Pascal sighed again as he put the final after action report down and leaned back against his chair in the new command cabin.

It was already past midnight, and this was the fourth time he had read over the document. He had to make sure every detail was duly explained before he sent its contents to the General Staff in Königsfeld.

The King may have been satisfied by his preliminary report. However the military administrators would be combing over every detail of his actions after how grossly he violated the army's rules and regulations during the Battle of Nordkreuz. Pascal had no doubt that some of these people would be seeking to do him harm. He was politically astute enough to know that rapid promotions and the King's favor always came as both a blessing and a curse.

After all, there were only so many high ranking positions. All of them were contested by the three major political factions of Weichsel, not to mention the personal ambitions of many individuals. The mercantile faction led by Cardinal-Chancellor Lisbeth wasn't too aggressive in pushing its influence within the military. But the same could not be said for Neithard von Manteuffel's conservative faction. They had been locked in a perpetual tug-of-war with his father's royalists for as long as he remembered.

Pascal had no doubts which side he was on.

His father had taught him that autocrats, especially competent monarchs like the Kings of Weichsel, had a vested interest in bringing 'new blood' into the existing power structures of society. These newly-made men, which included Pascal's father, did not have the generational wealth and established political influence that old merchant and noble families held. As a result, the newly promoted elites derived most of their power solely through the King's good graces, and as a result they were more reliably loyal to the King.

This did not apply to established elites like the Manteuffels, who maintained their political influence through a vast network of branch families and longtime retainers. Sure, competent old nobility, such as General Neithard, also sought to recruit new talent, and Lieutenant-Colonel Hans Ostergalen was proof of this. Yet to maintain his existing power base, Neithard von Manteuffel had to show favor to those who already followed him -- lest they switch their loyalties to more fertile grounds.

These differences in support meant that, with all other factors being equal, the King was simply more likely to favor rising stars who relied on merit and not connections. Even for the Falken clans who have maintained a 'special relationship' with the monarchy, the rulers of the Drachenlanzen dynasty have always been careful to limit their power.

To Pascal, who was not only 'new nobility' but also respected merit above all else, it was a given that he would continue his father's royalist cause.

However, there was one new factor which muddled the political waters for him.

His betrothal to Princess Sylviane meant that he now had two royals to follow.

Weichsel's victory during the Battle of Nordkreuz had been costly. The city that prided itself as the 'Jewel of the North' lay largely in ruins. The Knights Phantom lost over thirty percent of their order of battle. The Phantom Grenadiers had been hit the hardest, as they were reduced to only a third of their original numbers. And this didn't include the thousands of casualties taken among Weichsel's infantry and ground cavalry -- injured men and women who now overflowed every makeshift hospital in Nordkreuz.

It was no surprise that the healers were already running out of Samaran blood.

Yet none of this made Weichsel's victory any less than total. Both Skagen's skywhale fleet and confederate army had been utterly annihilated. Even Västergötland had paid dearly for their support by losing an expedition force of thousands. Over a dozen jarls had been killed in battle, and another dozen captured.

The Grand Jarldom of Skagen still had its seaborn fleet. But they no longer had the resources to prevent their peninsula on the continental mainland from falling into Weichsel's hands.

This however created a conundrum for Pascal.

He had hoped for Weichsel to end the northern conflict quickly so it could free its hand to join Rhin-Lotharingie's war against the Caliphate. This would require a white peace, a return to the status quo, for the two belligerents.

However that was no longer likely. After how complete Weichsel's victory had been, King Leopold would most probably seek to press for annexation of the entire Skagen Peninsula. Yet the people in these newly conquered lands belonged to both a different culture and religion. Their integration would require pacification, which would tie down considerable military might -- forces that could no longer be spared to aid Rhin-Lotharingie.

I had not thought this far when I proposed the battle plan, Pascal reflected.

He had been too focused on achieving military objectives, without considering the broader political implications.

It was in times like these, when Pascal had to admit that in spite of all his talents, he was still a long way off from becoming a true general, let alone a renowned marshal like his father.

Pascal wished he could talk to Sylviane right now. She had considerably more political experience than he did, thanks to years of working under Emperor Geoffroi in the Lotharin court. But her armigers had called her away on urgent business -- something about a message from home.

I might be the fiancé of their crown princess. But in the eyes of most Lotharins, I am still just a foreigner and outsider, Pascal sighed as he pondered over this sad and lonely truth.

The young lord leaned his head back from the chair, before bringing his right hand up to rub his temple. He had barely started before he heard two knocks on the door, followed by a familiar voice:

"Pascal? Are you in?" A soft soprano came through the door, which Pascal immediately recognized as the voice of Cecylia von Falkenhausen.

"Yes! One second!" He called back as he stood up and rushed over.

Pascal was genuinely grateful that Kaede had allowed him to semi-reconcile with Ariadne, which had brought his childhood friend Cecylia back to everyday speaking terms again. Word of her father's grievous injuries during the air raid must have reached her in Alis Avern. It was the only reason he could think of for why Cecylia would be in Nordkreuz.

"Hello Cecylia!" He greeted cheerfully as he opened the thick wooden door, and promptly froze.

The dhampir girl with scarlet-crossed eyes was only one of six people who stood outside. All of whom wore figure-concealing black cloaks.

"Sorry, official business," Cecylia noted as she gave him an apologetic smile.

"Could we talk inside?" A middle-aged man who stood right behind her requested.

Pascal's eyebrows shot up. This was certainly an unusual, late-night encounter. Without breaking eye contact or changing his puzzled expression, Pascal slowly turned his hand to point his turquoise casting ring at Cecylia. His other hand summoned four defensive runes, yet a subtle scan of her magic aura held a match to what he remembered. The unique mana signature was definitely Cecylia's, not some fake modified by polymorph or illusion magic.

He didn't detect any enchantment magic either. Sure, minor spell auras could be concealed. But any spell capable of overwhelming a dhampir's mana resistance and dominating their mind would be powerful indeed.

"Come on in," Pascal replied at last as he beckoned them into the command cabin, which had wards inside the structure against external eavesdropping and scrying.

"How is your father?" He asked to pass the time as the others strode inside.

"Father's legs were crushed when the air assault collapsed the eastern gatehouse," Cecylia kept her tone casual despite the topic. "Thankfully the healers reached him in time to save them. He'll be bedridden for a week, but they promised he'll make a full recovery."

"That is a relief to hear."

The last figure stepped inside the cabin and closed the door behind him. The six newcomers then reached out to take off their cloaks, revealing the pitch-black uniforms of the King's Black Eagles.

Pascal had an uneasy feeling about this. It wasn't natural for the Black Eagles to operate openly in groups unless the King was nearby. And as far as he knew the King was still in the capital.

The lean, middle-aged man who spoke earlier wore a fierce scowl and had blond hair tied back in a short ponytail. He immediately began to introduce himself:

"I am Major Kempinski, leader of field operations in the west for the Black Eagles' state security branch." The man revealed his Black Eagle crest-badge, offering it for Pascal to examine its authenticity.

However Pascal simply nodded. Cecylia's presence was good enough for him. If he couldn't trust a Falkenhausen, who had been faultlessly loyal to the Crown of Weichsel for generations, then there would be no man in the kingdom whom he could rely on.

Of course, his friendship and trust towards Cecylia was probably the reason why they called upon her for this task.

"I have been charged to bring you a personal note from His Majesty the King, along with conclusive findings of recent investigations into the death of Field Marshal Karl August von Moltewitz," Major Kempinski continued.

At the words 'His Majesty the King', Pascal immediately stood to full attention and gave a responsive salute.

"Hail the Black Dragon," he swore his allegiance before receiving the offered scroll-case.

What about father? Is there something else other than him being killed by Imperial Mantis Blades?

Questions rolled nonstop across Pascal's mind as he unfurled the two sheets of parchment and began reading.

It began with pleasantries, more condolences, all the warm words one could expect from an eloquent writer to a family friend. And it remained that way until right up to when the hammer struck:

...We have since discovered irrefutable evidence that the assassination of the Marshal had been supported by none other than General Neithard Mittemeyer von Manteuffel in a most blatant act of high treason...

Pascal felt his lungs halt mid-breathe. His eyes stared back as though threatening to pop out from their sockets.

Neithard... von Manteuffel... treason...

At that moment, facing the black, ironclad words on cold parchment, Pascal could have sworn his heart stopped. It had frozen in doubtful disbelief, then ignited as he read on, by icy flames of simmering fury.

...The Black Eagles have unraveled evidence of direct contact between the Manteuffel household and Imperial intelligence agents, including the passing of detailed information on the late Marshal's personal security, as well as the schedules of patrols outside the city of Königsfeld...

Pascal's knuckles had turned white. His arms had begun to quiver, though his grip on the parchment itself had grown as firm as steel.

This was General Neithard, one of the most decorated officers in the Weichsel army. He and Pascal's father had served together for decades! They might not have been friends, but they were at least comrades! How could he!?

...Although initially thought to be the work of a spy within the household staff, thorough examination by our diviners has confirmed that these documents have been personally handled by the General...

Pascal could barely believe it. He simply couldn't accept it. This was betrayal, a personal act of treachery from not just a superior officer, but a general whom he had looked up to for the man's tactical brilliance, a man for whom Pascal had nothing but respect for from a professional viewpoint.

"Is this... is this all certain?" Pascal heard his own trembling voice.

"The King had assigned the best investigators in Weichsel to this task and gave it the highest priority," Cecylia's soft reply came with an apologetic look. "These results are as reliable as they get."

But... why?

His thoughts were clearly one of denial, and Pascal knew exactly why. In the wake of his father's death, Neithard von Manteuffel had already become the main contender for the next Marshal of Weichsel, and it was questionable if his ambitions ended there.

To pass such sensitive information on the Marshal's security to the Imperials... Neithard could have done no worse if he had personally handed the Mantis Blades a sword to kill Pascal's father.

Pascal hadn't even noticed as his breathing grew heavy, or his shoulders quaking under barely-contained explosive rage.

The dark clouds of vile hatred, the thirst for blood and vengeance -- he had suppressed them in the wake of the assassination for the interests of Weichsel. But now, they could no longer be contained.

Father knew you were too ambitious to be politically reliable. But he had always respected, RESPECTED you! Because you were a brave and brilliant leader, one whom he had thought shared the belief of a strong Weichsel independent from Imperial influences. Yet you...

"-- You fucking traitorous PIECE OF SHIT!" Pascal finally spat out, before turning to the Black Eagles Major with murderous hatred in his tone: "I take it that you are here to arrest that treacherous bastard?"

"<P-Pascal?>" Kaede chimed in. However he completely ignored her concerned, wispy voice.

"You have my deepest condolences for the Marshal," Major Kempinski's steady voice replied. "But please stay calm and continue reading, Captain Pascal."

The young lord took a deep breath to swallow any further words of impatience. He begrudgingly returned his gaze to the parchment. The royal communique was more effluent than usual. He wished the King would get to whatever the next point was already so he could return to discussing how to strangle that man alive...

Then, there it was:

...It is my heartfelt desire that you be given an opportunity to personally avenge this betrayal by assisting in Neithard's immediate arrest, before his own agents may hear of his unveiled treason and prompt him into launching a military coup d'etat. The Black Eagles charged with delivering this message are hereby assigned to your command. Please exercise initiative with caution, my young friend, as Neithard's long career of service has earned him countless loyal supporters within every military camp. Should he resist arrest by any means, you have my permission for his immediate execution. The Weichsel army cannot risk a major disturbance given the present state of conflict in Hyperion.

Pascal found himself in complete agreement with the King's every sentiment. If the old traitor found out about his impending arrest, he could launch a military coup in desperation which would inflict immeasurable harm to Weichsel's military strength.

All of this pointed towards one fact: the sooner General Neithard was removed from command, the better.

"<P-Pascal? W-what's going on?>" Kaede's frightened voice came over their familiar bond again.

And once again Pascal ignored her. More precisely, his mind never even bothered to process her words. With eyes intent on his mission, he stood straight to face Major Kempinski at last.

"I accept His Majesty's mission with obedience and gratitude," his voice resounded as hard as steel. "However, Neithard von Manteuffel is one of Weichsel's highest ranking commanders. Should his immediate death be necessary, may I ask if you bear His Majesty's sword to represent his royal authority?"

The Black Eagles officer then shook his head without any change in expression:

"Unfortunately, we did not have time to transfer His Majesty's sword from the capital. We must make do with the orders of the King."

Pascal pursed his lips as he heard that.

Generals were some of the highest offices in Weichsel, and could only be promoted or removed through the personal consent of the King. With His Majesty's orders in hand, Pascal could certainly arrest a general, as that was a temporary measure. But to execute, to permanently remove a general, that required more substantial authority. It was an established tradition of Weichsel to ensure that no forged orders or subterfuge could do irreparable harm to the nation's interests.

Unfortunately, these were also special circumstances. King Leopold was certainly correct that they must move quickly.

"We will just have to make do then," Pascal decided. "With the King's personal letter and his Black Eagles at hand, there should not be any problems. If anything, the best time to strike would be now and immediately. Most of the encamped army is either celebrating or resting, with only perimeter patrols on battle alert. Last I heard, Neithard himself was overseeing the celebrations amidst the 1st cavalry brigade. Our biggest danger is that a considerable number of knights from his old unit, the Phantom Gale, will be there."

"Then we have no time to lose," the Major replied. "There is always the possibility that one of his loyalists sighted our approach here and might raise suspicions."

"In that case, we will meet Colonel Walther von Mackensen and gather whomever he has at hand. Not only is he a diehard royalist, but his Knights Phantom suffered the least casualties in the last battle. We will head over to the dining halls of the 1st cavalry brigade after that," Pascal finalized, as he stood up and began to stride towards the door.

And I hope that traitor does resist, because I will gladly send him to hell myself!

"<Pascal please say something!>"

Kaede's faint cry was almost begging when he noticed it at last.

The emotions pouring over their empathic link were beyond mere worry and concern now. They had entered the realm of being distraught.

When did she...?

Pascal realized it wasn't her first attempt, but he couldn't recall when her calls began, or how many times he had already ignored her.

"<Kaede you should be resting.>" His reply rang terse and imperious as he strode through the door. "<Your injuries...>"

"<The hell I'm staying put when you're out looking for someone's blood!>" The familiar cut him off in a clearly agitated voice. "<What's going on!?>"

Pascal didn't remember venting any of his stormy wrath across their telepathy. But clearly he must have, as it had been enough to alarm Kaede and drive her own anxieties to the edge.

I do not have time for this right now!

"<This is a political matter. You would just complicate the situation,>" he insisted.

"<Fine. I won't ask any more questions until you're ready to tell me.>" Kaede relented yet her tone remained desperate. "<But at least let me be there! Surely you could use an extra hand?>"

Pascal didn't really need her help. He certainly didn't want her in this dangerous affair, not when she was still recovering from her injuries after Sir Robert found her unconscious on the battlefield.

However Kaede was right in one regard. At this moment, he needed all the trustworthy manpower he could get. His familiar might be tired and recuperating, but she had also proved during the battle earlier that she was an excellent marksman.

Besides, if she was just going to keep pestering him, then this also doubled as a way of shutting her up.

"<Meet me outside the gates of the northern encampment in five minutes. Remember: no questions!>"

...And stay out of my way when I skin this bastard alive!