It was odd. I think I was actually glad to see Isolde. The young woman looked hale and hearty after the losses and trauma we both had suffered in Elderwyck, dressed in simple-looking workman’s clothing instead of the finery I would have expected. She actually seemed to have put on some muscle in the intervening months, too. Frankly, out of the entire royal family, she seemed the most trustworthy to me.

  Solid and dependable.

  Which was odd considering our former positions, but hey. People could change.

  I know I sure had.

  Oskar, on the other hand…

  Frankly, the guy looked like shit.

  From the look of him, I guessed we had interrupted a practice session. The young Prince was still wearing sweat-soaked training leathers, not at all looking like the put-together royal I’d encountered during the war. Not only that, but he looked more than physically exhausted. He was paler than I remember, with deep bags under his eyes and a leanness to his form that spoke of lost weight. There was a tenseness to his shoulders that made him look as if he were being hunted, while at the same time, they were lowered like those of a wary, beaten dog. I saw him consciously correct his posture half a dozen times in the mere minutes since he’d arrived so he didn’t look quite as exhausted.

  This was not the image of a King that Herztal needed right now. I could see why Wenzel was worried…in his own way.

  Hmm. Well.

  I might have already just made up my mind before I’d even spoken to Oskar. All I’d needed was to actually lay eyes on the teenager. Now it was just time to convince the man himself that it was a good idea.

  I met Grey’s eyes briefly out of the corner of mine, and noticed the flicker of concern in the dual colored orbs. Most wouldn’t have noticed it from the older man, but, well. I wasn’t most people. He nodded his head briefly to me in a brief second where Oskar was glowering at Isolde for some reason, and that was that.

  As usual, Grey had my back.

  Alright, let’s get this show on the road. I made a point to set my cup of tea down on its saucer loudly enough to draw his attention. “So, Your Highness,” I said, meeting his eyes. As much as he tried to hide it, I could see his brow tense at the gaze. “I’m given to understand you’re having issues claiming both the throne and the crown.”

  Across the table, Isolde snorted delicately into her teacup, completely at odds with her rough and tumble appearance. “No need to dance around the subject, Hart. I’ve already informed him that you met with cousin Wenzel not long ago. I sincerely doubt it was to discuss his hobbies. Unless you suddenly have a deeper knowledge of Herztalian equestrianism?”

  Wenzel was a horse man, eh. I wouldn’t have pegged it. Still, I shook my head at Isolde with a slight, amused smile as Oskar did the same with a distinctly irritated look on his face. “If that’s what you wish. So. You want mine and Grey’s public support to gain the necessary power in the High Assembly that you need to become High King. The question is, do you want to be King, Oskar?” As said prospective King opened his mouth with a confident, practiced politician’s smile, my next words caused it to falter. “More than that, should you even be King right now?”

  Oskar narrowed his eyes at me while I saw Augustine step closer to his liege’s back, almost looming over him. In response, I heard Venix’s robes shuffle ever so slightly behind us. “Of course I should, Sir Hart. I am the rightful King of Herztal. The line of succession is clear. With the death of both my Father and Brother, the divine right of Kings falls to me. For all of his virtues, Wenzel von Steinmark does not possess the lineage to simply skip over me to claim my birthright.”

  “Interestingly,” Grey said mildly, stirring his teacup and not looking up at Oskar as he spoke. “Lord von Steinmark is apparently not seeking Kingship. According to him, what he has proposed to you is that he act as your regent for the next several years, as you are prepared for the role." He finally raised his eyes to pierce the suddenly irritated Prince with a narrow gaze. “It has now occurred to me that Lord Wenzel never publicly announced a bid for the throne. It was rumors from your camp that spread about the reason for the delay in the coronation was that he sought to usurp the succession. As I am not a noble, and my allies in that august chamber are decidedly thin on the ground in the wake of the war, I was not informed of this. Most especially by you, Your Highness. What exactly did you seek to gain by misleading not only me, but the rest of Herztal in this manner?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?!” Oskar suddenly exploded, slamming one hand down on the table and rattling the teaset. “Support! Support among that perfidious pack of liars and fools! Without it, I will never be accepted among the people, despite the war being the fault of the nobility in the first place! Our laws are clear! I require a confirmation vote from two-thirds of the High Assembly to ascend to my rightful place! You know this, Headmaster! Every time in Herztalian history when a succession crisis has crippled the ruling dynasty, it has always led to further conflict! And yet, now when we need unity more than more, Wenzel has stuck his oversized beak into matters and split the vote! I don’t know what he was thinking! He’s dragged us right back to the brink of war!”

  “It hasn’t gotten that bad,” Isolde suddenly spoke up, quieter than she had been earlier. Now she sounded more like the SED Agent she used to be than the rough and tumble persona she’d put up. “From what I’ve learned, the populace is not inclined to further conflict. Support for the rights of the Sculpted is at an all-time high, if for no other reason than to avoid further bloodshed. And among the nobility…coffers are simply too low to finance another war. Even if there were still those among the higher echelons who harbored war resentment, they’re keeping their heads down and biding their time. Brother…I’m sorry, but most people don’t care who the next High King is. All they care about is that there is one to bring about stability. To most people, it doesn’t matter who sits the throne. We’re all of royal blood anyway.”

  As Oskar turned an almost betrayed look on his only sister I spoke up once more, doing my best to affect a kind tone. “And that is Wenzel’s concern, Your Highness. He isn’t certain of your ability to bring about that needed stability in times as turbulent as this. Wenzel spoke to us of your upbringing and the training you received for your task. You were not raised to assume the throne and all the responsibilities therein. It was a good thing you did, back in Helstein, despite what the nobility may think of it. Graden wasn’t fit to rule over an anthill, much less a major city like that. And it was likely the turning point in the war. It gave the Uprising a legitimacy that it lacked without a royal to promote. Everyone still intends for you to be High King, Your Highness. We will all follow you faithfully, one day-”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  For a given value of ‘faithful’, on my end.

  “-but we’re not sure that day is today,” I emphasized.

  If I thought Oskar was mad before, now he was well and truly pissed off. He jumped to his feet to pace before the table. I couldn’t help but notice the sweat that had formed on his brow, easy to notice with the pallor of his flesh. “I cannot believe this! Enemies wherever I look! I expected this from you, Hart,” He said, shooting me a foul look, to which I just raised an unimpressed brow. “We’ve had our differences in the past. Even the Headmaster, I’m unsurprised to find suddenly turning face on me. After all, what more can you expect from a former pirate.”

  At the way Oskar outright spat that last word, Grey visibly rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair to watch the unfolding tantrum, sipping on his tea. I think that at this point in his life, the old man was used to the grandstanding of much younger men. It just didn’t faze him much anymore.

  “But you?!” Oskar suddenly rounded on Isolde. “How can you do this to me, Sister?! We are all we have left! Mother, Father, Alaric…they’re all dead! We are all that is left of the mainline Eisenherz line! If I can’t count on you to support me, who can I?!”

  Isolde suddenly slammed both of her palms onto the face of the table and stood up to her full height. I was a bit surprised at the tears I saw in her eyes as she glared furiously at her only surviving brother. “I have always supported you, you complete idiot!” She shook with barely restrained anger and frustration, curling her hands into fists on the table. “Who was it that distracted Father when he would rail at you for not being a perfect copy of Alaric?! Who was it that told Mother how much you were struggling with your training, when you refused to talk about it? WHO WAS IT!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, her raised voice echoing off of the crystal in the room. “WHO FORGAVE YOU FOR TURNING AGAINST ALARIC IN THE FIRST PLACE?!”

  Silence descended on the room once more, as Isolde stood heaving across the table from, frustrated sorrow evident in every line of her body. Oskar didn’t appear to have the words to respond, standing there looking lost in the face of his sister's outburst. “Isolde…I…”

  “Shut up,” Isolde croaked out, scrubbing one hand across her eyes to glare at Oskar better. “And listen, for once in your life. I publicly supported your bid because that’s what I’m supposed to do now. I’m going to have to be the Herzgard, now that you’re going to be King. I have to be the one to protect you and watch your back. I’m not…” She choked up briefly, but rallied after a moment. “I’m not going to turn my back on you, Oskar. I’m…we’re…” She briefly looked over at Grey and me, sitting quietly off to the side. “Just trying to do what’s best not only for you, but for the country. You…you’re not ready yet, Oskar. You know we’re right.”

  All of the fight seemed to leave Oskar then, as he slumped in place to stare at his feet. Gently, far more than I expected of the veritable attack dog, Augustine reached out and guided his liege lord back into the chair at the table. Once he was sitting, Isolded scooted her own chair over to sit closer to him and reached out to grab his hand. Without looking up, Oskar rubbed a thumb over the back of it. “Perhaps.” He eventually whispered into the quiet of the room. “The…pressure of it all has been…more than I expected. I…just…,” He shook his head, seeming to be near tears himself. Oskar met Isolde’s eyes, looking more desperate than I had ever seen the young man. “Why did Alaric have to do all of it? It was never supposed to be me.”

  The tears she had been holding back finally won their battle and ran down Isolde’s face. “I don’t know, Oskar. I…don’t think we ever will. Maybe he really was just in love. Maybe that monster twisted his mind up to where he couldn’t tell right from wrong. But…” She said, her lips curling up into a wobbling smile. “At least we have each other…right?”

  “We do…” Oskar breathed, reaching out to wrap his sister in a hug which she gratefully returned. “I promise you, we do.” Grey and I both had the same idea and politely looked away to give the royal siblings a moment of privacy. But, before I did, I saw it as Augustine reached out and laid a tentative, mailed hand on the Prince’s shoulder. It wasn’t shrugged off.

  After a moment, I heard Oskar clear his throat once more. When Grey and I looked back at him, I saw that the Prince and Princess had regained a measure of their composure, while a stoic Augustine loomed behind the pair. Still, I didn’t miss the redness that had come to surround their eyes. “I have come to a decision,” Oskar said in a rough, if not polite tone of voice, as if we hadn’t just seen him mid-breakdown. “I will briefly step aside so Cousin Wenzel can assume the post of Regent, as I am instructed in proper statecraft. This will be contingent upon his acceptance that upon reaching the age of twenty-one, I shall assume the post of High King of Herztal. As for his other requests, such as assuming the Duchy of Elderwyck…I will discuss those privately,” He stressed. “In a closed-door session of the High Assembly.”

  It wasn’t hard to discern the underlying request there. Grey and I stood up from our chairs at the same time, with my mentor stepping around the table to lay a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. He ignored the shifting of Augustine at the movement. “A wise decision, Your Highness,” Grey said approvingly. “It is a strong man indeed who resists the temptation of power, in the pursuit of greater understanding. You shall make a fine King indeed. One day.”

  I stepped forward then, drawing attention. “And I’ll publicly announce my support for both you and Wenzel’s Regency. That way, we can make sure there are no questions that this isn’t just a power play by a different royal line. I doubt Grey will have a problem with doing the same.”

  “I will not, no,” Grey nodded, removing his bony hand from Oskar’s shoulder. “I believe I can ensure the same with the remnants of the Uprising leadership. As long as what was previously discussed is not being reconsidered?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Oskar shook his head, standing from his chair with Isolde by his side. “No, no. I will ensure that Cousin Wenzel agrees to the previous terms. The Duchy of Helstein shall be entrusted to former Commander Woodrick, to ensure that the Sculpted are granted a powerful voice among the High Assembly. Woodrick of Helstein shall become the first of the Sculpted elevated to full nobility.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at hearing that. That sounded like a good decision to me. As much as I was still a bit irritated with the wooden Sculpted for leaking how I was the one to kill Rhazal, I still liked him. Woodrick would make a decent noble. I chuckled out loud, though, as another, more relieving thought hit me. “There’s at least one thing that’s too bad about you not being King yet,” I said, perhaps a tad too self-satisfied. “You’re not going to be able to actually Knight me yet.”

  To my surprise, Grey and Isolde smirked at me, Augustine glowered at me through his helmet, and Oskar…quirked an amused eyebrow. “On the contrary, Sir Hart,” He said, almost vindictively. “Under Herztalian law, a Regent approved by the High Assembly has the power to Knight those who are deserving, as well as approve citizenship applications. You’ll need to be Knighted by Cousin Wenzel to ensure your voice, and thus endorsement, has proper weight among the nobility. It will have to be private, of course, considering you’re already meant to be one. But the official act will enshrine you into the rolls in case someone goes looking. And with that comes responsibilities.”

  Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I heard a small, barely perceptible, and out-of-character snicker from the Antium bodyguard at Grey and ours backs.

  Oh, joy.