At the Queen_s command

"Weren't like they was using a crane to unload her." Nathaniel smiled. "Never did get a clean look at her. Her carriage is a grand thing. Gold and white, like the man what delivered the note."

"What was he like?"

"Dressed fancy. Needed a barge just for his mustachios. Count Joachim von Metternin said his name was. Polite as can be." Nathaniel smiled. "Gave me a pound to deliver the message."

Vlad's eyes narrowed. He tapped a finger against his teeth, then tasted clay. "Von Metternin. The name is familiar."

"He was hoping for a return message fast."

"I'll have one in the morning. I'll send Baker. I need you here to help with the model." Vlad raked fingers back through his hair, streaking it. "My aunt seeks to save her empire by this marriage, but she distracts me from the real work that will preserve it."

Kamiskwa whittled a point on a stick. "This princess could bear you strong sons."

The Prince opened his arms wide. "I do not need children here. I am a man of science. Yes, the Tharyngian revolution has made that a most malevolent prospect, but their perversion of the process does not invalidate it. My studies have advanced our understanding of the world. I have identified plants with medicinal properties. I have found a strain of potato that grows larger than others and resists rot. I am learning things every day about wurms. I don't need a distraction."

Kamiskwa nodded, sliding his obsidian knife into its sheath. "Many a warrior has said the same. My father points out where they are wrong. They want to make the world safe. You want to make the world better. For whom? You try hard now. When it is for your child, you will try harder."

Vlad blinked.

Nathaniel smiled. "Annoying, ain't he, Highness?"

"Very." The Prince shook his head. "And, alas, he may be correct. I do not like this turn of events, but since I can do nothing to avert it, I shall have to hope for the best possible outcome."

The Prince, in order to better formulate his reply, opened the note from Count von Metternin. It had been folded with great precision. The script came in a strong hand and the lines ran straight across the page. Vlad used a square to confirm this. The Count had the pleasure of introducing the Princess, a relation of distant sanguinity, whom he had the pleasure of knowing for many years. The note went on to praise her in glowing but less than hyperbolic terms. Vlad felt this grew out of genuine affection for the girl instead of an attempt to cover up flaws.

Vlad turned to his library to track down why the name von Metternin seemed familiar. The family had been ennobled for many generations, the progenitor of which had performed a great service to the Holy Remian Emperor centuries past. It was in Rivendell's Villerupt, however, where Vlad found a direct reference to Joachim von Metternin. The Kessian had been an observer with Tharyngian forces and, on the fourth day, had assumed command of a battalion to which he had been attached. Their officer corps had been devastated, but he organized the battalion and put up stiff resistance. They fought their way free of the town of Planchain and a potential Norillian encirclement led by John Rivendell. Rivendell's book had nothing good to say of the man, which caused Vlad no end of comfort.

Vlad composed a cordial but formal reply, inviting the Count alone to visit him and spend the next night. He folded and sealed it, intending to dispatch Baker with it in the morning.

He stared at the missive the Princess had written, as yet unopened. He really didn't want to read it. It had been addressed in a very delicate but orderly hand, but he did not know if it belonged to her or one of her handmaidens. And the words inside might not have been hers, but those crafted by ministers and the aforementioned handmaidens, designed to obligate and ensnare him.

He told himself he wasn't going to read it because he wanted to be fair to the girl even though he knew this was not true. It was not that he wanted to be unfair to her either, but he was being given no choice in the matter. Neither was she, of course. The less he got to know her before meeting her, the less time he'd have to dislike her. Since they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, there would be ample time for that.

The Prince slept relatively well, though his miniature model filled his dreams.

He awoke and returned to the laboratory to find Kamiskwa and Nathaniel already there making piles of model palisade posts. They spent the morning and early afternoon planting, scraping, shaping, and reshaping the landscape until they'd created a match for the fortress that satisfied both witnesses and conformed to the maps.