The Ouroboros Cycle, Book One. G.D. Falksen
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Korbinian said. “Politics and Society are terribly boring to me.”
Babette looked into Korbinian’s eyes and asked, “War and love? Are the two often in one another’s company?”
“Why, they are almost the same thing!” Korbinian replied.
“I do not think,” a familiar voice said from over Babette’s shoulder, “that war is a suitable topic for a young woman.”
Alfonse!
For a moment Babette’s expression was clouded with fury and frustration. She quickly calmed herself and turned around, putting on her best polite smile. There stood Alfonse, resplendent as ever, towering over her like a cockerel come to claim mastery over one of his hens.
“Ah, Captain des Louveteaux,” Babette said, “a pleasure as always.”
“Yes,” Alfonse said, “a pleasure Mademoiselle Varanus.”
He did not sound very convinced of it himself. Why the devil did he have to keep bothering her when his heart was clearly for another? Everything about his manner announced that he despised her, and yet here he was, again, trying to assert his claim on her.
“I do not agree,” Korbinian said.
Alfonse snapped his head around and looked at Korbinian.
“You…what?”
“I do not agree,” Korbinian repeated. “About war. I think that it is most suitable for young ladies. After all, a young lady will become a bride. Then she will become a mother. She may become the mother of a son. And then one day her son may become a soldier and go off to war. And is it not terrible that the only time a woman may think upon war is when she fears that her son will die in it?” Korbinian shook his head. “Most dreadful, I think.”
“I did not ask your opinion, Monsier,” Alfonse said, drawing himself up. Tall as Korbinian was, Alfonse still managed to tower over him.
“Baron,” Korbinian said.
“What?” Alfonse demanded.
“I am a baron, Monsieur.” Korbinian’s polite smile was a devious contrast to his commanding tone, which made Babette almost giggle with delight. “You should address me properly.”
“Very well, Baron,” Alfonse growled. “But I am no monsieur either. I am the son of the Count des Louveteaux.”
“Ah!” Korbinian cried, clapping his hands in delight. “And is your father yet living?”
“He is!” Alfonse said proudly, his tone indicating that he thought he had evaded some impending comment about his heritage.
“Wunderbar!” Korbinian said. “Then one day you will outrank me.” He smiled. “But not today.”
“Hmph!” Alfonse snorted. “The son of a count—”
“Is still not a baron,” Babette finished.
Alfonse turned his eyes upon her, and Babette merely looked back with a smile. She fluttered her eyelashes as innocently as she could manage.
“But you wear the uniform of an officer,” Korbinian said, as if trying to make amends for the slight.
“Yes,” Alfonse said. “I am a captain in His Imperial Majesty’s cavalry.”
“That is wonderful,” Korbinian said. “You see, I also am a military man.”
“Yes, I see,” Alfonse said, eyeing Korbinian’s uniform. “A lieutenant I presume.”
“Colonel,” Korbinian corrected.
“What?” Alfonse’s eyes fairly bulged out of his head.
“As Baron of Fuchsburg, I command the Fuchsburg Regiment of the Prussian Army. I am, of course, a hussar. I find that all brave men are either hussars or dragoons. Which are you?”
Alfonse growled again.
“I am a cuirassier,” he said.
“Fine men, the cuirassiers,” Korbinian said. “Then again,” he added, “wearing that armor does seem rather cautious, don’t you find?”
Alfonse was in the process of turning bright red. Babette wondered whether he would try to strike Korbinian. That would be an interesting thing to see. Far better than the opera, surely.
“I didn’t know they had horses in Fuchsburg,” Alfonse said, speaking slowly as he struggled to reign in his temper. “From what I have heard, it is a very wooded land. With mountains.”
“Yes,” Korbinian said. “And while we are discussing geography, you mustn’t forget that rather large river running through it.”
“Quite. I only ever hear of your infantry. Your riflemen.”
Alfonse clearly thought this was an insult. Korbinian seemed not to share his view.
“Yes, the jägers,” he said proudly. “The finest light infantry in all of Europe. They killed a great many Frenchmen during the Wars of Liberation. Of course, that was during my grandfather’s time. And did you know, he once shot an officer of the cuirassiers dead in mid-charge?”
“Really?” Babette asked, intrigued. Her excitement at the statement only made Alfonse look angrier, as she had intended.
“Yes,” Korbinian said. “With a windbüchse—a wind rifle.”
“A wind rifle?”
“Ja,” Korbinian said proudly. “It used compressed air to fire a ball without smoke or noise. When our jägers set upon the French from the woods, the Frenchmen could not understand what was happening. They thought that it was witchcraft or the hand of God!”
Alfonse grunted.
“It sounds far-fetched to me,” he said. “But if you are an officer of cavalry and your regiment is nothing but infantry—”
“We maintain a squadron of cavalry, of course,” Korbinian said. “How else could I be in the hussars? No, you see there is a major in command of the Fuchsburger infantry.”
“Your younger brother, no doubt,” Alfonse said derisively. “Or a cousin.”
“The gamekeeper, actually,” Korbinian said. “A fine man with a very good head for tactics. You would enjoy serving under him, Captain.”
“Better a captain of noble birth than a peasant major,” Alfonse snarled. “And better a common soldier in the Empire of France than master of a third-rate state among the Germans.” He turned to Babette and bared his teeth at her. “Mademoiselle Varanus, I will take my leave. We will speak properly soon, and in better company.”
With that, the big man turned and left.
Babette looked up at Korbinian, who looked back at her.
“What a peculiar person,” Korbinian said. “I did not say anything improper, did I? My French, you understand…”
Babette smiled at him.
“Not at all, Baron,” she said. “It was perfect.”
* * * *
Normandy, France
Though the meeting with Korbinian that night was a welcome relief from the tedium of Society, it was to be a single island amid a sea of boredom. As the month progressed, she saw less and less of him. He called at their rooms of course, only to be politely refused by Father. And while he did make an appearance at other engagements, they were few. In the meantime, Alfonse redoubled his efforts to corner Babette and impose his company upon her in Korbinian’s absence. At first the challenge of politely rebuffing Alfonse was amusing, but it soon grew wearisome. Above all, Babette longed for intelligent conversation, and there was little of that to be had.
At the end of the month, at Grandfather’s insistence, they