Alain strolled down the winding New Haven lane that he and the Rhovniks now shared, dressed well enough for Mass but comfortably enough for a day out around the neighborhood. He held a single Christmas present under his arm, the size of a dress box with plain white wrapping paper and a simple red ribbon wrapped around and tied off in a bow. He swung his arms a little as he walked, and took in as many of the details as he could of the neighborhood he would now call home.

He couldn't see the sense in one half of this errand -- Sophie had left a collection of original correspondence from Catherine de Medici at the Rhovnik house. Catherine had been someone very much like himself, he thought: steeped in intrigue and political affairs, but wholly ruled by the present no matter the depth of her past. She shaped her legacy with her own hands and set it all into motion before her own eyes... and left nothing for the men and women of the 21st century.

Still, though, Sophie held a strong interest in the woman's affairs, and it gave him a chance to deliver his 'gift' to the Rhovnik house. The cold weather rarely bothered him, nor trudging through the snow, and so he was happy enough to go out on this errand alone. He stepped through the gate and approached the house, slowing uncertainly as he saw Chase's sister Kat waiting at the door for him, and the expression she wore. "Good morning," he said with a small smile, but his eyes were too busy to join the rest of his face in the gesture.

The figure that approached was not the one that she Kat hoped to find. Where the hell was Chase? And why was she having to ask that question more and more these days. It had to be a girl. Probably a pretty brunette. Hopefully, this one didn't come from a good family. It always created such a mess when Chase swooped into town to charm some naive young woman into falling for him only to exit with barely a word, leaving his family to deal with the fallout created by yet another broken-hearted wealthy young woman from an influential family.

She crossed her arms over her chest for warmth, having stepped out onto the front step without a coat before the butler could reach the door. Anxiety and doubt were written across her features as she attempted to decide whether or not Alain would make a good confidant in this matter. In the end, the doubt vanished and all that remained was concern. He would have to do and perhaps he would be able to solve the matter. After all, Sophie trusted him.

"Alain," she greeted him with a tight smile, taking a step out of the doorway so that he could enter. To Kat's dismay, the butler had remained in the entryway to offer a polite nod and hold his hand out for Alain's coat. Kat would have prefered to be more clear about her concern but voicing her doubt in front of the staff in her grandmother's ability to handle the situation on her own seemed almost treasonous. "I'm glad you're here. You'll never guess who arrived just fifteen minutes before you."

Alain surrendered his coat to the butler, and kept the conversation outwardly relaxed for appearances' sake: the single best way to gain sensitive information about a wealthy family was through the house staff, after all. "I couldn't begin to guess," he said with an effected smile and stepped in, keeping the present tucked under his arm. He followed her lead, hopefully away from sensitive eyes and ears.

Kat closed the door behind them, tilting her head towards the front sitting room to indicate for him to follow as she stepped in that direction. The box of Catherine de Medici's letters that Alain had been sent for was sitting on top of a writing table near the full windows that faced the wall and then the street beyond. Clearly, this is where Kat had been sitting and waiting for help to arrive. She picked up the box as she took a lean against the table but seemed unwilling to hand it over just yet. If she had the box, he couldn't leave just yet. "Two Ad Lucem Directors. Fawsett and Valastro," she finally replied. Her tone was softer even though the area around them seemed utterly vacant and the house silent.

"They insisted on seeing Grandmother alone. I have no idea where Chase is. And Sophie is... Well, I suppose you know where Sophie is. They wouldn't let me send for her advisors. I don't think they're very pleased... you know.. about Sophie."

"Fawsett and Valastro?" he repeated with a frown. He shifted, trying to get comfortable as the tension ratcheted up, and his knuckles turned white. "And they are... displeased?"

Alain chuckled suddenly, and it was a very unpleasant thing, the kind usually reserved for evil masterminds about to watch their foes suffer and perish. Past the smile on his face, wrath flared in his eyes, and he shifted his present in his lap. "You know, I was going to leave this for Elsie, for Christmas... but I think she should have it now. The Directors -- did they come alone, Kat?" He looked back up at her.

The box was set back down on the table. It seemed she had his attention. "No. They're in the study down the hall. They left a guard outside the door." Uneasily, she shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest, gnawing on her bottom lip for a brief moment. Kat could only imagine Chase's rage in finding out that a stranger was standing at a door of the Rhovnik House to keep the family out.

"...Effectively locking her into her own study. And they say chivalry is dead." The joke was paired with no laughter, no smile, only an icy tone. He stood and bowed his head to Kat: "Lead the way, if you would."

A relieved exhale slipped out from Kat at the news that he would intervene. With a nod to acknowledge her consent, she shoved herself from the lean against the table and led him down the hall.

The change in the air was almost palpable. The sitting room had been full of light pouring in from the front windows but as the traveled back down the narrow hallways of the old house with their creaking floorboards, it turned oppressive. The feeling did not break when she turned right suddenly into a small room before the closed double doors leading to the study. The muffled voice of Fawsett just beyond could be heard but no words could be made out behind those thick doors.

The guard before the doors tensed at the sight of the pair, drawing his lips into a thin frown. "Miss Rhovnik, Baron. The Directors will be a while longer. They have requested privacy with Mrs. Rhovnik."

The Baron decided to push his luck first: "I believe the privacy of the Rhovniks' home would be a matter for the family to decide, not the Directors. Excuse me." He tried stepping right past him.

"And you're not exactly family, are you, Baron?" The man's voice came gruffily. This was no uninformed goon. The implications were clear. Alain was not a part of the Rhovnik family nor would Ad Lucem allow him to become a part. A large mitt reached out and grabbed the Baron's shirt to stop him, and the large man took a step to the side to block his path through the doors.

Alain's expression hardened at the insult... and then he looked down at the guard's hand on his chest, and back up to look him in the eye.

The startled yell and heavy thud that followed were the result of a very large man hurled bodily down the hallway into a wall. The Baron pressed the door open and bowed his head to Elsie Rhovnik, initially ignoring Directors Valastro and Fawsett. "Good morning, Elsie. I meant to meet you on time this morning, but I had some trouble getting in."

Valastro and Fawsett were on their feet with almost matching looks of alarm at the noise outside. When Alain appeared in the doorway, the alarm didn't decrease too terribly much but they slowly eased back onto their respective chairs. Elsie had turned towards the door but had never rose from her couch. The ruckus outside had not been too entirely unexpected but that it was Alain who had caused it instead of Chase did raise a brow.

Kat reached forward to close the double doors behind Alain with a wide, amused grin and a rebellious singsong tone. "I'll make sure that your friend here didn't bump his head too hard, Director Valastro."

"Baron," Elsie tipped her head politely to him from her position before the hearth. "Do come in and have a seat if you would. The Directors here were just telling me about their plans for your future. I'm sure such plans would be of interest to you. It seems my grandchildren are getting in the way of these plans and I'm being asked to have them removed from RhyDin. In fact, Director Fawsett was just reminding me that Sofia never completed her Master's."

"These plans would not have anything to do with my intention to end my relationship with Sofia, or the discussions we had about an alliance with the Laroche family?" He smiled faintly at the two men, carefully searching their faces. "Because, strangely, I can't recall either... so perhaps the two of you would be kind enough to remind me." He waited expectantly, still holding the present in one hand.

Director Valastro looked highly uncomfortable and it was left to Fawsett to jump in an attempt to smooth over the situation. He leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together as if explaining the situation to a small child. "Baron, you have to realize that the Laroche family can offer much better connections. These connections would put you and your people in a better position going forward. I am certain you understand that it is necessary to put your people first when it comes to such delicate contracts as these. Zoe Laroche is a fine young woman. In fact, she is a dear friend of both Chase and Sofia Rhovnik. Sofia will return to finish her schooling. We've even arranged her some access to Vatican documents she's been wanting to see. You will allow us to introduce you to Miss Laroche and we will forget the Vrashne mess ever occurred."

"Director Fawsett, if I forget the 'Vrashne mess'... then how will I explain it to the families of the soldiers killed by your actions against the houses Rhovnik and DeMuer, the Barony of St. Aldwin and the Gallican Catholic Church?" He smiled coolly at him as he sat, and offered the gift over to Elsie.

"This was supposed to wait until Christmas... but I must insist. I believe you will find the story it tells very interesting..." His eyes slid from her back to the Directors. "You see, I have had a friend of mine with a head for legal matters conducting an investigation of your actions here in RhyDin for the last four weeks. He presented the findings to me last night. Beyond our own analysis of the conflict you attempted to engineer between the Houses Rhovnik and DeMuer, and that handful of carefully placed lies... I have direct evidence of your dealings with Paul Curthose, formerly a member of the Baronial Council and an Archpriest in the Gallican Catholic Church. Whether or not your organization played a role in the sinking of the Spring Hare, we may never know... but when you found evidence that Sofia Rhovnik had survived, you directed him to betray sensitive intelligence to the Prince of Dalibad and lead my own government against me. With the stated aim of killing Sofia Rhovnik and those close to her, among them a Knight of St. Aldwin and the bastard son of the Prince of Akor. Recently killed at the Battle of Ja'ir."

Alain clasped his hands together, leaned forward and stared between the two men. "The Prince is very curious what kind of betrayal occurred to see this young man killed... and I am sure Elsie has questions about Sofia Rhovnik... just as I am concerned by your efforts to kill Seamus Morvan. Whenever you are ready, gentlemen, please." He opened his hand. "Proceed."

The news jolted the elderly woman who now carefully held the box in her lap. It was a shot of life that straightened her posture and sent a spark of fire to her eyes. The disrespect. The threat. The pair of men were not given a chance to speak, she set the box beside her on the sofa and rose to her feet with a swiftness rarely seen in a woman who had seen well over seven decades of life.

"My family has been serving Ad Lucem for nearly a thousand years. Countless Rhovniks have been directors. Countless of our sons and daughters have died for your cause. My brother never came back. My own son never speaks a coherent word. My granddaughter is dead and buried. And now you have the impudence to sit here in the Rhovnik House and tell the Baron of what my family lacks while plotting the death of my heir."

Valastro was quickly to his feet, looking for a way to smooth over the situation but he too was not allowed to speak. Elsie held up a hand, demanding silence as she shook her head in disgust. "No. I will hear nothing more from either of you. I will review these documents and should they prove what the young Baron here says they do I will be presenting them to the other families who have served Ad Lucem proudly throughout the realms. Now, gentlemen, get the hell out of my house."

As if on cue, Chase Rhovnik burst through the double doors just in time to hear his grandmother's final statement. The Rhovnik family's "pit bull" had arrived just in time to show them out. With hardened faces, the men collected their coats under Chase's silent watch. Neither had another word to say nor did they meet the eyes of anyone in the room as they were escorted out by Chase with Kat at his side. The doors pounded closed behind them with a heavy, resounding thud.

While the valet led the horse away to the small stables and garage around back, Seamus approached the front door to Sophie and Alain's New Haven home on foot. Dressed in his finest, a wool uniform with silver buttons and spit-shined boots, and his battered broadsword grudgingly exchanged for a finer sword that hangs at his hip, he cut a fine image as a gentleman officer and a very large part of him couldn't stand it. But he had just come from a small Christmas concert held for the Order in Teobern, and this was what the guests of honor were expected to wear.

He raised a fist to knock, hesitated, then used the heavy brass knocker instead because it was loud and ominous.

Sophie was listening for the heavy, resounding knock but the figure on the other side was not the one she had expected. While many of the rooms were starting to fill with furniture thanks to the help of an interior decorator, the number of boxes that seemed to be collecting in every corner of the house seemed to be growing by the day so Sophie had finally decided to call in help in the form of her cousin, Kat.

Although, he was not expected, his presence was clearly desired. A bright smile immediately crossed Sophie's face as she swung the door open wider for him to open. A low, teasing wolf whistle was given. "Wow. Somebody is looking awfully spiffy. You better come in before you make the women in this neighborhood start swooning."

Seamus grinned as he stepped inside, touching her arm and kissing her on the cheek: "Well, they'll just have to suffer. Jean was telling me just this morning, he'll get vicious with any girl who gets between me and 'Lanta."

His eyes took in details of the home appreciatively, not only because it was a nice home, but because he spotted the distinct Newbreton touches in some of the furniture. Alain was as helpless as most men when it came to interior decorating, but if the knight had to take a guess, a few ideas had been offered. "Actually, ah... the fellas over at the Lodge were kinda hoping you'd come by? We've finally been decorating, you see, and it's only a short walk up the path. Less than half a mile, I'd guess just a quarter."

"Being seen walking beside you will certainly raise my stock," Sophie teased in return as she reached to grab her coat. Seamus could have asked her to walk to the moon and back and she wouldn't refuse him. It was something she was aware of and knew that she needed to keep in check. This was the path that she had chosen. She wanted to stand by Alain's side. She wanted to counsel him on the matters that she could. Therefore, she had to remain as objective as she could when it came to Seamus. There would be times when Alain would be forced to send him into dangerous situations and Sophie would have to support those decisions rather than protest the peril to the life of her friend.

"Kat's supposed to be by shortly but that girl will be late for her own funeral. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time."

Seamus made a valiant effort to speak French as he offered her his arm, but the only decipherable word was 'madamoiselle' because Seamus' French was terrible. He was never good to begin with, and instead had picked up little pieces from his fellow Newbretons whose French was much like the Acadian varieties. The result was... unfortunate.

French was one of Sophie's favorites. During her time in one of their Internats Internationaux -- the French version of an international boarding school -- she'd even fallen in love with the passionate protection of the language that most found snobbish. Yet, even she had to admit that the Newbretons took the language's charm to an entirely new level. She had thrown herself into the study of it. It was all a part of the bigger picture of the barony. It was all vitally important to understanding and being accepted by the people.

She didn't correct Seamus, she merely grinned up at him while taking the arm and closed the door behind her before setting out down the front walk towards the gate. "How is Saleh settling in?"

It was only a short walk down the lane, and then back up just beyond the brick wall fencing in the house's front yard. It hadn't been used for many years, but in recent weeks a lot of effort had been put into clearing and widening the path, and the lights of the New Haven home twinkled at them through the thin treeline as they walked through the tamed sliver of forest. "Very well. He's started his confirmation classes, but he's taking his own pace with them, which is good. Mostly he's learning English, French, arithmetic... grappling, swordfighting..."

He grinned. "You know. All the essentials."

The Lodge's short brick lighthouse and the outbuildings clustered around its base came into view, but few lights were on. "Christ, there's been another brown-out, looks like... You wouldn't believe how many we've had already."

It was all very close to the water and a small dock, and looked like a handsome example of practical brick architecture at the end of the Victorian era, but the details were hard to make out with so many of the lights off.

"Seamus Morvan complaining about a lack of electricity?" Her blue eyes danced up to his face as a teasing grin quickly overtook her face. "Geez, you're getting soft. A pretty girl, a cushy new gig, a slick new title, and a boss who seems to be looking for a peaceful holiday? You must be enjoying yourself."

"You know you can't have good decorations without electricity. Now come help me fix it," he huffed, stalking his way into the lighthouse tower and muttering 'gone soft' a time or three...

The Lodge was strangely quiet: Seamus and Sophie were possibly the only people there, or the only ones active. Maybe everyone here turned in early? "I'll check out the fusebox," Seamus said as he slipped inside and over into the corner. "You mind just heading up there, and holler when I've finally got it right?"

The interior was lit by several wall-mounted lanterns going up the spiral staircase, and a couple of dangling lightbulbs near the base. It wasn't a high climb, maybe ten meters, but offered a commanding view of the waterfront, the edge of New Haven's small harbor, even the rooftop of her and Alain's house.

"I thought I was coming here for a nice, relaxing tour. I'm here for three minutes and you're putting me to work?" It was a playfully gruff complaint called back down to him as she climbed the staircase. The fingers of one hand slid over the railing bolted to the side of the wall. Just noting the positioning of the lighthouse from the ground was enough to know that the walk up the tower would be worth it. The view would have to be amazing.

When her footsteps clanged to a halt at the top, Seamus threw a switch, and rather than turning everything on, it all went off, plunging the entire Lodge into darkness. Besides the flickering lights from RhyDin and what little reflected off of the lantern behind her from the twin moons and the starlight, it was nearly pitch black. "How about now?!" the knight hollered, apparently oblivious that the little lights downstairs were the only ones illuminated in the area.

She didn't correct him right away. It was a beautiful sight after all and, for once, she didn't have to worry about who might be around watching the hardened Sofia Rhovnik enjoy a twilight view. Her arms crossed over her chest and she tilted her head to the side slightly, enjoying the quiet darkness for as long as she dared allow herself.

"You just screwed it up worse. Do you need me to come down there and fix your problem for you?" She called back down the winding staircase, teasingly.

"Goddamnit... hang on... almost got it..."

There. Thousands upon thousands of carefully concealed white Christmas lights came to life; they started in a visible wave all around her at the top of the lighthouse, spilled down the sides like ivy on a trellis, wound up the chimneys and danced around boughs and garlands adorning the rooftops and stretching between the buildings; they climbed trees, shooting up them like fireworks, and illuminated the Lodge and the surrounding woods in a steady path out to the very end of the dock, where a ship had been laying in wait, invisible to careful eyes in the twilight until now. The masts of the Red Jack turned into beacons, and the black, glassy waterfront suddenly glowed like crystal.

And someone spoke softly from the other side of the lantern, not far behind her: "Good evening, Sophie." Alain stepped out slowly and approached her.

Sophie had once stood in place as a thousand soldiers bared down on her position while leading a ragtag team of half as many poorly armed sheep-herding tribesman in the desert of Barnea but when faced with the sight before her she could not help but taking a half-step back in shock. And then Alain's voice from behind her. It should have frightened her that someone was able to sneak up behind her but the soft tone put her at ease rather than stoked panic. She turned to face him for a lingering moment of stunned silence before a soft smile found its way to her lips. "Did you do this? It's gorgeous."

"I might have had a little help," he replied with a small smile, and reached for her hand. Touched her knuckles. Studied her fingers, thoughtfully. It took a moment, but he found his voice again, and his eyes found hers.

"I love you, Sophie. You're my lover, my partner, and my best friend, and you've made me..." He shook his head, slightly. "Happier than I ever hoped I could be... but stronger, and a better man, and I always want to be better for you. I want us to grow together, and grow old together. I want to share everything with you for the rest of my life... if you'll have me."

He smiled softly, sank carefully to one knee, and opened a small velvet box with a ring. "Will you marry me?"

To call the emotion that overtook her surprise would be incorrect. Although, the moment was a surprise, they had started down this road some time ago. She always knew what the final destination would be. The relief and unmitigated joy that flooded over her when it did was enough to steal her breath away for a long moment.

She should tease him, playfully deny him, make him wait on her answer... but there was none of that. The happy glow that sprang up at his question radiating from deep within her betrayed her response long before she could find her voice. "Of course, I will."

Alain could be very smooth, but no man on God's green Earth can put an engagement ring on a woman's fingers in a graceful, seamless motion -- but at least he picked the correct hand. The moment it slid into place, he was back on his feet; he pressed his fingers between hers, leaned in and kissed her.

He could be happy. They would be happy. And they would grow.

Political meetings had long since become a lifestyle for Directors Valastro and Fawsett, a constant that would have been absurd not to anticipate every day until approximately a month ago; between the two of them there had rarely been a shared drink where the fate of a nation, a family, or in the worst of times an expendable human life had not been decided. But since their disgrace by the brash young baron, and their dismissal from the Rhovniks' home and tightening circle of trust, Fawsett and Valastro had no one to share a drink with but one another. They sat across from each other at a table in a seaside caf?, each looking off to opposite sides, while porcelain teacups bled warmth into their cold, bony fingers.

There was little to say. Opportunities would arise in due time - God would provide, as He always did for His chosen... but even their own council, battered as it was by DeMuer's indignant departure and the old families' growing cries for reform, had turned its back on them. At first letters had still come to them, but only in anger; now they had stopped altogether. Their travel allowances were cut off without notice, and their pockets looked more shallow now than they had previously realized.

Fawsett checked his ornate silver pocketwatch and narrowed his eyes; Valastro sighed, put his drink away and grabbed a newspaper from the bench beside him. "Leaving will not make it any better, you know. Less expensive, yes, but no better."

"Aha." Fawsett forced a smile. It was unpleasant, grown tired and sour after parading it in front of the noble families for several decades. "I fail to see how you and I have a choice in the matter... old friend."

"I never said that we did." He flipped quickly to the obituaries; one of them made him smile, just a little. "But if this is where it ends for us, don't expect to return to Earth for a comfortable retirement, kept warm by the old alliances and respected by your peers."

Fawsett's unpleasant smile had taken the minor turn to a scowl, then a perplexed frown, and finally a wary, curious look for his colleague. "Do you have something in mind, Sal?" He had not called him by that name since business had been better, much better. He was relaxing, tentatively, and opening his mind only enough to see what Salazar Valastro had in mind.

"I'm... not sure yet, to be honest. But bear in mind that the wave of euphoria surrounding our former allies will wear off in time, and there will be concerns they wish to address. The manner in which they are addressed is something we may find ourselves in a position to suggest. We should not take this ship the entire journey back to Earth. What I recommend, old friend, is -- "

Fawsett was back on his game again, more alert than dispirited all of a sudden, and he cut off his friend's words with a subtly raised hand when he heard the distinct turn of boots on the cobblestones coming their way. Something was happening, which had not happened in a month. Someone was seeking them out.

It was the Baron and his prize pitbull Sir Seamus coming to see them off on their journey. The ship would depart from the docks down the street in ten minutes... which meant he knew they would be leaving. "Good morning, Baron DeMuer... Sir Seamus... please, have a seat." Valastro deftly employed his silver tongue, while Fawsett chewed on his tongue and something very bitter.

"We had better stand," Alain answered him coolly. "You two have a ship to catch... I wouldn't want you to miss it. Not for the world."

"Then please don't waste our time, young man," Fawsett began hotly, but fell silent at a step forward and a threatening look from Seamus. The pitbull growled.

"Then I'll keep it short," the Baron replied, and the thin gentleman's facade fell away in an instant. He was the "brash young nobleman" now, but he still had his past, and it was all the deep layers beneath the surface. He had been a gunslinger, a freedom fighter, a detective and a thug at different points in his life, and all of them showed the two Directors their ugly face. "You're going to stay the hell away from me and everyone, everything I hold dear. You won't butt into my business in any way. The moment I hear anything at all, the first ****ing excuse... I'll come for you."

Valastro's smile vanished. He had been humiliated, disgraced, spurned from his old social circles... but he had not been threatened over this, not until this moment.

Alain's cold eyes narrowed. "You can think I'm being petty. You can think whatever the hell you want. But I know how dangerous you both are, how many of my people you've gotten killed, and the first sign... I'll have you murdered, and no one can keep me from that right. So do us all a favor, Mr. Fawsett... Valastro... and stay out of my affairs."

Silence reigned over the caf? patio, broken by a call from the Directors' ship out of RhyDin echoing through the fog. Under Alain and Seamus' unmoving stares they collected their coats and their luggage, paid the bill and left RhyDin... and Seamus whispered a prayer that this would be the last the city saw of Directors Valastro and Fawsett.