Hohenfels

“This is quite the mess, isn’t it?” Matthias von Falkenstein reclined in his soft armchair, his usual joviality gone. “I do not understand why Ludwig is acting so rashly. He always had a nasty temper, but Maximilian usually keeps him on a short leash.” Contemplation. Worry.

Arne and his distant relative had retreated to the Falkenstein prince’s extravagant lounge to discuss yesterday’s events in private. The gold-rimmed paintings and frivolously expensive satin curtains made it difficult for him to relax, which was probably a good thing considering the sensitive subject matter.

“It is strange, yes. Ludwig made a point of specifically not addressing me as ‘Prince’. I’d have expected him to be less blatant about it, for the sake of appearances at least. Why is he trying to start an open conflict? I was under the impression that Sonnenfeld and Altengau want to keep a superficial peace.”

“So was I. Something does not add up, and it vexes me that I do not know what it is,” Matthias grumbled. “This whole situation feels too convenient for us.” Arne felt no deception in his aura, which was very reassuring.

He rose from his own sinfully soft chair to vent some nervous energy by pacing around the room. “There is another matter I wanted to talk about, Matthias.”

The prince in question perked up, raising his eyebrows to signal interest.

“The rumors regarding Hohenfels and Eisengrund.”

“Oh, that thing. I didn’t know you were so close with Princess Klara. Well, we all have our preferences,” Matthias snickered.

“Ah, shut up,” Arne grinned back. “I found the person responsible for that, and she’s trying to clean it up as we speak.”