Arc II, Chapter 50

Riding to the castle in my family's ostentatious carriage had never been a pleasant experience. Decorum demanded it, of course; the last time I had tried to show up to the castle on horseback, Duo had threatened to fire the entire coach staff "since you don't deign them worthy of use." It was an obvious and ridiculous custom of Sanc's court: soldiers and peasants rode horseback; nobles rode in carriages. I hadn't thought much of it, especially with the Crown Prince and his cohort most often traveling on horseback when we met with them in our battles against Oz, Romefeller, or the barbarian territories.

Carriage rides also gave people the time to converse in a more private setting. This wasn't so bad when I was with Duo, since it meant he was pressed up to my side and teasing me - but right now, I wished I was on horseback so I could trot ahead and completely avoid this conversation.

Trowa was staring back at me, knowing my train of thought and unimpressed by it.

Our departure from the castle the previous night had been swift, and I hadn't left Duo's side the entire night because of it. I hated leaving Duo when he got in this state; he seemed to doubt everything, including himself and the people around him. Vulnerable and emotionally unmoored, it was only too easy to take advantage of him. A long-lost Princess who used my husband's name and spoke of a relationship he did not have enough memory to verify was only too easy to exploit.

Trowa had heard more of the conversation. I'd sent him to eavesdrop, just in case Relena Darlian - Relena Peacecraft now, I suppose - tried to take advantage of Duo while no one was around to check. When he'd returned to our side only to let me know that Duo needed me immediately, my entire attention had been consumed by removing Duo from the location and keeping him safe.

I'd known Trowa wanted to speak with me after Duo had gone to bed. It wasn't unusual for us to meet in my study after-hours, to discuss things that couldn't be spoken about while Duo was awake and wandering around the estate. Duo moved too quietly nowadays, sometimes catching even us unawares when he pushed himself into our vicinity. It was a double-edged sword; I was pleased to see him making himself so comfortable with us, with me, that he'd seek us out at any time - but on the other hand, it made these conversations he should never hear harder to have.

I hadn't left Duo last night. Trowa's gaze this morning had trailed me with cutting precision, his every non-expression clearly discontent with my aversion to his report. It wasn't like me to avoid such things, but when I'd seen the expression on Trowa's face as he went to escort me to Duo last night, it reminded me of when I'd last spoken with Professor G.

Duo had said there was something wrong with him. Duo did not know enough about himself to truly know what was right and what was wrong with his history, and his family operated in a way unknown to anyone but themselves. Professor G had known him enough to speak about Duo's childhood as if it were a farce, and I...

I couldn't stand the idea that Duo had been anything but loved.

For how little their exchanges made sense to me, I had always thought that Duke Maxwell loved his son. For how cruel he could be, Solo Maxwell was a thousand times crueler to those that worked against his brother. The few servants I saw around the Maxwell estate treated Duo as someone beloved, someone they respected and admired.

For what reason would Duo ever need to lie?

His family's secrets were handled by his father and brother. Every expense he incurred, every wish and desire he held - all of it was covered and granted by Duke Maxwell before his marriage, and by myself afterward. The childhood illness he'd recovered from had shown no signs of resurfacing after he'd entered his teenage years, and he was hale and healthy every year I'd known him.

Duo had hidden nothing from me. His two extramarital affairs were flaunted in my face; his unscrupulous overspending meticulously notated in accounting logs delivered right to my desk; the scorn of his tittering followers open and overt until I'd left the room. Duo didn't lie, because he'd never had any need to; he conducted himself above board because he knew it had been the best way to hurt me.

With his supposed childhood friendship with the long-lost Princess of Sanc, however, it cast a wide net of doubt over everything Duo had done or said. That wasn't a relationship that he would have needed to hide; his association with a then thought-to-be common-born foster daughter of the Darlian dukedom would be nothing in the face of his family's sway and power. Duke Darlian was hardly someone to scoff at, with strong ties to the royal family made all the stronger by recent revelations, and it wasn't unusual for families of similar rank to host playdates with their children in the years before their formal introduction to polite society. Duo had been an oddity because he'd been too frail to meet anyone during his formative years, so the fact that he supposedly had an arranged playmate was surprising but not unduly shocking. There would have been no reason to never disclose that to me or my father at some point during Duo's and I's courtship and subsequent marriage.

And yet Duo never had.

Relena Darlian had never been part of the entourage that followed Duo around the Capital. They had never traded letters, they had never met in public or at social events; Duo had certainly never visited the Darlian residence or any of their properties while we'd been engaged or married. Relena had hardly been seen by anyone in the noble social circles, given her believed "inferior" lineage, and Duke Darlian was adamant that his foster daughter was too engrossed in her studies to attend tea parties and the like.

If it was true, if Duo and Relena really had been childhood friends, then it was a relationship both had sought to hide - leading to a conversation that had shaken one of the few men I trusted with mine and Duo's life.

"...Did the Duchess say anything?" Trowa eventually asked. He was looking straight at me, less to gauge if I would lie and moreso to ensure I would actually answer. The question in itself was partially relieving to me; it was Trowa's way of showing that whatever he'd heard last night, he still thought the best of Duo. Trowa's relationship with Duo had always been rocky, though it had improved significantly over the past few months; Trowa had even gone so far as to believe that Duo would share with me first, rather than keep up any pretense of lying.

"Nothing specific," I replied. "I didn't ask. Duo wasn't...in the right state of mind."

Duo had been distracted, lost once more in the turn of his own thoughts. He could get like this when he was talking about his engineering projects, but that was an innocuous version of what I'd seen on his face last night; it was as if he was once more in that state where he couldn't keep his memories straight. He hadn't said anything as heartbreaking as he had on that night when he'd revealed his prophetic dreams to us, but it was clear that his conversation with Relena had disturbed him deeply.

Trowa didn't say anything for a moment, though his eyes never turned away from me. His expression was a placid lake, familiar to me because this was what his face looked like when we hunched over battlefield maps while in foreign territories. This was the face he wore when he was getting ready to tell me something I wouldn't like, whether that would be that we couldn't save the squad captured by enemy forces or that another Sanc noble had come down for inspections and did nothing to help aid the men they used to staff the kingdom's army.

"She knew about the greenhouse fire. It seemed to have been planned," Trowa stated, voice inflectionless. My body stilled, processing the words with detached, clinical efficiency; my emotions were stifled under Wing's oppressive support. "She's also known she was the lost Princess of Sanc and planned her own reveal of such, though I'm unsure of how long."

There was a hair's breadth hesitation, so quick that it was amazing I could even catch it, before Trowa continued. "She asked the Duchess if he could 'still see the dead'."

I moved my gaze from the spot next to Trowa's head to meet his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Trowa replied. "The Duchess didn't give her an answer."

--"I think there's something wrong with me."--

Those of the Harvester faith were obsessed with death; it was the natural byproduct of worshipping the deity who ruled over it. They crafted beautiful altars which they then destroyed, the ephemeral nature of what should have been a relic of worship reduced to the same mortality as the people themselves. The followers of the Harvester spoke of ghosts, something akin to souls or specters; these afterimages of life left to haunt the places they'd once walked, existing in every place they had once breathed. Followers saw the dead wherever they tread, because according to their beliefs, the dead were woven into every fabric of life.

The Princess's question could have been related to that. Duo could "see the dead" because as a follower of the Harvester, he was meant to believe ghosts were everywhere. Devout followers could 'see' them in the same way Peacemillion's followers saw its grace in every facet of their lives. It wasn't that part that unnerved Trowa, that unnerved me.

It was the 'still'.

"He can't," I stopped and struggled with the words in my throat. "He, Duo- He isn't like us. He doesn't... It can't be that. We would have sensed it. We would have known."

If he'd had something like Wing, like Heavyarms, like Shenlong or Sandrock - we would have known.

"I knew you had Wing the moment I saw you," Trowa returned quietly. "You knew I had Heavyarms the moment I let you."

"That's different," I said curtly. "Heavyarms allowed you-"

"Don't speak to me as if I don't know what Heavyarms allows me to do," Trowa interrupted me, tone cold and cloyed with poison.

I stopped, swallowing the rest of my words. Quatre may have accepted Sandrock with resignation, Wufei may have worn Shenlong with a sense of pride as the last remnant of his home - but Trowa regarded Heavyarms as the weapon he'd never wanted to wield. The mercenaries that had used him to gain it had been slaughtered by that same sacrifice, and in turn, Trowa had been irrevocably bound to the weapon he'd used against them.

"I'm not saying the Duchess is like us," Trowa continued, tone softer. He'd learned gentleness after he'd fallen into the care of his adoptive sister Catherine Bloom, after he'd met Quatre and was showered in the blond's effortless kindness. "But I don't think we, or even the Duchess, knows enough about him to be certain."

Trowa finally turned his knowing eyes away from me. "I think the Duchess is better at lying than we expected."

---

Prince Milliardo Peacecraft was not someone who lorded his authority or title over others. It's what made him one of the few aristocrats that I and the others could not only stand, but even appreciate at times; he was supportive of Sanc's military, often meeting us with the knights who worked directly under the banner of the royal family when we fought against Oz or Romefeller.

My father had held him in high regard, and had remarked that the Prince was not only highly-skilled in combat and battle tactics, but also held himself to a high chivalric standard. The Crown Prince got along well with those of us of the Yuy line, and he'd always treated Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei with the proper respect. His relationship with the Maxwell family could best be described as 'cordial'; he'd worked with Duke Maxwell several times throughout the years and there appeared to be no friction, but his interactions with heir-apparent Solo Maxwell could be either brisk and efficient - or agonizingly petty.

Solo made a habit of pestering the two people closest to the Prince - his fiancee, Duke Noin, and his close confidant, Count Otto - and was well aware of the fact that as long as he never crossed the line, there wasn't a thing the Prince could do about it. It was for this reason that I was often made the mediator between the two, when possible; everything just went smoother if their interactions were limited to necessity-only.

Which was why it sent an immediate flicker of warning through my mind when I entered the Prince's office and saw Solo already inside. He smiled at me as soon as our gazes met.

"Come in, Duke Yuy, Commander Barton," Prince Milliardo greeted, nodding at our perfunctory bows. "We have a lot to discuss."

The prince bid us to move forward to the table both men were already hovering around. A quick scan of the tabletop let me identify the map stretched across it: the Romefeller Empire in careful detail, every landmass artfully illustrated - and every movement of troops represented by the small figurines placed near the border of Sanc.

"Romefeller intends to initiate conflict?" I identified the issue with a glance.

We were currently in a period of peace - or at least a stalemate - with both Romefeller and Oz. Our last battle with the united front of our enemy forces had cost the lives of thousands of men, my father among them, but Oz and Romefeller had lost just as much. The latter had lost their own royal heir, leaving the Emperor without sons to claim the throne and the entire Romefeller court in anxious unrest. Our own intelligence after the fact had believed that Romefeller would be too preoccupied with internal disputes over the next in line that a war with greater powers like Sanc and Lagrange would be far off.

"The Emperor has died, and his cousin or somesuch took the throne," Solo explained with a wave of his hand, as if dismissing the intelligence of Romefeller's entire royal line altogether. "The best way to consolidate new power is to give people a reason to follow you, and what better reason is there than to finally conquer the thorn in your side?"

Romefeller's ambitious pursuit and end goal was to unify the entire continent under their banner. Their sights had been set on Sanc to their west, Lagrange to their southwest. It was easier for them to sow discord among Lagrange's various city-states than to initiate direct conflict, so Sanc tended to suffer the full brunt of Romefeller's direct attacks. Oz was purported to side with Romefeller in order to avoid their oppressive ambitions for now, the alliance between the two weakened by the lack of trust on either side.

The climate and terrain of both Sanc and Romefeller were similar, as they boy sat north on the continent; Romefeller claimed more territory, but Sanc held more people. Sanc also had the advantage of more arable land, and the mountain range sitting on the border between the two was an effective divide and shield. The sea route to them would have been easier to utilize, though Sanc's naval forces were nothing to underestimate before - but with their new technology of Duo's steamboats, they had another leg up on Romefeller's forces.

With fall and soon winter encroaching, it was perhaps the worst time for Romefeller to declare war on their contentious neighbor. It just didn't make any sense; the ruler may have changed, but surely there were enough learned and trained military experts in Romefeller to advise him against such an idea, at least at this stage.

"It doesn't make sense, does it?" Solo asked, picking up the small crown meant to symbolize Romefeller's emperor. "It's a waste of money and resources to go to war now, anyone with a shred of common sense could see that. Preparing for the winter should take precedence, and would gain the people's favor faster."

Prince Milliardo's face was a study in icy calm. "He doesn't want favor - he wants power," he pointed out. "Someone who has never set foot on the battlefield has no qualms sacrificing any number of men or resources to get it."

"I can think of plenty of people who want power even after first-hand experience in seeing what it costs to get it," Solo retorted with acidic sweetness.

Prince Milliardo sent a cutting glare his way.

Here they go again. "There are other ways to gain power than to start a war you're not guaranteed to win," I cut in. I privately agreed with Solo; Count Otto was obviously desperate for power and would do anything for it, despite the prestige of his position as the Prince's confidant and his own battle experience. "What prompted renewed aggression against us? This feels almost like a retaliation."

Solo's eyes glittered in vicious amusement. "The late Emperor was assassinated," he explained. "Naturally, they laid the blame at our feet, but I certainly didn't have a hand in that excitement."

Which meant the assassination wasn't Sanc's doing. The Maxwell family would have handled the affair if it had been.

"White Fang has taken credit for it," Prince Milliardo said.

I glared down at the map on the table. First Oz's general, now Romefeller's Emperor... White Fang was no friend to that specific alliance then, but I couldn't guess their motive. On a national level, it was hard to call any entity friendly. "Do we know where White Fang is based?"

"No," Solo answered. "For a group that doesn't mind taking responsibility, they sure like to keep everything else about them secret."

No location, and if he wasn't saying more, then that meant we had little knowledge on the group's size, influence, or goals. For all intents and purposes, the group seemed to have sprung out from nowhere; they had no ally and were swiftly making more enemies.

"They've also put a name to the one responsible for actually carrying out these kills," Solo continued. "The Lightning Count."

"Noble ties?" The Romefeller Empire didn't have peerage titles like 'Count', but the Kingdom of Oz did, for however meaningless they were in actuality. Oz's King Treize Khushrenada ruled with absolute power over his dominion, and though they had similar peerage titles when compared to Sanc, Oz's noble class had significantly less power in the court.

"Even if the Lightning Count is real, we have no idea if White Fang has noble ties," Prince Milliardo said. "It's more than likely they're throwing names around so that we chase ghosts."

"Ghosts that can make men move," Solo added idly.

The Prince tossed him another disgruntled glare but didn't get distracted by the rejoinder. "Nevertheless, we must prepare in case of invasion. Our borders against Romefeller are still guarded by your men, Duke, but it is better to be safe than sorry. How long will it take to mobilize another 10,000 men along the border?"

I ran the logistics in my head. The bulk of Sanc's forces fell along our border with Romefeller, as Sanc and Oz were separated by the barbarian territories. It wouldn't take long to move troops to such well-worn paths and positions, but the number was significantly higher than our usual rotations.

"Less than a month if we value numbers over efficiency," I answered. "Almost two if we want them to be well-supplied."

I paused. "The naval forces can move faster. Recent innovations have allowed us to transport at a faster pace, so we can deliver supplies quicker."

The prince merely nodded in understanding. A prototype of Duo's steam engine had been sent to the Capital months ago, their engineers picking it apart for replication. They likely had their own prototypes, or would have them soon enough, so this wasn't shocking. I briefly thought about mentioning Duo's work on what he called a 'steam locomotive', but I didn't want them hassling my husband to hurry and complete the project when he was in no state to do so.

"We'll work out plans for our forces this week, and you can head back to your domain before the next quarter moon," the Crown Prince decided.

I stood a little straighter, keeping my head appropriately bowed. "I plan to leave tomorrow to escort my husband back home," I said reservedly. It wouldn't be in my best interest to be considered argumentative here. "Commander Barton will remain and can discuss any plans-"

"I need to discuss these plans with both you and the Commander," Prince Milliardo cut in, tone calm but authoritative.

I stared at his left shoulder in mulish silence.

A sigh. "Is there some reason Duchess Yuy needs a military escort to go back home?"

It was a sort of concession. He was implying that Duo could leave as scheduled, at the very least; just because my presence was required didn't me the entire Yuy ducal family had to stay in the Capital for the next week.

However, I still didn't like it.

"This is an order, Duke Yuy."

I scowled. "Yes, Your Highness."

---

Solo Maxwell had left the room first, sparing me a cursory farewell I could have done without. With my mood already soured, I was soon to follow Solo's exit, though naturally he was nowhere to be found as Trowa and I headed down the corridors to the exit. We hadn't got very far before we were stopped by a young maid stepping into our path, her features pale with fright as she failed to make eye contact with either one of us.

Instead, she bowed lowly, her quivering voice high-pitched in fear. "H-Her Highness the P-P-Princess wants...wants t-to see you, Y-Your Grace."

I made to ignore her and continue walking, but halted immediately as I really thought about it. My immediate concern was going back to the estate to inform Duo of the change in plans and that I'd be following along a little later, then comfort and assure him that things would soon be fine and that I would be right behind him- but what better way to make absolutely sure of that security than to speak to the woman who had destroyed it in the first place?

"Take me to her," I bit out.

The maid flushed, shaking her head before holding out a small envelope to me with trembling hands. "Not t-today," she croaked out. "B-But she wishes t-to speak to you s-soon. The... The invitation h-has the d-day and time. H-Her Highness also said to c-come alone."

A delaying tactic, but one Princess Relena could use because she knew I could never force myself into her presence. I grabbed the invitation from the maid's hands, and she bowed hurriedly in thanks before hurrying away.

Neither myself nor Trowa moved. I examined the invitation in my hand: it was a simple white envelope, sealed shut with the official emblem of Sanc's Princess - and official heir. Despite the almost secretive way it had been handed off to me, the invitation itself was above board; she meant to meet me in an official capacity.

Relena Peacecraft and I were not allies. She was something to my husband, though I don't think even Duo could tell me if she was friend or foe; she was the heir apparent to the entire kingdom; she was a woman who had known her own origin and used it for her own ends.

Had keeping her concealed been Duke Darlian's idea - or her own?

If Duo's prophetic dreams were correct and she was the true Crown Princess, then what were her plans moving forward? Someone who had been as removed from Sanc's social circles as I was shouldn't know how to sneak around like this, how to put up one face in front of the court and show another to someone she considered on her side. She'd blinded the nobles with a story about friendship with a cheerful smile, then turned around and asked my husband about his relationship with the dead.

I looked over to the side corridor and waited. Sure enough, soft footfalls fells and an older man turned the corner; dressed in the impeccable uniform of a butler of high esteem, it was easy to place a name with the familiar face: Pagan, the official butler of the royal family and loyal servant to the Crown.

Pagan didn't look the least bit surprised to see us watching him with expectant eyes. He only bowed lowly in greeting, the pin on his lapel denoting his service and current allegiance to the Crown Princess. The Queen would have transferred him from serving her to serving her grandniece, as was customary for the royal family's matrilineal succession.

"I just need but a moment to speak with you on the Princess's behalf, Your Grace," he informed me evenly. "Poor Lizette is trustworthy, but so easily overwhelmed."

Lizette must be the maid who had dropped the invitation. It was strange that the Princess would use her easily-flustered maid to deliver the invitation, and then deploy Pagan to follow her. I didn't care to know about the inner politics of the royal family, especially now with the new addition, but it didn't bode well that such secrecy was needed among the members.

"Lizette is the public face," Pagan said, answering a question I hadn't voiced. The meaning clicked for me a moment later: Lizette was meant to deliver an invitation to me, the existence of which was not necessarily a secret; Pagan followed her because his was the secret.

There was no letter waiting in his hand, merely a small smile on his lips and wisdom in his eyes. "Her Highness believes your goals are aligned, which is why she wishes to speak with you," he began to explain, voice ever so reasonable. "She understands that you may not trust her, but she is not asking for your trust. She only asks for you to keep an open mind."

Trowa moved up to stand beside me. "Aligned?" he echoed in an exact mimicry of that same mild tone. "In the same way she and the Duchess are aligned?"

"I cannot speak on behalf of the Princess, but I daresay her relationship to the Duchess is far more meaningful than just a shared goal," Pagan said in irreverent good humor.

I crumpled the invitation in my hand. "And what sort of relationship would that be?"

"The keeper of his secrets," Pagan replied. "The same way he is the keeper of her's."