed. Then he looked at Frederick and Katrina - the two Steiners looked very alike for a moment as they smiled at him.

They wouldn't!

"For several years, Duran Agricultural and Mechanical has been able to raise the standards of our teaching, not to mention expand the numbers of our students. I am assured by the Archon - who I assume would know - that our name has spread beyond Duran as an institution of note within the universities of the Lyran Commonwealth," the Chancellor continued. "And while this has been the work of hundreds, I can assure you that none of it would have been possible without the tireless work of a gentleman that few of you know by name. Mr. Max Mustermann, if you would be so good?"

Apparently, they would. Max gave Frederick a sour look as he stood up and hoped he looked presentable. It wasn't as if he was wearing academic robes, just a charcoal suit and a burgundy shirt. He wasn't even wearing a tie, dress codes having changed sufficiently over the years that this was now acceptable.

He had the sudden thought that maybe he was just supposed to be bringing a diploma up for someone else to receive, in which case someone was going to be in a lot of trouble for not telling him… but no.

The chancellor shook his hand vigorously and then presented him with a roll of parchment. "Mister Mustermann, it is with great pleasure that I award you this diploma, declaring you to be an honorary Master of this university." And then, slightly more intimately, he nudged Max to look out at the students. "I dare say that fully half of those here today would not have the opportunities now open to you without your efforts."

Well, that was possibly true.

And then the Chancellor stepped back and Archon Katrina Steiner replaced him. "It's my great pleasure to be here today and to meet so many of our nation's fine young men and women. I am sure that many of you will be going on to careers here on Duran and also elsewhere within the Commonwealth. It is also very possible that some of you will distinguish yourselves in ways that lead our paths to cross in the future."

The Archon turned to Max. "I'm sure Max is hoping to slip away, for he's a very effacing gentleman, but today I must ask him to remain in the limelight once more. It's a sad truth that barely a day goes past in the Commonwealth that someone is forced to start their life over, having lost essentially everything due to some mischance or poor decision. In Max's case, that was the case after a Kuritan raid on the world of Summer. Your duke was impressed by his determination and gave him a helping hand, something I know that he has paid both back and forwards - House Steiner and Duran have both benefited. And it is one of my happiest responsibilities to reward such accomplishments."

She too was given a parchment roll, but she didn't hand it over just yet. Katrina unrolled it. "Max Mustermann of Duran, I, Katrina Steiner, Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth, First Lord of the Star League, for your services in honor to the Lyran peoples and our commonwealth, hereby confer upon you and your heirs the title and dignity of Baron, along with estates and revenues suitable to this stature. May you continue to uphold the virtues of your new rank, for the greater glory of our beloved homeworld."

Slowly, ritualistically - something she had probably done scores of times before, now that Max thought about it - the Archon rolled it again and slipped an already knotted blue ribbon around it. Now she placed it in his hands.

There was a rising tide of applause from the students and Max managed to not to stare at them in bemusement. Most of them had probably never even met him. Then again, the Archon was there so most of the appreciation was likely aimed more at her than at him.

Finally he was freed to sit down as Frederick took the podium over for a final speech. Max barely paid attention to it, trying to find a way to stash the two scrolls away without crushing them. His attache case was intended for flat storage, not for something as archaic as scrolls.

The speech ended and the graduates were freed to seek out their families and friends. That was the cue for those on the stage to depart, and at least this went to plan. Max preceded Frederick down to the limousine waiting for the duke and had the door open for him, ready to give him a piece of his mind for springing this on him without warning.

But before his employer could reach the door, the regal blonde form of the Archon sidestepped her own limousine. "Actually, I'll ride with my cousin. Thank you, Baron Mustermann." And she climbed inside, waving dismissively to her own escort.

Other than a tightened jaw, the head of the royal escort showed no sign of distress and Frederick followed Katrina into the car. "Get in, Max," he ordered.

Max started to close the door, using his other hand to open the passenger door so he could sit up front.

"No, in here," Katrina ordered sharply. And it was an order.

LIC were going to throw a fit, Max predicted. But the Archon is the Archon. He closed the front door and climbed into the back. Fortunately, the armored limousine was more than large enough for several adults to sit inside, so he was left sitting with his back to the driver while the two Steiners faced him.

Once the door closed, the cavalcade was on the way within seconds and Katrina relaxed slightly. "This is our first real chance to speak, Mr Mustermann."

"Yes, your majesty," he said stiffly.

"LIC remains convinced that there is some risk you're a deep cover ISF operative," she continued. "Or possibly a Free Skye radical. Little things like assisting Frederick in finding more lostech than anyone has dreamed of for centuries don't seem to sway them."

"Paranoia is literally their profession."

"Yes, but it isn't mine." She paused. "As for ambushing you on stage, Frederick was convinced that you'd find an excuse not to attend if you found out in advance."

Max thought back to his own original graduation, back in that other life… which he'd not attended. He'd not considered the really quite poor grades worth any congratulation. In hindsight, his parents were probably more disappointed in that decision than the grades but… And he'd told Frederick that at one point.

"You're not denying it," the duke observed.

"Did Frederick tell you he has a girlfriend?" he deflected.

"No," Katrina confirmed and then smirked. "But our ambassador did. I shall have to send you back to New Avalon, Frederick."

"Under other circumstances," her cousin told Max, "I would call you out for this gross betrayal. But today, that would be hypocritical, Baron Mustermann."

"You're not actually giving me lands, are you?"

"Of course." Katrina seemed surprised. "I would hardly do otherwise. Frederick is granting them personally."

"A swathe of farmland on Summit," the younger man clarified - presumably meaning the continent on Duran, not the world that shared the name. "It's mostly rented out so you won't need to do much other than give some oversight to the rental agents I employ up there. A nice little bit of income, and there's a house up there that'll serve as a family mansion if you find the right woman."

Max scowled at his friend. Frederick hits it off with someone and now he thinks everyone should. It was like a disease.

"We don't have that long before we arrive," Katrina observed, looking out of the window. She'd never been to Duran before as far as Max knew, but she seemed to have a good idea of the geography. "Frederick, you had something you wanted to tell me in close confidence?"

Frederick nodded. "Yes, it's about the Wolf Dragoons."

Katrina blinked. "If you did sneak in a secret contract with them…"

"God, no." Her cousin shook his head. "But we took a hospital ship to meet them and that left us with some samples of blood and other tissue that we could do DNA comparisons of."

She gave him a curious look.

"Max?" Frederick invited him to give the explanation.

"There's always been the theory that the Dragoons had some connection to Kerensky's Exodus Fleet," Max began. "Natasha Kerensky's name, for example. And they arrived not all that far from the last sighting of Kerensky's fleet."

"Yes…?"

"The DNA samples we have raised some other points to support the theory," he told her. "Four of them indicate direct descent from Kailen Steiner. That's -"

"Paul Steiner's son," she interrupted him. "The one who joined Kerensky's exodus."

Max nodded. He'd been surprised that paternity testing could identify that after ten generations or so, but the nobility of the Inner Sphere had an understandable interest in the capability, and it hadn't been lost even through the Succession Wars.

"Why did you even think to check for that?" the Archon asked after a moment.

Frederick took up the question: "Max has tried several such comparisons to try to trace his origins so he's familiar with the practice. We ran the Dragoons' samples through every check we had access to. That included the standard comparisons House Steiner has for any new claimants on the family trust funds."

She nodded in understanding. "I don't suppose you got a sample from the Black Widow?"

"No, but there's a very high probability that two of the Dragoons have a patrilineal connection back to Aleksandr Kerensky," Max told her.

"I didn't think he even had children," Katrina murmured. "Alright… implications?"

"Obviously, the SLDF has a descendant civilization," he pointed out. "One that can afford to send a small army back to the Inner Sphere. And it doesn't appear that they're refugees, so…"

"Around 3009 the Dragoons returned to the Periphery briefly and returned with additional equipment," she observed. "Likely they are still in contact with their origins. A reconnaissance?"

"After two hundred years without contact, I can understand their curiosity." Max sat back. "But they're not simply getting a few history books, they've served with four houses now and against most of the houses as well."

The Archon frowned deeply. "Can we trust them?"

"I believe so," Frederick offered. "At least for the duration of the contract. They take their honor seriously. Of course, once they leave the Commonwealth's service… well, there's never a guarantee that any mercenary might not choose to take a contract against a previous employer."

"And while they serve us, there's a chance for us to learn about them," she agreed. "I'll accept that for now, but I'll want to keep them away from our more sensitive activities - at least until I've had time to consider the possible threat they may pose."

"There is one more thing," Max told her apologetically. "Kerensky took more than four hundred warships with him. If enough military forces survive that almost six hundred 'mechs can be spared, it seems probable that some of the warships are also around."

The woman's face paled. "Baron Mustermann, there's no possible way I can afford to fund a warship construction programme."

"I wouldn't suggest it. But the current resources being directed towards strengthening the Commonwealth's aerospace arm are one move towards being able to counter hostile warships if necessary. And perhaps similar attention towards armed dropships would be another affordable measure."

Katrina groaned. "I should have known you'd have a solution that involved investing money, Frederick. I take it that you're already stretched beyond such an investment?"

"Would you really want me to have that level of influence over such a development?"

"I believe Shipil might be amenable to an approach involving constructing more Overlord-class dropships," Max proposed, "Which would give House Steiner more influence in an area that Duke Aldo Lestrade of Summer is trying to dominate, since they mainly operate on Skye itself. If such expansion included purpose-built variants for different troop mixes then a dedicated aerospace carrier to fill the role of the Vengeance-class, would be a start. And if one such variant could carry naval-grade torpedoes…"

"I'll talk to the Admiralty," the Archon agreed. "But you're right, Frederick. You're to stay well clear of this. The last thing I need is suggestions that you're building a private navy."


Fort Joshua, Mizar

Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth

28 January 3017

Katrina Steiner had worked with first-rate mercenaries before. Twenty years before she'd fought alongside the Eridani Light Horse while her uncle still reigned, and she knew that they were as skilled as many of the Lyran Commonwealth's best soldiers.

Fort Joshua, named for Jaime Wolf's recently killed brother, was a LCAF military base on loan for the duration of the contract but while many mercenaries let conditions slip during what they knew was only temporary residency, the Dragoons were treating the base with care. Almost everything was in good repair, the few exceptions were clearly receiving attention.

"You're sure no one leaked my arrival?" she asked the liaison officer sharing her staff-car, wondering if this was a show put on for her benefit.

"It's hard to say what the Dragoons notice," the man admitted. "But until you touched down, no one knew more than that Mount Asgard was sending someone to inspect the Commonwealth Jaegers here. The Royal Guards may be a giveaway though."

"There's only so far I can hazard my security," Katrina admitted. A decade on the throne had accustomed to the limits of the Triad's security measures but when she got out and visited other corners of her realm she was reminded all over again.

At the moment, that meant that a full battalion had arrived on Mizar with her, and a company of the Royal Guards was maintaining a loose perimeter while the convoy brought her to the fortress.

The staff car pulled up onside the headquarters building and as Katrina disembarked she saw a gray-haired officer in full-dress uniform waiting at the threshold. "Colonel Wolf?" she asked the liaison in a low voice.

"No your majesty, that's Colonel Ellman. He's the…"

"Beta Regiment commander and the colonel who's had most of a hand with our Jaegers?" Katrina confirmed.

As she approached, she saw Ellman's eyes flick to her shoulders and note the lack of rank tabs, or any other accouterments commonly worn by senior LCAF officers. The moment when he recognised her face was obvious, but he maintained decorum, merely saluting her. "Welcome to Fort Joshua," he offered in greeting.

"It's a pleasure to be here. I wanted a firsthand look at how the Dragoons and my soldiers are working together."

"Down to business then?" The colonel ushered her inside. "Colonel Wolf is currently overseeing an exercise - his Third Battalion against the Second Jaegers. Tomorrow it'll be the First Jaegers against my First Battalion."

"The Second Jaegers are Beta Regiment's proteges while the First have been working up under Alpha's supervision," Katrina thought out loud. "Testing each other's work?"

Dragoon guards came to attention as they passed, watching the escort following Katrina but standing down as Ellman gave them pointed looks.

"Essentially, yes." The Dragoon officer confirmed. "Nine times out of ten, troops will behave as you expect them to when pressure comes down, but it's impossible to say which will be the exception unless you apply the pressure yourself."

"I'm not about to complain about rigor in their training," Katrina assured him.

The command center displayed a familiar dance of blue and red icons moving across maps of the training grounds. While Katrina didn't know Mizar's specifics, she had seen this many times before. The blue icons were in ascendancy - normally she would be pleased but it was clear that this time it was the Dragoon's forces being represented. Nonetheless, the red markers were fighting back hard - and they moved with a fluidity she had rarely found in the Lyran regiments.

"It seems the students aren't yet equal to their teachers," a powerfully built officer noted, back towards her.

Ellman cleared his throat. "They're learning, nonetheless."

"Yes, colonel." The man stiffened and half-turned. "They're not up to Beta Regiment standards but I wouldn't mind them on my flank."

"High praise," Katrina observed, moving up next to Colonel Ellman. "LCAF command has high hopes for the Jaegers." There had been so many attempts over the years to break the inflexible habits that had crept into their doctrines - the Winfield Guards were just the latest, and one she could give her uncle full credit for. Frederick's brainstorm had potential, but if the units didn't hold up in the field then it would be another embarrassing failure.

"Ah, are you the Archon's inspector?" The Dragoon looked her up and down. Like Ellman he noted her lack of any rank markings but she saw no sign of recognition at her face.

"Something like that. Don't mind me, I'm simply her eyes and ears." Quite literally true.

The man gestured to a seat. "Please, take a look," he said proudly. "She should see she's getting value for her money."

"I'm sure the Archon is aware of that."

Turning, all eyes went to the pair of officers who had just entered the room. A tall captain trailed a short, compact man with a colonel's rank visible. Since Alpha and Beta regiments were the only Dragoons on Mizar right now, this had to be Colonel Wolf himself.

"Colonel, I thought you were observing from the Chieftain."

"That was the plan, Shos. But some guests I shouldn't offload onto Jeremy's shoulders." Wolf turned an intent look onto Katrina. It reminded her of Ian Davion - or perhaps more of Frederick. There was a guarded respect there, but no submission. "If you're here in person, Archon, shall we speak directly?"

There was a ripple of surprise and 'Shos' looked chagrined. Then the big man laughed briskly. "So much for asking you to discuss the after-action report over drinks."

"I might have taken you up on the drinks," she told him. "And the conversation." Then Katrina turned back to Jaime. "Would you prefer to talk here?"

He shook his head lightly. "There's an observation deck we can keep an eye on the exercise from."

"Your majesty," the liaison officer protested.

Katrina gestured sharply in dismissal. She'd come here to talk to Jaime Wolf, among other reasons. Refusing now would be pointless. Her current escort wouldn't be enough to stop the Dragoons if they did turn on her - but at the same time, the Dragoons would face a furious Frederick Steiner - and more importantly, they would have lost their honor.

A mercenary didn't have a nation to fall back on. Their reputation counted for their future prospects and it would be essentially suicidal for them to turn on her directly, at least without the sort of outrageous provocation that Anton Marik had offered. The deck wasn't enclosed or out of sight anyway, she concluded. It was just removed far enough that they wouldn't be easily overheard.

Colonel Wolf led her up the stairs and gave her space to pick her position. Katrina chose to lean on the rail, where she could see the screens below as well as the mercenary. "Would you like to begin, or shall I?"

"If you believed I had a secret pact with Frederick Steiner, you wouldn't have come here personally," he told her. "But your being here suggests you want to give us a mission that can't go through normal channels."

"I don't have the slightest doubt that the Dragoons will uphold their contract with me so long as I do the same," she replied. "Until it expires, I think you'd even fight against whatever nation you came from - in the event that we clashed."

Wolf made no direct response to that, just staring at her with dark eyes.

"When that contract ends, so does that obligation. In the meantime I will extract every bit of value from your service."

"Naturally," he conceded. "Just as we'll ensure we receive every reward that we earn."

Katrina nodded. "Part of those rewards are aboard the dropships I arrived with. Four brand new Gladiator 'mechs and just as many Dragonfly aerospace fighters, which I'm offering to the Dragoons."

"That is generous," the colonel admitted. "Generous enough that I have to wonder what you gain from doing so."

"The price will be detailed evaluation of their performance in every metric," she explained. "These are based on old designs but use parts and materials available to us. I want unbiased assessments of them to compare against those I get from the LCAF testers."

Wolf frowned. "I don't recognise either design's name."

"The Dragonfly was originally Canopian, while the Gladiator was the Draconis Combine's first home-designed BattleMech."

"You want to deploy a Kuritan design?"

"House Kurita didn't develop the Gladiator, it was developed during House Von Rohrs, during a period when the Kuritas were out of power. Once the Von Rohrs were deposed, the Kuritas did what they could to minimize their legacy - including phasing the design out. You may find that the DCMS takes their presence as a provocation."

"That's something that I can work with," Wolf agreed thoughtfully. "But there are other mercenaries you could have trusted with this. I know Hansen's Roughriders are testing your new tanks for you. Why are you bringing this to us?"

Katrina steepled her fingers. "It's obvious that wherever you came from, you're still in contact with them. Whether it's your main purpose or not, you're a source of information for them when it comes to the Inner Sphere. Whoever they are, I want them to see my realm's strength. In this case, that we're recovering from the Succession Wars."

"You're accusing me of spying."

It only stings because it's true, Katrina concluded. "You're gathering information. That's not quite the same thing. Embassies are always staffed with personnel who gather publicly available information on the nation they're within. In fact, it's helpful for neighbors to have a certain level of information - if any of the House Lords had realized that none of us could be knocked out of contention for the Star League's throne, the Succession Wars might never have happened."

"And would that bother you? House Steiner still claims the position of First Lord."

"Robert Steiner was a fool," she told him flatly. "His sister and successor was forced to make the claim in order to maintain parity with the other Great Houses. We broke the Star League and even if we all renounced our claims, that would still leave us far short of restoring it. The situation we face now is nothing like 2780 - or even 2559. If there's ever to be a new Star League it will have to be built from the ground up."


Secaucus Plains, New Earth

Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth

19 July 3017

There were few things Frederick liked less than defeat… but right now he had no alternative but to be gracious about second place… in a contest where there were only two contenders.

"The battle was well fought," he admitted, offering his hand to Ian Davion.

The First Prince laughed lightly and clasped the hand firmly. "It was. I thought your Regulars might have us there, a couple of times. That entrapment near the lake almost worked."

"Us?"

"I, of course, was watching from a bunker. My Atlas would have struggled to keep up with the maneuvers out there."

Frederick eyed the First Prince suspiciously. There was a very real possibility that Ian was lying through his teeth and had simply borrowed a lighter 'Mech to participate. What would be an unthinkable luxury for most mechwarriors would be a relatively minor thing for the head of a Great House, after all.

On the other hand, the First Federated Suns Armored Cavalry and the Tenth Lyran Regulars had only been exchanging training rounds with each other on the exercises. It was reasonably plausible that Ian Davion hadn't felt obliged to participate personally.

"It's not that much slower than my Orion," Max noted quietly.

"Yes, but you still drive like you're grocery shopping," Frederick shot back under his breath.

Ian had heard all of this, of course, but he laughed again. "No man is a hero to his valet, they say."

Next to them on the stage, the colonels of the two units were also shaking hands. The 'games' had lasted a full week - a training exercise to let the two militaries exchange 'best practice'. In an ideal world the contest would simply have been a friendly rivalry but one Lyran mechwarrior had been quietly dragged off the battlefield and would be facing disciplinary action for breaking the rules and body-blocking a Valkyrie with his much-larger Griffin.

Hopefully it wouldn't get to charges - apparently the idiot had been nursing a crush on his lance commander and she'd broken her leg when she misjudged a jump out of the path of a fusillade of simulated fire from the Armored Cavalry and crashed her Vulcan into the side of an abandoned building. Even if a court martial wasn't called for, someone was getting reassigned and it wasn't the leutnant - who had done a good job up to that point.

"Nor to his employer," Frederick grunted. "Anyway…" He straightened his face before turning back to the onlookers - something like half of each unit was on the parade ground for the formal announcement of the results. "To the victor, the spoils."

A pair of Lyran infantrymen, picked for their height, carried a large brass trophy cup out onto the stage. It was five feet tall and weighed an inconvenient amount.

"How the devil will I get that off the stage?" Ian wondered as the infantrymen set it down and stepped away. The cup was engraved with the words 'Alliance Games' and a brass plate (hastily fitted to the base) reported that the 3017 Champion was the First Federated Suns Armored Cavalry.

"Ask for volunteers," Max suggested. "Just don't let them try filling it with champagne."

"Really don't," Frederick muttered under his breath. "There's a datacore in there. It should be waterproof but I don't know about booze."

"A datacore?" Ian stepped back and gestured for the commander of the Armored Cavalry to take the trophy. He seemed to enjoy the look on the man's face as he took in the burden. "I'm intrigued."

"It's primarily medical in nature," Frederick told him quietly, almost drowned out by the cheering Feddie officers and men. "Not everyone in the Commonwealth approves of sharing the data we've recovered but Katrina and I both agreed you should have this particular database on humanitarian grounds."

"Thank you." Ian drew back a little, ceding the spotlight. "What would you have done if we lost?"

"There's a consolation prize with another copy," Frederick told him.

The First Prince looked around. "Where is it?"

"In storage. You didn't lose."

"But surely you should accept it on behalf of the Tenth Regulars. I mean, they can't be left empty-handed."

"They have your congratulations," Frederick told him and felt dirty just for saying it. He was turning into a politician. And it wasn't as if he was giving his own men a statue of a giant brass rooster.

Ian smirked. "I sense a certain double standard. If we do this again… no, when we do this again, I will insist that the consolation prize be awarded."

"I'll do my best to make sure you receive it."

The First Prince stepped further out of the limelight. "Your plan is ambitious, Frederick," he said seriously. "I've agreed to it, but the risks are considerable."

"So is doing nothing. Your people have been pushing the Combine back towards your original border for years, but every reverse undoes some of your progress. We can't even say we've pushed them back in a hundred years. That has to change - we need to hit them where it hurts."

"You need to hold what you take as well. That's where our record is uneven."

Frederick smiled coldly. "That's why our assault force is expendable."

"Expendable?" Ian's face tightened. "That's…"

"Don't get me wrong. I hope they succeed and survive, but if anyone is to take heavy losses then better them than someone else." He realized he'd clenched his fists and forced them to relax. "And they understand the risks."

"With no objections?"

Frederick shook his head. "No."

"Well, I'll handle my part. The Combine's warlords will have to choose between responding to you or dealing with us."

"And I've organized the same. If Takashi forces them to focus on me, that should let your marshals sting them hard. Which isn't as good but it'll do as a consolation."

"Marshals, hell." Ian shook his head. "I said I'd handle it and that's what I meant. I'll be commanding the diversionary operations myself. The Combine will have to take it seriously once they know I'm there with the Dragon's Bane."

The Fourth Davion Guards, Frederick thought. One of House Davion's finest regimental combat teams, and Ian's personal command. "You know, Katrina's one of our finest generals. As good as I am." Maybe better, a voice whispered. "But she leads us from Tharkad."

"I know." Ian's eyes narrowed. "But if my presence makes this any more likely to succeed, then I owe it to my men to be there."

"It's your decision. And I might not find it easier if I were in your shoes…" Frederick paused… "But every time we lose an Archon on the frontlines, it costs us. Can you tell me that it's no different for the Suns when a First Prince falls in battle?"

Ian gave no answer. And Frederick realized the argument was lost and exchanged shrugs with Max.