I, Claudius

December 481 I.C., Odin

Magdalena called Yang in the middle of the night, the night of the winter solstice. Yang was asleep, deeply, exhausted after a day spent with the Mariendorfs. Although it had been a good one, and he had been glad to spend the holiday with them, he had stayed up late drinking with the count, and had crawled into bed with a headache already blistering its way onto the edges of his brain. When his phone rang on his bedside table, the buzzing of it jittered him into an unhappy awareness. In the dim light cast by the fire in the hearth, Yang fumbled for it, knocked it to the floor, then had to lean halfway out of bed to grab it. It was still ringing.

“Odin coroner’s office,” Yang groaned as he answered it.

“I’m sending a car to pick you up,” Magdalena said.

“What time is it?”

“Get ready to go.”

“Where are you going to take me?”

But Magdalena had already hung up.

Yang laid in bed for a long minute, staring up at the ceiling where the fire made flickering, dim patches above him. He had no desire to get up, but Magdalena hadn’t given him a choice, so up he was. He put on the first clothes that fell to hand, which were what he had been wearing to the Mariendorf’s during the day, his nicest set of civilian clothes.

He felt disgusting and out of sorts as he stumbled through the dark house, trying not to wake the other residents of the boarding house or his landladies. On the way out of his door, he tripped over a stack of graded papers he had been intending to hand back to his students and sent them scattering out into the hallway. Yang kicked them back inside his room as best he could, then crept towards the kitchen, where he waited for the lights of Magdalena’s chauffeured car to shine in through the foggy windows.

He pulled on his winter coat and hat and shuffled out into the snow, the slowly falling flakes landing on his face and catching in his hair. He still didn’t feel quite awake, but he climbed into the backseat of the car anyway.

“Do you know what’s going on?” he asked the driver.

“No, sir,” the driver said. “I just brought the baroness home from Neue Sanssouci and she asked me to fetch you.”

“Why was she at Neue Sanssouci?”

“For the kaiser’s winter solstice ball.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. Was she upset that I said no to attending with her?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

Yang nodded, and they rode in silence for the rest of the journey. It was an odd trip, Yang felt. The streets were completely deserted, and the car’s headlights only illuminated the space directly in front of the vehicle, rendering the world in pitch black and tiny white flashes of snowflakes and drifts at the side of the road. Between that and the haze of sleepiness that Yang was still trying to shake off, the driver could have been taking him anywhere, for any length of time, and Yang wouldn’t have known or been able to protest.

They arrived at Magdalena’s mansion. It was dark and cold inside, and Yang was shown into one of the private drawing rooms where he stood, examining the decor with his hands in his pockets. He was worried that if he sat down on the couch he would fall asleep before Magdalena made it into the room.

“Hank,” she said, entering and startling him. He turned away from the curio cabinet he had been looking at and towards her. In the dim and warm lamplight, her party dress made her look somewhat ethereal, but the expression on her face was anything but. Her makeup was smudged at the corners of her eyes, and her lipstick was ragged, as though she had been biting her lips hard enough to scrape it off with her teeth.

“Magdalena,” he said, which was about the only thing that he could say.

She walked up to him, and it was unclear what she was looking for, reassurance or something else. Yang wasn’t sure what to do with his hands-- he didn’t know what was going on.

“Ingrid is in my bedroom,” Magdalena said. “I gave her a sleeping pill.”

“Why? What?” And then a second thought: “Is that even safe for the baby?”

Magdalena leaned against him for a second, saying, “I don’t care,” then stood bolt upright again, as though she had realized something. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Oh gods.”

Yang grabbed both of her arms. “What’s going on?”

“Ludwig is dead,” she said. And that was apparently hard enough for her to get out that she ended up slumping a little, and Yang guided her onto one of the couches.

“Explain to me,” Yang said, clearing his mind completely. He felt calm and empty, rather like he had when Merkatz had placed him in charge of his fleet. He pushed all of his panic to the far back of his mind, and stood in front of Magdalena, waiting. “Tell me what happened.”

Her voice came out in small stutters, so unlike her usual poised assurance, however false that sometimes was. “Ingrid killed him,” she said. “She stabbed him. At the palace.”

“Now?”

“Two hours ago.”

“Who knows that he’s dead?”

“No one knew when we left.” She hesitated. “I don’t think-- I don’t know-- nobody will probably find him until tomorrow morning.”

“Where is he?”

“In their bedroom.”

“How did it happen?”

Magdalena shook her head. “She didn’t, couldn’t, say. I think they must have been fighting. It was his knife.”

Yang nodded. “You weren’t there?”

“I was still at the party.”

“And then…”

“I brought her here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It was the only thing I could think of.”

“Does anyone else know she’s here?”

“My driver, Carl. Anyone who saw us leaving.”

“You didn’t sneak out?”

“How could we?”

“And did Ingrid look…”

“She changed clothes.”

“Okay. Okay,” Yang said. He was pacing back and forth a little. “Who else was there, at the party?”

“Everyone.”

“Specifics.”

“I don’t know,” Magdalena said. “I can’t remember. Everyone.”

“Duke Braunschweig?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Marquis Littenheim?”

“Yeah.”

“Marquess Benemunde?”

“Yes…”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“They can be suspects. Alternate possibilities,” Yang said.

“You think you can frame them?”

Yang was silent for a long second.

“What?” Magdalena asked, leaning forward.

“Maybe,” Yang said. His thoughts were moving. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. “I think we can cast enough doubt--”

“But Ingrid did it.”

“I know she did it,” Yang said. “But there are other people who might have wanted to.”

“Why?”

“If Ludwig is dead, there’s no successor to the throne. Braunschweig or Littenheim’s daughters could claim it, or Benemunde could try to bear the kaiser a son. Any of them…” Yang ran his hand through his hair. “There just has to be enough suspicion to muddy the waters.”

“But isn’t it obvious that Ingrid--”

“No,” Yang said. “Not necessarily.”

“Why not?”

“It happened in their quarters in the palace?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s not suspicious that traces of her are on the scene. She lived there.”

“But she--”

“And she has an alibi,” Yang said.

Magdalena froze.

“You said people saw her leaving with you,” he said quietly.

She nodded without speaking.

“If nobody finds him until the morning, that means he could have been killed any time during the night. And Ingrid was here.”

Magdalena brought her hand to her mouth and bit the side of her finger, a muffled and horrified sound coming out of her mouth.

“You might have to admit it to the kaiser,” Yang said.

“But--”

Yang leaned his head back and closed his eyes. There was pain in his voice as well. “If you admit to this, it’s… A scandal. She’ll have her baby. She would probably be sent to the frontier, but maybe, maybe, we can ask her to be sent to Earth instead, like we planned, and she can get out. Maybe it’s for the best.”

“And what about me?”

Yang shook his head. “I don’t know. It depends.” He was wringing his hands.

“Depends on what?”

“If this is kept quiet or not.”

“Why would it be?”

“If no one can be blamed, maybe it will be called a suicide, just to keep, just to keep…” He shook his head. “The imperial family loves secrets.”

“I’ll be disgraced.”

“It’s better than her being dead, isn’t it?”

Magdalena began to cry. Real tears, sobs. Yang realized, perhaps for the first time, how young she was. “It’s all my fault,” she said. “I ruined everything.”

“It’s not your fault,” Yang said. “It’s not.”

But she was unconsolable. Yang wasn’t sure what to do, so he just let her cry for a few minutes, until she had cried herself out.

“Where is your mother?”

“Visiting her brother,” Magdalena said through the remains of her tears.

“Are you calm enough to make a phone call?”

“To who?”

“You need to speak to Bishop Wasserman,” Yang said. “Explain the changed situation.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“If you won’t call, I will,” Yang said. “I’ll need your phone. I think mine is tapped.” Magdalena shook her head. Yang crouched down in front of her and held her wrists. “Magdalena.”

“What can he do?”

Yang shook his head a little. “If he thinks the situation is bad enough, maybe he could get her off the planet tonight.”

“But the baby--”

“Then the church will have a claimant to the throne in their hands. They might want that.”

Magdalena was shaking a little. “You trust them?”

“If we do nothing, then Ingrid is definitely going to die, and probably you, and probably me. The bishop already knows that we were planning something. Ingrid would probably suggest this herself. He’s the only ally we have, even if I hate the thought.”

Magdalena nodded a little. “Okay. Okay. Okay.” She kept repeating it, as though that would steady her. It didn’t, really, because Yang could still feel the trembling in her hands as he held them.

“Where’s your phone?”

“I’ll get it.” Magdalena stood, with Yang supporting her. She walked a little through the dark house, up the stairs, to her bedroom. It was almost pitch black inside, and Yang could hear the labored breathing of Ingrid, who was asleep on the bed, the dim light from the hallway illuminating her body. Magdalena got her phone from the bedside table, then shut the door behind herself.

“Okay,” she said, still very shaky, and led him back to the kitchen, where among the gleaming counters and neatly lined pots and pans, she leaned both her hands on the edge of the kitchen sink, took a few steadying breaths, and then dialed the contact number she had been given for the Earth church.

It took a long time for anyone to pick up, and when they did, it was obviously not the voice of Bishop Wasserman. It was someone much younger sounding, a man who sounded like he had been roused from a deep sleep, which he probably had.

“Who is this?” the man asked.

“Baroness Westpfale,” Magdalena said. “I was told to call this number if there was a problem.”

“Yes, Baroness. What is the problem?”

“There was an incident at the kaiser’s winter solstice party,” Magdalena said. “Can we talk over the phone?”

“I will send someone to your location.”

“Right…”

“Five minutes.” The man hung up. Yang and Magdalena looked at each other.

“Not so subtle if cars keep coming to your house,” Yang said. “I hope they understand that.”

“Too late now,” Magdalena said. She and Yang waited in the entrance hall, and almost exactly five minutes later, a car pulled into the driveway. One man got out, then the car drove away. Magdalena let him into the house. He was a young man, with plain brown hair and an incongruous button nose above a pinched mouth. He was dressed in a dark winter coat, which he did not take off, even as Magdalena led him into the drawing room.

“What is the problem, Baroness?” he asked.

Magdalena reexplained the situation to this man, including the idea that either Braunschweig, Littenheim, or Benemunde could be framed for the situation, or that perhaps Ingrid could be taken off planet immediately. The man listened without speaking to her whole, rambling, explanation. “Is there anything that you can do?”

“And Frau Goldenbaum is safe here?” he asked. “May I confirm that?”

“She’s sleeping,” Magdalena said, as though that was what the man cared about.

Yang leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, “You need to let him see her.”

Magdalena made a face of disgust. “Yes, you can see her. She’s upstairs. Is there anything you can do?”

“Yes,” the man said. “We can muddy the water, at least.”

“What will you do?”

“The fewer people who know, the safer it is for all,” the man said. Yang realized that they hadn’t even been told his name. He didn’t bother to ask, though. “You can provide an explanation for why Frau Goldenbaum is at your residence?” he asked Magdalena.

She winced a little. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Very well.” He stood from the couch. “Bishop Wasserman thanks you for your trust in us.”

A bitter taste was in Yang’s mouth at that. Magdalena said, “I am grateful for the bishop’s assistance.”

“Indeed. Please show me Frau Goldenbaum.”

Magdalena led the man upstairs to see her, with Yang trailing behind. He watched as the man roughly flipped on Magdalena’s bedroom light, looked Ingrid over, and checked her breathing. He seemed satisfied. “You gave her something to sleep?”

“Yes,” Magdalena said. “She was… upset.”

“I see. Will she be able to compose herself in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“She should wait to leave here until she learns the news. Then there can be an excuse for her distress.”

Magdalena nodded. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked.

“No,” the man said. “This will be taken care of. If the situation changes, call again.”

Magdalena escorted him out. He walked partially down the driveway, into the snow, then a car pulled in from the street. He got in and disappeared.

“They’re probably going to send someone to watch the house,” Yang said. “If they have the resources to…” He trailed off. Suddenly, the exhaustion was hitting him.

“I should enjoy my last night of not living in disgrace,” Magdalena said.

Yang was too tired to joke, or to chastise her for joking. “I should go home.”

“I’ll call my driver to take you.”

December 481 I.C., Odin

Yang’s sleep was anything but peaceful when he returned to his house, and he was woken in the morning by another phone call. Although he was groggy with sleep when he picked up his phone and looked at the screen, he was forced to full consciousness by the name it displayed. Yang took half a second to steady himself before answering, feeling like his blood had turned to ice.

“Commodore Bronner, don’t you know that the day after the solstice, everybody and their mother is bound to be extremely hung over?”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes, Leigh,” Bronner said. “I need you to tell me right now what Baroness Westpfale called you about at two seventeen this morning, and what you did at her house afterward.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Hank von Leigh, I am calling you because I, personally, owe several things to several people. It would upset Cora Feldmann if her husband’s cousin was implicated in something unsavory, and it would upset Rear Admiral Merkatz if you were arrested. I, however, do not care if you go before a firing squad. So, tell me right now what Baroness Westpfale wanted from you, and if you’re going to lie, make it a convincing one.”

“She wanted to sleep with me,” Yang said, trying to sound aggrieved rather than terrified. “Her mother was out of the house, and she was angry that I had refused her invitation to the kaiser’s solstice party, but that’s all. So I went over to her estate, and then she kicked me out of bed and I came back home.”

“I see.”

“I gather she’s in some kind of trouble?”

“I highly advise you keep your nose out of it,” Bronner said.

“Am I in some kind of trouble?”

“You should have been in trouble a long time ago, Leigh.”

“Are you trying to keep my name out of whatever… trouble… is going on?”

“Concerning yourself with what I’m doing is a bad choice,” Bronner said.

“It just seems like you getting involved is outside of the scope of your usual--”

“You are extremely lucky that I am capable of playing many different parts.”

“I see, sir,” Yang said. “Was there anything else you wanted from me?”

“I highly recommend you stay home today, Leigh.”

“Why?”

“And don’t make any more phone calls.”

“And I assume no mail either?”

“Don’t be smart with me.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“What do they have you teaching, over at the IOA?” It was a non-sequitur that startled Yang.

“Military History I and the Ancient Earth elective.”

“Maybe write some lesson plans that you can hand off to the poor sap who takes over the course when you end up in jail.”

“Thanks for the advice, sir,” Yang said, trying to sound sarcastic. “Any other words of wisdom?”

“No.”

“Great. Look, can you maybe not tell everyone that I was sleeping with the baroness? I really don’t want to have her mother get…”

“If the baroness having a low class lover is the worst that comes out of this for her, that is the best of all possible outcomes,” Bronner said.

“And you really can’t tell me what’s going on?”

“I will not.”

“Great.”

“Indeed. I will contact you if I need something else from you.”

“I look forward to it, I guess. “

“Enjoy the rest of your winter holiday, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Thanks, you too,” Yang said, but Bronner had already hung up.

He lay back onto his bed and dropped his phone into the center of his chest, staring up at the ceiling. The room was cold because the fire had gone out in the night, but the sun was shining brightly, and the snow outside the window sent its blinding reflections up into his room.

He stayed in bed for a little more, then got coffee and breakfast from his landladies in the kitchen downstairs, and then rekindled his fire and sat at his desk, shivering. On his computer, he opened up the text of the historical research he had been working on, the construction of a history of the power struggles in the early days of the Goldenbaum dynasty. He hated to stare at it now, hating the feeling that he had somehow been dropped into its pages.

He scrolled fairly far back, to one of the earliest chapters of the book, where the chapter title, printed in neat italics in an ancient language, seemed to be mocking him.

Chapter Two: Cui Bono?

It is an unfortunate condition of history that we have very little record of Kaiserin Elizabeth’s early life. We know that she was a wealthy woman even before the start of the Goldenbaum Dynasty, and we know that her marriage to Rudolph von Goldenbaum was one of, if not mutual affection, then at least mutual respect. The letters and records between them that have been preserved in the Imperial Archives suggest that Elizabeth was one of the few women Rudolph considered to be intellectually capable. Indeed, before her death of cancer in 30 IC, Elizabeth had, for several years, use of Rudolph’s state seal, and was capable of issuing commands on his behalf. This suggests a level of trust, or at least a public show of trust, that few kaisers have granted to their wives in the years since.

This is not to say that Kaiserin Elizabeth was Rudolph’s political equal. If, while using his state seal, she had ever opposed him, she would have been immediately stripped of first her position, and then her life. It can perhaps be said that the public trust that Rudolph placed in his wife was his way of signaling that his family, and therefore his children, were also as capable of rulership as he.

While much can be said of Kaiserin Elizabeth herself, it is her children and descendents who shaped the future of the Goldenbaum Dynasty. While Elizabeth never bore Rudolph a son, something that was a very public disappointment for both of them, she did raise all four of her daughters to wield the same cunning and guile that she herself employed.

Elizabeth’s oldest daughter, Katharina, did not grow up expecting to inherit the throne. Instead, she sought to inherit the political legacy of her mother: to marry someone politically ambitious, to set her children up to succeed in the world, and to wield soft power behind the scenes. We know much about Katharina’s personal life and ambitions because, up until the age of twenty-two when she married Joachim von Neue Stauffen, she kept diaries of her daily activities, which are preserved. It is probable that she continued to be an active dairist after her marriage, but it is likely that these records were destroyed upon her death, or locked within Goldenbaum family vaults.

What the existing record does show is that Neue Stauffen and Katharina made a political partnership to rival that of Elizabeth and Rudolph. With Katharina’s approval, Neue Stauffen rose quickly through the political ranks under Kaiser Rudolph. By the time that Katharina’s first son was born, Neue Stauffen was second only to the prime minister. It was his position in Rudolph’s close confidence, rather than his official title, that many resented.

Although Rudolph was growing older, he was still quite vital, and he continued to try to father a son, even after the death of his wife, with his favorite concubine, Magdalena. It is obvious from the public record that he was attempting to sire a son, because in preserved photographs, Magdalena is visibly pregnant several times over the course of years, but never brings a pregnancy to term. It is likely that she was instructed to selectively abort female fetuses.

It is quite interesting to note that Katharina and Magdalena appeared to be close friends. They are often pictured together at social events, and the two had a shared passion for watching horse races, each sponsoring several horses and riders. Katherina even named one of the horses that she owned Rotruth, after Magdalena’s middle name of Ruth.

There is much reason to speculate about the genuine nature of this friendship. Katherina and Magdalena were political rivals. Should Magdalena bear a son, her child would be the heir to the Goldenbaum throne. If she did not, it would be Katherina’s son, Sigismund, who would inherit the throne. Katherina’s motivations for befriending her father’s mistress, younger than herself, may have been to ensure her own political future.

Magdalena was pregnant once again in 36 IC. This time, unlike the previous pregnancies, she is known to have carried the birth to term, indicating that she was carrying a son. There are no photographs of Magdalena after November of 36 IC. She vanishes completely.

The lengths that were gone to to erase Magdalena from the historical record give us some indication what happened to her. If she had simply died in childbirth, there would have at least been a funeral, and a body. If the child had died through some fault of hers, there probably would have been an execution. Instead, it is as if Kaiser Rudolph tried to make it so she simply did not exist. It is likely that her child bore some kind of genetic misfortune-- a twisted leg, a cleft palette, a birth defect or disorder.

Still, this raises further questions. Genetic screening is perfectly capable of detecting most such things in the womb, and Magdalena certainly would have undergone those tests. The medical records of the Goldenbaum family are sealed, of course, but there are other places that we can look for evidence.

The Odin death records are public, and the palace staff record is available through the imperial archive. Comparing these two records around the time when Magdalena’s son might have been born, we can see that a significant portion of the palace medical staff-- many hired to look after Magdalena specifically-- were killed (probably by forced suicide). The pasts of some of these personnel are interesting to look into, specifically Magdalena’s obstetrician, Dr. Claude Markhossen, and her new lady’s maid, Veronique Barthes. Their employment records show that both were previously members of Katharina’s staff. It is likely that Katharina recommended them to Magdalena specifically, especially the lady’s maid, who was replacing another who had died of suicide four months before Magdalena was supposed to give birth.

Looking at the Peerage of the Galactic Empire and the property records, we see that although Dr. Markhossen died, his wife and children were able to live very comfortably in the capital, owing property, and, during the reign of Sigismund I, his son was elevated to Reichsritter and became Abraham von Markhossen. This seems like quite a reward for the son of a dead doctor. Similarly, we can see that Veronique Barthes’ sister was given property of her own, much more than the sister of a maid (who herself was employed in service) would have been able to afford.

Through the lens of history, this kind of payment for services rendered seems obvious. It all happened long after the fact, so contemporaries may not have noticed anything other than Katharina taking care of the families of people who had once been faithfully in her employ. However, it is more likely that they remained in her employ up until the moments of their deaths.

It would be a simple enough matter for a lady’s maid to begin subtly poisoning her mistress. Not enough to cause the woman to feel pain, but certainly enough for the new life inside of her to suffer. Too much or too little of some nutrient can wreak havoc on the development of a baby. If the obstetrician was similarly on Katharina’s payroll, it would also be easy for him to lie about the results of any health testing, to make it seem like all was well with the baby. When the child was born, though, and it was not as perfect as would be expected of the son of the most powerful man in the universe, the mother would be not just disgraced but destroyed, and all the staff associated would be killed to protect the secret. It might buy enough time to prevent Rudolph from fathering a son with another woman.

By necessity, this is all conjecture about what passed in those few months of 36 IC. The record that exists is incomplete, and there is no way to pry the truth from the lips of the dead. And, even if we could speak to them, they might lie. But we can ask the question: who benefited here? If Kaiser Rudolph had no son, his daughter’s child would inherit, and he did. Joachim von Neue Stauffen became prime minister, and was brutal in protecting his own son’s claim to the throne. What the father was able to do in public, the mother may have done in secret.

History proceeded on its course, a succession struggle that seemed almost bloodless may have actually involved the blood of several people on Katharina’s hands.

The chapter continued, but Yang closed the document. He wished he hadn’t written any of that, wished he hadn’t had it sent to Kaiser Friedrich. It now seemed to be intentionally mocking him, the past. Magdalena. He couldn’t do anything now, though. All he could do was wait.

December 481 I.C., Odin

The news that Prince Ludwig had died wasn’t released to the public for several days, and, during that time, Yang did not leave his house or speak to anyone. He didn’t hear from Bronner again, but when he poked his head out the window of his room, he saw down the street a car lingering. So, he was being watched, and he was probably meant to know he was being watched. Yang pulled his head back inside and shut the window.

He worked on his book some. He had been hoping to use his winter vacation from the IOA to do some research, but he couldn’t leave his house to go to the library or the archives, so he spent it instead going back over what he had already researched, compiling all the notes he had put together for one of the later chapters into a coherent whole. It wasn’t easy to collect anything into “the truth” because, he felt, there wasn’t such a thing. But he was able to pick an interpretation of the available records to tell a story. He felt that even more keenly now. And every time he looked up from his work, glancing into the fire or out the window, his thoughts turned towards what the available records would be about Prince Ludwig, and what interpretations someone could make. Video footage of Magdalena and Ingrid leaving the party together. Magdalena calling Yang, and him leaving to go to her estate. Blood all over Ludwig and Ingrid’s bedroom in the palace. He hadn’t seen it, but he could imagine the scene.

Bronner showed up in person at Yang’s apartment after several days, startling his landladies. He told them that he didn’t want to stay long, but he requested that they clear out the kitchen so that he could talk to Yang across the big table. Yang wondered if this was actually because his personal room was bugged and Bronner didn’t want to speak inside of it. It wouldn’t have surprised Yang in the least.

“I assume you’ve heard the news,” Bronner said, steepling his hands. He looked very out of place in the warm and cozy kitchen, his owl-like face and stiff uniform. Although Yang and several of the other tenants of the house were also in the fleet, none of them looked so strange as Bronner did. Perhaps it was because Yang was so used to seeing him in the computer-glow of his office, the juxtaposition of him into this domestic setting was jarring to the point of making Yang feel like he had entered a kind of dream.

“You didn’t tell me I wasn’t allowed to read the news.”

“I don’t have the patience for you today, or any day, Leigh,” Bronner said. He did sound tired.

“Yes, I saw that Ludwig died. How?”

“Stabbed,” Bronner said. “In the ribs.”

“Assassination, I assume?”

“Falling on your own knife is a difficult way to commit suicide,” Bronner said. “Yes.”

“Any suspects?”

“Of a sort.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The palace guards caught someone dressed as staff sneaking out of Neue Sanssouci,” Bronner said. “He killed himself before he could be questioned.”

Yang frowned. “Any motive?”

“He was obviously hired by someone,” Bronner said. “I don’t have any of the details of where they found him, what he was doing, or what else they know about him.”

“You don’t?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t be inclined to tell you.”

“I’m not sure why you’re here.”

“Several reasons,” Bronner said.

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“You should be.”

Yang was silent for a moment, staring at the row of copper pots hanging behind Bronner’s head, catching light from the hearth fire and glinting subtly in his vision. “How afraid should I be?”

“The fact that you haven’t been arrested yet is a good sign, is what I’ll say to that.”

“And why should I be arrested?”

“Because I think that you know more than you told me the other night.”

“And have you told anyone else that you think that?”

“I told you some time ago that I am a far better actor than you are.”

“I hope my script is at least better this time.”

“Indeed, Leigh,” Bronner said. “Tell me again what you were doing at Baroness Westpfale’s house.”

“Why does it matter?” Yang asked.

“Because, Leigh, during the night while Prince Ludwig was busy being stabbed, his wife left the palace with Baroness Westpfale and went to her house. It seems very odd that the Baroness would want to sleep with you while she had a guest over herself.”

Yang flinched a little, though he had already known that it would likely be public knowledge that Ingrid had been at Magdalena’s house during the night. “Everyone should know by now that Baroness Westpfale behaves in confusing and strange ways. I don’t think even she understands why she does things.”

“While you were at the Baroness’s house, did you see Frau Goldenbaum?”

“Are you implying that I was sleeping with the Prince’s wife?”

“It stretches the audience’s suspension of disbelief to even think that you would be sleeping with Baroness Westpfale,” Bronner said. “Answer the question.”

“Where is Baroness Westpfale now?”

“Under house arrest.”

“And Frau Goldenbaum?”

“At the palace.”

“You have phrased that very delicately,” Yang said. “Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Free?”

“She has not been free from the moment that she became engaged to Prince Ludwig.”

Yang nodded a little.

“You continue to not answer my question,” Bronner said. “Did you see Frau Goldenbaum that night?”

“Yes,” Yang said. “I didn’t speak to her, though, and I don’t think she knew that I was there.”

Bronner nodded. “Fine.”

“That’s not an incriminating answer?”

“You think you should be incriminated?”

“I’m trying to figure out if I should have spent the past few days putting together a will.”

“You hardly have any assets,” Bronner said. “And the property of traitors is forfeit to the crown regardless.”

“Fine. Whatever. Did you have something else to ask me?”

“Since you did know Frau Goldenbaum was there, why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

“It had nothing to do with me,” Yang said. “And you didn’t ask.”

Bronner narrowed his eyes. “And why was she there?”

“It’s Baroness Westpfale’s house. Presumably to see her. They’ve been friends since they were schoolgirls together.”

“Friends.”

“From what I know,” Yang said. It was the intonation on ‘friends’ that was obviously meant to catch Yang’s attention. Perhaps Magdalena had confessed. “What is going to happen to her?”

“Baroness Westpfale?” Bronner asked. Yang nodded. “That entirely depends on who is held responsible for Ludwig’s death.”

“She didn’t do it.”

“You sound very sure. She has a motive,” Bronner said.

“Which is what?”

Bronner tilted his head to the side slightly, and stared at Yang with a penetrating expression. “Her relationship with Frau Goldenbaum.”

“Are you going to clarify what you mean by that?”

“I think you know quite well what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“I took it upon myself to look into the baroness’s past,” Bronner said. “It was quite easy to get her schoolteachers to talk.”

“I don’t know anything about her school days.”

“She was involved in quite a scandal,” Bronner said. “The kind of drama that would be too sordid to even put on as a play.”

“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to--”

“It’s not relevant,” Bronner said. “And the whole thing was covered up with large donations to the school. People are willing to keep gossip quiet if there’s money on the line.”

“But not if someone pretending to be an MP shows up at their door?”

Bronner’s smile was thin and grim. “Indeed.”

“Even if what you’re implying is true,” Yang said, though he knew it was, “it’s not enough reason for her to murder the crown prince. She has absolutely nothing to gain.”

“Really?”

“It’s not as though she could…” Yang shook his head. “I don’t need to explain this to you. But I can assure you that Baroness Westpfale did not kill Prince Ludwig.”

“I suppose that brings me to my next reason for being here,” Bronner said.

“Which is?”

“Who did kill Prince Ludwig?”

“Why should I know?”

“You have very strong opinions on who didn’t kill him.”

“Anybody who knows the baroness would have the same strong opinions.”

“I said I was going to make you continue to work for me,” Bronner said. “I want to hear who you think did it. You have spent more time in the palace than I have.”

“Is this because you’re going to try to use this information, or because you’re curious?”

“What does it matter?”

“I don’t want to make a wrong prediction and have it ruin somebody’s life,” Yang said.

“So, you do have opinions.”

“Of course I have opinions,” Yang said.

“Then tell me.”

“You’re making me work above my pay grade.”

Bronner silently waited.

“Have you read my book?”

“How would I have?”

“I assumed you were watching me.”

“I am, but not that closely. Why?”

“It’s all about the succession struggles in the early days of the Goldenbaum dynasty.”

“And what does that have to do with this?”

“The crown prince was murdered,” Yang said. “Throughout history, even before the Goldenbaum dynasty, whenever the next in line for the throne is murdered, or meets an unfortunate end in an accident, it’s usually the person who’s next after that who’s responsible.”

“And you think that’s the case here?”

Yang shrugged. “It’s a little complicated, because there isn’t a clear heir, but if Ludwig took the throne, that would have cut out both Princess Amarie and Princess Christine’s children from inheriting.”

“So, you think it was Duke Braunschweig or Littenheim?”

“It could be,” Yang said. “Or…”

“Or?”

“If Susanna Benemunde had a son with Kaiser Friedrich, that would make her son the heir.”

“Interesting. So, three suspects.”

Yang shrugged. “Any of them are more plausible than Magdalena von Wesptfale, who has nothing to gain and everything to lose.”

“And you’re not just saying that to protect your friend?”

“If I was saying it to protect anybody, it would be myself,” Yang said. “But no, I’m not just saying that to protect her. You can look at any example in history and come to the same conclusion. It was probably just very bad luck on the part of the assassin that the pregnant wife of the prince was out of the house at the time.”

“Which of the three is most likely to have done it?”

“I don’t know,” Yang said. “I haven’t even met Marquis Littenheim. I don’t have a good judge of his personality.”

“What about Braunschweig?”

“I don’t know,” Yang said again. “I think he is a man who enjoys power, and he would not say no for the chance for his daughter to rule, but I think that Princess Amarie is a generally tempering influence.”

“And Benemunde?”

“I only met her once.”

“And what conclusion did you reach in that meeting?”

“She plays the women’s court game well,” Yang said. “And she does have the kaiser’s favor. She may have believed that his favor would protect her.”

“He would chose his favorite concubine over his own son?”

“I would not presume to speak for His Majesty,” Yang said, unable to keep the slight tone of disrespect out of his voice. Bronner caught that and held up a cautioning finger.

“That’s right, you shouldn’t.”

Yang nodded. “Did you want something else from me?”

“No,” Bronner said.

“What’s going to happen to the Baroness?”

“I have no idea,” Bronner replied. “You already asked that question.”

“I’m just worried.”

“It is understandable to want to protect your friend,” Bronner said. “But don’t stick your neck out too far.”

“Will I be allowed to leave my house now?”

“Wait until the school term begins,” Bronner said.

“Can I make phone calls?”

“To whom?”

“The Mariendorf family.”

“Yes, and no one else.”

“Letters?”

“They will be read.”

“I’m well aware,” Yang said dryly. “I shall try to enjoy my time under house arrest.”

“It’s a soft house arrest,” Bronner said. “There’s no weight behind it. But leaving is more likely to get you in trouble than not.”

“I understand.”

Bronner stood. “Good day, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I’m sure we’ll speak again at some point, Commodore. Thank you for coming.”

“It was my pleasure,” Bronner said, though his tone made it clear that it had been nothing of the sort.

January 482 I.C., Odin

Yang received a letter in his mail that he had not been expecting. The heavy envelope did not contain so much as a request but a summons: a private audience with the kaiser that Yang had not asked for or wanted. It contained a date and a time and the information that someone would escort him to the palace from his house. Yang couldn’t refuse, so, on the day of, he dressed in his best uniform, combed his hair as nicely as he could, and found himself waiting stiffly in one of the rooms of Neue Sanssouci for the kaiser to appear. The room was opulent and dark, with a fire quietly burning in a hearth, and two chairs arranged in front of it. Yang didn’t want to sit down, because he didn’t know if he should be seated when the kaiser arrived.

Friedrich walked in, flanked by two attendants, and Yang bowed as nicely as he could. The kaiser looked in worse health than Yang remembered him being in. Ludwig’s funeral had been the week prior. Yang had not attended, for obvious reasons, but he had watched on television. The entire Goldenbaum family had looked various shades of distraught, and none more so than Ingrid, who had been pale faced and shivering the whole time she had been caught on camera. At the funeral, Friedrich had looked cold and sad. Now, he looked old. He waved his attendants away, and they left, shutting the door behind them, leaving Yang and the kaiser alone in the room. The kaiser sat in one of the chairs, then said, “Take a seat, Lieutenant Commander.”

Yang hurried to comply. Friedrich was stretching out his hands towards the fire, as though they were cold, though the whole room was stiflingly warm. Yang felt like he could barely breathe in his uniform.

“Do you know why I’ve called you here?” the kaiser asked.

“I would not presume to say, even if I had any idea, Your Majesty,” Yang said.

“I read your history,” the kaiser said. “You have a good eye.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Yang said.

“Amarie was right to recommend it to me, though I suspect that she may regret trying to help Baroness Westpfale now.”

“Why is that, sir?” Yang asked, though he suspected that he knew the answer.

“She is a disgrace,” the kaiser said, though he didn’t seem very invested in it. His voice was flat. “You know why.”

“May I ask what is to be done with her, sir?”

“It concerns you, does it?”

“If it did not concern me, would you have called me here?”

“I’m not as concerned with Baroness Westpfale as I am with many other things,” the kaiser said. “But nothing is to be done with her. She shall not return to court, at least not for some time. She should be jailed, perhaps, but it would be too much of a scandal, and it would upset Amarie.”

“You won’t punish her?”

“I have some interest in preserving the dignity of my family,” the kaiser said. “However little of it remains.” Yang wasn’t sure if he was referring to remaining dignity or remaining family members. The kaiser was silent for a long second. “You care about the baroness?”

“Perhaps against my better judgement,” Yang admitted. “But she has been a good friend to me.”

The kaiser nodded. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” The conversation was as stifling as the air in the room. Yang risked asking something else in the moment of silence that followed. “May I ask another question, Your Majesty?”

Friedrich waved his hand in assent, staring into the fire rather than looking at Yang. “What is to be done with Frau Goldenbaum?”

“She should be sent away somewhere, as soon as she has her baby. I have no desire to keep her in the court.”

“Where, sir?”

“She can be granted an estate on a frontier planet,” the kaiser said.

“May I make a request, sir?”

“Oh?”

“Baroness Westpfale said that Frau Goldenbaum was interested in religion,” Yang said. “Perhaps she could be sent to Earth.”

“Earth?”

“She was a member of the Earth church, I believe,” Yang said.

“Ludwig might have said something to that effect, once,” the kaiser said. “If that is her wish, then I have no opposition to it.”

“It will be difficult for her to leave her child.”

“It is better for her to leave him than to stay here in disgrace,” the kaiser said. “He will have a better life without her shadow over him.”

“Is her scandal public knowledge?”

“I think it is better to make a clean break with the past,” the kaiser said. “Even if there were no scandal, a royal child with only a mother from outside the family is a dangerous thing. Better to have him be raised without her influence.”

Yang nodded. There was plenty of historical precedent for that. “Why did you summon me here, sir?”

“You have a perspective that no one else around me has,” he said. “You know the members of the court, and yet you could never be one. I was told that you could be relied upon to give honest assessments of situations.”

“May I inquire who--”

“Several people, independently, when I mentioned your name.”

“I’m honored,” Yang said. “It seems above my station for Your Majesty to have an interest in me.”

“You have a way of remaining in my mind, Lieutenant Commander. You look odd, and it makes me remember you.”

“I am glad that I am remembered fondly,” Yang said. “I have been lucky to have Your Majesty’s favor.”

Friedrich nodded, pensive. “Perhaps I should not give it so freely.”

“It would be foolish of me to agree with that statement, when I have benefitted so much from it.”

For the first time, Friedrich’s lips twitched in something that might have approached a smile, if such a cloud of misery hadn’t been hanging over him. “Your name is most often mentioned in connection with some sort of trouble, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so, sir.” He had to wonder if the kaiser knew that he had been at Magdalena’s house the night of the murder. He wondered if Bronner had communicated that all the way up the chain. He hoped not, but it was irrelevant now. He had perhaps managed to cast the cloud of suspicion off of himself.

“I wouldn’t have forgotten you, after your little hunting accident. But it’s the fact that you’ve stayed around that makes you interesting.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The kaiser paused for a second. “What should I do about my children, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Sir?”

“You know history. What should I do to stop the rest of them from murdering each other?”

“You think that’s what happened?”

“Do you not think that’s what happened?”

“I don’t have the results of the investigation.”

“It was inconclusive. Intentionally, I’m sure. If one were to look too guilty, it would look far more like a framing than a true kind of guilt.”

“Are you going to punish them?”

“How can I, without proof?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I’m asking for your advice. What should I do with them?”

“Do you have an heir in mind?”

“No.”

Yang thought deeply for a second. “You should refuse to name one,” he said. “At least for a while. If you can carefully balance who you’re showing favor to, that might keep them from killing each other.”

The kaiser nodded. “And I cannot allow Susanna to have a son.”

Yang nodded, silently, and waited for the kaiser to say something else.

“Do you think that I have had a good reign, Lieutenant Commander?”

“In what sense, sir?”

“A historical one,” the kaiser said. “If the Goldenbaum dynasty were to end with me, what would people say in the future?”

“Sir, if we could write the histories of the future today, there would be no need to write histories at all.”

“You can’t say?”

“Your reign has not been marked by scandal or by extreme virtue,” Yang said finally. “If the Goldenbaum dynasty ended with you, people might say that you were emblematic of its stagnation.”

“Thank you for the honest assessment.”

“May I ask why you are thinking about this?”

“I just buried my only son,” the kaiser said. “Is that not reason enough?”

“Yes, sorry, Your Majesty.”

He waved his hand a little in dismissal of Yang’s apology. “Ludwig would have made a dangerous ruler.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He was moved by fits of passion.” He shook his head. “My father was the same. He had both of my brothers and my mother killed because he thought they were scheming against him.”

“Were they, sir?”

“I don’t know. What does the historical record suggest?”

“I would have to make a careful study,” Yang said.

“I don’t want to know, if you do find out,” Friedrich said.

“There’s no…” Yang began, then trailed off.

“There’s no what, Lieutenant Commander?”

“There’s no ‘finding out’,” Yang said finally. “It’s telling a story to fit the information we have, like anything else. You already know the possibilities of the stories I might tell.”

“And what will the story be that they tell about Ludwig?”

“The same one we’re telling now,” Yang said. “Someone else with ambitions for the throne killed him.”

“Even though I’ve blamed the assassination on a republican terrorist cell?”

“I think that everyone will understand that you’re hesitant to blame your own children for fratricide, without credible evidence.” Yang couldn’t keep all of the bitterness out of his tone.

“But you are unhappy with this?”

“The people who took the blame in this case are most likely to be innocent.”

“You have a fondness for republicans, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Your Majesty, why would you ask that question?”

“You spend your free time detailing the failures of the dynasty in your history book. I think it is a fair question.”

“I like to understand the world I live in,” Yang said. “The only thing that separates man from animals is our history. You can’t understand history if you’re only willing to look at the easy parts on the surface.”

“A fair answer.”

“If I may say something,” Yang said.

“Yes.”

“Having Your Majesty’s favor is dangerous to me, but losing it would be worse. I find myself in a difficult position, when you ask me questions like that.”

Friedrich smiled, though it was a somewhat grim expression. “I tried hard not to earn the favor of my father, as well, which meant that I was the only one of my brothers to survive. If I very obviously did not want the throne, I was a safe choice to give it to, in the end.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And where will you end up, Lieutenant Commander?” the kaiser asked. “As a man who does not want to be involved, you are a safe man for me to speak to.”

“I serve at the command of Your Majesty,” Yang said. “As a soldier in your fleet.”

“I thought you told me at one time that you were a servant to all the people in the empire.”

“Are you not their servant as well?”

“I was under the impression that you were attempting to navigate this conversation delicately,” the kaiser said. “You take an interesting view of the crown.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

The kaiser was silent for a long time. “For what it is worth, you have my blessing to marry the Baroness Westpfale.”

“Even though she is a disgrace?”

“Those willing to marry into her disgrace will be after her money,” the kaiser said. “You would be better suited than they.”

“Thank you for your blessing, Your Majesty,” Yang said, though he hesitated.

“Is there a problem?”

“I do not know if either of us desire to marry,” Yang said.

“Desire is a funny thing,” the kaiser said, and then nothing else.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What will become of us, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Who, sir?”

“My family.”

“I don’t know,” Yang said. For the first time, the kaiser turned to look directly at him. “I think that depends on the choices that you make.”

“Perhaps.”

February 482 I.C., Odin

The weather was disgusting and grey, suitable to Magdalena’s mood. She was stomping through the slush of her garden, not caring that the hem of her dress was getting dirty with her splashing. The corner of her shawl caught on the bare twigs of a bush as she walked by, and she ripped it savagely off, shaking down snow. Yang trailed behind her at a safe distance, not wanting to get caught up in her whirlwind.

“They wouldn’t even let me go to the naming ceremony,” Magdalena said. “That’s not fair!”

“I know,” Yang said. “I’m sorry.” That was about the only thing he had been able to say to her for the past several days.

“I should leave the capital,” she said.

“Where would you go?”

“Phezzan, maybe.”

“You wouldn’t like it there.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“I’m just saying that to stop you from doing something stupid,” Yang said. “You don’t want to run away.”

“I do.”

“You just have to wait,” Yang said. “Things will get better.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Why do you think that?”

“What am I supposed to do with myself?” she asked. “The only thing I had--” She shook her head and kicked a pile of snow over.

“This is almost the best possible outcome,” Yang said. “Ingrid is safe, and she’ll be back.”

“Will she?”

“Probably.”

“And will she want to see me when that happens?”

“I can’t predict the future,” Yang said.

“I can’t go to court, I can’t have Ingrid, nobody will associate with me because I’m in disgrace for something that I wasn’t even doing…”

“Well,” Yang said.

“I wasn’t doing it then!”

“True. Look, Maggie,” he said.

“What?” she demanded. Her tone was vicious.

“I think you will figure out a way to be okay,” he said. “You’ll be allowed back in court eventually, if that’s even what you want. Your mother will convince Princess Amarie or Marquess Benemunde to let you back into their graces.”

“After we got someone to frame them for murder?”

“They don’t know that.”

“What if they find out?”

“Then we’ll have more problems than you not being welcome at court for now.”

Magdalena didn’t say anything. Her face was twisted and bitter.

“It will be okay,” Yang said.

“Stop lying to me.”

“This status quo won’t hold forever,” Yang said. “Because nothing ever does. And in the mean time, you can find other things to live for.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe you should go back to school,” Yang said.

She stomped through a puddle. “All I am is a stupid pretty girl. Good for being an accessory to the court and going to parties. Useful to get married to. That’s all I was ever supposed to be, and now I can’t even do that.”

“You’re not stupid,” Yang said. “You could be more than that.”

“Oh, I am more ,” she said. “I’m scandalous and deviant and a disgrace to polite company.”

“Welcome to the club,” Yang muttered. “But it’s not like everybody knows.”

“Enough do. And more than enough know that I’m disgraced by something that there will be rumors on rumors.”

“Ignore them.”

She laughed, harshly. “Easy for you to say.”

“You can’t just spend the rest of your life moping,” Yang said. “You have to find some other way to live. Maybe it will be better.”

She was silent for a minute, then changed the topic. “My mother says that you spoke to the kaiser.”

“I did. A while ago.”

“What about?”

“History, mostly.”

“He’s interested in that?”

“I think he’s interested in understanding what his family’s legacy will be. If that’s an interest in history, then sure.”

“Was there anything else that you talked about with him?”

“No,” Yang lied. He wasn’t going to tell her about the kaiser’s weird permission for them to marry.

“Oh.” She sighed. “Why you?”

“Because I’m a nobody,” Yang said. “The same reason you took an interest in me, I think.”

“What would I have done without you, Hank?”

“Survived,” he said. “That’s what you would have done.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“With your life. What are you going to do with it?

“I don’t know,” Yang said. “I like teaching. I think I will keep doing that until someone tells me I can’t anymore.”

“Hmph.”

“What, you think I should do something different?”

“You can go ahead and tell me to have ambitions, but you won’t yourself.”

“My ambition is to have a comfortable and happy life that hurts as few people as possible,” Yang said. “I like to think that I’m doing alright at it.”

“I wish I could have that mindset.”