Edgar had never been one to enjoy The Kaiser's hunting parties. The noise alone was enough to set his teeth on edge; the clash of tankards and booming laughter echoing through halls that once knew quieter dignity.
Worse still were the smells: old blood ground into rugs, curing hides, the sour tang of alcohol, and the lifeless stare of mounted trophies lining the walls. And the men his father surrounded himself with, loud and crude and ravenous for approval, made Edgar's skin crawl.
He exhaled softly, hiding the tightening of his jaw, and pushed open the double doors to the drawing room.
A smooth, polished smile curved across his lips. Every movement was deliberate, every gesture measured. He was the crown prince his father demanded. He adjusted his cuffs with practiced elegance and glided forward, boots clicking softly against the marble floor. The chandelier light caught the sharp angles of his face, lending him the air of a man who belonged to gilded halls and whispered power.
"Gentlemen," he said, voice calm and even, "what a vigorous gathering. One can practically taste the testosterone in the air. Delightful."
Laughter rippled through the room.
Count von Hohenzollern clapped him on the shoulder, too hard, too familiar. Edgar's fingers twitched toward the dagger hidden in his sleeve, but his expression remained flawless nonetheless.
"Father." He continued lightly, keeping his tone courteous. "You must tell me where you find such, animated company. I am curious. Do they bathe in boar's blood or merely forgo bathing altogether?"
The men laughed harder. Edgar allowed a subtle tilt of the head, polite amusement in his eyes, concealing the flicker of disdain beneath.
He swept the room in a slow arc, cataloguing faces, reading tells. He could almost smell their desperation, their slavish need to impress, to bask in borrowed authority. It disgusted him.
His gaze settled finally on his father.
The Kaiser reclined in a high-backed armchair, goblet in hand, eyes sharp and appraising.
"Ah, Edgar," the old man said. "Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"
Edgar bowed, measured, flawless.
"Father."
"My apologies for the delay. I was preoccupied."
The Kaiser's eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening.
"Preoccupied?" He repeated. "I hope it was with something useful."
Edgar inclined his head slightly. "Of course. I assure you, my pursuits extend beyond idle indulgence."
He inclined his head again, deferential only enough to charm the room.
"In fact, I was reviewing intelligence regarding our stalemate with the French monarchy, specifically the tensions along the border."
The room froze.
Decades of fragile diplomacy between Wolfenstein and Bonaparte balanced on a knife's edge. One careless word could ignite war.
Silence pressed in. The nobles exchanged uneasy glances. The Kaiser's eyes were sharp, caught off guard.
"And what…" he asked slowly, "did this review reveal?"
Edgar lifted his untouched wineglass, tilting it slightly, letting the soft clink echo.
"Nothing terribly original," he said smoothly, calm as a summer lake. "Only that our dear Bonaparte cousins have been stockpiling artillery along the Rhine while hosting peace summits."
A flick of his sleeve.
"Rather unsubtle, would you not agree?"
Murmurs rippled outward.
The Kaiser's fingers clenched the armrest.
"Of course." Edgar continued softly, voice controlled, "leaking such information to the right Venetian pamphleteers would ensure all of Europe knew by morning."
His eyes sparkled politely, still concealing the predator beneath.
"But that would be impulsive. We Wolfensteins are nothing if not patient."
Crash.
Von Hohenzollern's tankard shattered on the floor. Edgar did not flinch.
Perfect.
He swirled his wine, watching the Count scramble, savoring the flustered panic.
"How quaint." he murmured lightly, voice silk over steel. "An impromptu demonstration of French diplomacy. Much sound and fury, signifying spilled ale."
The Kaiser barked a short, nervous laugh.
"Enough." The old man said. "I did not summon you to discuss diplomacy."
Edgar lifted his glass, serene, masking the first stirrings of amusement.
"Then why summon me, Father?"
The Kaiser leaned back, fingers drumming.
"To discuss your marriage."
_ _
Time seemed to slow. The glass hovered midway to Edgar's lips. He set it down deliberately.
"My marriage?" The words were measured, polite, but a shadow passed through his eyes.
"The Princess of Lorraine." The Kaiser continued. "Her father has expressed interest in unifying our bloodlines."
A coil of cold fury tightened in Edgar's chest.
"How fascinating." he said softly, tilting his head, voice even. "I was unaware alliances were now bred rather than forged."
"Careful."
The Kaiser warned.
Edgar's polite smile did not falter, but the glint in his eyes sharpened, teasing and feral.
"Of course." He said calmly. "Though I wonder if the Princess is half as entertaining as her father's letters suggest. I do, so, loathe dull company."
A threat wrapped in velvet hung in the air before a sharp knock cut through the tension.
A servant entered, eyes lowered, wine-redish brown, distinctly French.
Edgar's gaze swept him like a predator, fully observing: slender frame, brown hair lightening at the tips. A calculated choice. Employing someone of enemy blood within the palace was no accident; it was a message, and Edgar made a careful note of who might have sent it.
"Ah."
He murmurs, tilting his head with feline curiosity.
"It seems Providence delivers entertainment just as I tire of politics."
His gloved fingers drum against the armrest, a silent countdown.
The servant bows deeply.
"Your Highness, a-a message from the border garrisons. Marked urgent."
Edgar doesn't move, doesn't blink.
But his father's posture stiffens.
Interesting.
So the Kaiser wasn't expecting this.
"How convenient."
Edgar muses, snapping his fingers.
The servant startles as Edgar plucks the letter from his hands without touching him, flicking it open with one precise motion. His eyes scan the contents. Then he laughs, a sound like shattering crystal.
"Oh, Father. It appears the French have also heard about your... matrimonial ambitions." He tosses the letter onto the table, where a broken seal glints - Bonaparte's insignia.
"They propose a counteroffer: my hand for their eldest daughter. How nostalgic -remember when they tried this with dear Aunt Magda? Right before she vanished."
The room goes deathly still.
The Kaiser's face darkens.
Edgar grins, all teeth.
"Shall I write back, or would you prefer to handle this family matter yourself?"
A collective gasp echoes through the room.
Von Hohenzollern's glass hits the floor for the third time, sending ale splattering across the floor. Even the Kaiser's mouth hangs agape, for once bereft of words.
Edgar savors their shock, the delicious silence that wrapping around him like a cloak. He leans forward, pinning the servant with an icy stare that belies a hidden cruelty.
"I'm curious."
He muses, his voice cold and measured.
"How specifically did this message reach our halls, monsieur?"
Edgar watches with detached amusement as the servant's throat bobs - a rabbit realizing it's wandered into a wolf's den. The scent of fear is palpable now, sour and metallic.
"Speak."
He commands, though his tone remains conversational, even pleasant.
"Or shall I deduce that you're personally acquainted with our dear Bonaparte couriers? Perhaps over a lovely Bordeaux and..." His eyes flick to the man's trembling fingers. "...some light treason?"
A choked noise escapes the servant.
Edgar sighs, flicking a speck of dust from his sleeve.
"Really, must I do everything myself? Father, I do hope your spies are more entertaining at least."
He rises abruptly, sending his chair scraping back - the sound making the servant flinch.
"Guards."
He calls sweetly.
"Do escort our guest to the questioning chambers. And do remind him."
He steps closer, voice dropping to a whisper as the man recoils.
" - that we Wolfensteins also hate to repeat ourselves."
_ _
As the guards drag the shaking servant away, Edgar turns back to the stunned nobles with a radiant smile.
"Now! Where were we? Ah yes! my wedding."
He reclaims his seat, crossing his legs elegantly.
"Shall we discuss dowries, or skip straight to the assassination attempts?"
The room is thick with an electric tension. Von Hohenzollern's face has gone as red as his spilled ale, and even the Kaiser's men shift uncomfortably, eyes flickering between father and son. Edgar feigns obliviousness, idly tracing patterns on his glass.
"Oh dear."
He murmurs, looking up, all innocence.
"It seems I've made a few heads spin. My apologies - must be the wine."
The Kaiser finally finds his voice, though it comes out in a strangled growl.
"Edgar."
Edgar pauses mid-sip, lowering his glass with theatrical grace. He meets his father's glare with an expression of polite curiosity - as if genuinely perplexed by the interruption.
"Yes, Father?"
He inquires, tilting his head slightly. The perfect picture of princely attentiveness. Inside, his mind is already dissecting the Kaiser's tone, weighing each possible retaliation. The unspoken command in that single word -Edgar- is a leash yanked taut. But leashes, as Edgar well knows, can be chewed through.
The silence stretches.
Edgar doesn't blink.
Finally, with deliberate slowness, he sets his glass down and folds his hands - prim, proper, every inch the obedient heir. His smile doesn't reach his eyes.
"Ah, the weight of paternal disappointment. How it stings."
He flicks another invisible speck of dust from his shoulder, lips quirking as the nobles shrink back from his mocking tone.
"Very well, Father. Lead the way to your sanctuary of stern words."
Edgar gestures languidly towards his fathers private chambers.
"Though I do hope you've stocked brandy this time. Last lecture was dreadfully dry."
He strides past the frozen assembly without waiting for a response, the tap of his boots like a countdown.
At the threshold, he pauses - half-turning with a smile sharp enough to draw blood:
"Coming, Your Majesty?"
The door clicks shut behind him before the Kaiser can rise.
A calculated insult.
Edgar simply laughs internally.
Let him chase.
Let him rage.
And let every soul here remember:
The Wolfenstein heir bows to no one.