III—Maximilian Silvanus of Lucia

Max stepped out of his carriage. The long line of them seemed almost endless. But seeing as most of the nobility was here at the House of Gates, he wasn’t surprised.

With the carriages were drivers, servants and other attendants as they came with their respective noble betters. It was clear that Max that even the squires of many of the knights had come, but he only knew that because he saw them parked at the end of the line when he had rode up.

Max was of high noble lineage, so he was relatively close to the front of the line.

Relatively being the key word, he thought. There must have been twenty carriages ahead of him as he walked along the path toward the House of Gates up on the hill, the gardens and the walls visible from where he stood.

His driver would no doubt find lodging in one of the other houses on the huge property of forests, roads and meadows.

Had the two empires been united, the House of Gates would surely be occupied by the Imperial Couple, but because of the longstanding hostilities and the fractured state of things, the House of Gates had been occupied by both sides—and even fought over at times.

The sun was beginning to set, the dark blue hue of the skies turning to a bright orange as he walked along the road where dozens of other nobles stood or walked along with him, talking and laughing.

It was like they were going to a grand party—a grand ball of the nobility.

And that’s what it’s supposed to be, he thought.

But was the nature of this gathering of both sides a distraction? It was supposed to be a parley, and yet there would be parties and a ball.

Max’s personal chest was stowed in the back of the wagon, due to be carried and stored in his chambers at the House of Gates. With this many nobles in attendance, though, it was sure to be late.

His clothes were fine, he needed a fresh set in this heat.

When he made it through the front gates and into the main grounds, someone called his name. “Max?”

He turned. “Drenna,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you.”

The other man had a smile on his face. “You seem rather jovial.”

“Indeed,” he said. Breathing in deeply, he said. “Can you believe it? The entire nobilities of both sides are meeting!”

“Not today.”

“Well, no,” he said. “But once everything is taken care of—what, in two day’s hence?”

“I believe so.”

“A grand ball, Maximilian. And it will be grand.”

“Indeed,” he said. “If we don’t start killing each other.”

Drenna laughed.

“Well aren’t you just finely dressed, my lord,” Max said as he looked his friend up and down. He was wearing fine knee-high leather boots, trousers, a white shirt and a red silk cape. With his crystal-hilt sword and his flowing hair, he was quite dashing.

The ladies will tear their skirts as they chase you.

“These?” It’s nothing. “Wait until we meet the Florencians. Gods, I’m nervous just thinking about it. You know, half of them I’d love to kill myself.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I’m certain Lady Farreli will want to meet you. Haha! Don’t look so stricken, my friend. It will be fine.”

“She’s an insufferable gloater,” Max said. “And an enemy, I’ll remind you.”

“Yes, well, if things progress the way our lady empress desires, we may not be enemies for much longer. You’ll have to set your differences aside. Hells, you may even have to marry her.”

“Marry her?” Max asked and cocked his head back. “Whatever do you mean?”

Drenna shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“I was thinking perhaps that was what all this fuss is about.”

“How do you mean?”

Some laughing Lucians walked past them. Max and Drenna stepped back into the grass near some ornamental shrubs so as not to be in the way of the many new arrivals.

They weren’t the only ones in the yard. Dozens of people in small and large groups stood outside, probably waiting to have their things brought in before they were taken to their chambers.

“I mean the ball, the festivities. All of it,” Max said. “It’s a distraction so we don’t kill the Florencians and they us.”

“Ah,” Drenna said. With a wry smile he said, “Perhaps.”

“I have to say, I am quite surprised at how well you’re taking all this.”

“Why should I not?” he asked. “I’m tired of killing Florencians.”

“Your brother died on the Battle of the Four Hills, did he not?”

“Indeed,” he said.

“Do you not hold animosity toward them for that?”

Crossing his arms, he said, “Of course I do. But for what? Should I have revenge on my brother’s killer? Max, I often find myself thinking as I hold a glass of brandy next to the fire, what if my brother’s killer hadn’t killed him, but had met me on the field of battle instead. Would I have killed him, in turn, making his siblings hot with rage as they seethe day and night, waiting for the day they can kill me to avenge their family?”

Max thought about it for a moment. “It’s an interesting question you ask. I’ll have to think on it myself.”

“But not now,” Drenna said. “Come. Let’s enjoy the festivities and the Lucian side of things until we’re forced to meet the Florencians for this parley.”

“Very well,” Max said. “Lead the way my friend.”

“Oh, I shall, Max. I shall.”