Although General Neithard sat amidst an atmosphere of celebration, he was anything but jubilant.

The men of the Phantom Gale -- the Knights Phantom company that he personally led as its first commander -- drank and sang in good cheer all around. However the General had plastered a trace smile across his expression while nursing his beer stein in silent contemplation.

Earlier tonight, mere hours after the Battle of Nordkreuz concluded in Weichsel's victory, Neithard had received a Farspeak message from a close friend back in Königsfeld.

The General knew that he had been under investigation by the Ministry of the Interior for weeks now. His entire household had been placed under surveillance, and his immediate family had been tailed on more than one occasion. However today he heard that a member of the King's Black Eagles had been seen colluding with these people -- a sign that Neithard's enemies had reached the ears of the King.

It was ill tidings that cast a shadow upon the afterglow of victory.

Perhaps it couldn't be helped. No man could climb the ranks of power without making enemies, just as no man could maintain his presence everywhere at once. Neithard knew the moment he took command in the field, his political opponents in the Capital would begin to plot against him.

Cardinal Lisbeth, you slimy old hag...

As the leader of the conservative faction, Neithard had been bitterly opposed to the Cardinal-Chancellor's pro-Imperium mercantile faction for as long as he remembered. Neithard wasn't in favor of forming alliances with enemies of the Holy Imperium, like King Leopold and the late Marshal had done with the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie. Instead, he wanted to uphold Weichsel's traditional policy of 'Papal Appeasement', to keep the Holy Imperium at a safe distance while Weichsel used its military prowess to expand into Northmen and Lotharin lands.

This would allow Weichsel to grow its national power without offending its huge, hegemonic neighbor... at least until their country was strong enough that even the Holy Imperium could no longer declare war without risking defeat.

It also didn't help that Neithard's and Lisbeth's personalities mixed like oil and water. Whereas the General was stern, stoic, and frugal, the Cardinal-Chancellor was... well, a greedy hedonist who liked to abuse teenage boys.

To enjoy younger members of the opposite sex was hardly a rare trait among the powerful. Nevertheless Neithard always wondered why the Holy Father allowed such a sinner to tend to his flock.

The late Marshal had believed strongly in staying out of this dispute. However that was a trait that Neithard found exceedingly foolish. No army could live on honor and tradition alone. It needed funding, gold, its slice of the national budget.

Sure, Nordkreuz was a rich region thanks to its strategic location as a center of trade. But not every duchy held such blessings! More money spent on economic subsidies and grandiose infrastructure projects meant less for the army. And these were crucial decades with military opportunities that Weichsel could not afford to miss!

So Neithard fought the Cardinal for every silver pfennig in the Marshal's stead. He used his military contacts to extend his influence into the civil bureaucracy. He clashed with the Cardinal over every digit of spending, every project of national infrastructure.

And more often than not, he won. Had he not secured these funds for Weichsel's army, the late Marshal could never have achieved his exceptional success during the last war.

However, such victories also came with a price.

Before Neithard knew it, Cardinal Lisbeth, the snake that she was, had begun spreading rumors of Neithard's ambition to seize state power for himself. By the time Neithard finally realized the danger he was in, it was already too late.

Only then did he finally understand why the late Marshal had been so careful to stay out of these factional disputes. For any man other than the King to control that much power -- it was like wearing a bullseye behind his head.

Since then, Neithard did what he could in downplaying his hand. Though he couldn't stop expanding his influence in the army. The military depended on the quality of its officer corp, and he just happened to be exceptional at grooming new leaders. He had placed many of his followers, including young men and women from his own family, in pivotal positions that forced them to prove themselves. Those who rose to the challenge undoubtedly deserved their promotions.

However his clan, his extended families, had grown too accustomed to wielding such power and prestige.

Neithard had met his cousin, Brigadier-General Hartmut of the Zimmer-Manteuffel branch family, over dinner. He was astounded to hear that Hartmut had brokered a deal to expand the family into a Lotharin duchy just across the border. Sure, Neithard always believed that Weichsel should conquer the lands currently held by the Duke of Baguette. But there was a mountain of difference between a military conquest sanctioned by the King, versus an expansion of power achieved through political marriage by the House of Manteuffel.

Had he been a betting man, he would confidently wager that Cardinal Lisbeth had already received this news, and was using it to further her argument of his 'dangerous ambition'.

Neithard was still pondering when the dining hall's thick wooden door slammed open. The first one to step in was the young Captain Pascal, whose burning eyes soon met his with a clear murderous intent.

The General hardly had time to consider why before six Black Eagles and one Samaran girl strode in behind Pascal. They fanned out to both sides as Colonel Walther von Mackensen rushed in. Behind him entered one Knight Phantom after another, fully kitted in half-plate armor over their black-on-burning-red uniforms and wielding their swordstaves in hand.

All ruckus within the cabin died down in seconds. Even the drunk could sense the rapid shift in room temperature to below freezing.

"General Neithard Mittemeyer von Manteuffel!" Captain Pascal snarled as his hands held out a scroll of parchment bearing the royal seal. "By order of His Majesty the King, you are under arrest on charges of high treason for willingly conspiring in the assassination of Marshal Karl August von Moltewitz!"

What!?

For a passing second, Neithard found himself utterly stunned.

Conspiring in the late Marshal's assassination? Neithard's opinions might often have clashed with the late Marshal, especially where Rhin-Lotharingie was concerned. But they were still comrades in almost every regard! Why would he ever...

Then, his mind finally made the turn:

That snake has already spread her venom... and this is her killing blow.

Everything had been set against him. The trial's verdict was already clear. Cardinal Lisbeth would not have made so bold a move unless her 'evidence' against him was overwhelming.

If he surrendered here, his head might adorn a pike before he even had a chance to meet the King.

But what else... what else can I do?

Slowly, the cornered general stood up from the bench. He never once broke eye contact from Pascal's malicious gaze.

"I have fought a hundred battles for Weichsel, and not once, not once! Have I fought against our Fatherland!"

Yet the young Captain was already beyond reason, beyond reach. His turquoise eyes were filled with icy flames and never even flickered at the General's declaration.

Neithard did not want to rebel. He did not want to betray his king, even for a second.

But, at this stage, what other choice do I have?

The General was not afraid of dying. He had braved death too many times to fear it. However he feared his enemy's victory. He feared for his family's honor.

And most of all, he was afraid of just how much harm an unopposed Cardinal Lisbeth could inflict upon Weichsel's military.

His only chance was to stay alive -- long enough to score an audience with the King, to appeal to Leopold in person.

"What would your father think, to see his own son beguiled by that Imp-loving Cardinal." Neithard announced with bitter sorrow.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH! YOU FILTHY TRAITOR!" Pascal cried back. "You have no right to invoke my father's memory!"

But Neithard's words weren't directed towards Pascal. They were meant for his own men, several of them were already beginning to stand up, their expressions an image of defiance.

Foremost among them was his protégé who sat right behind him: Colonel Sir Dietrich Gottfried von Falkenrath, commander of the Phantom Gale and one of his brightest pupils.

At the same time, he heard a voice call "General!" from just outside the doors. It was Lieutenant-Colonel Hans Ostergalen. Neithard didn't have a clue how the intelligence officer acquired information so quickly this time. Nevertheless he was grateful as more Knights Phantom stepped through the door with their weapons drawn towards his enemies.

"I had held no intention of rebellion against His Majesty the King! But I will be damned if I let that backstabbing bitch of a cardinal destroy everything I have worked for our proud army! Now, who is with me!"

"I AM!"

Neithard wasn't surprised when the first shout of firm allegiance came from just behind him.

He never even had time to be astonished when a swordstaff blade sliced through his neck.

 

----- * * * -----

 

Pascal's gaze was still frozen in shock as he stared at the fountain of blood spraying from Neithard von Manteuffel's severed neck.

His mind was still grappling with 'what the heck just happened' when Colonel Dietrich von Falkenrath slammed his bloody swordstaff onto the ground and reached deep into an extra-dimensional belt pouch.

Time seemed to stand still as nobody else in the room dared to make a single move. All eyes were anxiously awaiting a statement from the dhampir commander that had just plunged an already crazy situation into outright insanity.

Then, the Colonel pulled out his hand, carrying a crest-badge of the Black Eagles and an old, discolored scroll bearing the King's seal.

"By order of His Majesty the King, I have infiltrated the Manteuffels' inner circle for the past two decades to maintain watch on his activities. Should Neithard von Manteuffel ever attempt to betray the Crown, my orders are to eliminate him as opportunity presents itself! Now, in the name of His Majesty Leopold Karl-Wilhelm von Drachenlanzen, STAND DOWN!"

 

----- * * * -----

 

Colonel Hannes von Falkenberg, commander of the Black Eagles, smiled from behind his office desk as he read the report on the final moments of Neithard Mittemeyer von Manteuffel.

This isn't Rhin-Lotharingie, he thought to himself. This is Weichsel, and the only man allowed enough power to seize the throne is the King himself.

In a single night, Hannes had destroyed the greatest internal threat to the Crown of Weichsel. At the same time, he sent the only other menace, Cardinal Lisbeth, into cowering submission towards the King.

The former general's power base wouldn't just disappear overnight. With blood already spilled, the hatred of the Manteuffel loyalists would keep the Cardinal-Chancellor's faction under control for years if not decades. After all, nobody held grudges like old veterans with battlefield bonds.

It was unfortunate that the army had to lose its foremost commander, again. However the war against Skagen was already won. Weichsel was ready to annex three duchies' worth of new lands. Between the need to digest these new gains and the necessity to replenish losses taken during this short, winter campaign, it would be best if Weichsel stayed out of any other major wars for a few years.

A limited expeditionary force into Rhin-Lotharingie was still on the table. In fact it might even be desirable, as it would be an opportunity to train the promising young officers who had distinguished themselves in recent battles. Hopefully after that, some of these new talents would be ready to step into the older generation's shoes -- ready to serve the King and not the entrenched political factions.

Everything had been a necessary sacrifice to maintain Weichsel's continued stability, and the centralized power of its absolute monarchy.

There was no way Hannes would allow his fatherland to collapse into the unholy mess that Rhin-Lotharingie found itself in today.

Putting down the report, Colonel Hannes looked to the far side wall at the life-sized portrait of Weichsel's founder, King Ferdinand I von Drachenlanzen. Centuries ago, his ancestors swore a blood oath to that very expression.

Today, he would uphold it once more, to protect the only realm in Western Hyperion that gave the dhampir clans a true home.

"Hail the Black Dragon."

His sapphire-crossed eyes glanced down upon the report once again, reflecting upon the name of a young captain -- soon to be promoted to colonel -- who helped bring this entire charade to its dramatic end.

Pascal had been lucky. The final words of Neithard von Manteuffel had made it clear that the young man had been taken advantage of by Cardinal Lisbeth. Nobody could blame him for being emotional over his father's death, especially not after the heartfelt eulogy Pascal gave during the funeral. This meant that while Manteuffel's supporters might begrudge him for partaking in this incident, their anger and hatred would not be directed towards him.

Instead, the blame would lie solely upon the Cardinal-Chancellor, which was exactly what Hannes had hoped for.

May you learn from this and grow to be as wise as your father in the game of politics, the spymaster of Weichsel thought with a satisfied smile. Then perhaps, just perhaps, Rhin-Lotharingie might make it through to become a reliable ally after all.