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SLDS Lord George Murray
Ridderkirk System

The red light over the open door abruptly strobed. The bolts holding Durandal in place fired and the drogue chute that had been automatically deployed ten seconds earlier when the light first flashed on pulled my mech out of the DropShip. Howie Arnett's King Crab was right behind me. In a normal drop the rest of my lance would have launched at the same time, the first out of the first set of bay doors in George Murray's Number-1 and -2 holds. Maria Chan's Pillager did come out the first hold, but Curt Mortensen's Longbow remained onboard.

Following the Pillager, came the lead mechs in one element each from Raven, Regulator, Thunder, and Muleskinner. Respectively cyber-warfare, artillery, air-defense, and engineers. Out of the Number-2 hold came the number two mechs of the element.

Stetson and Ramrod—George's and the Sergeant Major's lances—landed with the rest of the special troops company even as Apache, Big Horn and Comanche troops made their drops. Without enough time to look over the traditional troop designations I had picked the Indian War campaign streamers from the mid-nineteenth century for the line troops, and traditional cavalry callsigns for the rest.

Ammo pallets dropped from the three dropships carrying my command element and the special troops company. Designated mechs—the ones with hands—began to rip them open. Armored hatches clanged open, and in short order the line companies had full missile racks.

The Bucs were already leaving. They'd land at the Vesinur Space Complex south of the capital. The capital of Ridderkerk—unimaginatively called Ridderkerk city—was located in one of those broad, bowl-shaped valleys that travel brochures call scenic. I could just imagine a picture of one in one of those Marine recruiting posters. You know, the one that tells would-be recruits that they can 'go to exotic places,' and 'see exotic peoples' and, if asked, the recruiting sergeant might add on what the new Marine would be expected to do to those exotic people residing in those exotic locals.

As for the Cav, we did what we traditionally did when they came for us.

We took to the hills.

Their fighters headed for us.

Annie, directing a few flak rounds from Regulator as well as the firepower of her Riflemans, encouraged them to stay back until they were in mutual support of their mechs, not that I had any intention of waiting around that long. Our greater speed would allow us to harry and harass them, but most of my mechs had the same ammunition problems for their guns as they did for their missile launchers. Even if they had full loads I wasn't willing to let myself get caught up in a stand-up fight no matter what my orders were.

On Planting, observation had revealed that we had a slight but real advantage in our ballistic weapons. Preliminary analysis of captured woofie supplies confirmed this, but they had also confirmed that the woofies had superior energy weapons and better (or at least lighter) missile launchers. The launchers in particular weren't as robust and didn't have the partial-fire ability ours did—or the multi-environment launchers of the Marines—but in addition to the better launcher/missile interface that allowed the improved targeting each launcher had only half the mass of ours which was no small thing. Our missiles had more or less the same performance as theirs, but that was because we used a better explosive that freed up mass for a better seeker head.

More to the point, their energy weapons—aside from the LPDS and the lightweight PPCs which they didn't seem to have—their energy weapons were lighter, more compact, better ranged, and more powerful than ours. Caught in the open their longer-ranged lasers and harder-hitting particle cannons would rip us to shreds.

Therefore, my op-plan, such as I'd had time to put one together, was to run for the hills. Hopefully in there where ranges would shrink and ARES/AVIX would allow for precise non-line-of-sight missile barrages, we could negate most of their advantages while increasing our own. Or that was my hope anyway.

CW Dire Wolf
Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
Rasalhague System

"What are you thinking, Bondsman?" Ulric asked as he idly stroked his goatee.

Phelan looked at the Khan of Clan Wolf and wondered, not for the first time, what the other man was thinking. No, not what he was thinking, how he was thinking. It always seemed like Khan could work a problem from three different angles, or more, at once. Each of those angles could, in turn, produce a different solution, and the man could slip between them as naturally as breathing. As a warrior it made him very dangerous, but as a politician—which a Khan was, in a sort of fashion, though they would never call themselves such and behaved very differently than any politician from the Inner Sphere—it made him scary.

"I am thinking that whoever these people are," he said, sweeping a hand at the holotank, "they had no more idea of what they faced than Khan Garth Radick did."

"An interesting idea," Ulric said. Despite his words, his posture was nonchalant, almost indifferent, as though whatever Phelan found of interest was barely worthy of notice. "Support it."

"First point, I have never heard of any of the units mentioned by General Richard Winters in his opening exchange," Phelan said. "They are not mercenaries. There are very few mercenary units of multi-regimental strength, which they indicated they had even if they did not engage with their entire force. They could be inflating their numbers, but I do not believe this to be the case. I suppose they could be a secret house unit, but they do not follow normal naming conventions."

"Unlikely," Ulric said. "Their technology is too advanced."

"There is some stuff coming out of the New Avalon Institute of Science that would make even the Clans pause," Phelan said, "At least where the ground units are concerned. I've—I have—never heard of anything like their aircraft.

"There is little data about the other space vessels, but to the best of my knowledge there are no compact KF-drive cores left in the Inner Sphere. Even if one were to have been found and salvaged I doubt that any of the Great Houses would have left it in a hospital ship, and yet Khan Garth Radick's own inspection teams said that is exactly what it was."

"Indeed," Ulric said. "You said both were surprised. Why? Our invasion has been underway for almost a full year."

"Exactly," Phelan said. "And yet, even if he failed to recognize Garth Radick in particular, General Winters should have recognized Clan Wolf and yet he did not. There might be someone living in a farming community in the back end of the Free Worlds' League that has not heard of Operation Revival, but I would not put anything I value on there being two. What particularly caught my attention was his threat against the JumpShips."

"Yes," Ulric said, his eyes narrowing. "He is willing to use nuclear weapons."

"That is likely the same thought Khan Radick had," Phelan stated. "I can…appreciate your repugnance where such weapons are concerned, but speaking as a native of the Inner Sphere what caught my attention was that he threatened to destroy JumpShips. The Inner Sphere has not had the capacity to build new drive cores for centuries. If there is anyplace in the Inner Sphere that does now, production cannot be more than a handful, if that many, in a standard year. Most of the Inner Sphere regards destroying JumpShips the way the Clans regard using nukes to destroy a genetics facility."

Ulric looked at him sharply.

"It threatens peoples' future. Many planets have died for want of interstellar transport. Even today life in many systems hangs in the balance. The destruction of JumpShips threatens that balance. And, with respect, Khan, but nuclear weapons are fast. Starvation is not."

Ulric sat back and stroked his chin again. That more or less coincided with his understanding. It still left open the question, however, of whom these people were and where they came from. "What do you think of the bidding?"

Phelan shrugged, "I think General Winters got lucky. He happened across the fact that the Trial system allows the defender to demand something of value if he succeeds in defeating the attacker, and started the bidding and high as he could think of. Planting is a breadbasket world with an abundant supply of water and a long growing season. Its astrographic positioning makes it something of a crossroads. Its capture would have increased Clan Wolf's stocks of food-stuffs, which would have aided our operations and reduced the length of our supply lines. Further, it is conveniently close to the Jade Falcon occupation zone to make selling its products to that Clan economically feasible, perhaps even desirable. It is, in any way you look at it, a valuable planet. Without it we are in the position of having to divert logistical lift if we are to feed some of the neighboring systems that we took. I suspect the Jade Falcons will be in a similar position.

"Asking for something truly of equal value, at least to the extent of a planet, is extreme, or at least that is my understanding?" Ulric nodded and Phelan went on. "As I said, he started his bidding high. An opening position as it were. I doubt he was expecting to actually get that much."

"Why?" Ulric said.

"Because even a Successor Lord would not make that kind of bargain…or maybe they would," Phelan shrugged. "No, it was not offered with the idea that the saKhan would accept it. Actually, I suspect he may have meant it as a sarcastic comment and the saKhan taking it seriously caught him off-guard. When it became obvious that the saKhan was being serious and not joking back, he made the request for the asto-data. Information needed to strike at an invasion launch-off point is not the kind of thing any reasonable military commander, by Inner Sphere standards, is going to turn over. And yet, it is of a value to a military commander facing an invasion. As much value as a planet is worth?" He paused for a moment, "All the while he portrayed himself as being 'reasonable', to encourage the saKhan to make a reasonable, and generous, counter-proposal, or at least to accept something that he could provide."

"One in five of all military hardware short of DropShips, not including battlefield salvage and captured stocks is 'reasonable'?" Ulric said.

"How much is a planet worth, Khan?" Phelan asked.

Ulric nodded. "Garth Radick allowed himself to be out-bid. Albeit, there was the unspoken threat that the rest of Admiral Murakama's WarShips and additional ground forces could have been brought to bear if he did not accept the bid. The first such vessels we have ever seen in the Inner Sphere. There is no way to tell in what order they are in, though the reports of the hospital ship, or at least what of it was observed, are that it was in excellent condition. What of the ground phase?"

Phelan considered the holotank. Not long before he had stood in it as Clan Wolf and Inner Sphere forces had swarmed around each other like little toy army men. "Both sides were…less than stellar. "

Ulric raised an eyebrow. "Defend it."

"I only have battle-roms—and those from only some of the engaged units—to base my conclusion on, not solid after-actions reports," Phelan reminded the Khan.

Ulric made a waving gesture. It had been his decision to give the bondsman the roms and not the reports, and he was interested in what conclusions the bondsman could, and would, draw from the raw data.

"The 3d Cavalry was obviously designed and equipped for a truly mobile warfare doctrine. We saw a little of it in the first engagement along the canal with the small flank-force that got cut off, but also in the retreat from the canal as well as they fell back on the cities. If they had used it to their fullest extent, their casualties would have been much lighter. Instead they followed a mission plan that would have been more effective for just the forces already on planet, though even there it was lacking.

"The likeliest explanation was that they and the local garrison wanted to coordinate their movements and support each other, but lacked the familiarity with each other's equipment, training, and battle doctrine to mount an optimal defense. Coupled with the loss of a major headquarters unit, the observed defense would have simplified their command and control links and operations, while providing additional security to their headquarters elements.

"On Beta Galaxy's side, the saKhan's initial multiple converging thrusts failed rather spectacularly, but likely would have been far worse if it had just been the 41st Hussars down there without the 3d Cavalry. It appears that the Hussars were ready to lead Beta Galaxy into a series of running ambushes, while the 3d Cavalry Regiment was trying to turn it into a mobile open-field battle. The confusion probably led to their decision to abandon an open-field campaign.

"The follow-up Headhunter mission was clearly detected early but not grossly so. The likeliest explanation is that a sentry in the headquarters unit that was successfully attacked detected one of the Headhunter team in the lull between it getting into position and confirmation of the readiness of the other teams. One of the Headhunters attacked, successfully, once their mission was compromised, but most of the other headquarters were enough further inland to make an attack impossible once the alert had been sounded. The few that were closer found units on high alert, and waiting for them in prepared positions.

"The street-by-street fighting that followed prevented the best use of 3d Cavalry's assets and turned the apparent main thrust of the battle into a slugging match that the 3d Cavalry's ground forces were never going to win. At the same time, it did provide sufficient opportunity to inflict incredible amounts of damage upon Beta Galaxy."

Phelan hesitated, then dived right in. "The most telling error, however, was that saKhan Garth Radick failed to realize that the battle he faced was not the main thrust, but rather a diversion. In failing to accept the offered Order of Battle he also failed to discover the 3d Calvary's unlanded BattleMech and Battle Armor forces."

"Assuming that armor was actually present," Ulric noted. "Positive conformation was never established."

"Aside from Star Commander Blada Neely's report during the battle," Phelan agreed. "I realize that the observed weapons—the water-launched missiles and the underwater torpedo-mines—make the presence of drop-deployed battle armor impossible. I have no way to account for the discrepancy. However, considering how hard they tried to conform to your rules of engagement, I think it is more likely that they simply would have left the weapons unlisted if they were drop-deploying them and not the armored infantry. And they did have wet-naval units listed in their OrBat, a service and supply detachment among other things. I agree with the primary analysis that it could have been a maintenance unit that was convenient to land. But it is possible that the torpedo-mines or battle armor could have been deployed or recovered by submersible, or even loaded onto civilian river-traffic before the battle drew in range of the river."

"Very good." Ulric had wondered if anyone was going to point those units out. "Continue."

"The saKhan's failure to realize that the main focus of the attack was the StarPort, led him to send in several Mech and fighter trinaries piecemeal instead of concentrated. In each case the 3d Cavalry was able to bring superior numbers to bear. When zellbrigen held, our forces did better, but not as much as expected. At least some of this was no doubt due to Beta Galaxy not enjoying the usual qualitative superiority of the Clan's equipment over the rest of the Inner Sphere. How much is due to that I cannot say."

"What you mean to say is that our warriors expected to face the same mangy curs instead of wolves in their prime and got bitten because of it, quiaff?" Ulric said humorlessly.

"Aff," Phelan agreed. "And once zellbrigen was voided, their superior numbers finished things quite handedly. I am unable to explain why Clan forces abandoned zellbrigen, Khan. I have observed that those from less…rigid clans will do so if presented with tactics that do not conform to clan traditions. This, however, is the first time I have observed the Clans breaking those rules first when both sides had initially used them."

"They played an ancient cavalry march over the external speakers of their BattleMechs," Ulrich said.

Phelan frowned. "Playing music is cause to violate Zellbrigen, quineg?"

"Neg," Ulric said, "but in this case it is understandable. The apparent leader chose a different march than that of the rest of his battalion."

"And attempt to draw fire, quiaff?"

"Aff, and he did so, but not because his music was different, Bondsman. He played the ancient parade march of the Royal Black Watch Regiment. A march that, in the Clans, is only played during the changing of the Honor Guard aboard McKenna's Pride in orbit above Strana Machty where the Great Father is entombed."

Phelan started to continue with his analysis, but this answer made him pause and look back at the holo-tank.

"You have thought of something," Ulric observed.

"I don't, I mean I do not—" Phelan hesitated, then swept a hand out. The battle wound back until he found the point he was looking for. A gesture stilled the holographic reconstruction, and a hand gesture made one mech grow from ankle-height until it stood taller than he did. It was obviously a Marauder, the customary back-mounted cannon relocated into one shoulder, lasers at the hips in some kind of circular, rotating mount that let them be aimed either forward or backward. It bore a camouflage pattern suitable for light forest, though bands of a dark tartan pattern encircled one pauldron and the opposite upper thigh.

"These symbols, the Star League emblem encircled with black," he said, indicating one. "The old Sol-system disk of the Terran Hegemony. I could not find a reference to the rabbit in the database."

"Somebody found some old BattleMechs in a Star League depot and put them to use," Ulric shrugged. "That," he said, indicating the tartan bands, "is the tartan of the Royal Black Watch regiment. It used to be painted that way when a MechWarrior left the Royal Black Watch to return to the regular Star League Defense Force.

"Oh, the machine has been updated. They must use a new type of engine based on the performance figures, and aside from one lightweight long-range particle cannon their energy weapons are Star League vintage," he continued, obfuscating just what 'new type of engine' they were using. "Their missile launchers, that can attack multiple targets as seen when they were de-mining the approach to the StarPort, is of a kind the Star League was only just beginning to experiment with."

"What about their ballistics?" Phelan asked. "Their observed rate of fire is too high. They apparently have some kind of ultra-autocannon that can use cluster rounds, not to mention that…whatever it is that the Rifleman mechs are equipped with."

"Your point, Bondsman?"

"What if…what if this is not a unit from the Inner Sphere, but from the Clans?" Phelan asked. "Or someone who left around the same time the Clans did, or otherwise managed to avoid the succession wars, and continued to develop their battle-tech?"

Ulric did not quite glower. "Speak plainly."

"I have been studying the Clan Wolf Remembrance," Phelan said. "There is a passage that speaks of one of the Clans rebelling, and the Founder ordering that Clan destroyed.

"There is not much information available to me, but I did run across a copy of a report by the Loremaster at the time discussing discrepancies between the numbers of this Clan that had been confirmed dead, and those unaccounted for. Discrepancies that were put down to bookkeeping errors. And then, shortly after, I came across another report. This one made by a Clan Ghost Bear Warrior shortly before his death, detailing how they had observed JumpShips and DropShips from this clan departing Clan Space. He said that they did not alert Clan Wolf about them since they were Clan Wolf's problem, having won the Trials for the right to destroy them. What if these…people, are the descendants of—"

"No!" Ulric snapped. He paused for a moment in thought. In studying the history of the Clans in preparation for taking his first steps upon the honor road, it was inevitable that the bondsman would learn of the Not-Named. That he had managed to do so this quickly, and in such depth was…disconcerting. That he had done so and presented them as a viable rational for explaining the observed forces was…

"This issue, the fate of the survivors of the Not-Named," he continued carefully, but in a firm tone, "has been raised before, Bondsman. And it has since been settled. To raise it now would only distract us. You would have Clan Wolf halt where it is to pursue centuries-old reports and let the Smoke Jaguars become ilClan, quiaff?" he asked sarcastically. "For that is what will happen should the ilKhan learn of this pointless speculation, even if it is from a mercenary spheroid freebirth bondsman."

"Neg," Phelan said softly.

"No good, or at least nothing that can help us now, come from the Not-Named," Ulric muttered crossing to the holotank as Phelan quickly abandoned it. "Never forget, Bondsman, Terra is the prize, it must be our only goal unless we would rather see the Falcons or Jaguars attain it. Besides, there is good reason to believe that these are not them, descendants or otherwise."

"Sir?"

"It is not widely known, or rather, it is a fact we have done our best to forget, but the Not-Named created a BattleMech with a semi-modular component system to speed repairs. It served as the basis for what would eventually become the OmniMech. They also started the research and made several key breakthroughs for what would eventually become the Clans' standard particle projector cannon, which has half again the striking power of the Inner Sphere equivalent in a smaller and lighter package.

"The 3d Cavalry revealed a new kind of particle cannon, yes, but their extended-range models have the same emission spectra of old Star League models. Even if no improvements had been made, they would certainly at least having been using that enhanced version. Such was not the case."

"The Clans field Star League-equipment in some second- and third-line units," Phelan observed.

"And would you count these as second-line troops?" Ulric said. "No, and there are two good reasons these are not the Not-Named other than their equipment. First, as you pointed out they did not appear to recognize us, clearly improbable since Clan Wolf was responsible for hunting them down and destroying them. Further, they display no Clan insignia. If any of the Not-Named survived to have descendants, and those descendants know who they are, then I cannot imagine them abandoning their totem. They would have retained it just to spite us if nothing else."

Ulric glared at the computer terminal, as though it, and not Phelan, were responsible for the uncomfortable line of thought. "They deserved their totem," he said darkly, "it fitted them perfectly."

Phelan knew better than to ask, though he badly wanted to. "And the second point?"

"And my second point is that we know what WarShips were unaccounted for from the fleet list," Ulric said. "Both those left behind during the Exodus, and those missing after the annihilation of the Not-Named. None save two of the Comfort-class hospital ships accompanied the Great Father on the Exodus. Both are accounted for. Also, the SLS Hood is accounted for. It was destroyed with all hands shortly after the Liberation of Terra."

"And yet it is here," Phelan said. "Khan Garth Radick confirmed it by both its transponder beacon and comparison of its emission spectra to records. It is an exact match."

"Tell me, Bondsman. How many of our WarShips retain exact emission spectra matches to that of Star League records? Your best guess, please."

Command and Operations Center
1st Lyran Regulars RCT Garrison
Ridderkerk

Felix Steiner stood in Hauptman-General Jerome Messina's operations center, his spine straight and hands clasped lightly behind his back. To the casual observer, he looked every inch a Prussian Field Marshall of the old school. The same school that had produced the likes of Gebhard von Blücher, Paul von Hindenberg and Frederick Steiner. To the observer who knew what he was looking at, he appeared to be a calm, confident military commander.

Both of these observations would have been wrong.

The words from an old lecture, one of the first he had received on military command technique after entering the Academy, echoed in the back of his mind. "Nervousness is infectious," that lecturer repeated. "Nothing will cripple your troops' morale faster than an officer who is nervous. Don't fidget, don't fiddle with your gear—you either have it all right or you don't and if you don't and you fix it your troops will know that you didn't—don't mop at the sweat beading your brow. Take a gander at your maps, take a sip of water, sit back and relax. If there's time you can talk with the troops a little, but don't talk about what's coming. Talk about the weather, a recent sports game… Most of all, don't ever let them see you sweat."

As the lecturer droned on, internally Felix Steiner seethed. The Regulars, without the patronage of other Lyran units, were always the last to receive new equipment, training, everything really. The FedCom Armed Forces had started to turn that around, but it was taking far more time than it should have. He had battalion commanders that had no clue as what to do, regimental commanders who were running around like decapitated chickens, and a staff that was so incredibly inept he would have done better to put them all up against the wall and then do all of their jobs himself.

If any of it had been because of what was coming for them, he wouldn't have blamed them. Before he had fought the Clans he had thought the tactical and intelligence briefs provided him were wildly inaccurate. Certainly, they were more powerful than any force seen in the Inner Sphere in centuries, but not nearly as lethal as reported. Unfortunately, the chaos he was seeing had nothing to do with Clan Wolf. It had apparently been going on for days, and all because their CO had been in a car accident.

"Colonel Goetz, the 951st will send out detachments of infantry under trained sappers to every magazine, bunker, kasern, lager, depot, armory, and military storage facility. As each unit moves out, the detachments will set up demo and then destroy any equipment or stores of military value that said units are unable to take with them."

"You're insane!"

"And you, Colonel Goetz, are relieved," Felix said with cold relish to one of the faces on the master teleconference screen that linked him with the commanders of the 1st Lyran Regulars Regimental Combat Team, or at least the senior officers in their respective headquarters.

"You can't do that," the officer in question said in a petulant tone.

"On the contrary," Felix said. "Major Brandt has a detachment on their way to your location right now. I suggest, Colonel, in interests of your continued good health, you do as they say." The first thing he had done after landing was to contact the senior MP—there was a full battalion on the planet. It was so nice to have at least one capable subordinate.

"Major Lorenz, you are brevetted to lieutenant-colonel. Command of the 951st is in your hands. Do you understand your orders?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent," Felix hissed. "Colonel Keitz, you will move your BattleMech regiment and secure the spaceport, immediately. Your support troops will embark upon their DropShips at once! "

The acting BattleMech Regiment CO at least looked like he knew what he was doing. At least so long as there was someone around to tell him what he should be doing. That was something at least.

"Colonels Holm, Tabbert, and von Stugen," he went on, "since you have proven yourselves unable of planning a simple ring defense, I have taken the liberty of defining areas of responsibility for each of you. You have ten minutes to have your first armored vehicle in motion towards these areas."

"Impossib—" Holm choked off her complaint and gave him a wide-eyed look.

"Better, Colonel," Felix said mildly, "better."

He turned to the remaining commanders. "Infantry, aside from the 951st will embark immediately. Likewise, the artillery as the buildings will provide blast-shadows that you cannot fire into, and VTOL units. Aerospace Commanders, you will escort the DropShips. I will trust this to not be too difficult for you?

"Armor," he continued before anyone could try to answer his rhetorical question. "Once the infantry has boarded you will fall back on the spaceport through the BattleMech covering force…"

Ducal Palace
Tamar

Selvin Kelswa the Third, Duke of Tamar leaned forward slightly in his chair and gave his guest an intense look. "I agree with the Primus' concerns wholeheartedly," he said. "Given the technological capability these new people have already demonstrated they are almost certainly a faction of the Clans. What better way to attack us than to gain our trust, learn our troop depositions and movements, our plans, the new tactics and weapons that are being developed?"

"By all accounts they put up a most successful struggle against the Clan on Planting," Precentor Virginia Hoppe noted, stirring the pot a little.

"Bah! One useless backwater agricultural world," Kelswa said. "That unit hasn't slowed since their 'defeat'. The only real evidence we have of their supposed successful attack comes from them. Everyone knows how easily scan data and battle roms can be faked by someone with enough processing power and they have WarShips! How much more processing power could they possibly need?

"Oh, I admit that they probably fought for real in front of the Davion forces, assuming they didn't have their precious federated sun in their eyes. But that was peanuts compared to what these people have claimed to do. And please note that outside of the aftermath of the starport strike which wasn't nearly as effective as they claimed, they refused to allow those Davions anywhere near the real military campaign.

"No, mark my words, Precentor, they may claim to be our allies, but how would being under their boot-heel be any different than being conquered outright by the Clans?"

"And the Prince-Archon has brought them to your doorstep," Hoppe said.

"Exactly." The Duke of Tamar gave his companion a disgusted look. "Davion says that I should be happy since I'm getting the forces and more that I requested. I wanted five good, solid, Lyrian regimental combat teams to back up the 26th. Instead I get told that no, that it's impossible, that it'll leave other vital worlds undefended. But now he can park actual WarShips above my head and tell me to be grateful!"

Virginia allowed herself a smile of satisfaction, one that didn't reach her face, as she stirred the tea in her cup. Instead she leaned forward slightly, as though drawn in by the Duke's passionate words, and encouraged him to continue.