In the Blood of Eden

May 481 I.C., Odin

“You owe me for dragging me to Prince Ludwig’s wedding,” Yang said. “The least you can do is pay back the favor by accompanying me to one brunch.” He was sitting in his bedroom, with his phone on speakerphone on the windowsill of the open window beside him, watching squirrels squabble over something in the garden below. The sun was on its way down, and the clouds were rosy.

“I said that I would be happy to have brunch with you and your friends if and only if I was allowed to host it,” Magdalena said, her voice crackling out through his phone speaker. “I don’t know why you won’t let me. You know I’m a charming hostess.”

“Because I can’t just accept Mittermeyer’s invitation and demand that he change the venue.”

“Sure you can.”

“I’m not rude like you are.”

“Darling, I’ve never been rude in my life.”

“Come on,” Yang said. “Please?”

“Why do you even want me to accompany you?”

Yang sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, explain it so I know at least what I’m getting into.”

“Evangeline was actually the one who invited me,” Yang said. “And I don’t want--”

“You’d rather this be a double date than a third wheel?”

“Number one,” Yang said, “we are not dating. Number two-- I don’t even know what Mittermeyer and Evangeline are.”

“Okay…” Magdalena trailed off. Yang could just picture her making a face and twiddling with her hair.

“I don’t want to be rude to her if Mittermeyer and I talk about work, and I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth while trying to figure out what is going on with the two of them.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?”

“Because he looks like a kicked puppy every time I bring his personal business up,” Yang said.

“So you think it will be less awkward to… what? Does she know , this Evangeline?”

“I highly doubt it,” Yang said.

“Real can of worms you have there.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trying to borrow your social graces.”

“You really must have a paltry selection of options if I’m the one you’re going to for help with social graces. All I know how to do is make more trouble for everyone.”

“The only other woman I know is Hildegarde Mariendorf,” Yang said flatly. “And since she’s a child, I think your social graces will have to do.”

“That’s very sad for you,” Magdalena said, not sounding sad in the least. “Are you not at all worried about the class issue?”

“You’re the one who’s unhappy about going out to eat at a restaurant like some sort of commoner,” Yang pointed out.

“Darling, if I was prejudiced against commoners, it would be difficult for us to be friends.”

“What, you don’t think the ‘von’ in my name means anything?”

Magdalena snorted with laughter. “You kill me.”

“Mittermeyer I don’t think will care that much-- he’s met you and knows you’re my friend. Evangeline… Well, she’s a sweet woman.” Yang shrugged, though Magdalena couldn’t see it over the phone. “You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“Now, that truly would be classless of me,” she said. “‘Make a big deal out of it’-- what kind of a boor do you take me to be?”

“Are you coming or are you not coming?” Yang asked.

“I’ll come,” Magdalena said. “But I’m only agreeing because I’m in a good mood right now.”

“Oh? What’s got you so happy?”

“Frau Goldenbaum shall be attending the ballet with me tomorrow night, with dinner at my house afterwards.”

“And Prince Ludwig?”

“Hates the ballet,” Magdalena said, sounding quite pleased. “He has respectfully declined my invitation, even though I so generously offered.”

“Did you pick that specifically because he hates it?”

“Well, the man hates all the fine things in this life. I could hardly invite him to something without him refusing. Unless it was some sort of horrible thing that men get up to in their spare time.”

“Such as?”

“I gather he likes to watch duels.”

“Thrilling.”

“You sound as unenthusiastic about dueling as Prince Ludwig does about the ballet.”

“Did I ever tell you that I gave Reuenthal a dueling sword for his birthday once?”

Magdalena laughed. “Did you indeed?”

“It was a self-serving gift,” Yang said, mostly joking. “I had spent the semester having nightmares that someone would challenge me to a duel, and I would simply be killed immediately. I had to give Reuenthal the means with which to step in and defend my honor.”

Magdalena was continuing to laugh. “And this wasn’t just because you thought he would look dashing with a sword.”

“Well, that’s-- not a fair thing to say. Anyway, I think he liked the gift. Hung it above his bed for a while.”

“A man who hangs a sword above his bed has something deeply wrong with him. Liable to fall down and stab him in his sleep.”

“Yeah…”

“So, you’re unenthusiastic about duels?”

“It’s hard to like bloodsports,” Yang said.

“And yet you’re a soldier.”

Yang sighed. “I am.” He tried to change the topic. “You’ll be careful, right?”

“It’s like you care, or something.”

“Forgive me for doing so,” Yang said sarcastically.

“Yes, mother, I’ll be careful. You’re really one to talk.”

“Speaking of mothers, where will your mother be during all of this?”

“I haven’t thought of a way to get rid of her yet.” Magdalena sighed dramatically. “Maybe we should get married, just so I have an excuse to move her into a different house.”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“Mmmm,” Magdalena said, which was meaningless. “Maybe I can convince her to go bother Count Mariendorf tomorrow.”

“Please don’t drag the count into your nonsense.”

“My mother likes him,” Magdalena pointed out. “Well, I’ll think of something. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Fine, fine,” Yang said. “I’ll leave you to your scheming. Sunday brunch, then?”

“I’ll come by and pick you up,” Magdalena agreed.

Yang and Magdalena met Evangeline and Mittermeyer at a restaurant in the center of the capital. Yang was wearing civilian clothes that Magdalena had deemed “fine”-- a casual but nice blouse and blue vest, and Magdalena was wearing a charming sundress and flower-bedecked hat. Mittermeyer was dressed similarly to Yang, and Evangeline looked like she was wearing her best dress-- one that was probably a little too warm for the weather.

Mittermeyer helpfully made the introductions of the two women to each other. Evangeline seemed a little overwhelmed by Magdalena, and Yang wasn’t sure if it was because Mittermeyer had introduced her as “the Baroness Magdalena von Westpfale”, or the way that Magdalena had, when offered Evangeline’s hand to shake, grasped it with both hands and held it for what felt like Yang to be an uncomfortably long time.

“You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Magdalena asked. “I’m charmed to meet you.”

“Thank you, Baroness,” Evangeline said.

“Oh, please, call me Maggie. All of my friends do.”

Evangeline smiled shyly at that.

They all sat down at an outdoor table, underneath a canopy of leaves and ordered some brunch. “How have you enjoyed your leave, Mittermeyer?” Yang asked.

“It’s been good,” Mittermeyer said. “I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time in the capital with you.”

“What would you have done if you had?” Yang asked. “Lurked in my apartment for a few weeks?”

“Should have made him pay rent,” Magdalena said.

“There’s unfortunately not that much reason for me to spend time in the city when I’m on my vacation. And my mother would have been unhappy if I had tried to find one.”

“How is your mother?” Yang asked.

“She’s well. She’s glad to hear that you’re enjoying your posting.”

“Oh? I wasn’t sure that she liked me.”

“I think you made a decent impression when you were our houseguest.”

“Hank being a charming houseguest, now that I’d like to see,” Magdalena said, laying her hand on his arm.

Mittermeyer laughed a little. “You just have to invite him to a party where he knows people, so there’s less of a reason for him to stand in the corner by himself.”

“It’s not so much the standing around that’s the trouble with Hank,” Magdalena said, leaning towards Evangeline rather conspiratorially. “It’s the wandering around and getting himself into trouble that’s the problem.”

Evangeline giggled a little. “Herr von Leigh was the perfect guest when he stayed with us,” Evangeline said. “He complimented Frau Mittermeyer’s cooking enough to soothe her, he learned to ice skate to amuse us, and he offered me some advice that has greatly improved my life.”

“Us?” Magdalena asked.

“Evangeline lives with my family,” Mittermeyer clarified.

“Then I am shocked that during his stay Hank did not open a door that he shouldn’t. He seems to find whatever untoward thing is happening at any given location.”

Mittermeyer coughed into his coffee. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“There’s nothing--” Evangeline protested.

Yang wanted to bury his head in his hands. “It’s unfortunate that both of you are thinking of different incidents,” Yang said. “And I had hoped that Baroness Westpfale would be on good social behavior today, and would refrain from making wild insinuations about you and Mittermeyer.”

Evangeline smiled at him. “It’s fine,” she said.

“So there’s no truth to the idea that a handsome young man and a beautiful young woman might have some sort of relationship between them?”

Mittermeyer frowned at Yang, who made a face at Magdalena, trying to get her to cool down.

“Evangeline is my third cousin and my friend,” Mittermeyer said.

“Once removed, actually,” Evangeline added, though she seemed unhappy, slightly, and looked down at the table.

“That’s a perfectly distant relation,” Magdalena said. “My mother would be thrilled if I decided I wished to marry my third cousin once removed. Unfortunately, he’s a fantastically ugly and unpleasant man.”

“The standards are somewhat different for nobility, are they not?” Mittermeyer asked.

Magdalena laughed. “Hank, you told me that no one would mind the circumstances of my birth. Well, it’s no matter. If the common people wish to hold themselves above the nobility on this one matter, that is their right. Certainly they have few enough of them.”

“I was under the impression that you would be on your best behavior,” Yang said. “Not purposefully going around offending my friends.”

“I was in a far better mood when I promised you that,” Magdalena said.

“I can tell.” Yang looked over at her, saw her fiddling with the spoon in her coffee, twirling it underneath her finger in a way that belied agitation that her voice didn’t.

Mittermeyer looked at Yang with a kind of exasperation. “You haven’t offended me,” he said.

“Thank you for forgiving my poor social graces,” Magdalena said. She turned slightly towards Evangeline. “Now, Evangeline, you were saying something about Hank giving good advice?”

Evangeline flushed slightly. “I was a very stupid girl several years ago,” she said. “I had some unrealistic expectations about how I should behave. Herr von Leigh was kind enough to correct me.”

“How thrillingly vague,” Magdalena said. “But I suppose it would be rude of me to press you, as my new friend. What do you do with your time, Evangeline?”

“I’m in school,” Evangeline said.

“Oh?” Magdalena leaned forward. “You’re too old for high school, though.”

“No, I’m studying design at Veltheim College,” Evangeline said. “I have a scholarship.”

“I’m jealous,” Magdalena said.

Evangeline tilted her head, perhaps noticing for the first time that she and Magdalena were fairly close in age. “Do you not go to school?”

Magdalena laughed. “Not anymore.”

“But you want to?”

“Well, I have no idea what I want. But my mother and everyone else will tell you that I was an unholy terror at my finishing school. My mother would keel over if I tried to attend a women’s college.”

Yang glanced sideways at her, some suspicions about Magdalena’s schooling finding their way into his thoughts. “Do you have any plans for after you graduate?” Yang asked.

Evangeline looked over at Mittermeyer, who didn’t seem to notice. “I’m hoping to find a position in a publishing house,” Evangeline said. “It might be nice to move to the capital. I’m sure your mother will be glad to see me gone.”

“No, she likes you a lot,” Mittermeyer said, rather distracted. “She’d keep you around forever, if she could.”

Magdalena smiled a little. “How did you come to be living with Wolf’s family?”

“My father died, and he had always been close with Wolf’s mother, so she offered to take me in,” Evangeline said. “I’m very grateful for that. For many reasons.”

“I see,” Magdalena said with a smile. “Certainly a far better fate than being all alone in the world like Hank here.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Yang muttered, taking a sip of his tea.

“He thinks he has need for neither family nor love,” Magdalena said. “How sad for him.”

“I’m sorry, will you excuse me for a second?” Mittermeyer asked, sounding a little strangled.

“Of course, Wolf,” Evangeline said with a concerned smile. Mittermeyer stood and nodded, heading into the restaurant, presumably to use the bathroom.

“I believe mother nature is calling me as well,” Magdalena said, turning to Evangeline. “Hank will be perfectly happy to entertain you for a moment, won’t he?”

Yang looked over at her, narrowing his eyes. The tone in her voice indicated that she had more in mind than just going to the bathroom, but he couldn’t say that in front of Evangeline, who was the only person at this table missing all of the context.

“Your breakfast will get cold,” Yang said.

“Such is life,” Magdalena replied. She took her hat off and left it on her chair when she stood. “I’ll be right back.” She twiddled her fingers in a jaunty wave back at Yang and Evangeline as she also vanished inside the restaurant.

There was a very awkward silence that descended between the two of them for a moment. “I’m sorry about all of this,” Yang said. “I really shouldn’t have invited her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Evangeline said. “I think she’s fun.”

“She is usually in a better mood. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” He took a sip of his tea and watched a fat bumblebee land on Magdalena’s hat, trying to pollinate the flowers on it. “I’ll ask her later.”

“Does she know Wolf?”

“I dragged him to her birthday party last year,” Yang said. “That’s the only time they met.” He shook his head slightly. “She’s just too invested in the business of people who don’t concern her.”

“There isn’t really any business to be invested in,” Evangeline said, sounding rather wistful.

“I’m not sure--”

Evangeline shook her head. “Really, there’s nothing going on between Wolf and I. We’re just friends and cousins.” Yang couldn’t help but react to that, though he wasn’t sure exactly what expression ended up on his face. “You thought that there was?”

“I don’t know what I thought,” Yang said. “Mittermeyer…”

“Does he talk about me?”

Yang rubbed the back of his head. “Fraulein--”

“Please, just call me Eva,” she said. “We’ve known each other for years. You don’t need to be formal with me.”

“Eva, I…”

“What does he say about me?”

“It’s not my business,” Yang finally got out. “I think… He likes you a lot. But he has a lot of other concerns.”

“Such as what?” Evangeline asked.

“Part of it is being in the fleet,” Yang said. “It’s hard to have a life on Odin when you’re stationed at a starship construction facility in the frontier.”

“That won’t be forever.”

“That’s true,” Yang said.

“But that’s only part of his concerns?”

“Mittermeyer wants to do right by everyone in his life,” Yang said. “I think it’s hard for him to figure out what that looks like.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

Yang was stiff. “I don’t know. That’s just an impression that I get,” he lied. “Maybe-- he’s a good man. An honest man. Maybe he thinks that saying anything to you while you’re still spending time under his family’s roof is inappropriate.”

She nodded. “Is there something else?”

“And maybe he doesn’t feel ready to, I don’t know, settle down.”

“Does he have other women?”

“No,” Yang said. “I don’t think… Well, it’s not my business. I shouldn’t be saying anything about Mittermeyer’s personal life.”

She smiled a little. “You are a good friend to him.”

“No, I’m not,” Yang said. “You probably shouldn’t have invited me here today.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s complicated,” Yang said. “If you tell Mittermeyer that I’ve been giving you advice, he’ll probably think that I’m doing it for selfish reasons.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Yang shook his head. “I can’t really explain it. I wish I could. It’s… Old school problems.”

She laughed a little. “I see. Are you giving me advice for selfish reasons?”

“I want Mittermeyer to be happy. More than anything else,” Yang said. “But he’s the only one who knows what that looks like. And as for you…” He shrugged. “Are you happy hanging onto his coat tails for years?”

“I don’t have much else going on in my life,” Evangeline said. She didn’t sound very distressed about this. “He was by far the nicest man in our hometown, and I go to a women’s college. There are not many opportunities to meet other men who would catch my eye.”

“If you say so.”

“You must think I’m still some kind of lovelorn teenager.”

“I never thought that about you.”

“No?”

“I think you’re more pragmatic than you give yourself credit for.”

She laughed a little. “Is that a quality you admire?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Should I make a move, then, if he’s unwilling to?” Evangeline asked.

“No!” Yang said, a little too emphatically.

Evangeline leaned back. “It’s not illegal for women to take an active interest in men.”

“You’ll scare him, if you do. That’s all I mean.”

“I didn’t think that Wolf would be scared of a woman breaking some of the usual social rules.”

“Not like that,” Yang said. He sighed a little. “You’ll either have to be patient and let him take his time, or you’ll have to give up on him. Those are really your two choices. I think he’d grow cold to you if you didn’t give him plenty of time to think about what he wants.”

“How long is he going to take, thinking about that?”

Yang frowned. “I think that everyone who knows him is asking that same question. Probably at least until his current tour of duty is up.”

“Years, then?”

“You don’t have to wait.”

“I can, for now,” Evangeline said. “Maybe when I become an independent woman after school, I’ll feel differently, but for now…” She shrugged and smiled. “Self-serving advice, was it?”

“Sorry,” Yang mumbled. He filled his mouth with pancakes so that he wouldn’t have to say anything else for a moment.

“You seem to be giving contradictory advice. On one hand you’re telling me that he likes me, on the other you’re telling me not to stick around. Which is it?”

Yang shrugged, feeling miserable. “I’m trying to give advice that won’t lead to anyone getting their heart broken.”

“Wolfgang isn’t so cruel as to do that.”

“I know he doesn’t want to be, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.”

“Is it?”

“He might end up hurting himself more than you,” Yang said, thinking about Reuenthal.

“You have a dim view of the situation.”

“I can’t help it.”

She laughed a little bit. “I appreciate your advice, even if it is self-serving in a way that I can’t figure out. Should I ask him, if you won’t tell me?”

“You’d only upset him.”

“Hm.” She took a sip of her own coffee. “I can’t pretend I understand what the problem is. From my perspective, Wolfgang is a good man who likes my company, and I like his. There aren’t any reasons for us not to be together, and yet he won’t do anything, and you’re here talking about him managing to break his own heart. Please pardon me if I’m saying something untrue, here, but Wolf is an uncomplicated man in most other respects.”

“Eva…”

“What?”

Yang shook his head. “I guess I have some insight into that. I think Mittermeyer values the fact that you think of him as an uncomplicated man, and I think that he wants to truly be as uncomplicated as you think him to be.”

She studied him closely. “I can’t see what the complications are.”

Yang looked away. The bee that had been on Magdalena’s abandoned hat was now flying dangerously close to his head, and he stilled, hoping it would go away. The buzzing in his ear distracted him.

“I keep saying it’s not my business to divulge Mittermeyer’s thoughts, and yet I keep saying things,” Yang said.

“Do you think he’ll tell me himself what the problem is?”

Yang closed his eyes. He could imagine a situation in which Mittermeyer would, but he didn’t think it would be a happy one. He could picture Mittermeyer’s honest gesticulations and his tears, and what he would be admitting to Evangeline, but he couldn’t picture how Evangeline herself would react. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “You shouldn’t ask me for advice. I’m very bad at giving it.”

“I don’t think so. I think you’re very helpful. You’re the only one who’s willing to talk to me frankly, and who Wolf trusts.”

Yang sighed and opened his eyes. “On that count, Eva, I’m worried that you’re wrong. I don’t think I’m speaking frankly, and I don’t think that Mittermeyer has any reason to trust me.”

She smiled at him, quite a gentle look on her face. “You haven’t heard the way he talks about you to me. I think he holds you in the highest regard.”

Yang didn’t have anything to say to that. It was a warm feeling to know that Mittermeyer, who would not lie to Evangeline on that subject, trusted him, but it was a complicated one as well. After a moment of silence, he said, “They’ve been gone for a long time.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I’m sure Magdalena is just causing trouble. But you probably don’t need to be that worried about it.”

Evangeline laughed. It didn’t take that much longer for Mittermeyer and Magdelena to reappear, with Magdalena managing to look smug and Mittermeyer looking generally unhappy.

“Were you causing problems?” Yang asked.

“Of course not, darling,” Magdalena said. “I never cause problems, I only solve them.”

Yang looked over at Mittermeyer. “Are you alright?”

“Quite,” Mittermeyer said. He met Yang’s eyes, then tried to smile. “I’m simply trying to enjoy my last day of leave.”

“Oh, yeah,” Yang said. “I’m sorry you’re going.”

“I’ll be back on Odin soon enough. And I’ll write to you and tell you all about my posting.” Yang took this to mean that Mittermeyer would tell him what was going on with him in a letter, since they wrote to each other all the time anyway.

“Shame that your engineering courses ended up being the deciding factor in your posting,” Yang said.

“I’ll ask for a transfer when I get promoted,” Mittermeyer said. “It’s not really a position that suits me.”

“You said you were doing well at it,” Evangeline said. “And you will be promoted. That seems like it is suitable.”

Mittermeyer shrugged. “I don’t enjoy the work as much as I would enjoy something else, I think.”

Talking about Mittermeyer’s dislike of engineering was a less fraught topic than anything else, so the atmosphere of the breakfast shifted slowly to something more comfortable. Evangeline was very attentive to him, and she was able to make him laugh, something that they both seemed to appreciate. Yang watched them, considering it all. It was true that there was none of the natural completeness that Mittermeyer and Reuenthal seemed to have together, but it would have been a lie to say that Evangeline and Mittermeyer were unimaginable as a couple. If it came to it, they would make each other happy, at least some, Yang thought. Even if it wasn’t whatever secret joy that Reuenthal brought him, Yang thought that Mittermeyer might make that sacrifice. Would it be fair to her, though? He wished he had the liberty to stop thinking about the situation.

They finished eating, and parted on good terms.

“Fraulein Evangeline,” Magdalena said, as they stood outside the restaurant. “You absolutely must come to my house for dinner some time. I shall send you an invitation.”

“Oh, thank you,” Evangeline said, smiling shyly. “I would be delighted.”

Seeing Yang’s somewhat concerned look, Magdalena said, “Though I will have to promise Hank that I will be on my best behavior.”

“I don’t mind,” Evangeline said, which made Magdalena laugh and reach out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Evangeline’s ear. Yang narrowed his eyes at her, though he didn’t think that anyone noticed.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said with a smile. “I know I often make a fool of myself.”

Yang turned away from them and towards Mittermeyer. Their eyes met. “Stay safe on your deployment,” Yang said, holding out his hand. Mittermeyer took it, and clasped Yang’s shoulder with his other hand.

“I should say the same to you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I suspect that your nature puts you in more danger here than I am in a construction facility.”

Yang squeezed Mittermeyer’s hand, then dropped his arm to his side. “My easygoing nature has served me well in the viper’s nest so far.”

Mittermeyer smiled a little. “It’s not the easygoing part that I’m worried about.”

“I’m sure I’ll still be around when you get back.”

“Write to me so that I know you haven’t died.”

“You know I always do.”

Mittermeyer nodded, then turned to Evangeline. “Shall we go, Eva?”

She nodded. “Thank you for coming to brunch,” she said to Yang and Magdalena.

“Any time,” Yang said. Mittermeyer held out his arm and she took it, and the two of them walked off towards the parking lot behind the restaurant.

Magdalena’s chauffeur was pulling up in front, and she and Yang both got in. Magdalena directed the car to drive them to her house.

“You’re not going to let me go home?” Yang asked. “You know I have work to do, right?”

“Work? You mean writing your little book.”

“Well--”

“I’ll have someone drive you home.”

“What’s gotten you so worked up?”

“I’ll tell you when we get back.”

At Magdalena’s house, she very carefully made sure that her mother was not around, then led Yang into her bedroom. Yang wasn’t sure what she meant by bringing him there-- perhaps just to not be disturbed. Yang hadn’t put much thought into what her taste in decor might be, but her room was surprisingly pleasant and uncluttered, though there were what seemed to be treasured childhood memorabilia on a shelf. Yang hovered uncomfortably near the closed door while Magdalena seated herself on a chair in front of her dressing mirror, peering into her own reflection without speaking. Yang stayed silent, trusting that Magdalena would speak when she was ready.

“I had Ingrid over for dinner last night,” she finally said.

“I’m aware,” Yang said. “I thought that would put you in a good mood.”

“She almost didn’t come to the ballet,” Magdalena said, a note of pain in her voice. “And then she almost didn’t come here for dinner.”

“But she did?”

“I can convince her to do anything,” Magdalena said. “I always have been able to.”

Yang tilted his head and studied her. “Why didn’t she want to come?”

“If you breathe a single word of this to another human being, I will destroy your entire life.”

“Aren’t I already keeping the biggest secret that I can?” Yang asked.

Magdalena was fiddling with tubes of lipstick on the table in front of her, not looking at Yang, even at his reflection in the mirror. She nodded a little. “That’s why I’m telling you.”

Yang decided that she would be more comfortable if he stopped hovering, so he sat down on the edge of her bed, behind her so that they could see each other’s faces in the mirror. Magdalena was looking down at her hands.

“I got my mother to go out,” she said. “So we could spend some time alone. Here.”

Yang nodded. He didn’t feel particularly curious about Magdalena’s sex life, but he figured he was about to hear about it, so he asked, “What was the problem?”

“Nobody else would ever see,” Magdalena said finally. “Not unless they took her dress off.” She ran her hand briefly over her own side, then her inner thigh, face twisted as she remembered something ugly.

Yang remained silent.

“You ever had a bruise where you could see the indent of every finger?” she asked.

“They’ve only been married for a month,” Yang said.

“Are you saying I don’t know what I saw?”

He shook his head, holding up his hands. “No. I’m just… shocked. I have to ask-- what exactly did you see? Or what did she tell you? Did you talk to her?”

“She says that--” She broke off and shook her head. “It would be one thing if he just didn’t care about her, or if he demanded what husbands demand from their wives. That would be one thing.”

“And it’s not that? It’s more than that?”

“She said-- on the first night they were married, she said something stupid to him, she didn’t even remember what it was, and he threw this--” She gestured a little, trying to indicate the size of it. “Ashtray. Made out of stone. At her head.”

“It hit her?”

“He was careful to throw it at somewhere her hair covered, apparently.” Magdalena reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Look at this.” She handed it to him.

On the screen was a picture, one of Ingrid and Prince Ludwig standing together and smiling, clearly taken on their honeymoon on Phezzan. Ingrid had a kind of vacant expression on her face.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Yang asked. On the surface, it was a completely normal picture.

“Look at her eyes, Hank.” Yang zoomed in on the photo. One of Ingrid’s pupils was hugely dilated, while the other was the appropriate size for the sunny day. He winced a little. Concussion, probably. It was amazing that she could bear to be out in the sun-- her head probably hurt more than words could express.

“Oh,” Yang said. He passed the phone back wordlessly. If that was the way that she was being treated, and probably worse that Magdalena couldn’t bring herself to describe to him, Ingrid’s life was probably in danger. An untreated concussion was not a small thing.

Magdalena was quiet for a long second. “It’s my fault,” she said.

“He knows?”

“No. I think I’d be dead if he did. I told her to marry him. I thought it would be good for her. To be kaiserin.”

“I don’t think--”

“She didn’t want to.”

“You said yourself she didn’t have a choice.”

“She could have run away, before,” Magdalena said. “Gotten out.”

“You can’t blame yourself for saying that marrying a prince is better than fleeing your homeland,” Yang said, a particularly bitter twist in his voice. “Trust me.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Hank von Leigh?”

“I do.”

Magdalena leaned her head on her hands. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “Is there anything I can do? Do I have to just stand here and watch and smile when I see them together, and die just knowing? What if he kills her one day?”

Yang didn’t say anything.

“Tell me what to do, Hank,” she said. “You’re… Cora told me that her father said that you’re brilliant at coming up with plans.” She laughed a little, a strangled sound. “And that you’re sixty percent of the way to being a traitor already.

“Are you actually asking?” Yang asked.

“I can’t live with myself if I don’t do something,” Magdalena said. “You understand that, right?”

He did understand, of course. His thoughts went unbidden, not to El Facil, but to the conversation he had had with Oberstein afterwards. Oberstein had told him that his life was too valuable to sacrifice for even a million people, but Yang was nodding, now, and thereby tying his life to one sad woman. One sad noble woman, married to the crown prince. Oberstein would say that she was valueless, Yang thought. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Yes, I do understand.”

“Then what should I do?”

Yang closed his eyes and tilted his head back to the ceiling, drawing his legs up onto Magdalena’s bed and sitting cross legged there for a minute.

“You can buy time,” he said. “But it will be…”

“What?”

“You won’t like what I’m going to say.”

“What are you going to say? Just say it.” Magdalena was on the verge of hysteria, and Yang tried to keep his voice soothing, but he didn’t think he was very good at it.

“Prince Ludwig probably knows better than anyone else the value of having an heir,” he said finally. “If she gets pregnant, she’ll be safer.”

Magdalena let out a choked sob. “And then what? Once she has a baby boy, then there’s no reason--”

“It gives you time to find a way to get her out,” Yang said.

“You can’t just-- she’s kept-- out where?”

“To Phezzan, or the Alliance, I don’t know.” He shrugged, miserably. “There has to be some way.”

“If it happens while she’s pregnant, they’ll track her down,” Magdalena pointed out. “A claimant to the throne--”

“I know,” Yang said. He ran his hand through his hair. “She needs to have the baby first.”

“And leave it with him?”

“What choice does she have?”

Magdalena clenched her hands into fists, gathering the fabric of her skirt. “I don’t know.”

“It’s something that can be figured out,” Yang said, though he knew that if Ingrid was to escape, the baby would need to be left with the royal family. Having a claimant to the throne hiding out on the other side of the galaxy would be a political disaster the likes of which hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years. One of the many problems of monarchy, Yang mused, brain oddly fixated on that despite the more pressing parts of the situation.

Magdalena nodded a little. “You’ll help me figure it out?”

“Yes, of course,” Yang said. He was already in it deep. How did he keep getting into these situations? All of his friends would kill him if they found out. They just wouldn’t be allowed to find out. More than even El Facil, no one could find out about this.

“We’ll probably need help,” Magdalena said. “Do you know anyone on Phezzan who could?”

Yang nodded. “You have money. That will help.”

“Anything you need.”

“I’ll write to… an old friend of mine,” Yang said. “He might be able to help.”

“Who?”

“Phezzani merchant,” Yang said. “I think I can still contact him.” He had fallen out of touch with Boris Konev since coming to the Empire, since they had both agreed it would be safer for him to not have traceable contact, but Yang figured this was an exception. Although he disliked the idea of getting his childhood friend wrapped up in Imperial politics, but he didn’t have much of a choice-- not like he knew anyone else.

She nodded. “Good. Do it.”

“Okay,” Yang said. “Okay.”

Magdalena looked up at him. Some of her makeup had smeared around her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Er, no problem,” Yang said, and awkwardly rubbed his neck again. She laughed a little.

“I hope it’s no problem.”

He shrugged. “I hope so.” But he suspected that it wouldn’t be a non-problem at all.

June 481 IC, Odin

“It’s done,” Magdalena said. It was evening, and she and Yang were walking in one of the gardens in her estate, arm in arm. Yang had been to her house for dinner, and had spent the whole meal being glared at by Frau Westpfale, but it had been worth it to get this chance to talk alone afterwards. He was sure that Magdalena’s mother was still watching them out of one of the windows of the house, but at least this far away from everyone else, they could speak without being overheard. “She called me this morning. Positive test.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“She probably told her doctor,” Magdalena said. “And if he knows, then the Kaiser will soon enough, and so will Ludwig.”

“But it won’t be in the papers.”

“No, of course not. Not until she starts to show.” Magdalena stopped briefly and touched the petals of a rose on a nearby bush, gently at first, then savagely ripping one off and crushing it between her fingers. “It’s so easy to lose a pregnancy this early.”

Yang nodded. “That’s true. We can hope she keeps it.”

“I don’t know what would happen if-- you know, I can’t even think about it.”

“Has she been alright?”

“I don’t know,” Magdalena said. “As well as can be expected, probably. She continues to breathe and walk and talk and attend social functions.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for.”

“Nothing, I guess,” Yang said. He scuffed his feet on the path.

“What’s our next step?” Magdalena asked.

“We wait,” Yang said. “We hope that she’s safer now, at least.”

“I don’t like that feeling.”

“There is one favor you can do for me,” Yang said.

“What?”

“I think I need to switch postings,” Yang said. “My CO watches me like a hawk, and it makes it hard for me to do anything.”

“Won’t it be more suspicious for you to change posts?”

“Not if I…” Yang hesitated. “That’s why I need your help.”

“I don’t know what sway I have over military postings. Unless you wanted to be transferred directly under, I don’t know, Duke Braunschweig or something. I could probably get that to happen.”

“No, not that,” Yang said. “I don’t want to leave the capital. I wouldn’t be much help to you if I was out in space.”

She nodded. “What can I do, then?”

Yang ran his hand over the back of his head. “You know I’ve been writing a history, right?”

“You only bring it up about once every time we talk. Yes, of course I know you’ve been writing a history, idiot.”

“Maybe I can…” He was furiously tugging on his own hair now, nervous about what he was about to ask. “If you can give it to Princess Amarie, maybe she can show it to the Kaiser, and mention offhand that I would be better off working in a position where I can have more time to research…”

“Like what?”

“Normally people who write research like this are academics,” Yang said. “Doctoral students, professors…” He shrugged. “If I could-- maybe-- be moved into a teaching position in the history department at the IOA…”

“Why do you think this will help us at all?”

“It takes the suspicion that Bronner has off of me,” Yang said. “I’m harmless there. And I’ll have more time to help you, but I’ll still be in the capital.”

“This sounds like you just want to be a teacher.”

Yang scowled. “I don’t actually mind working for Bronner, you know,” he said. “Even if he is the way he is, I am happy with my current posting. But the man has my phone tapped because I work with sensitive documents. All my mail is read, I’m sure. If I can just get out of that--”

“And you think that people will stop paying attention to you if you get out of the PI unit?”

“I hope so. Especially if I’m getting moved specifically because the Kaiser likes me.”

She nodded a little. “Send me your history,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Yang said.

“You say you’re doing this for me, so don’t thank me.”

Yang laughed. “You know, most other people would not be asking for this,” Yang said. “I think that getting stuck at the school is a ticket to career stagnation.”

Magdalena looked over at him. “You’re really throwing away your future for me?”

Yang raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, stupid of me to say that,” she said. She looked up at the darkening sky. “I don’t understand why you are, actually. You probably shouldn’t.”

Yang jammed his hands into his pockets. “Did you expect me to not help?”

“I don’t know if I even would have asked anyone else.”

“I love being your only viable option,” Yang said. “What would you have done without me?”

“I don’t know,” Magdalena said. “I wish I could say that I would do something, but-- I don’t know.” She seemed distraught, so Yang wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer to him. She leaned on him heavily as they walked, keeping silent for a little while, until she said, “Ingrid isn’t a doormat, you know.”

“Did I imply that I thought she was?”

“No,” Magdalena said. “I’m just thinking about-- what she would have done if I wasn’t trying to help her.”

“And what would she do?”

Magdalena bit her lip and shook her head. “You know.”

Yang could imagine it perfectly well.

July 481 I.C., Odin

Kent, one of Yang’s coworkers, stuck his head into Yang’s secluded desk area. “Hey, Leigh, Bronner wants you. In his office.”

Yang put down his mug of tea on top of an open page of notes in his notebook, leaving a stained wet circle from the bottom of the mug on the paper. “That is never a good sign.”

“Yeah, well, he seems like he’s in a pissy mood.”

“Of course he is. Did he say what he wanted?”

Kent laughed. “‘Bring me Hank von Leigh, dead or alive,’ or something.”

“Thanks for summoning me alive,” Yang said.

“By all means, take your time,” Kent said as Yang languidly shut down his computer, then stood up and stretched.

“I’m sure it won’t make any difference to his mood if I’m prompt or not.” Yang patted Kent on the shoulder as he walked away. “I’ll let you know if he kills me.”

“I look forward to cleaning up whatever soggy bloodstain you leave on his office rug,” Kent called after him. Yang laughed.

He knocked on the door to Bronner’s office. “If that is anyone other than Hank von Leigh, I don’t care. Go away.”

“It’s me, sir,” Yang said, somewhat exasperated. “Should I open the door?”

“Are you waiting on a personal invitation?” Bronner yelled back. “From the kaiser himself, perhaps?” he finished as Yang pulled the door open and stepped inside. The office was just as dark as it always was, with Bronner still lit by the same sickly glow of his computer screen. Yang saluted. Bronner looked annoyed.

“I received a very strange letter, Leigh,” Bronner said. “I’m sure you know something about it.”

“I am not a person who reads others’ correspondence,” Yang said. “So I doubt that--”

Bronner tossed a piece of paper at him. Being light, it fluttered towards the ground, and Yang had to take a few steps forward to grab it out of the air. “Letterhead. Signature. Official seal,” Bronner said.

Yang clamped down on his instinct to smile. All were the marks of Kaiser Friedrich IV. His eyes skimmed over the letter. It was exactly what he had asked Magdalena to secure for him-- a transfer to the staff of the IOA, though it came with an unexpected promotion. Yang hadn’t done anything to earn being moved up to Lieutenant Commander, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’m honored,” Yang finally said.

Broner folded his hands on his desk. “Do you care to explain exactly how and why the kaiser has taken a personal interest in you, of all people?”

Yang shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it isn’t too complicated for me to understand.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Well, the Baroness von Westpfale is interested in me, and she’s friends with Princess Amarie, and the princess-- I think-- wants us to get married, so she’s trying to… improve my situation, I suppose.” He trailed off.

“You don’t strike me as the marrying type,” Bronner said, acid in his voice.

“Sir?”

“And especially not to the Baroness Westpfale.”

“I’m not sure why that’s your business,” Yang said finally, Bronner having let him stew in discomfort for a second.

“The capital is a small place, Leigh. Very small. And you are not the only person who knows people. And I am not the only one who is capable of hearing things.”

“Sir, if you think that I’m trying to be a social climber, really that couldn’t be further from the truth. I didn’t want any of this.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to be. I was operating under the impression that you cared about your career.”

Yang was silent.

“Even if just to cause problems.”

“I have no intention of causing problems,” Yang said. “Won’t it make you happy that I’m being shuffled off somewhere completely harmless?”

“Leigh, do you really think that teaching at the IOA is a harmless position?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“To hear Staden tell it, you caused enough trouble there as a student. Why should I think you’re going to toe the line?”

“I suppose you will just have to trust me, sir. I haven’t caused any problems while I’ve been with you, have I?”

Bronner frowned at him for a long second, then his whole manner seemed to shift. “I must say, I’ll be sad to lose you, Leigh.”

“Er, thank you, sir.”

“You’re not stupid. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“I don’t feel like I contributed that much here.”

“Hm? Well, nobody does. That’s the problem of the PI unit. Nobody likes to listen to what we have to say. Sometimes we repeat things enough that they get taken under consideration, though.”

“That’s the duty of the prophet,” Yang said, which made Bronner chuckle.

“You should refuse this placement,” Bronner said. “It’s not going to do you good in the long run.”

“I can’t refuse a posting decreed by the kaiser.”

“I think you could. In fact, I think it would be easier for you to do so than if it were just some other assignment sending you off to the frontier.”

“Are you annoyed that you didn’t get the chance to kick me out to there?” Yang asked.

“No,” Bronner said flatly. “I was taking the duty that Rear Admiral Merkatz gave me seriously, you know. I was going to keep you until you proved to be of use, and then I was going to send you on to something higher.”

“Thank you, sir,” Yang said.

“I don’t like the idea of you sneaking your way out from my clutches,” Bronner said. “I find it distasteful.”

“We play the part the director tells us to,” Yang said.

“You can’t get metaphorical on me, Leigh. That’s my job. If there’s any scene being played out here, I have the distinct impression that the kaiser is as much of an actor playing an unwitting role as I am.”

“Then perhaps it is a good thing that life is not a play,” Yang said. “There’s not necessarily a script that everyone is speaking. There’s no story written down somewhere that we’re all cursed to follow until the bitter end.”

Bronner smiled. “There isn’t, Leigh?”

“I don’t think it’s healthy to believe in destiny, sir.”

“And yet you said yourself that here we try to play the part of the prophet.”

“Sir, I feel like you’re trying to get me to agree to something.”

Bronner didn’t respond for a long second. “No, I don’t think I am.” He shook his head slightly. “I’m going to continue to keep an eye on you, Leigh.”

“Why?” Yang was neither surprised nor disappointed. He wasn’t sure if that meant that Bronner was going to continue to have his phone tapped and his other activities monitored, but Yang decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Perhaps Bronner just meant that he would have Merkatz’s daughter spy on him through the complicated social chain that connected her to Magdalena.

“It’s my duty. Besides, you may be useful, in the future.”

“You make me work more than my salary is worth,” Yang grumbled.

“Please, you spend half your time sleeping or working on your book,” Bronner said. “I should write you up for time theft.”

Yang smiled a little. “It’s good for soldiers to be idle.”

“It’s remarks like that that make me glad to see the end of you, though I’m sure you will darken my doorway again in the future,” Bronner said. “Clean out your desk.”

August 481 I.C., Odin

There was a staff dinner for all the IOA teachers before the start of the term. Yang was, by far, the lowest ranked person there. It would have been awkward enough that the makeup of the staff had not changed much since he graduated, so Yang was immediately recognized by all of his former teachers, with varying degrees of associated fondness. The whole thing was made more awkward by the fact that word seemed to have gotten around, somehow, that Yang was here on direct order of the kaiser. No one seemed to know what to do with that, especially since many of them had heard of or remembered Yang’s truly embarrassing incident at Neue Sanssouci his freshman year at the IOA.

Staden took pity on Yang and waved him over to sit next to him at the dinner, rather than with the history department staff which Yang had been heading for. He looked much the same as he had when Yang had last seen him, though with a few more streaks of grey in his hair.

“I didn’t think you liked this place so much as to want to return,” Staden said, after the welcome speech had been given and everyone was settled in with their meals. “I can’t imagine what’s caused all of this.”

“It’s complicated and stupid and not worth talking about,” Yang said.

“So, you’re not happy to be here?”

“I didn’t say that at all,” Yang said. “I think it’s an opportunity, and I think I’ll enjoy it, but it’s certainly not the way I imagined my career going.”

“Yes,” Staden said. “And after I went to so much trouble to get you a good start in life.”

“I’m sorry your effort was wasted, sir.”

Staden laughed a little. “Well, you’ve already been promoted twice. I think that’s better than your classmates can say.”

“You keep tabs on us?”

“Of course I do, in a general sense.” A silence fell between them for a second.

“You said at one point that in a different world I would be a teacher,” Yang said. “I suppose we live in that world now.”

“You said it would be a fairer one.”

Yang picked up his wine glass and took a sip. “Unfortunately, I’ve had to revise my opinion on that.”

Staden laughed a little. “There may not be such a thing as a fair world, Leigh.”

“There isn’t one, if history is any indication.”

“You sound grimmer than you used to. I didn’t think that just a few years in the fleet would turn you into a pessimist.”

“I believe I’ve always been this way, sir,” Yang said.

“Between you and me,” Staden said, though their conversation was audible to anyone around them, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I am sure that you’ll make a valuable addition to the staff.”

“I certainly hope to be,” Yang said. “I hope that I’ll be able to do some good here.”

“In what sense?” Staden asked.

“Having an understanding of history has given me a better ability to make decisions in all areas of my life,” Yang said. “Perhaps I can show the latest crop of students the way I see it.”

“What classes have you been assigned?”

“I have the entire freshman cohort for Military History I,” Yang said. “But I’ve also been given the Ancient Earth elective.”

“The one that Chesterburg used to have? I assume you took it with him.”

“Of course, sir. I greatly enjoyed it.”

“Will you be following the same scope as he did?”

“Mmm, probably not,” Yang said. “Chesterburg had a focus on naval engagements, which is understandable, but I think that if I wanted to keep my scope that narrow, I’d beg to start a second ancient Earth naval history course. I’m going to see how it feels to cast my net a little more widely.”

“Do you want a word of advice?”

“Of course, sir,” Yang said.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“I will try not to.”

“Most students, even those with a passion for history, are not as astute as you are. And the ones with a passion for history are rather few and far between.”

“You don’t even teach the history cohort,” Yang pointed out.

“That’s true, and I’m glad of it,” Staden said. “Having the SW group and a few ghastly sections of engineers is bad enough.”

Yang laughed at that. “They’re not that bad.”

“You’ll come to resent them soon enough,” Staden said. “Like I said, students are less skilled than you might hope, no matter how strict the admissions standards are.”

“Well, it’s my job to make them more skilled, isn’t it?”

Staden laughed. “Leigh, it will be your job to survive your first year teaching. After that, then you can worry about the students.”

“Perhaps I should have stayed with the PI unit,” Yang said. “It sounds like it was less work.”

“I’m sure that it was.”

October 481 I.C., Odin

“Magdalena tells me that you’re not finding teaching as easy as she had hoped,” Princess Amarie said. “Is that true?”

Yang, who had been about to stick a bite of potatoes into his mouth, paused so that he could answer the question. He had been mostly sitting silently at this dinner with Princess Amarie, Duke Braunschweig, their daughter Elizabeth, Magdalena, and Frau Westpfale, but now that he was being addressed, he had to answer. “I enjoy it,” Yang said. “It has been an adjustment, though.”

“I suppose I was operating under the assumption that he’d have more free time to see me, not less,” Magdalena said, putting a slightly petulant note in her voice and leaning on Yang’s shoulder. The lights in Magdalena’s dining room were twinkling and dim, and they enhanced Magdalena’s pretty features and smile. Yang couldn’t help but feel warm when he looked down at her, even if she was causing him problems intentionally.

Amarie smiled somewhat indulgently, Frau Westpfale looked like she’d taken a lick of lemon slice, and Duke Braunschweig looked bored. Elizabeth was poking at her food with her fork rather disinterestedly.

“That’s what you get when you mess with people’s postings,” Branschweig said.

“Oh, Otto,” Magdalena said, “at least you can be happy that I didn’t ask you to take him into your command.”

“Quite,” Braunschweig said. “It might have been funny if you had.”

“Why is that, darling?” Amarie asked.

“My latest aide is apparently familiar with you,” Braunschweig said. “And not in a pleasant way.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Yang said. “I wasn’t aware I had made any enemies.”

“Apparently, he was a classmate of yours. Are you familiar with Lieutenant Ansbach?”

Yang couldn’t quite stop his face from twisting up, though he tried. He took a sip of his wine. “Yes, I am,” he said.

“I see the dislike is mutual.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s dislike,” Yang said.

Braunschweig, who didn’t hold Yang in much higher opinion than Ansbach did, smiled a little. “Of course not.”

“I shall simply hope that we continue to not meet each other, and thus we have no reason for our differences to be worked out,” Yang said.

“Why don’t you like Lieutenant Ansbach?” Amarie asked. “Is there some sort of schoolboy grudge?”

“The reasons we dislike each other would not, I think, make pleasant dinner conversation,” Yang said, trying to dodge the subject.

“Is it because there are ladies in the room?” Magdalena asked, gesturing at her mother, Princess Amarie, and Elizabeth, clearly trying to stir up drama. Yang kicked her leg underneath the table, trying to get her to stop, but she grinned and pressed onwards. “Now you’ve made me very curious.”

“During my freshman year, during the visit to Neue Sanssouci that the top members of each class take, someone… I would say attempted to murder me, but that would be ascribing thought to their actions that I don’t actually know.”

Frau Westpfale looked at him. “Really? What happened?”

“It’s a hunting trip,” Yang explained. “A group of several people surrounded me, and one of them shot me in the leg with an arrow. I’m not sure if they missed a more fatal location by accident, or if they were just trying to make a point. Well, I might have died from that anyway,” Yang said.

“You survived, though,” Magdalena said.

“Obviously,” Braunschweig said.

“What happened?” Elizabeth asked. “Tell us.”

Yang looked down at his plate. “I was very lucky that someone who did not have a grudge against me happened to be nearby.”

“Who?” Magdalena asked.

“You’ve met him,” Yang said, hoping she would catch his tone to stop asking questions.

“Now you’re being evasive on purpose,” Amarie said. “You make it sound as though you have something to hide.”

Yang wanted to squirm away from this engagement, but he couldn’t. “Princess, it was not my most dignified of moments,” Yang admitted.

“You’re more amusing when you have things to say,” Branschweig said.

“If you must know,” Yang said, “I fell off my horse and was sitting in the mud contemplating pulling the arrow out of my leg when the top student in the class, Oskar von Reuenthal, told me that I absolutely would bleed to death if I did that.”

Magdalena laughed. “He rescued you, did he? Your knight in shining armor?”

“I got blood all over his school uniform,” Yang muttered. There was absolutely no reason for Magdalena to be pressing him on this now. He was rather annoyed by it, but no one else at the table seemed to find Magdalena’s behavior problematic-- they were used to her, perhaps.

“And what does this have to do with Lieutenant Ansbach?” Amarie asked.

“He made a comment later that indicated he had been the originator of the arrow,” Yang said. “I couldn’t say for sure if it was him or not, so don’t take this as an accusation. He doesn’t like me.”

“Did you take revenge at any point?” Braunschweig asked, seemingly curious, now.

“Well, I continued to beat him academically,” Yang said with a shrug. “Generally speaking, revenge is more trouble than it’s worth, especially when I couldn’t even be sure that he was responsible in the first place.”

“You think everything is more trouble than it’s worth,” Magdalena said.

“Things often are,” Yang protested.

The conversation was allowed to move on from there, with nobody really wanting to hear more details about Yang’s personal life, which he was grateful for. He was more than happy to listen to whatever imperial court gossip that Princess Amarie and Frau Westpfale and Magdalena wanted to discuss. Duke Braunschweig was disinclined to participate in that kind of talk, and Yang felt his eyes on him occasionally through the rest of the meal, but he couldn’t parse what the duke was thinking.

After dinner, Magdalena and Yang were able to find some privacy to talk in one of the many rooms of Magdalena’s house, after she had bid goodnight to Princess Amarie and her husband and daughter. Frau Westpfale had seemed as though she wanted to ensure that Magdalena and Yang were not going to be together too long, but Magdalena had said something snippy to her mother that caused her to walk away. Yang didn’t hear the words of the exchange, but he did hear the tone and see the frustrated way Magdalena walked back into the drawing room and flopped down bodily on the couch, throwing her arms out.

“I can’t stay much longer,” Yang said.

“I’m aware,” Magdalena replied. “I should thank you for coming.”

“You didn’t have to drag out the part where everyone was questioning me. You certainly didn’t have to say that about Reuenthal.”

“Why not?” Magdalena asked. “It was funny. And if you talk, you give Otto less reason to dislike you. People like you once they get to know you.”

“Feeling liked by Duke Braunschweig is not something that I need,” Yang said.

“Why not?”

Yang switched the subject. “I was able to make the arrangements with my friend,” he said.

“Really?”

“It’s not going to be a simple thing, you understand that, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Magdalena said. “What’s the plan?”

“Konev is working on a ship that takes pilgrims to Earth from Phezzan,” Yang said. “We’re going to need to get Ingrid onto a ship going to Earth, and from there Konev can get her asylum in the FPA.”

“Why would anyone want to go to Earth?” Magdalena asked.

“Some religious thing,” Yang said. “It’s not really important, except that it gives us an in.”

“And how are we going to get Ingrid onto a ship headed for Earth?”

“Does Prince Ludwig care what she does with her time?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he would be averse to her travelling?”

“I wouldn’t want to be the one to ask.”

Yang sighed. “If we can get her to pretend to have genuine religious beliefs, maybe after she has the baby she can simply board a ship. It wouldn’t be… Well, if the baby is fine, then there’s no reason for her to remain in the picture.”

“An heir and a spare,” Magdalena said.

Yang shook his head. “Ludwig might have learned from his father that having younger brothers can lead to trouble,” Yang said. “He’s the only boy, after all.”

“It’s a fine line to walk, apparently,” Magdalena said. “If more people were less touchy about their daughters inheriting…” She had a grim smile on her face.

“Do you think that could work?” Yang asked.

“Do you have a backup plan?”

“If it can’t be done aboveboard, I don’t like it, but we can try to sneak her onto the ship.”

“How?”

“Frame it like a kidnapping, maybe.” Yang rubbed his head and paced back and forth. “I’m not good at this.”

“You’re not?”

“It’s not a fleet battle,” Yang said. “Those are much easier to understand.”

Magdalena leaned forward. “You’d rather be doing this than a fleet battle, though.”

“Well, yes,” Yang admitted.

She flopped back onto the couch. “What would be the point in someone kidnapping her, if we were going to frame it that way?”

“Ransom money, maybe? The mother of one of the kaiser’s grandchildren is a tempting target.”

“But what if they actually try to pay the ransom?”

“We’ll have to make it look like she died.”

“And how are ‘we’ going to make it look like she was kidnapped?”

“There are plenty of ways to send anonymous messages.” Yang said. “But that’s beside the point. If we find out that needs to happen, we can make it happen with the resources we have at our disposal at the time.”

“You live on the edge.”

“I’m better at tactics than I am at grand strategy,” Yang said.

“And what’s the difference?”

“Tactics is actual battlefield maneuvers.” He moved his hands illustratively. “When to advance, when to retreat, how you position your ships. Or whatever we’re working with in this case. Using the pieces that you have in a situation to win. Strategy is manipulating the overall situation to make sure that you have an advantage.”

“Why don’t you think you’re good at that?”

Yang shrugged. “I’m lazy.”

“You can’t just use that as an excuse for everything!”

“It’s easier to be given pieces and figure out what to do with them from there,” Yang said. “You can sometimes win with just tactics, and you can sometimes win with just strategy, but a good leader should have both. I’m better at one than the other, but most people are.”

“What about your friends?” Magdalena asked.

“Hm?”

“Oskar and Wolf. Which are they better at?”

“Oh. Mittermeyer is a better tactician, and Reuenthal is a better strategist.” He looked off into the distance for a second. “It was hard to beat them when they were working together,” he said with a half-laugh. “They compliment each other well.”

“Really?” Her question was pointed, but Yang ignored her tone.

“When we played our game, Reuenthal would manipulate the whole theater to make it so that Mittermeyer was in a better position to succeed. I was always was a little too hesitant to make grand, aggressive moves like they would. Unless they were egging me on.”

“Well, what would Oskar be telling you to do here?”

“He would be telling me to mind my own business,” Yang said. “I don’t think he’d want me to get involved with this mess.”

“Why not?”

“The idea that Reuenthal would go out of his way to help a woman who’s cheating on her husband is a truly laughable one.”

Magdalena scowled.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Yang said. “I know that’s not what this is about. All I’m saying is that Reuenthal has some ideas about how the world works that I don’t always agree with.”

“Where does he get those ideas from?”

“I’m not going to divulge his--”

“Gods, nevermind,” Magdalena said, clearly annoyed. “You and your friends have issues.”

“You’re one to talk.”

November 481 I.C., Odin

“I don’t like this plan as much anymore,” Magdalena whispered to Yang. It was evening, and Yang and Magdalena were walking arm in arm through the cold streets of the capital, approaching the place where Ingrid had asked them to meet her, a building owned by the Earth Church. They weren’t headed to the actual house of worship, the building that Yang sometimes walked past when he came into the city from the IOA, but one of the many administrative buildings or community centers that the church owned. Ingrid had sent Magdalena a message saying that she wanted her to meet the local bishop, and Magdalena had not wanted to go alone, so Yang was coming as well. Magdalena had told her driver that she and Yang were going to be having dinner together, which they had, very quickly, and now they were heading to this meeting on foot.

“It’s the only plan we’ve got,” Yang said. “And it seems like it’s working so far.”

“I didn’t want her to get actually involved in whatever this religion is,” Magdalena whined. “It seems stupid.”

“How do you know she isn’t just playing along for everyone’s sake?” Yang asked. “You have said yourself many times that Ingrid isn’t stupid. It seems unlikely that she would develop real religious convictions in two months.”

“Being pregnant rots your brain,” Magdalena said.

“You don’t plan to have children someday?”

“I’d literally rather die,” Magdalena said. “It’s not that I don’t like kids,” she clarified. “Elizabeth is fine, and so is the little Mariendorf. Even Cora’s baby is cute, I guess. It’s everything else about the idea that I hate.”

“I understand,” Yang said.

“I don’t think you do, but I can’t fault you for that.”

They approached the Earth Church building, the olive branch and yellow cross flag fluttering in the wind, illuminated by a spotlight from the building itself. They climbed the short set of steps and entered, finding themselves faced with a receptionist who they gave their names to. They were quickly led off down a hallway, and shown into an office where Ingrid and a man in dark robes were sitting.

The dark robed man and Ingrid both stood when Yang and Magdalena entered. “Baroness Westpfale, I’m glad you could join us,” the man said.

“Maggie, I almost thought you weren’t coming,” Ingrid said, smiling a little.

Magdalena walked in and put her hand gently on Ingrid’s arm. “Darling, would I ever not show up for you?”

“Of course not,” Ingrid said. “This is Bishop Wasserman, who has been very helpful to me.”

“Pleasure,” Magdalena said, and shook hands with the bishop. “This is my chaperone, Lieutenant Commander Hank von Leigh,” Magdalena said. Yang shook hands with the bishop, smiling politely.

“Please, take a seat,” the bishop said, gesturing to some chairs next to Ingrid. Yang and Magdalena both sat. “Frau Goldenbaum has been telling me quite a lot about you, Baroness.”

“Is that so?” Magdalena asked. “Only good things, I hope.”

“Of course. She says you are an excellent friend who is doing her best to help her out of a situation she finds herself in.”

“Is that so?” Magdalena asked again. “I wasn’t aware that Ingrid liked to talk about personal matters.”

“It was somewhat due to my own curiosity,” Wasserman said. “It is not every day that the new wife of the crown prince decides to take up religion. I introduced myself.”

“What did you tell the bishop about why you were taking an interest in religion?” Magdalena asked Ingrid.

“I explained the truth about Prince Ludwig,” Ingrid said. “That’s all.”

“I have often found that people in delicate and vulnerable situations come to the church for support and reassurance,” the bishop said. “There have been many women in your positon in the past, and unfortunately there will be many in the future.”

“And how did my name come up in these conversations?” Magdalena asked.

“Only that you have a great interest in helping your closest friend find solace in these difficult times,” the bishop said. “I understand that there is something that Ingrid believes we can do for her.”

Magdalena glanced at Yang, who had been sitting silently and observing thus far. Yang shrugged a little, which he saw that the bishop noticed, because their eyes met for a second. The bishop smiled slightly.

“I thought that, maybe,” Magdalena began, “it might be possible for Ingrid to take a trip to Earth, as a pilgrimage. Just as a way to get away for a while.”

“And on Earth, someone, perhaps a Phezzani merchant, might pick her up on a shipment of outgoing pilgrims and spirit her away to the other side of the galaxy, perhaps?” the bishop said with a slight smile.

“You are the one who said so, not I,” Magdalena said.

“I can understand your hesitancy,” the bishop said. “After all, it is a bit of a dangerous thing, for the mother of the eventual heir to the Goldenbaum throne to want to flee to the sworn enemies of said throne. It has the air of conspiracy.”

Magdalena glanced over at Ingrid. “And what do you think of the bishop’s story, darling?”

“He says he can help,” Ingrid said. “I trust him.”

“Do you indeed?”

“I can help,” the bishop said. “I think that we could have a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“Oh?” Magdalena asked.

“It has always been convenient, after all, for our church to cultivate a steady and unobtrusive flow of pilgrims moving throughout the galaxy. People see that we have the ability to help them, and we do.”

“How generous of you,” Magdalena said, sounding suspicious. “And how is it mutually beneficial?”

“In most cases, it is simply a matter of believers joining our church. In this case, however, I think that Frau Goldenbaum could do something more for us.”

“Ingrid is not your pawn.”

“I did not say anything of the sort,” the bishop said. “And Frau Goldenbaum would not need to do anything that she does not want to do of her own volition.”

“What do you mean?”

“You want to stay within the Empire until your baby is born,” the bishop said. “I understand that completely. And then you want to leave. But it will be hard on you to leave your baby behind, won’t it? He is flesh of your flesh, blood of your blood.”

Ingrid nodded hesitantly. Magdalena made a sour face. “So?”

“There is nothing the church understands better than the relationship between a mother and her children,” the bishop said. “All I suggest is that, while this parting may be a bitter sorrow now, at some point in the future, after Prince Ludwig has died, it may be possible for Frau Goldenbaum to return to the Empire and provide a positive maternal influence on her child.”

“You want her to whisper in the future kaiser’s ear to support your church?” Magdalena asked. “How do you even know that he--” she waved dismissively at Ingrid’s pregnant belly-- “would even want to listen to a mother who abandoned him?”

Ingrid looked down at the floor. Yang felt distinctly uncomfortable. He leaned towards Magdalena, tried to inject in his voice the kind of deference that would make his presence here unsuspicious, “Baroness, it’s possible that he would understand very well the reasons why his mother might have had to leave him.”

Magdalena frowned deeply. “And how do you feel about this, darling?”

Ingrid shook her head slightly. “I am grateful for the bishop’s offer of assistance,” she said. “But I cannot pretend to see the future.”

“I do not ask you to,” the bishop said. “And I do not even ask you to promise me anything. All I am offering is the gift of friendship, and the opportunity to escape what ails you.”

“Thank you,” Ingrid said.

“You want this?” Magdalena asked her. “You want to go along with the bishop?”

Ingrid nodded a little.

“And when she does escape from Earth,” Magdalea asked, turning to the bishop, “will you be able to set it up to look like a kidnapping?”

“Of course,” the bishop said. “We are capable of many things.”

Magdalena glanced at Yang, who kept his face carefully neutral. She shrugged, then. “Well, if that’s all settled.”

“I appreciate your concern for your friend’s well-being,” the bishop said. “There is little in life more precious than the bond of true friendship.”

“Yeah. Right,” Magdalena muttered.

“We will be in contact with you, should we need anything,” the bishop said.

“Are you cutting me out of the operation?”

“Of course not. I simply mean that travel operations from Odin to Earth, as Frau Goldenbaum will be travelling on our ship, are most easily handled by us.”

Magdalena’s lips were pursed in a repressed frown. “Of course. I should give you the contact information of the man who’s supposed to pick her up from Earth.”

“Excellent,” Bishop Wasserman said. “I look forward to working with both him and you.” The bishop stood and extended his hand once again towards Magdalena, who also stood. They were being dismissed, so they said their goodbyes and headed out of the building. Ingrid did not follow them.

When Magdalena and Yang had made it far enough out into the cold streets that they felt sure they were no longer being observed, Magdalena said, “I like that even less than when we started.”

“It makes sense,” Yang said. “To work with them, I mean.”

“I feel like we’re selling her out.”

“She was the one who suggested this.”

“I think she’s been brainwashed.”

“Why do you have such a low opinion of Ingrid’s capability to make her own choices?”

“Because she always lets everybody else tell her what to do,” Magdalena said. “Me, her father, our teachers, everybody. Not surprising that this guy could tell her what he wants her to do and she’ll agree to it.”

“You said she wasn’t a doormat, though.”

Magdalena shook her head a little. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I, but…” Yang shrugged. “I don’t really see what harm could come of it.”

“If she does end up coming back here and trying to influence her son, that would probably be a mess.”

“It seems to me,” Yang said, a dry note in his voice, “that a kaiser whispered to by the church is no different than any other kaiser.”

“You say that now, but there have been good kaisers and bad ones.”

Yang shrugged a little. “I’m not sure that there is such a thing as a good kaiser.”

“I didn’t take you for a republican,” Magdalena said.

“You didn’t? Didn’t you say I was sixty percent of the way to a traitor already?”

She laughed. “That’s different than being a republican.”

“And do you have a problem with that?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Magdalena said with a laugh. “Well, I’m in no danger of becoming the kaiserin, so I shouldn’t worry if a republican wants to chop their heads off.”

Yang shook his head. “I would at least expect you to know that I’m not really bloodthirsty. Besides, I think more kaisers have had their heads chopped off by the next in line for the throne than they have by republicans of any stripe.”

“Hah. You’re probably right about that.”