Lora of Two Worlds

Leon watched until Shawn and Norton carried her off in a litter, then dropped from the tree and wandered back toward Yewholm, his mind elsewhere.

”My lord, how was it? Did the knee hurt when you jumped down?” Lyle hurried up, concerned.

”Hm? The knee? Didn’t notice.”

Lyle looked at the bottle pressed into his hand and scratched his head: Was the drink making him numb? Not knowing whether his own leg hurt?

The spring wind knows nothing of the flowers’ longing; before it knows it, the flowers have drunk the spring wind deep.

On this day, everything in Lohenheim was quietly shifting.

Not only because Marquess Legard, the new Lord Regent, was past eighty, but because he’d been a partisan of the faction that had demanded Lord Sidney’s attainder.

If Lord Sidney, accused of conspiring with Prince Leon to rebel, had been attainted, could Prince Leon himself have kept his head?

It wasn’t that Legard had a grudge against Leon. It was that he and the Lord Chancellor were bitter rivals. The Chancellor wanted to save Sidney and Leon, so Legard wanted the opposite.

In the end, the King had split the difference: Leon was stripped of his title, Sidney banished from court.

Leon, reduced from prince to baron and exiled to Lohenheim, that was no secret. He was staying at the Grand Princess’s mansion, and the Odenheims next door were thick with him. People couldn’t help speculating, waiting for the two factions to tear into each other.

This was what Dorothy Dunbar had meant:

”When the new Regent arrives, your family’s good days are over.”

Of course, that assumed her father had succeeded in framing House Odenheim during the great fire, a detail she didn’t know. She’d overheard a few words from her father and brother, nothing more.

At the back of the welcoming procession, Gareth and his three brothers stood. Roland looked edgy.

Brendan, who’d been dressed down by their father again and ordered to reflect on his actions, was puzzled: ”Roland, what are you nervous about? It’s a new Regent, not the King. He can’t strip a staff officer’s commission.”

Carl, hand over his mouth, leaned into Roland’s ear:

”Lord Legard’s here to stay till he dies. Look at his convoy, twenty carriages. He’s moved his whole household. He’s civil, Father’s military. This isn’t Augustburg, are they really going to fight to the death?”

Gareth looked around. No one but their own men-at-arms. He patted Roland’s shoulder and said low:

”Save it for home. And don’t worry too much about him.”

Roland couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t Leon he was worried about, it was Leon who’d received an alarming message and was worried about them.

Legard’s twenty-odd carriages rolled grandly into the city. Few noticed the modest but expensive carriage trailing behind.

As it passed through the gate, the curtain lifted, and Roland saw, just as expected, a royal attendant.

Inside the Lord Regent’s palace, when Legard met the officials formally, he introduced the man who’d followed in that carriage:

”This is Royal Envoy Augustus von Klein, a man close to the King. He comes to Lohenheim first to read the royal warrant at the Yorvik Liaison Office, and then to proceed through Lohenheim to Yorvik with a second warrant.”

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This was expected.

The King’s warrant to the frontier defense commander had arrived weeks ago: Theodore Venn, being a self-appointed marcher official, could be executed in Lohenheim, no need to transport him to Augustburg.

This royal attendant, von Klein, was in fact the King’s executioner.

Von Klein’s other mission was to proceed to Yorvik. That had nothing to do with Lohenheim, and no one paid it much mind.

But standing in the crowd, Roland’s heart skipped:

Leon’s intelligence was right. The only question: would von Klein ask Alvin to escort him to Yorvik?

In Leon’s former life, that was exactly what had happened.

Poor Alvin, he’d escorted von Klein all the way to Yorvik. The marcher lord, furious that the King had only granted him ”lord warden” rather than full ”marcher duke,” refused to receive the warrant.

In the quarrel that followed, the marcher lord’s household guard erupted in mutiny, and killed von Klein, Alvin, and ten escorts, daring the King to respond.

At that time, the rebel lord had just looted Lohenheim, rich with supplies, and seized a county in the eastern marches. He was at the height of his power, unstoppable.

The King, under Voss’s counsel, played deaf and dumb. Not only did he not march on Yorvik, he reappointed the rebel as marcher duke and added a court title, just to smooth things over.

The Lord Chancellor led the opposition, backing the Count of Odenheim’s demand to march on Yorvik and punish the insult to the crown and the murder of the envoy.

The King, cornered, had to agree. A hundred thousand men were ordered to march. The Lohenheim garrison sent ten thousand. The other ninety thousand would come from the Silver Shield.

Voss, as commander of the Silver Shield, changed his tune, volunteered to lead the rear guard and supply line for the Count.

The Count and his sons rode into Yorvik on schedule. But the supply train and the main force never came. Surrounded, out of food, unable to break out, ten thousand Lohenheim men died on the field.

They had called for help.

Brendan, carrying the plea for reinforcements, had broken through the lines and reached Voss. But the letter in his hand, inexplicably, had become a confession of collusion with the enemy, an attempt to steal glory by fraud.

House Odenheim, a family of heroes, branded traitors.

The men were executed. The women were stripped of their name and exiled to the southern pestilence marshes. The men-at-arms who’d escorted Brendan out with the message were caught and beheaded too.

The young Crown Prince Ewan’s faction, with no military backing left, saw the boy die of ”illness” before he came of age.

In this life, if Alvin’s doom couldn’t be averted, the Odenheims, true to their nature, would never leave the blood debt unpaid.

Leon had thought for a full day and night before hitting on a desperate gambit. Now he waited, to see whether, this time, Alvin’s escort mission to Yorvik would play out any differently.

After all, the rebel lord hadn’t seized Lohenheim’s supplies this time. Would his appetite for provoking the crown still be as swollen?

These weren’t things to tell the Count, not yet. Only Roland knew: Leon’s source said the deputy commander would lead the escort, and the rebel lord was already spouting threats in Yorvik.

This mission was a death trap.

Roland strained to listen, but von Klein and Legard exchanged pleasantries and said no more. The Count, Alvin, and Felix followed into the great hall. The rest waited outside.

After a while, word came: the execution was set for the fifth of March, the day after the Cold Hearth fast. At the south market.

The welcome feast was laid at the Lord Regent’s palace. Officials below the standing of a lord were directed to the south court. Alvin came out to pass the word, then walked toward his brothers instead of going back in.

”Come on, let’s go to the south court. The handover’s done today. Father’s load is lighter, and we can all breathe easier.”

Alvin sounded relaxed. Whatever had been said inside, no unreasonable demands had been made.

”Good! The Luhen estate trip we talked about last year, it can finally happen.” Gareth was pleased.

Alvin looked back at him: ”You never liked hunting there. ’Fatten the belly, thin the legs’, your words. What changed your mind?”

”Lil said she’s never been outside the city. She wants to go camping in our family’s woods. It’s spring, young game about. Perfect time to take her.”

”Camping?”

”Oh, sleeping out in the open.”

Wasn’t all camping in the open? That was definitely Lora’s invention.

Brendan, who’d been avoiding Lora lately, he hadn’t returned the velvet boots, and when he’d gone to confront Cedric Salt, he’d come away with a consolation box of gold beads, grumbled:

”Gareth, let’s just go ourselves. Didn’t you say the cavalry captain’s daughter, what’s her name, rides around half-mad, not the wife-and-mother type? Why are you suddenly pushing Lil to go gallivanting?”

”Edith isn’t my sister. Lil’s getting a second chance at life. Whatever she wants to do, let her do it. Might even help her remember.”

Gareth made it sound perfectly reasonable. No room for argument.

”Please. She’s never been there, what would she remember?” Brendan kept grousing. Roland cut in, asking Alvin:

”Alvin, execution’s set for the fifth. When does the envoy leave for Yorvik? I noticed he didn’t bring any escort. They’re not going to ask the Lohenheim garrison to go, are they?”

Alvin shook his head: ”Sharp eyes, I didn’t catch that either. Nothing was said inside. But Lord Legard said he’d handle it. How hard can it be to spare ten or twenty household guards?”

Not hard, good.