“Ah, it is good to see Sir and Madam von Augsburg,” she said, greeting an older couple.
The man had thin, grey hair coming down from his hat, while the woman still had some colour to her hair, albeit more grey with brunette streaks than vice-versa. They both broke into broad smiles upon hearing her, the man eagerly stepping forward to offer a hand.
“Lady Augstadt, we do you the dishonour of our company,” he said, chuckling.
Without hesitation, she first brought a hand to lightly touch the back of his, then sandwiched his hand with her other one. “How could it be? While distant, we are family,” she said, letting go of his hand.
“See, dear? I just knew the old Count raised her right,” he muttered to his wife, face scrunched up with a grin.
She shook her head, then gave Julia a small smile. “I apologise for my husband.”
“You should only apologise for not bringing him out more often,” Julia whispered, a conspiratorial tone to her voice that brought both her guests to laughter, one chuckling and the other tittering.
For a while, Julia simply led the two around, introducing them to the many others present, often couples, some accompanied by a daughter or two, and some bachelors made themselves comfortable here and there in their groups.
While there was food and drink on offer, it wasn’t the centre of the event. While a band played and some did dance, neither was it a ball. Ostensibly, this was a celebration of the healthy birth by Lady Bavaria, yet no one expected her to arrive.
Although not all the guests may have understood why this event was being held, most did. Even as a titled woman, Julia could not simply invite over any man to talk politics, certainly not mingle with a group of men below her station.
The hierarchy of the Empire had settled into layers over its long and storied existence. At the top was, of course, the King, who had once been accompanied by grand princes who ruled over the lesser-kingdoms; it came to be over the centuries that, through rebellion and marriage, all the lesser-kingdoms eventually fell into the King’s hands, that he then created the familiar duchies and marches of present day. While not as prestigious as the grand princes of old, these particular dukes and marquesses shared such freedoms and authority that kept them above other peers.
Below those were the rest of the rulers subject to the King, which consisted of the remaining dukes, as well as some viscounts and counts. They had certain obligations to the King and received certain freedoms for that, such as setting taxes. Beneath them, but still of similar status, were the counts subject to dukes and barons subject to counts or dukes, who had little autonomy, but still held some power.
Then there were the nobles without a title and those who made a living off of renting out properties, two groups which could not truly be separated, thus they enjoyed similar social standing, albeit the former with a greater position in the eyes of the law.
Last of all were the commoners. While some could have a measure of prestige greater than their fellows, such a thing was rare; those with money aspire to take the path of “marrying up”.
Her title occupied an unusual position as subject to the Crown Prince. Although that should have put her lower down, being subject to the King’s heir was not all too different to being subject to the King, so she tended to be granted most freedoms and had status to match, while also having the advantage of lesser obligations.
As for her guests this day, they fell predominantly into the last two layers, though only such commoners with sufficient wealth that their ascension through marriage was to be a matter of time. No one would expect the Marchioness to make do with such company.
However, some of higher standing did come, if only out of politeness for her invitation.
“Count Styria, it is my honour,” she said, curtseying for him.
He gave a bow of his head, raising his hat just off his head before affixing it again. “It is my honour to celebrate the arrival of another child for the Marquess. My Lady would be Countess Augstadt?” he asked, a charm to his smile.
She returned it and then bowed her head in agreement. “Indeed,” she said.
He had a little more to say, a handsome bachelor in his mid-twenties and a charisma to go with it, both neat in appearance and careful with his words, that he sounded as if reciting poetry, an almost musical cadence when speaking. As someone under the Marquess’s rule, though, there was not much for them to say but pleasantries. So he soon went off to join some bachelors and she continued to greet the guests as they arrived.
“The Lord Schwanstein, it is good to meet at last,” she said, offering him a hand.
He took it briefly, showing a thin smile amongst his moustache. “And you, Lady Augstadt,” he said.
She turned and greeted his wife as well, then led them over towards a group of similar status. Having introduced the Schwansteins, she took over the conversation, a smile on her lips. “My father spoke rather highly of the Schwansteins, that no Austrians have dared cross the border for generations.”
He gave a single laugh at that. “Well said, my ancestors have earned no small measure of peace for this land.”
She nodded and the others concurred, but not saying too much, deferring to the hostess. So she was free to then say, “Alas, this peace, while a treasure, I fear is making us soft. That matter with Grosburg Castle would not have been so swift and clean without Lord Bavaria’s assistance. I may give a peasant a spear, but that does not make him a soldier….”
Trailing off there, she didn’t wait long enough for another to speak, instead turning to Baron Schwanstein.
“My Lord, what do you think? The Prince may only expect from us a militia, yet I cannot but wish to have a greater place in this world, that our children may boast of us as we boast of our ancestors.”
He gave a shallow chuckle. “It is good for children to have noble dreams; however, what greater place may we have? Whether we war or not is at the Prince’s discretion and he would maintain his own army for those rare matters. Not to mention, it does not set the realm at ease for the King or his heir to be warring within.”
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“My Lord sees things clearly,” she said, bowing her head. “It is just… need we forget who we are celebrating this day? It frustrates me that we may only offer our neighbour some hospitality. Is the situation not laughable? Lord Bavaria lost his father to treachery and so avenged him, only to now be stuck in a war of revenge with no end in sight. I must admit, spending time with the Marchioness has endeared his position to me; however, in this war, who could be declared a winner?”
Another of the guests, Michel von Knuth, spoke up, half-joking, half-asking, “My Lady wishes to partake in a war where there would be no winner?”
While the others took his remark poorly, she turned to him with a smile. “Sir Michel, that there is no winner does not mean there is no honour,” she said, almost patronising.
“Too right,” Schwanstein said. “Perhaps My Lady is correct in thinking that peace is a kind of poison most insidious to the youth.”
She nodded along, then spared a look at Michel. “It is not that I wish to send our sons and brothers to a pointless death, but that I see value in the old ways with which our country was founded. Rulers now would rather pay for foreign companies than trust their own men, neither to fight nor lead, so then is it that every war should be fought with coin? I would hate for a world where such avarice pervades the rulers.”
Her piece said to the company who she wished to hear it, she fell back in the conversation, letting Schwanstein naturally champion her position, while keeping an eye on the other guests.
So she saw soon need to excused herself. Neither too brisk nor too leisurely, she walked over to greet an unexpected guest. After offering a curtsey, she asked, “Prince Frédéric—or would you prefer Prince Friedrich?”
He gave a warm smile, accepting her gesture with a bow of his head before composing himself, a glance spared at the room at large. “Whose company am I in? Of course, I would be Friedrich, and My Lady would be Countess Augstadt,” he said, lifting his hat for her.
“Of course Sir would be,” she said, smiling.
At the meeting point of the Empire, Austria, Switzerland, and the Italian lands to the south, Grenzsteinland acted as more of a diplomatic convenience than a sovereign state. While barely a duchy in size, it was recognised as a kingdom and its royalty granted the appropriate courtesies. However, that did not mean they commanded equal respect to the King’s family, more of a guest always treated politely.
Her knowledge of him came from his appearances in the capital. In particular, he had spent some time with the Crown Prince, which was what made his attendance this day entirely unusual. Even her greeting—she knew that the foreign Prince had always spoken French with Hector, if only because of how Hector had called him when speaking of such meetings.
“I wish I could provide Sir with suitable hospitality, my most humble apologies,” she said, going to curtsey again, only to stop as he waved her off.
“What hospitality can an uninvited guest ask for?” he said with a laugh. “I am on my way to the capital and heard of this event, so I wished to stretch my legs, nothing more.”
She smiled, then began to lead him to the most suitable group. “Of course. Oh, if I may pry, Sir attended an academy which studied the classics, did he not? Only that we have been discussing how to instil in the youth those classic virtues.”
“Well, if reading was all it took to become virtuous, the world would be a much different place,” he said lightly, his gaze still observing the room. “What wisdom I could give on such a topic, I cannot say. What I will say is that, more than any book, I learned from sports. It teaches unruly lads like myself what it means to be brothers with those beside us and trains both leadership and discipline.”
Taking in what he had said, she readied a reply, only to find herself alone. With a word of thanks, he strode off to join a group of bachelors. She let out an amused breath, her gaze lingering to see who he spoke to there, before rejoining the earlier conversation.
“I am not sure I have met that guest?” Michel said.
“That would be Prince Friedrich of Grenzsteinland—Sir happened to be in the area,” she said, then brought her hands together in a quiet clap. “Quite insightful, I asked for his thoughts on this topic and he rather recommends sports.”
“Sports, eh?” Schwanstein said, rubbing his chin. “While I cannot say much for the unruliness of it all, the old Greeks certainly thought highly of athletics. A man against his own limits.”
She nodded along, her hands still clasped. “One cannot expect too much from the masses,” she said, hands coming apart in a gesture. “Sir’s opinion was that sports is something through which those less inclined to reading may discover classical virtues.”
“Ah, an interesting thought,” Michel said, then began his own monologue.
Now and then, she had to tend to the other guests, greeting late arrivals and giving farewells to the early leavers, introducing certain guests to certain other guests, keeping the mood suitably cheery. However, she returned to that group a little later, finding the topic still amenable.
“My Lady, wonderful timing—we have come to wonder if you had any particular plans for reforming the militia?” Schwanstein said, taking the lead as the others nodded.
She gave half a laugh, settling into a smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t know where to start,” she said, almost shy.
“Pray indulge us, if only that we may give some advice,” he said.
Although he gave that thin smile again, she felt no warmth from it. He was very much only her ally as long as he agreed with her. “Very well. Now, this is more philosophical than policy, that I am hoping to find a suitable advisor to oversee the matter. With that said—we spoke of the classic virtues, did we not? Our society owes much to the Romans. I find it curious how they would reward soldiers with land, as we would later require service from those with land.”
“What, pray tell, is so curious about that?” Michel asked.
She gave him a smile, rather appreciative of having a foil this evening. “The kingdoms of old rose and fell by their own strength and it is Rome alone who endured through the classical age. While the order may be reversed, a similarity between us and the Romans is the intimate link between land and service, albeit a link that has dwindled in recent centuries.”
Schwanstein chuckled, stroking the end of his moustache. “My Lady wishes for us old men to offer service?”
She waved him off, then brought her hands together, holding them over her stomach. “I would like to see how noble a regiment of knights our lands might produce. When I rode to Grosburg Castle, or to assist Lord Bavaria, I had only Sir Ludwig. Still, he showed great leadership and a wonderful bravery.”
The knight in question offered an awkward laugh, saying, “My Lady is too kind.”
“What kindness is there in truth? Regardless, I would not seek to upset my vassals, so all this talk of what I would do is beside the point. It is rather what would My Lords and Sirs be willing to do? With the formalities finished, it should be soon that I assess the lands and thus an ideal time to talk matters of scutage.”
“If we all so obliged, I dare say there wouldn’t be the horses for it all,” Schwanstein said, his tone still guarded, at least to her.
Her hands parted. “We spoke of the classical virtues much already,” she said, pausing for a moment. “I hate to sound as if I lack authority in my own fief; however, it is the case that the judges have been frivolous with some matters. They have rather entrenched their ownership of the courts through their guild being the only place where one may learn law in these parts and, if I dare push too hard, they would go on strike with the clerks, perhaps even enticing the other guilds to do so.
“As for why I bring that up,” she said, her gaze briefly meeting each of the group, “it is that I would wish for some men of learning and virtue that I may appoint. Not every son may be suited to the sword, yet there should be pride in serving in other manners.”
“My Lady does not think the guild would object to their appointment?” Schwanstein asked, a curious wrinkle on his brow.
She gave him a gentle smile. “My Lord, the issue is not that I fear the guild’s retaliation. It is that, after addressing the issue, I would have no judges left.”
Silence followed, her statement leaving much ambiguous about how she would “address” the issue; however, none dared asked her to clarify, nor did she voluntarily address the ambiguity herself.
Glancing over, she seemed to notice something. “Please excuse me. Oh and, do keep in mind what I have said. Even if they are nephews or cousins or relations more distant, I would love to build upon this land with those of virtue,” she said, then left to attend to another group.
As she walked, she wondered if the Nelli family could procure a stock of good horses.