The spring warmth had solidly made its home in the hills of Derdriu, and it was making itself the problem of half of the city, and the other half was enjoying its velvet- flowers, ripe sweet fruit on every other tree, and good trade winds. The issue, thought Lorenz discontentedly in the Ordelia townhome parlor, was the stickiness. Even with the windows open and a breeze coming in from a luxuriant garden that Lorenz was appalled at (the Ordelias had not half the wealth of his family and yet had a beautiful townhome), it was warm and sticky.

"I'm so sorry I mostly have just candies," said Helene airily as she sat down a crystal bowl full of candies that shone like gems, wearing a light orange-pink silk dress. The House Ordelia colors were orange- it had always made Lorenz a little amused that Lysithea was so adamant upon purples. Some comment upon the Gloucester crest came to him, and he decided a girl could simply be permitted to like purple without seeking deeper meaning, and Lysithea's proclivities to certain colors didn't need dissecting.

"Oh, I don't mind at all," said Lorenz, not touching them. He knew that Helene and Lysithea were just alike. It was funny, actually, he thought- he could just imagine the forty-something year old woman pouting as her daughter did. "I trust you're well?"

"Oh, as well as I can be in times like this." She looked antsy to Lorenz. Her eyes, distracted, seemed to flit towards the window as if she could not manage to focus on her guest. She was so much like Lysithea it was almost distracting; Lysithea, too, could not hide her emotions when they came to her face. "The Empire is on the doorstep of my territories, and worries of annexation are fresh on my mind. But I haven't got much to complain about. Lysithea is well, by the way," she added.

"That's good to hear," said Lorenz stiffly, trying to set her at ease but feeling rather goose-like in his posture and meager attempts to seem casual. "I find myself approaching most things in regards to business recently, to my dismay. I wish the situation in which we were meeting were founded in delight rather than in duty, my lady."

"Oh, it's not much to– to really speak of!" Helene seemed unsettled by him. He wondered what she knew about him, if she had pieced together her daughter, and Lorenz himself, and identified the commonalities present– and had some guess as to which sacrifices were made when. It seemed to make her– well, fearful. "I understand from your card, you were interested in talking about the Round Table?"

Claude would have been able to pull this conversation off with such ease, Lorenz bemoaned for a moment, thinking of his good nature that set even the most skittish people at ease. Lorenz, again, felt like a misplaced waterfowl.

"Oh, well, not exactly," he said with a curt upturn of his lips, more courtesy than a smile. "More than that, I was interested in asking a few questions. Considering that I will eventually be inheriting my father's responsibilities, I ought to be informed of some things that I find myself not quite able to ask others."

"Ah," said Helene, stirring her tea. It smelled like orange blossom. She did have a refined palette, after all, he thought, for orange blossom was a very tasteful and timeless aromatic. The sun caught the delicate gold spoon in her manicured hand, the silk sleeves gleaming in the afternoon sunlight like a painting. Helene, he decided, was likely just as meticulous in appearances as his father was, though her motivations seemed wholly different altogether. "I would not suggest that I'm an open book, but understand, please, that I would not lie to you, out of an understanding of– situational problems."

"My lady, please, if you would state your meaning outright, I think it would be better for the both of us." Lorenz no longer had the patience for it– and Lysithea had been so comfortable confronting him. It was strange seeing such a similar face so guarded around him.

"You're like my Lyssie." She winced a little before correcting into a bittersweet smile. "Though, I knew that many years ago. Lysithea remembered you. You have no idea how thrilled she was to attend your beautillion gala the November before last."

"Then we are completely clear on that matter, and there is no need for us to speak with veiled words there. What a weight that is from my mind," said Lorenz. "Is there anyone who may also know?" He was starting to lose count of them between Edelgard, Hubert, his father, his mother, Judith and Jonquil, Claude, Marianne, Ignatz, and now– apparently all of Lysithea's family. There were likely more, now that he thought about it.

"Lysithea is a very private young lady," said Helene plainly. "Only family knew of her affliction and the circumstances surrounding it. We've done our best to be as supportive of her as we can be."

"And it shows. She truly is one of the most rare and difficult sorts of flowers to cultivate, and she has bloomed beautifully." He took a sip of tea. Jasmine, lemongrass, and orange blossom. A perfect spring afternoon blend, if not a bit warm at the front of the palette, but he could assume Helene preferred it that way. She would get along magnificently with Ferdinand, if he could hide the last name from her. Even the orange hair.

"Flattering my daughter is a quick way into my good graces," said Helene, "and I would happily praise her merits all afternoon, but do you not think I can see through such plays, Lorenz?" she said with a little gleam in her ruby eyes. "What did you come here for?"

"Tell me about the investigation into my father, and the late Godfrey von Riegan." Lorenz set down his teacup, and folded his hands casually in his lap.

"That isn't what I was expecting," said Helene hesitantly. "Though, I imagine you have your share of questions about that, considering recent events with the passing of the Duke, may his soul be at peace with the Goddess." She plucked a candy from the bowl, pensively popping it into her mouth. "Of course, I'm sure you know already that the arrangements between the Adrestian mages and your father, and my house, had already been made at that time."

"Would you– would you mind elaborating for me, Helene?" He furrowed his brow. "I'm not truly familiar with the terms of this situation, I suppose."

"I thought you would have been?" She tilted her head. "Did your father not explain it to you?"

"Let us say that my father has chosen to– eclipse much of it in the personal affairs of my family."

"Right," said Helene calmly. "It is, you know, actually quite hard to untangle our families from one another. My cousin is wed to your aunt– her heir is my heir if Lysithea chooses not to inherit, and if you should– and I don't think you would– abjure, then that oldest daughter of hers would be able to claim two of the counties of Leicester."

That was something Lorenz had thought about many times before. In fact, his aunt Andrea's daughter was six. There was little chance of her running to political ambitions any time soon. The last time Lorenz had seen his little cousin, she was more preoccupied with plunking her boots into puddles and catching frogs, than she was with inheritances, her fluffy violet hair still a wild mess in his memories of her. "Marva is a darling," said Lorenz calmly. "But what do you mean otherwise?"

"I was your father's adjutant for a long time." Helene shrugged. "My older sister's untimely death meant that for a very long time, I technically served House Gloucester before taking over as the Baroness. House Ordelia has always sworn fealty to the Gloucesters, in exchange for military protection and reinforcement against our border with the Empire, and we provide you with sturdy political allies in most situations." She paused. "And your father and my sister were thick as thieves, as was I with your aunt. When we went to school he was part of my little gang. So when your father was officially named heir and needed an adjutant in battles, I was his. Thus," she said hesitantly, "when the Hrym situation happened, and I stood by my friend the Viscount– the Empire was ready to punish me, too. I was new to ruling, you know. I had no idea how profound the effects of my choices to stand by Jann would be. If I had," she said, "they may have been different. Do you know how many elder siblings Lysithea once had?"

Lorenz paused, and felt himself wilting at even the notion.

"Five. I had six children once. Happy, healthy, beautiful children. And all of them possessing the Crest of Charon– my husband's." She reached to touch a locket at her throat, and he could see a glint in her eyes. He did not say anything. "Your father seized von Aegir by the arm and pulled him aside, when Lysithea was so little she could barely remember it, and the two of them spoke for many, many long hours. And your father left a different man. No," she said, "no, he was the same. But your father explained to me– von Aegir would have had the Empire use Ordelia as a foothold to seize all of Leicester. He had offered von Aegir in exchange, for punishment to my family and house, for our transgressions, the lives of my children. And, so that I may at least watch them grow, I had five more years with them, and that in five years in the spring, the Empire would return for them. He wept. I had never before seen your father weep so. That same spring, he admitted to me that those five years, he had paid for with your life. That way, he would know my grief."

This didn't make sense, Lorenz thought.

His father had gotten Godfrey von Riegan's blood with hired Imperial mages, and when his mother had gotten pregnant with what would have once, perhaps, become the next heir, he had showed his hand and sent Lorenz off, and it was all wrapped up tidily. It was all to save his own hide. But now, his father had done what he had done out of kindness for Helene– out of preservation for the Alliance? What was true anymore?

"But what about Godfrey?"

"The Round Table investigated it and ruled it an accident that the Empire likely had mages at fault for." She shrugged. "There was a great deal of talk about your father's connections to the Empire, at the time, but I dismissed a great deal of it as xenophobia and suspicion towards your mother, and implicit attempts to frame her, and after her departure, it took a very serious toll on him to talk about the incident with the Riegans."

His father had never talked about Godfrey von Riegan when Lorenz had barged in and ruined their first teatime together in a year. Perhaps it was still a lingering wound. Calling the man a murderer was not wrong; there was definitely blood on his hands. That of the Ordelia children still sat squarely on him. But Godfrey's? He was starting to doubt it. Yet what was the package! The names! The suspicious correspondence! Could he convince Helene?

Worse, was he still convinced?

"What about– what about the post? There are a great deal of letters I have, that my friends and I may have figured out a cypher for. Many of them point to my father murdering Godfrey von Riegan, and keeping his blood for crest transfusions with Imperial mages."

"Do you think we didn't see the letters? Your father surrendered them to us himself." She furrowed her brow. "Lorenz, we did not pronounce the man innocent without any basis. The Round Table deliberated for a very long time. We built a very solid case against him, you know. But it seems that your father, though in very extensive communication with the Imperial mages, did not communicate with them in code about killing Godfrey. No conclusive cipher ever led to that with any certainty, and the plain writing is damning enough of your father's collaboration with them– I doubt he would veil shadow with shadow, he is not a good liar. And," she said hesitantly, "letters are hardly as admissible as evidence when there is nothing harder. I personally believe the Imperial mages thought their time was coming close, and, trying to unseat the Alliance further, wanted to weaken your father and Duke Riegan's influence in one swoop. Perhaps they needed Riegan's blood for whatever it is they do in the darkness. And is there any better setup than the man who has entrusted you with his son, his border protection, his friend, and a few other secrets– and his enemy?"

But that didn't satisfy Lorenz. It made too much sense, of course. His father had used crest monsters extensively, likely only having an inkling of what they were, to guard their borders. His father had openly tried to supplant Godfrey when Lorenz was a little boy. Even his mother had believed that his father would have killed von Riegan, but why would he have waited so long when his own son's lifetime would have been drawing near to an end? His father had never been warm, but surely there was something else there. He sensed, then, some strange dread– his father was not the architect in all of this. His father was just a piece in someone else's larger game. He was being played, just as Lorenz, the Riegans, and the Ordelias were. And deep, deep at the bottom of this maze was whoever had done this to him and Lysithea.

"So the Round Table believes my father was set up afterwards, by the Empire to weaken both him, and the Riegans."

"I believe that," said Helene. "I haven't forgiven him, you know. Not for my children. I never stopped being angry. I could not even tell Andrea, you know. But all allegiance I have to your father is out of debt, not love." She paused. "Why did you ask about it all?"

Lorenz mulled over what to say, thoughtful and considerate. "I went through some old letters of his, and spoke to my mother. I believed my father was responsible for Godfrey's death. I thought I had new evidence that you had not surveyed, but I now find myself rather– behind. I asked Judith von Daphnel about it, actually–"

"She wasn't involved in the original investigation." Helene paused. "What she heard, I imagine she heard from Oswald, who was bent against your father the moment his son's blood was spilt."

"But why would my mother be so certain that my father had killed Godfrey von Riegan? I even asked her–"

"You've seen your mother?" Helene's eyes lit up. "Is she in Fodlan?"

Lorenz froze. "Ah. Now I've gone and said too much."

"I would love to see Theophania again. What a lovely woman." Helene smiled, crinkles at the corner of her eyes bunching up. "And a good friend. Though, a bit prone to mistrust and paranoia."

Lorenz was now not so sure he thought terribly highly of Helene von Ordelia's opinions, but he was now quite sure he knew where Lysithea got a few of her tendencies. There was a stubborn surety to her that seemed to shine through readily, and a certain critical mindset that came off as both blunt, and trusting. He didn't know if she was a good judge of character. His father was not a good father, and she seemed to have easily reconciled that out of her mind.

"Thank you, then, for humoring me." He had not even brought out his folders and folders of letters and postal records. It stung. "I was mostly curious about that matter."

"Of course. Is there anything I can do?" She stood, clearly a little frazzled by the conversation.

"No, thank you, Baroness." He bowed slightly and departed into the spring air.

He wasn't sure if he could face his father. He wasn't sure he could face anyone, or trust anyone. Every adult had a strong pull in one direction or the other. His mother, admittedly, was leery and cynical, his father was overly guarded and tended towards deception, Judith von Daphnel was biased towards her friend, and Helene von Ordelia was set in her ways and allegiant to her old friend. Jonquil would not care in the least nor would she bother following his web. And his aunt was– well, Andrea was Andrea.

The only person he could turn to, unfortunately, was looking clearer and clearer with each step.

He rapped his knuckles on the wide mahogany doors. The Riegan manor, all bleached, sun-yellow plaster and limestone walls and dark staircases and wrought iron– and here he was, hovering at its door like a crow. He had rung the bell, and any moment, he expected to see an ever-familiar pair of green eyes peeking out at him.

Yet when the door opened, it was an older man. This made sense. "Good afternoon. The Duke is not having visitors at this time, so if you are here as another offering of condolences–"

"I'm not. I am the heir of Gloucester, and I was hoping I might be able to speak with him privately."

"As I said, today he is not having visitors–"

"Tell him Lorenz says it's urgent, please." Lorenz hoped this would work. He stood outside for a few minutes. Then he sat on a bench for a few minutes. The front garden the Riegans maintained was lovely. Or, rather, Lorenz corrected himself. The Riegans' servants maintained the garden. After having to do weeding of his own at Garreg Mach, he had a newfound appreciation for such "inconsequential" things. He was admiring some of the honeysuckle when the door opened, and Claude von Riegan poked his head out from between the cracks.

"You don't look like you're thinking about anything particularly urgent," said Claude, eyes alight with a dry, measured grin.

"To the contrary!" Lorenz felt himself grow a bit more cheerful even just with Claude. It was a weight lifted from his shoulders to see a friend rather than an adult, a peer rather than an authority figure, and he was only now realizing it. "There was, of course, a good reason I came. And I don't want to bother with pleasantries, so we might as well head directly to your study."

"Ah, that may not be an option," said Claude, a terseness to his tone. "You see, I'm in the midst of a meeting. Von Edmund is only here for another week and apparently there's a few agreements with naval reinforcement to sort out. And your father is working out some financiers' deal with one of the shipyards to make it happen with some of the good ol' Gloucester gumption."

"Goddess, if I never have to hear that phrase again–" Lorenz sighed as they walked side by side. "My father is here?"

Claude nodded affirmatively. "They're in the receiving hall, actually, and probably expecting me back momentarily. He commented that he's surprised you're here."

Wonderful, Lorenz thought. Just wonderful. His father knew he was here. "I see," said Lorenz casually, poorly masking the displeasure he felt at this discovery– an understatement to say displeasure, he thought. "I don't truly have the time for his esteemed company, at this time, unfortunately," he replied calmly.

Claude didn't address this, which told Lorenz he remembered what Lorenz had said was going on between the two of them and had no interest in interfering.

"Well, I will surely have to get back to business within the hour– what could possibly be so urgent?" asked Claude.

"I need a second perspective on a certain matter. I fear I may have been overhasty in many of my judgements and before I proceed further, I would like your opinion."

"Well, shoot, then," said Claude, opening the door to his private study.

Lorenz wasn't sure what he had expected Claude's study to be like. When he had helped with the Duke's funeral, he had never intruded on the room. It was not the Duke's study– the premier one, with cavernous bookshelves where many years ago he had sat with his mother, lost in a book while the Countess talked business with her husband's senior and sorted through affairs. It was actually rather small– perhaps one of the bedrooms that had been renovated into an office over the years. The bookshelves were mismatched and looked as if they'd been hauled in from other parts of the house, and though the two armchairs were a set, one of them was draped with jackets and shirts thrown haphazardly over it, and the other had at least a dozen books heaped on the arms and beside it on the floor. Clearly, the room was well used– though there were no dirty dishes or empty tea cups, and a clean tea set sat on the desk. The fireplace was nothing but embers, barely glowing, and Lorenz supposed at this time of day, he had been in here last rather early in the morning when there was still a chill in the air. The velvet drapes had been tugged open, rather than left in their shadowy, half-veiled formal corded bindings and silhouettes. It was so very– Claude. Everything he touched seemed to take on a bit of him.

"Oh, sorry about the mess," said Claude, scooping up the jackets and shirts off of the chair and sitting, permitting Lorenz the one that had its own private library within arm's length. "I don't exactly take visitors here. I would've had you in the receiving hall, if I hadn't figured you'd maul Marianne's father."

"Is he truly so unpleasant?" asked Lorenz with dry bemusement. "I have met him many times, is he in bad spirits today?"

"I've never seen him in good spirits," corrected Claude. "An odious man if ever there was one. Hm. Should use that word more," he muttered to himself. "Anyways, should I send for tea before we get talking?"

"No thank you, I just had tea with Helene von Ordelia."

A grave look came over Claude's face, he paused. "Is Lysithea alright?"

"Oh, yes, so far as I know. Worry not," assured Lorenz. "Helene and I actually talked about Godfrey von Riegan."

"I thought you settled that matter?" Claude crossed his arms. "Your father, some Imperial connections, all clean and tidily sorted away."

"I thought that too, until Helene and I spoke." Lorenz took off his jacket– today, a grape-colored jacquard coat over a white, loose and frilly shirt. He kept his posture high and straight, though, arm carefully holding the jacket in a picture-perfect drape. "Helene informed me of her own thoughts on matters– and though I think there is no longer any love lost between her and my father, I don't think she would lie. The things she said also make sense."

"What did she say?" asked Claude. "Maybe I'll make myself tea after this," he muttered, standing up and hunting through one of the cabinets.

"She informed me of the intricacies of the Hrym situation– the Imperial mages had bought the Ordelia children and I's lives long before von Riegan's death. My father negotiated this, rather than a full surrender of Ordelia territory to the Empire, and promised some degree of fealty to them. Helene thinks these same orchestrators framed my father– since the cipher used to decrypt the letters is a far stretch and the contents therein are already, even without assuming the letters are in code, incriminating– and not terribly admissible as evidence aside. She thinks that they wanted Godfrey's blood and would have it, and if it weakened the Gloucester and von Riegan strongholds it would make their job easier later, framing my father and weakening the Riegans. Since my father let Imperial mages pass through his territory at will, and still does, it would look like it was his fault, and admittedly, I definitely could imagine it is at least his responsibility."

"I admit her logic seems sound, but if I'm being totally honest, I don't know if whoever's pulling the strings is smart enough for that." He grabbed a tin of tea in an orange box, and held it in his hand, thoughtful. "I mean, if they're playing along with Edelgard now– they really have to realize she's a terrifying woman with a personal grudge against them and a huge axe, right?"

Lorenz paused for a moment and realized that the absurdity of this whole situation was quantifiably, very, very funny. And when that began to sink in, he was barely able to hold in a laugh, stifling it behind his hand before it bubbled up, a wellspring, an uproarious laugh that had his stomach hurting. Claude stared, agape, and set down the tea box.

"Hey, it wasn't that good of a joke," he said with a charming grin.

"It's– it's all so funny," said Lorenz, catching his breath, his hair a bit askew as he tried to hold in the last of his giggles. "I go to all this trouble, and then I find out the Round Table already knew– and that they knew more than me! That none of it mattered, and this whole time, Edelgard is really going to finish the job anyways!"

"Well, she'll finish the job and take half the continent with her. I don't care about whatever it is she's got against the Church, if I'm being honest, and I don't think you do either." Lorenz nodded. "The problem becomes her wanting to take Leicester. I understand where she's coming from with Imperial reform, I do. But when she sets her eyes on us, as you and I know she will–"

"She explicitly asked me, when we were in attendance at school, for support. She and von Vestra both know about me and Lysithea's second crests."

"There. You see! She's got us in her sights once she has the Holy Kingdom taken care of. It's one thing to believe in her ideals. I even think she's right on most fronts. I've heard the way she speaks to her classmates. She understands them, she sympathizes with them, she believes in the people of the Empire. I admire that. But that's going to be our biggest hurdle. People believe in Edelgard." Even after everything they'd seen before– that Edelgard was responsible for the state of the Church and the Holy Kingdom, responsible for the death of their teacher and her father. It was hard not to see her potential.

"Claude, people believe in you." I believe in you, he thought.

"Not like her," he said, shaking his head, though Lorenz wasn't sure that was true. It seemed like people had high hopes for the both of them, and perhaps it was that his proximity to Claude had clouded his eyes with rosy tints, but he certainly thought people put their hopes in him.

Their teacher had.

"What I came here for, though– Claude, I think the Empire's nobility and their mages are responsible for the state of Leicester at the present. I don't think this is a matter we can handle domestically alone, since it is an issue of interventionism. We may have to involve ourselves in the affairs of Adrestia eventually."

Claude sighed. "That's the problem. It all falls into place, Lorenz. You know," he said, hesitantly, "Almyran astronomers have observed celestial bodies called dark stars. These stars, even though they don't cast light, have physical weight, many hundreds of thousands of miles away, and just like our sun, and other stars–"

"Our sun is not a star," said Lorenz.

"I really have to smuggle some books into this country," Claude muttered. "Anyways, you can only see dark stars by the objects that surround them. We can see everything around it. It's all fallen perfectly into place. Now, where's the dark star?"

"Is it not– is it not the mages?"

"I don't think they are, Lorenz. There's something deeper. It runs deeper." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Whoever they are– you know, I think it's got something to do with crests."

"Crests?"

"I've been thinking about it. Why would they even want to make a person who could have two crests? Why would it matter so much to them? Why would this be a hierarchy that they seem to be upholding? I mean, as far as I can tell, mine isn't useful for much in terms of leadership. I'm not a smarter person or a cleverer politician because I was born with a crest." He drummed his fingers on the counter. "So what do they do? What are they good for? Why make you and Lysithea and Edelgard? Or those creepy crest monsters? Or even our professor, since she was special? Everyone seems to be asking where these things came from or how, but never why."

"Most Leicester nobles use crests as proof of inheritance and nobility." Lorenz tilted his head. "Though, being able to wield crest weapons of such magnitude and power as, say, Thyrsus, is quite useful for creating warriors, is it not?"

"Why would they want warriors leading their country?" Claude tapped the side of his head with his index finger. "Think about it."

Lorenz sighed. "Claude, I'm not here to play games."

"No, I want you to think about it because I don't know either." He beamed.

"You say that like it's a good thing," said Lorenz.

"I enjoy a good puzzle." Claude beamed. "Now, I have plenty to get back to my meeting. If you'd care to chat another time this week, we should meet at, say, one of the teahouses on the eastern dock? I've always liked The Copper Pot, my grandfather and I used to visit on weekdays."

"Ah, certainly," said Lorenz. "Noon, Thursday?"

"It's a date," said Claude, pulling out a pad of parchment and scrawling it down. "I'll see you later. Oh, and bring your notes, keep at work. Maybe do some reading on Imperial history?"

"Are you truly asking that I do homework for a social outing?" Lorenz began to smile.

"Think of it more as a study session," said Claude. "Except, you know, we're studying this," he said, waving his hands nebulously. Lorenz huffed a sigh, a puff of his white hair displaced further. "Your hair's gotten longer, by the way."

"I'm growing it out again," said Lorenz casually. "I like it better long, I think. Now and then we must all try something new."

"Well, it looks nice." Claude held open the door and gestured for Lorenz to follow, and they walked back towards the front. "I assume you'll be heading– back to the Daphnel townhome, right?"

"That would be so, yes. My mother and I were going to go out today for a fitting for some summer clothes. She loves things like that, and I need new trousers. I've grown some since last summer, and while the uniforms are easy to fix the hemlines on, I'm not going to be walking around in school clothes."

"Be careful about your mom," said Claude. "I don't think she's in any danger, unless from the Empire for her mother's position– and I don't think they'd so openly make trouble– but Margrave Edmund saw her and has already mentioned it to your father."

"It was inevitable," said Lorenz with a sigh. "I knew that was true, and I think she knew, too."

"Well, you know, I don't think there's much to say from me on that. Your mom is a very elusive person. I think there's a point, Lorenz, where you can't be the overprotective perfect son. She has it under control."

"Would you say the same of your mother?" asked Lorenz with his eyebrows raised.

"Ha! Have you met my mother?" He snorted. "I think she'd kill me if I tried that."

They rounded a corner, both of them mid-laugh, for Lorenz had found Tiana von Riegan to be quite fierce and fearsome, and Claude was right–

And before them, a picture in smokey amethyst linen and silver cotton and pearl lapels– walking around the corner and only stopped from collision by both of the boys catching one another– was Count Gloucester.

"Lorenz," he said curtly, bowing his head. And Lorenz felt nearly apologetic. Nearly.

"Count Gloucester," he said sharply, bowing his head in return. He cleared his throat. "Duke Riegan, thank you, by the way, for your hospitality. I must be on my way."

"Would you mind if I were to accompany you?" asked the Count.

The tension was so thick, so palpable, that Lorenz felt like the entire room was held terse with wire, each motion waiting to spring. Claude looked exceptionally awkward, and Lorenz glanced desperately over at him as if he were going to suggest something to say.

"I mind, yes, but if you have a mind to accompany me regardless, then I cannot stop you." Lorenz clutched his jacket close, walking out the door as he pushed it open.

And, as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw, in the mid-afternoon light, at a respectful distance, that his father followed.