Von Bolstedt woke from a terrible dream, roused by warmth and tender touch. He lay in bed, in his room at the Black Boar. The back of his head was cradled by a tender hand, a clay bowl was pressed to his lips. From it rose warm steam and the smell of broth. Before he even thought of his whereabouts, he began supping from the offered bowl, finding the warmth deeply satisfying as it ended up filling his stomach. The bowl was lowered and he glanced over to his right, finding Frau Zech half sitting on his bed, staring down at him with a worried benevolence he hadn’t known since he’d been a child. His heart was conflicted, at once simply glad that he was cared for, on the other riling against the very notion that he was requiring of such a thing, that he’d been seen in such a meek condition. Von Bolstedt’s confused disgruntlement must have shown, for Zech backed off swiftly, casting her eyes low.

“Herr von Bolstedt, I’m happy you're awake.” She spoke honestly, but her joy was obviously dampened. Adebar sunk back into bed, stirring his stiff limbs. There was some pressure on his left thigh, where...where that bastard Reibert had stabbed him!

He made to rise, but found his body sluggish, his sensibilities clouded.

“Is he dead?” He hadn’t meant to pose the question so directly, frankly he knew Reibert wasn’t dead. A shoulder injury like that was unlikely to drag the madman to the jaws of hell. Frau Zech stared at him in a bewildered manner, opening her mouth, before closing it again. It took her a while to formulate her response.

“Herr, if you do not mind, we were not told much by the men who brought you, only that you’d had a duelling accident…”

That explained a lot. Sigmar, he must’ve sounded much like the madman she so feared, then.

Von Bolstedt had explained the basic events of his duel with Reibert, drawing a sharp gasp from Frau Zech. She’d seemed incredibly concerned at the news that her erstwhile hero had fared so poorly, but he’d assured her, with orator’s confidence, that their next encounter would see the maniac dealt with. He’d sworn by Sigmar then, immediately feeling a sharp pain within his chest. He didn’t know if he could beat Reibert, especially now. There had not yet been a chance to test his leg. He had dozed off after Frau Zech had left, only to awake when the sun stood warm and stark in his window. He cast back the woolen blanket, discovering himself bare but for a simple shirt. A hurried glance revealed that his clothes lay on a stool in the corner of the room.

His left thigh was covered in a layer of stained bandages, a small red spot visible on the outside.

Adebar swung his legs out of bed, placing his bare feet on the wooden planks, noting with some relief that the leg, while a bit stiff, still obeyed, and didn’t pain him too much either. Supporting himself on the bed frame, he tried to stand, finding that he needed two attempts to finally get up. His leg hurt, but more like he’d over-exerted himself, not in the way that he would’ve thought a deep injury to hurt.

Adebar swaggered over to the door, finding his gait unsteady, hands slightly shaky. The sweet stickiness of honey or resin clouded his mind. Blood loss?

His musings about his injuries was disrupted by a gentle knock on the wooden door. Unthinking, and seeing as he was already there, Adebar opened it wide, only to find his choice of dress at once delightful and dreadful.

In front of him stood Lady Emilia, in a carmesin dress, accentuating the attractive paleness of her skin quite well. In this moment, however, her pale cheeks became a flushed red as she looked him up and down.

Emilia smiled profusely as he backed off, letting his surprise get the better of him.

“My Lady, a great surprise,” Adebar began shamelessly, “I did not expect guests.”

“I can see that.” The Lady had caught herself, focussing her eyes on his.

“I can change into something more stately if you would give me a moment…”

Her reply came quickly, a shake of her high head as she rushed inside, closing the door swiftly behind her. Well, maybe his day was about to get a lot better?

“We don’t have much time.” Emilia navigated him back to bed, tender but firm hands on his shoulders making him sit down. “I have something for you.” The young man couldn’t help but stare at her as she stepped back a bit, reaching behind herself.

Well, well, well, and here he’d thought she was a bit more stuck up than that…

Before he could reply with a witty line about how he was sure he’d enjoy what she had, she produced something from behind herself. He fought down a scowl of disappointment, and the slight, crazed expectation he’d felt tingling in his flesh, as he took the thing she offered him. It was a pistol. The gun was surprisingly heavy in his hand, then again, he hadn’t shot pistols in quite some time. Few of the students had owned one, and duelling was always done by blade, as to see to it that noone was killed by sheer accident. Not to speak of the exorbitant costs…

“I believe you know how this works?” He nodded in affirmation. “Good. The way it looked yesterday you’ll find it hard to outfence my idiot brother. Whatever rot has infested him has not diminished his skill.”

Von Bolstedt did his best to not imagine a hint of accusation in her voice.

“So, he’s still alive, my Lady, but what now? Unless you could think of some way to smuggle me into your house and home I doubt I will just be able to shoot your brother dead in sheer daylight.” She smiled coldly.

“Oh, do not worry. You won’t have to seek him out in the marketplace. He’s coming here in two days, when Mannslieb is at its fullest. You’ve hurt his pride, Adebar. He wants revenge. I’d advise you to use that chance, but I am sure our Holy Lord has already planted that idea in your heart of hearts.” Emilia raised a bit of an eyebrow, turning her back on him. She cut a good figure, he realized once more.

“Well, two days more then, and you will be rid of Reibert.” He rose from his bed again, hobbling over to his small window, staring outside.

“I have spoken to your father. I do not think he approves of me.”

She joined him by the window. The narrow room did not allow for a decent amount of room between them. The nearness was a bit exhilarating in and of itself, he allowed himself a crooked smile.

“My father approves of little that could tear his perfect little bloodline apart. If it were as he wishes we all wouldn’t ever leave the house.”

Her words were bitter, carrying the hand of the deeply personal.

“They say that Reibert’s the mad one. I say all of the men in my line are mad in their way.”

Adebar turned to regard her, sharp features in the orange light of a setting sun.

“I heard at least one of your brothers supposedly is a good man, and Captain of His Imperial Excellencies armies?” She scowled, not even glancing at him.

“Maybe he’s a good man, but it's no coincidence that he is the closest to death.”

His questioning look finally drew her eyes. She looked beautiful, yes, but ruined and bitter too.

“Markus, Felicia and I are not children of Gutrecht. He may be our father by right of marriage, but I am proud to say I didn’t spring from his tainted seed.”

She turned back to look outside, at the sinking sun. The days got ever shorter, and a sharp wind howled around the house for a moment.

“It's all a big charade. You fit in quite well, Adebar.”

Their eyes met again. Von Bolstedt should have felt uncomfortable, being so actively called out, but in her presence, he somehow didn’t care.

“I will play my part in the play.” The words brought a content little smile to her lips.

“I know you will.”