The Iron Heart Chapter 1: The Prince with Old Eyes

Chapter 1: The Prince with Old Eyes

General Lestride took in a fortifying breath. It was an unfortunate fact of military life within the army of Eisenreich that your career lived or died depending on how happy you kept the closest member of the Royal family. Of course, such a feat was easier or harder depending on which member that happened to be.

To hear tell of the rumours from the North, Crown Prince Wilhelm was incredibly simple. Merely ensure that the guards posted to his rooms were non-intrusive and discrete. Bonus points for learning quickly when to make themselves scarce without the Prince having to ask them.

The second Prince, Fredrick, was even easier. The young lad had recently discovered woman and so it a was a simple matter to merely stay out of his way and direct all official business to his seneschal to be handled without his input.

Unfortunately for the General, he was not assigned to either of these. Instead, his army had been given to the latest Prince to be handed a section of the Empire to administer, Prince Maximilian. At the young age of fourteen, this was due to the Eisenreich tradition, the Reign Test to see that he could be trusted with the power that being royalty afforded.

Of course, so long as he remained clear of scandal and didn’t put the realm in any danger, he very much doubted that it was possible that a Prince could fail this traditional ‘Test’. Back in the day, this would be how the Kaiser decided who was to inherit, but it had been a long time since the Crown Prince had been passed over. This administrative test was more a growing opportunity than anything else these days, which if anything made it even more frustrating that the General’s entire career hinged on this meeting.

The million Mark question was; How to keep the Princeling his territory had been saddled with happy? Lestride had no idea. This was Maximilian’s first public posting, having rarely been seen outside the Royal Palace at Bad-Engelsheim, therefore not much was known about his personality or interests. Which made the act of appeasing him rather difficult. Still, it should become significantly easier after this meeting, provided he still had his job at the end of it.

After all, the Test Reign allowed the Princes complete autonomy in the region, only countermanded by the Kaiser himself. The Princes were allowed to run their territory however they liked, so long as the Kaiser allowed it. Meaning that all appointments and even military rankings within said territory were at their sole discretion.

Even if he was dismissed by the Prince, he would only have to leave the territory, not lose his rank within the Imperial Military. However, such a black mark in his record would be hard to wash out and all but guaranteed that the Military High Command would ‘retire’ him to keep relations with the Royal Family from souring.

Already Lestride had heard how the other meetings today had gone, the order of such interviews not lost on him. The Governor had been dismissed, told to pack his bags and vacate Eisenburg within the day. The Head of Industry had been dismissed and his deputy put in his place. The Treasurer had been escorted out of the room in handcuffs.

The General could count on one hand the number of leaders that had kept both their jobs and their freedoms, with fingers to spare. He had suspicions of corruption in the Empire’s most prosperous mining town, of course, but his reports mentioning such were ignored. Likely the High Command had passed it on, but the Civilian administration did nothing. As frustrating as it was, it was not the Military’s role to interfere in such matters. They were the Empire’s Defenders, not it’s Police. Or so his superiors were so found of saying.

So here he was, in what was apparently a hotbed of corruption, meeting with a Prince he knew nothing about, as the last of all the people said prince wanted to meet for the day.

What that said about the Royal’s opinion of him was not encouraging.

“Enter.” A young, refined voice spoke in High Imperial from behind the door, causing the General to straighten.

Time to face the music.

---XXX---

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me on such short notice, General.” Was the second thing he ever heard Prince Maximilian say.

The young Royal was wearing an Imperial Military dress uniform, with no decorations or medals and obviously downsized to fit his childish frame. The General pondered that choice of attire, wondering if it indicated a desire to join the Imperial Academy in the future.

Of course, it could have just been childish whims, but something told him that wasn’t the case. The Prince was sitting on a couch set near a table, his face shadowed from the single light in the room. A stately desk was on the other side of the office, covered in files and paperwork.

“We were aware of your arrival for some time, my Prince. It was not an inconvenience to set this time aside to meet your Highness.” It had been some time since the General had to speak High Imperial, almost his entire staff sourced locally and therefore Low-born, “If you have any requests for your household guard, please let me know.”

The High Imperial dialect was just similar enough to understand, the Eisian linguistic dominance having been established in the past century. Still the wider Niederauen inclusions into the language made it difficult to speak for someone who was used to talking almost exclusively in the Eisian Low Imperial favoured in this region.

The Prince leaned forward, his piercing green eyes pinning the General to the floor with their gaze. He was only a child of fourteen, yet his gaze held more weight than a man triple his age. It might have been a trick of the General’s mind, but it appeared as if the Prince was analysing him, eyes roaming over his form as if taking his measure.

“Would you be more comfortable if we spoke in Low Imperial?” The Prince asked in the dialect, his Eisian accent present but not strong, “Also, feel free to have a seat.”

He indicated the couch opposite of his own. The General moved there, still straight backed and professional.

“Thank you my Prince. Most of my subordinates here can only speak Low Imperial, so I have become used to it.” He spoke with a hint of embarrassment at being so easily caught out, watching as the Prince nodded, entirely too serious for his young age.

“Speaking in a way your officers can understand is nothing to be ashamed of, General. Tea or Coffee? I would offer a liquor, but you remain on duty.” The Prince spoke, tone genial.

The General’s eyes roamed across the room, confirming what he noticed the first time he did so. Despite the Prince’s stated reason, there was not a drop of alcohol in the office. Deciding not to call his liege out on the discrepancy, he answered the question.

“Tea, please. I find Coffee causes me to sweat unpleasantly.” The Prince nodded at that.

“Understandable. Allow me.” His green eyes shined, a glow displacing the gas lamp in the ceiling as the only source of illumination in the room.

A teapot floated out from the counter behind the Prince, steadily making it’s way to the table, leading the way for a collection of cups, teaspoons and saucers. The saucers were placed perfectly in front of them both, the cups landing without even a clink, the spoons following suit as the teapot remained floating. A truly impressive display of Command.

Command is a measure of how much control a Mage could impose on the natural magic around himself. Magic does not use an internal reservoir of energy, like some scholars had thought in the past, but rather converts already present energy into magic to fuel their spells. Their ability to do so depended on how much Command they had over the nearby magic particles, something that varied heavily from Mage to Mage.

The knock on effect of this, of course, is that battles between Mages were almost always decided before anything even happened. If you were an F Class mage, an E Class could completely smother your magic and prevent any spell you tried to cast from ever actualising. Of course, with the Command discrepancy, they could likely form and unleash a spell faster than you anyway, but the possibility was there.

General Lestride was a very respectable Class C Mage, yet he could feel that he would be unable to usurp control of the Prince’s Magic. The Royal Family had a history of strong mages, of course, that being a pivotal reason why they were able to form the Eisenreich in the past, but still seeing it in action was something else. Especially considering the perfect visualisation that would be required to bring so many items through the air from a starting point that was behind him.

The Prince was dangerous, even beyond the powers granted to him by his position.

As the pot tilted over to pour it’s contents into the cup in front of the General, the Prince spoke, eyes not even following the procedure, “I apologise, General, for seeing you last. However, of all the leadership of our Family’s ancestral seat, you were by far the one I was most pleased with.”

General Lestride blinked at that, not ready for the sudden statement, “You were… pleased, my Prince?”

“Indeed.” The pot landed gently on the table, the Prince taking up his own cup, “Eisenburg has been defiled. Turned into a seat of debauchery and criminality, where those were trusted to administer it in the name of my Father instead decided to line their own pockets and pursue frivolous indulgences at the expense of his Subjects.”

General Lestride knew this, of course, having forced to abide by the situation by his superiors. However, the sheer venom in the Prince’s voice surprised him. There was real anger there, not the performative flair of political speech. Looking to his green eyes, there was a fire there that could not be faked.

“I have sent numerous reports to High Command about the issue, my Prince.” He decided to say, unsure of what else to inform him of.

“I am aware, I read them. They were forwarded to the Office of Civil Administration.” The prince revealed, “Nothing was done. Apparently the Minister was in on the scheme. He has been dealt with.”

The Prince did not elaborate on how the Minister was ‘dealt with’, but the General did remember reading in a newspaper that the Minister for Administration had been recently asked to step down by the Kaiser, pending an investigation.

“I see. I am grateful to hear that my efforts were not in vain, my Prince.” The General responded.

“Your other efforts have been noted as well, General. The funds you have been allocated were spent appropriately. Your Regiment is well trained and in good order. Your Officers have not a single complaint against you. Despite the temptation that was laid in all around you, you resisted and did your duty. You are a credit to the Empire.” The Prince responded, delivering the last line in High Imperial.

Lestride straightened, pride surging in his breast at such glowing praise from a member of the Imperial Family, his worries about this meeting fading as he did so. He was a Loyal subject of the Kaiser, sworn to follow and uphold his laws. The situation in Eisenburg had been gnawing at him for a while, being unable to do anything about it without breaking the very laws he was sworn to follow.

Still, he prevented the rot from infecting the Military, the men under his command. Each one of the officers he rose from the ranks were men of high calibre, who ruthlessly stamped out any hint of corruption within their jurisdiction when they found it. He was glad that is was not in vain.

“I am a loyal subject of the Kaiser, my Prince. I am proud to have been of service.” He kept the pride from infiltrating his tone, sure to remain respectful to the young Royal.

“I am glad to hear it, General Lestride. For I have need to call upon your service immediately. I need to ask you to do something difficult.” Maximilian set down his cup, taking a small breath, “The Army stationed in Eisenburg is the only arm of the state that is free of corruption. The Police have been taking bribes and overlooking irregularities as a matter of policy. I wish to pronounce Martial Law and ask you to ensure the security of the region until a new police force can be constructed.”

---III---

She hummed as she swung her legs backwards and forwards, the triangle hanging from a chain around her neck swaying slightly from the movement. She was an odd sight at an Imperial recruitment office, unaccompanied as she was. It was not her gender that was strange, but rather her age. She looked far, far too young to be signing up for military service. Thus, most passing by merely wrote her off as a daughter of one of the soldiers stationed at the Eisenburg office.

They were wrong to think so, but could not be faulted for that assumption.

A clerk called out a name, a frequent occurrence for those signed up to test their magical aptitude, “Erika Krowner.”

The small girl smiled, hopping to her feet as her blonde hair fluttered at the movement. Blue eyes locking onto the clerk who had spoken, she moved up to the counter.

“Present, sir.” She spoke, her voice cheery.

The clerk nodded, glancing up at her before doing a double take, asking in a confused voice “…Do you know why you are here?”

She nodded, “I am here for the Rating, in order to enrol in the Imperial Mage Academy.”

“The Academy only accepts intake at sixteen years of age. How old are you?” The clerk was worried now.

“The orphanage told me that sir. I’m fourteen, but there is no age limit to taking the Rating, is there?” She tilted her head questioningly.

“I suppose there isn’t.” The clerk seemed uncomfortable, filling out about half the from in front of him before pausing and looking up at her again, “Are you sure you want to take the test right now? After all, every citizen is tested once they hit sixteen.”

“Yes sir. Our orphanage has not been visited by testers for three years now, so I wanted to get it done as soon as possible.” Her cherubic face smiled at him, making the man feel even more guilty.

Imagining this little girl on a blood soaked battlefield… The image struck him as deeply wrong. Noting down her comment about the orphanage being skipped over for Mage testing to be reported later, he decided to try and encourage her away from her chosen course of action.

“Look, the army’s no place for young girls-mages are the only exception, and even then, it’s dangerous. True, they are treated well, but they are also targeted more. Are you sure you want to sign up?” His question caused her to blink in confusion, before understanding lit up in her eyes.

“Oh, no sir. I’m not signing up for the benefits.” She shook her head and laughed slightly at that, “It will be two years until they arrive regardless.”

“Then why else would you sign up?” The befuddled clerk questioned.

A manic gleam entered Erika’s eyes as she clasped her hands in front of her chest, saying with the upmost conviction, “You see sir… God told me to.”