The Wewelsburg
Winter Solstice, RY154
Half way out of the dark. Snow had started falling early, and as I glanced out of the bedroom window of my Wewelsburg quarters, I could see that there was already nearly a metre of white blanketing the lands around the castle. And a Hell of a year it had been, between the high of the signing of the Armistice to the low of Jürgen Kessler's betrayal and the bloodbath at Summer Solstice. I sincerely hoped that the Winter Circle's December observances would be rather more orderly.
Rarely had I been so relieved to make it to the Winter Solstice still breathing. Moreover, the fact that through a combination of fate and fast time, the shortest day was also when Frida was due to give birth to the son who was one of the legacies of my temporary sojourn in my brother's body had also served to make me impatient for the dark of the year over. I had no reason to believe that anything would go wrong with the delivery, but in a way the sheer...normality...of it was a new experience for me, and I felt surprisingly nervous.
For the first time, this year, the Knights of both Circles were due to meet on the evening of the 20th December, and would start arriving from their various duty postings from lunchtime onwards. A Knights Council comprising both groups would be held in the Gruppenführersaal at 20.00, and then the Summer Circle would be free to amuse themselves around the castle, or help with the preparations for the annual celebrations the following day, to mark the death of the old year and the return of the sun. In the meantime, the Winter Knights would adjourn downstairs to undertake their own business, so that we would be able to celebrate the Solstice itself just after the turn of midnight with the initiation of the new Winter Circle priestess. I just hoped I'd chosen more wisely this time around than I had the year before, with the short-lived initiation of Marin Adler.
Good priestesses are so hard to find.
I hadn't been at all surprised when Marin had decided to resign from the service and take up her responsibilities as Graffin von Leipzig. I had even spoken on her behalf at the Imperial Council, when the subject of whether she should be allowed to inherit her father's lands and title had been discussed. However, needless to say, I had kept a good eye on what she was up to since, lest I find my generosity thrown back in my face as it had been with Jaime Armin. Her replacement, Maria von Braun, was an experienced mage and ritualist with a track record of sterling service to the Ahnenerbe, and had also worked with both Silke and Marin in the past. She had been a Companion of the Order for some years, and now, with her promotion to become head of the Ahnenerbe, she was the logical replacement for Marin.
There was also the matter of initiating a new Knight to consider. Even with Silvester Hannes, the Reichsprotektor of Hessen, where the Reich ATS Logrus was located, and Maria herself, the Winter Circle would still be short handed, but at least it would be an improvement over the current weakened position. I had actually regretted establishing the Summer Circle at times over the last few months, when I was struggling to find replacements for Kessler and the others who had died. So many of the logical choices to replace the departed now had their place in the other group, including the Linz brothers and our beloved leader's younger son, Theodor. Still, Wilhelm probably wouldn't have appreciated Theodor becoming a Winter Knight, as he'd turned his back on his more traditional beliefs the day he had become Kaiser.
Bloody Robert.
With a sigh, I pulled myself away from the window and made my way to the office I keep at the castle. I'd had all my current work in progress transferred here, and my new assistant, Scharführer Wolf Kaube, had got them organised after our arrival the previous day. Probably as much to my surprise as anyone else's, as far as a replacement for Marja Tomas was concerned, this time I had gone for efficiency over appearance, and Kaube was a long-serving administrator within Amt 1. He had a good record for getting the job done, and there was pretty much no chance that he might have met Andreas Delatz, or if he had, he would probably have been beneath notice. He was even weakly Talented, which could prove beneficial further down the line. At this point he was still settling into the routine of working for me, but I was pleased at his progress thus far.
Stuckart fell into step with me as I walked, as did the young man he was mentoring as a new member of the Honour Guard, Adam Lorenz. I nodded to Kaube as I passed through the outer office, to which he returned a sharp salute. I asked him to make sure I wasn't disturbed unless it was important, and then settled down at my desk. Lorenz remained in the office with me, while Stuckart took up position by the door.
I was up to my eyeballs in personnel reports about an hour later, wondering if I could justify raising Marius Waldemar to the Winter Circle in his new capacity as deputy of the Honour Guard, when there was a timid knock at the door.
"Yes?" I asked, more than a little annoyed, and Kaube poked his head around the door. I couldn't help noticing that he looked as white as a sheet, "Problem?"
"Please forgive me for disturbing you, Herr Reichsführer."
"I hope you have a good reason," I answered, not even bothering to keep my annoyance out of my tone.
"There's someone here to see you, sir."
"Who?" I snapped.
"He's wearing the uniform of a Waffen-SS Oberstgruppenführer, but I don't recognise him and he refuses to give his name. He says he wants to surprise you."
To one side I saw Lorenz move onto a higher alert, obviously concerned at the surprised expression I imagine I had on my face, and I'll admit to a certain concern that I hadn't heard from Stuckart.
"You should know by now that I hate surprises, Kaube."
"I know, Herr Reichsführer."
"Then do your job."
"Oh don't be so hard on the man," came a voice from outside, and moments later, a ghost from the past walked in the door, breezing past Kaube as if he wasn't there and pushing Stuckart firmly out of the way in the process. Stuckart's weapon was pointed at his back instantly, and I could see his finger squeezing on the trigger. Lorenz also brought his weapon to bear and was ready to fire, but as I recognised the newcomer, I managed to order them both to stand down before the bullets started flying.
He was, indeed, wearing the uniform of an SS Oberstgruppenführer, but the insignia were about fifty years out of date. After all, it was a little over 50 years since the man in front of me had fallen in battle.
"Hello, Rupert," said the Master of Valhalla with a smile, and offered me his hand. Dumbfounded, I stood up, and crossed to meet him. His grip was cool but solid.
"Jochen?" I answered, incredulous.
"You seem so pleased to see me," he said, a light touch of irony to his voice.
"Surprised, certainly," I replied, "how did you get here?"
"I used the Pattern," he replied, perhaps taking me more literally than I'd intended, then smiled, "or perhaps that wasn't what you meant."
"I suppose, in a way, it was exactly what I meant," I answered, indicating for him to sit in front of the fire, "can I offer you any refreshments?"
"Thank you, no," he answered, "but by all means pour yourself a whisky. I assume that's still your poison of choice."
Still trying to regain my composure, I did as he'd suggested. Then I took a sip from my glass while I considered my visitor. Joachim Peiper was Robert's son, and had once had the experience of hunting his father through the Ardennes during the Second World War, on which occasion he'd learned first hand what an ornery bastard my brother could be. Later, having survived the war and served a double-digit prison sentence before being released to civilian life, he had been one of the select group of blooded individuals that I had sought out after the creation of Sable and brought here from the Outside.
Jochen had been one of the founding Knights of the SS, as well a senior commander in the newly (re)formed Waffen-SS, having bought into what I was planning better than either Conrad or Tristan in the first instance, and had been involved in the Black Friday working. He had died in battle in RY103, but with the creation of Valhalla in the Sable mountains in August RY154, he had somehow been restored to some semblance of life, and was now ruler of that place.
"I know you want to bring up the Pattern and take a good look at me," he said, making himself at home as I turned back towards him, "feel free."
I did so, studying him intently. He was alive, and yet not quite alive. The Pattern did, indeed, burn within him, although with an unusual silver sheen, and he certainly came across as real. He was even wearing his Knight's Honour Dagger at his belt, and I could feel power from it, despite the fact that as far as I was aware, its broken shards were in his burial niche in the Crypt under the North Tower. But living and breathing? Of that I wasn't so certain, although watching him, I could see the rise and fall of his chest. On consideration, the person he reminded me of most of all, was Duke Raibeart of Argent, who I had conversed with on occasion.
"You're looking well," I said, dropping the Pattern and sitting opposite him.
"For a ghost?" he asked, although he seemed amused rather than angry.
"Not quite how I would have put it," I answered.
"You've got more diplomatic," he answered, with a chuckle.
"Not everyone would agree," I answered, "I haven't seen you since I visited to sign the treaty of co-operation between us, but you appear...
"More solid?"
"As good a description as any," I concurred, "more solid than on that occasion. How did you get here? I didn't realise that you were able to leave Valhalla."
"We have a certain amount of flexibility," he replied, "even the least of us can travel within a couple of hundred miles of the Halls. But it is fair to say that rather fewer of us can reach this far, and I will confess that I'm not sure we can leave Magica Superior. Up until now, I've been rather loathe to try. It would be rather embarrassing to suddenly cease to be due to a mis-step."
"Understandable."
"However, we have been strengthening since those early days, and the Pattern once again burns within some of us."
That got me wondering. A Pattern ghost?"
"And of course, the Winter Solstice was always an important date in our faith. All of the Family, both of the direct Sable bloodline and our more distant cousins, who have died in the service of the SS over the years have now remanifested..."
He paused, gave a half smile, and continued, "you've been busy, especially with Robert's kindred. There weren't as many of us in my day."
"We were falling behind in the war...I had to get creative."
"Who drew the short straw? If I had to guess, I'd say sanctimonious brother Andrew...Not that I want to imply that it's a bad thing."
"What about Jürgen Kessler?"
"He's one of them. He has been somewhat reticent about what finally caused him to...qualify to come to Valhalla...although reading between the lines, I rather get the impression that you were responsible."
"Matters came to a head," I replied cautiously.
"Unless he had a mad rush of incompetence to the head, you were taking a risk, weren't you? I remember him knocking you all around the fencing salle."
"I had help preparing," I answered, "and the matter had to be resolved."
"True. He was always ambitious. I blame his father's genes for that. How is Conrad, by the way?"
"Very well. He remarried and has a new family now."
"I'm glad. Mathilde's death hit him hard. I understand that you finally persuade him to become one of the Knights."
"Twelve years ago. Although he remains in politics, rather than the military."
"Pity. He was a good general in his day."
"He's a better Party Chairman."
"Yes, he probably would be. He always had that kind of mind. And Wilhelm?"
"Much the same as ever."
"Relations between you are still barely civil?"
"We can work together if we need to," I answered, my tone neutral.
"I suppose that's the best we can hope for."
"So what brings you here, today?"
"As I mentioned before, it's the Winter Solstice," he answered, "the first since my return to the land of the...living. I remember the celebrations with fondness. And unless things have changed greatly since my day, the Knights will meet this evening."
"That's the intention."
"So I'm curious. Am I still a Knight in good standing?"
"You certainly were when you...back in 103," I answered, rather nonplussed at the question, "but now..."
"Let me guess. Not something that's come up before."
"Former Knights don't usually come back from the dead."
"And yet most of us are in the Halls of Valhalla. After all, that's one of the tenets of the Knights Code: our belief that if we serve faithfully unto death, we will obtain our final reward in Valhalla."
"So are you asking just for yourself, or for them as well?"
"Most of them wouldn't be able to get here," he replied, "to my knowledge, I am the only full Knight of Robert's direct bloodline to have died before our recent arrivals, and I believe that's a factor in my mobility. And as far as Kessler and Hauer are concerned, given my - admittedly limited - understanding of the circumstances of their arrivals, no, I am not asking on their behalf."
No Rudolf Lange? Interesting. But then, his unshriven death at Dominik's hands had meant that he never had the chance to regain his honour in the eyes of the universe in the way Kessler and Hauer had, despite the fact that he had been buried with military honours along with his co-conspirators.
"I'm not sure what to say in answer to your question," I said, finally, "in the Rules of the Order of the Knights of the SS it says that Knights will serve unto death...or until such time as they are declared worthy of death for actions at odds with the beliefs of the Order. We didn't write into the rules what happened beyond that. Why the interest?"
"Given my recent arrivals, I'm guessing that the Knights are somewhat short-handed at the moment. I'm willing to offer my services to rectify that...if they would be useful."
"Technically, you're now the Head of State of an allied power, rather than an SS officer."
"Perhaps. But Valhalla in the form in which it's manifested wouldn't exist without the beliefs of the SS in the old Norse and Germanic gods, and the rituals honouring our ancestors that have been handed down from those peoples. Moreover, it's built on the blood and blessing of Family, including, I believe, your own son."
I winced slightly. It had taken some time for Robert to confess that Stefan had been one of those who had nearly lost his life when Valhalla was created, and I had very nearly removed him from Sable and to Hell with it, given that it was the second time he'd nearly died at the hands of Germanenorden agents. However, I still wasn't sure if he could return to the Reich without it killing him just as surely, and in the end I'd given Robert one last chance to keep him safe.
"I'd say 80% of my population comes from within your organisation, Rupert, with the remainder drawn from among the like minded of the universe. So I don't really consider it to be a separate power - more an offshoot of the SS, proving beyond all possible doubt that our beliefs endure beyond the grave. And if you take that to its logical conclusion..."
"Then you could argue that your position as a Knight also endures beyond the grave."
He shrugged.
"It's an theory. Do you know a good lawyer who can say yay or nay to it?"
"Oh yes," I replied, and brought Conrad's Trump to mind. The Party Chairman answered a short while later.
"Crap. I'm not late am I? I got held up in discussions with Reichskanzler Emmerich."
"I'm not sure you've ever been late for anything in your life, Conrad," I answered, which brought a smile to his face, "however, if you're free, I have a small legal matter which I need clarification on."
"I'm sure you have other lawyers on your staff apart from me."
"Yes, but you're the one who knows most about the Knights Code."
"Can it wait until the Council meeting?"
"I'd rather talk it through before then," I answered, and he shrugged.
"Pull me through," he replied, and offered me his hand. I took it, and he stepped through to join us.
"Afternoon, Conrad," Peiper said as he arrived.
"Good God," came the answer, "look what the cat dragged in."
Then he broke into a broad grin, which his brother quickly reciprocated, and they actually embraced, before stepping back to consider each other.
"I'd heard about Valhalla but I didn't realise that meant you'd be bringing your scrawny hide back into the Reich."
"And I hadn't realised that you'd sold your soul to the Devil, little brother. A lawyer? Seriously?"
"It pays the bills," Conrad answered, affably, and then I saw him almost visibly collect himself, as he remembered where he was, "Rupert, you wanted a legal consult?"
"Actually, Oberstgruppenführer Peiper did. He wants to know if he's still a Knight."
"You don't ask easy questions, do you Jochen?"
"You always said I was an awkward son of a bitch."
"I'm going to have to think about this one. When do you need to know by?"
"Council's at 8pm isn't it?" Peiper asked, looking at me.
"Correct."
"7.55 then," he said, turning back to Conrad.
"Well, at least I didn't have dinner plans. Rupert, I need to use the library."
"Feel free," I answered.
"See you later, then," Conrad replied, and headed out after the obligatory pleasantries were exchanged, Peiper falling into step beside him. I started at the doorway in silence for a couple of minutes, until my reverie was disturbed by the sound of a throat being cleared.
"Herr Reichsführer," Lorenz said, quietly.
"What is it, Adam?"
"Was that really Oberstgruppenführer Peiper? I remember learning about him when I was at the Academy. He's a legend within the Waffen-SS."
"Yes, it was really him."
"But..."
"Yes, that too. Still, on the bright side, Adam, isn't it nice to be present when everything you've been taught to believe is proven correct?"
He opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and wisely shut it again. I let it pass, and returned to my review.
By 6pm, I had still failed to come to a conclusion, and I hadn't heard anything from Conrad, so I decided to take a break and head upstairs to my quarters for a quiet dinner before the meeting. Lorenz and Stuckart fell into step beside me as we walked. A few moments later, In the ground floor corridor between my office and the Knights quarters, I saw the familiar form of Rikart Schultz. I hadn't seen him for several weeks, since his crash course in being God of Protection, and it was odd to see him out of uniform. He had taken Carina with him and they were now living in the Empire most of the time: him taking a hands on approach to his new duties, and her assigned to the Reich Embassy in Eboracum. Given the faster time flow down there, their daughter Hanne was probably a couple of months old by now, and I'd been hoping that he'd bring the family with him for the celebrations the next day.
"Evening, Rikart," I called to him, and he turned. He looked tanned and fit, as I'd expect given his new life in a warmer clime, but what I didn't expect was that he'd also look nervous.
"Herr Reichsführer," he said, with the appropriate respect, then saw Lorenz (who immediately saluted his former superior) and smiled, "Adam, how are you doing? Settling into the job properly?"
"I hope so, sir," Lorenz replied.
"Hans," he added, nodding to Stuckart.
"Good to see you, sir. Life treating you well?"
"Not too bad at all," he answered, although I thought I detected a slight hesitation, "not too bad at all. It's strange to be back, though. I'd forgotten how cold it was at this time of the year."
Rikart's odd body language was worrying me slightly, and so I let the three of them catch up for a few minutes while I brought up my mage sight to see if I could figure out what was wrong. As I did, two things immediately hit me. First, he felt different on an arcane level - over and above the obvious, he didn't have the distinctive signature of the Winter Circle. And second, he wasn't wearing his Honour Dagger. Yes, there was a weapon tucked in the small of his back under his suit jacket - the way his father usually wore his - but it was the athame of a Priest of Protection.
Concerned - after all, I was well aware that Andreas was now using Rikart as a model for a new series of his bleeder drones - I brought up the Pattern and looked harder. At least he was still a Pattern initiate, which was a good start, and the Aurellian Logrus burned brightly within him as well.
Then I realised that all three of them were looking at me, curiously.
"Is there a problem, sir?" Stuckart asked.
"That depends," I answered, "Rikart, do we need to talk? Before the Council meeting?"
"It might be sensible, Herr Reichsführer," he answered, "and might I ask for Oberstgruppenführer von Raeder to sit in?"
"Is he in the castle yet?"
"He was talking to Carina in the Jul room about fifteen minutes ago."
"Gruppenführersaal, ten minutes."
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer," he said, promptly, but without enthusiasm, and headed down the corridor towards the staircase.
"Lorenz."
"Yes sir?"
"Find Chairman Berthelmes and have him join that meeting as well. If he wishes to bring Oberstgruppenführer Peiper, that would be acceptable. Also, Oberstgruppenführer Heydrich, if he's here."
"Yes, sir," he said, and hurried off to do my bidding. In the meantime, I called Heinrike Karsten and gave her the same instructions. After all, she was currently the only member of the Honour Guard entitled to be in the Saal on Order business - which seemed like another good reason to consider promoting Waldemar to the Winter Circle. After the events of the summer, I still had qualms about being without a bodyguard among the Winter Knights. Question was, could I rustle up three traitors to sacrifice before the meeting?
"Stuckart, with me," I said, finally, and turned on my heel to head back to the North Tower.
In the end I was the first to arrive, and moved to take my place at the north of the table. Stuckart remained outside while Karsten relieved him and joined me.
"Is there a problem, sir? I thought we weren't meeting until later."
"That's what I'm hoping to find out," I answered, as Tristan strode into the room. He was still in feldgrau and looked harried.
"Bad day?" I asked him, as he came in and saluted.
"Trying to catch everything up before taking the rest of the year off," he answered, belatedly adding "Herr Reichsführer...I promised Veronika I'd try to spend some time with her but I'm still wrangling with Wolfram over paperwork for August Nagel for tonight."
"Tristan," came a voice from the doorway. I glanced over to see Conrad with Peiper, and indicated for them to come in. Off to one side, I saw Heinrike tense as a stranger entered the Saal, but I motioned for her to stay calm.
"Bloody Hell," Tristan said as he saw our visitor.
"I'll add that to the collection, with Conrad's 'Good God' and Herr Reichsführer's look of sheer dumbfoundedness," Peiper said, with a wicked grin, and crossed to his cousin. They shook hands - gripped forearms really - and then separated. As they did, I was struck by a certain satisfied pleasure at the reunion of the three pillars I'd formed the Reich around: the three sons of family blood that I had brought into the Sable universe.
I obviously don't count Wilhelm in that, as he was purely Robert's fault.
"So why the urgent meeting?" Conrad asked.
"That's what I intend to find out when the reason for it gets here," I answered, slightly annoyed at Schultz's tardiness. Obviously he was getting too used to Empire time.
He and von Raeder arrived a few moments later, with profuse apologies. As they entered, I regarded them with my magical sight again, and immediately saw the reason why Rikart had wanted to bring Jorge with him. Whatever had happened to Schultz had also happened to von Raeder. I caught Stuckart's eye, and he closed the Saal door behind us. Then I said the words which activated the anti-eavesdropping wards, and turned my attention to my companions.
"Conrad," I said, as the latecomers took their places at the table, temporarily ignoring them both, "did you come to any conclusions about Oberstgruppenführer Peiper's status?"
The newcomers' eyes were drawn to Peiper, who was standing a pace or two behind Conrad and to the left.
"Obviously, there isn't a great deal of precedent for something like this," Conrad answered, "but my interpretation of the situation is that Jochen can, indeed, be classed as a Knight in good standing."
"What argument are you going to use for the rest of the Council later?" I asked.
"That given his position as a founding Knight of this Order, he has seniority over those who have come after him, and that as the position that he first occupied around this table is currently vacant, he has every right to be restored to it."
"Far be it from me to argue the legal toss with you, Conrad," Tristan commented, "but aren't you forgetting the small fact that...with all due respect to you Jochen...he's dead."
"And yet here he is...living..." Conrad paused briefly
"After a fashion," Peiper interjected, with a wry smile.
"...proof," Conrad answered, picking up the train of his thoughts, "that the beliefs of the Knights transcend death, and that rewards for good service are, indeed, in the gift of the gods."
"And because I know you want to tell us," I continued, "how do you come to the conclusion that Oberstgruppenführer Peiper's place at the table is vacant?"
"After he passed on to Valhalla in May 103, his place was taken by Claus von Döenhoff. Claus fell in battle in April 133, and he was succeeded as a Knight by Maximillien Hauer..."
I glanced over at Jorge as Conrad mentioned Hauer's name, and noted that he was standing stiff and tense.
"...who has, in turn, left this company," Conrad concluded, diplomatically.
"I'm going to take a wild guess, that this is one of the most surreal conversations that this Saal has ever hosted," Peiper said, obviously still amused.
"And I hope to Hell it's a one-off," Tristan commented, flatly, "I do NOT want to have this conversation with the shade of Jürgen Kessler at this table."
"Here, here," I said, my words echoed by both Schultz and von Raeder. Once again, I ignored them, my attention on Conrad, Tristan and Jochen, "Retake your place among us, Brother Joachim."
I gestured towards the chair which Hauer had vacated at Summer Solstice, Peiper smiled at Conrad, and then stepped forward.
"On which note," I continued, "this Honour Court is in session."
It was worth it to throw Conrad off his stride.
"Honour Court?" he exclaimed, actually losing his legendary poise for a moment, "what are you talking about?"
"With your ruling on Oberstgruppenführer Peiper's status, there are now three in this room with superior rank to both the accused," I said, looking directly at Schultz and von Raeder, "two of our number have come to this meeting without the symbols of their rank in this Order, and fundamentally changed from when they last stepped foot in this Saal. Brother Jorge, Brother Rikart, what I want to know, is why?"
I looked back at Conrad, to see that he was obviously trying to suppress his emotions. However, anything further he might have said that could have been deemed to be rash was headed off when von Raeder responded to my question. I glanced towards him.
"We met a representative of the Host, Herr Reichsführer."
"The Host?" Tristan asked, looking at him incredulously.
"Of Heaven, Oberstgruppenführer Heydrich," came the answer, "needless to say, we were found wanting as judged by whatever passes for their morality, and came off the worst for the experience In fact, we were probably bloody lucky not to be burned to ashes there and then."
"What the Hell?" Conrad began, "how..."
"We were on Temple of Protection business," Rikart said quietly, finally finding his voice, "Jorge had been asked to provide protection for an event on the Outside...
"The Erikson wedding, presumably?" I suggested. I had sent four of my protégés to the same event, and they had given me some of the details, but their reports were incomplete. They certainly hadn't mentioned the Host of Heaven, and while they were young and inexperienced, they would have also been stupid to have missed it, which had led me to the conclusion that, by then, Jorge had arranged for their departure.
"Yes, sir," Rikart confirmed, "however, everything went the Hell in a handcart and he called me in to assist. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one requesting help from on High..."
"Are we talking the whole Host here, or just a few select members?" Peiper said, obviously not believing a word they were saying. However, I wasn't dismissing it so lightly. After all, I'd seen brother Robert do something similar, and bloody uncomfortable it had been, too.
"One was quite enough," Jorge replied, "it called itself Rafael."
"And it did what?"
"I believe, in the usual St James Spec Ops parlance, it smited us," Jorge answered.
"Which means?" Tristan asked, about as convinced by their story as Jochen was. But then their experiences of the Powers that Be were pretty much limited to the Inside: neither had been ritual practitioners before Sable was created.
"Destruction of any trappings or abilities linking us to the Winter Circle, as it deemed them unclean."
I looked at them both as Jorge spoke, and found myself thinking that we weren't getting the whole story. After all, while their Honour Daggers could be considered trappings, I'm not sure the inherent nature of the Order could, and that was also missing. Of course, given the personal discomfort of a least one of the accused with what had happened at Summer Solstice, there was always the possibility that he had been happy to be 'smited'.
"What gave this...Rafael the right?" Conrad asked, quietly.
"I don't think it felt it had to justify its actions," Rikart answered, "merely enact what it believed to be its god's will. I suppose that's the key difference between Aurellian gods, and the forces of the Judeo-Christian Heaven."
"So?"
"It pretty much took one look at us, and the symbols of our membership of the Winter Circle, were rendered into dust. I'm not sure there was anything we could have done to prevent it."
"It's an original story," Tristan commented, "better than leaving an Honour Dagger behind in a pile of smouldering wreckage."
"We got that one back," I reminded him.
"And you punished its owner for his carelessness."
"But what are the chances that this isn't just a fantasy story that they've concocted to cover their own backsides?" Peiper asked, "Hell, one of them isn't even in uniform."
"Neither am I," Conrad pointed out, although I noted that unlike Rikart, Conrad, at least, was wearing his honorary rank insignia, "and none of us are exactly dressed for formal Council proceedings. Rikart Schultz is the former commander of the Reichsführer's Honour Guard, and his loyalty is without question. And Jorge von Raeder has served faithfully for many years."
"But the Host of Heaven? Really?"
"You never had the chance to see your father when he was in full righteous indignation mode, did you Jochen?" I asked.
"I didn't have the displeasure."
"You see, I've actually seen him do this...call down the Host...and trust me, I wasn't exactly sticking my head above the parapet when it happened. Admittedly his skills and connections are better than most, but I have also heard of mere mortals whose faith in their own beliefs was sufficient to get a similar effect. So I'm not willing to completely dismiss it as a fantasy. However, whatever the truth of it, Brother Jorge and Brother Rikart are basically in the same situation that Dominik Gerlinde was a few months ago. So what do we do about it?"
"Throw it open to the full Council? See if they buy into the story?" Peiper suggested.
"The trouble with that, is that a full Council will include Dominik," Tristan answered, "in the light of which, I find myself in agreement with Rupert's strategy in calling this Honour Court to address the matter before this evening's meeting."
"So?"
"Thirty-second back history," Tristan replied, "Dominik Gerlinde, Head of the Forstapo, is a man who hates to lose. Earlier this year, he was physically punished and demoted for a similar offence to this - and was only reinstated after he proved his loyalty to the Reichsführer."
"I think 'hates to lose' covers most of us."
"Dominik also bears grudges."
"Also pretty standard in this organisation."
"Perhaps not as much as there used to be," Conrad commented, before ceding to Tristan again.
"There are two of his fellow Knights who treats with contempt," Tristan continued, "nothing they can do is right to him, and he truly believes that neither of them deserves to be part of this Circle. In fact, in one case, he doesn't think he should have advanced beyond the rank Hauptsturmführer, and puts his progress down to being born with a silver spoon in his over-bred mouth..."
I caught Jorge looking at Tristan with surprise on his face.
"Paraphrasing," Tristan said to him, his tone conciliatory, then continued "and in the second he actually raised a blade in anger to his fellow Knight for publicly contradicting him on an urgent matter."
"Sounds like he has more deep-seated personal issues than even the worst of us used to," scoffed Peiper.
"He has his flaws," I conceded, "he's also bloody good at what he does."
"And let me guess...silver spoon...." He indicated Jorge, then pointed at Rikart "...and contradiction."
"You're learning fast," Conrad commented, a wry expression on his face.
"Hey, if I wasn't I'd just tell the pair of them that they're fucked," Peiper countered.
"But instead?"
"Herr Reichsführer. If I remember rightly you usually conjure up the Knights Daggers, either at their initiation of some time before."
"Correct."
"And those daggers have to be pledged to the Order in blood."
"Also correct."
"And I'm guessing you don't want them to walk into the chamber tonight without ceremonial weapons that look like they belong."
"You really are learning fast," Conrad commented, more impressed than he had been before...possibly even a little uncomfortable.
"So. Conjure their replacement daggers, and here, in this Council Room, force them activate the new weapons with each other's blood. The injury will probably need to be significant, if it's going to work, but not fatal. Perhaps a cut down the vein on the forearm, on the theory that you, certainly, could heal the wounds before they bleed to death. Or perhaps, if your beautiful, silent companion is likely to get upset about other alternatives, ask her to leave and then visit those."
Heinrike looked at him with puzzlement, while I took a good look at those assembled and realised what else we all had in common beside being blood family.
"I know what he means," I said to her, "go and join Hans outside."
"I have to protest, Herr Reichsführer."
"You do...and I will overrule you. Please, leave us."
With a last look at Peiper, and then me, she headed for the door. Once she was gone, he regarded us all again.
"Out of curiosity, how many of you are legal? Or don't we do that any more?"
"The fact that I am rather renders the question moot," I replied, and for once I managed to surprise him.
"By the gods, Rupert. You? Of all people? You finally came out of the closet?"
"Earlier this year, it became necessary for me to undertake a medical procedure which resulted in my becoming a shape shifter," I said, with a straight face, "at least that's what it says on my Forstapo paperwork. How did you know?"
"I seem to have picked up a few extra talents with my new lease of life," Peiper answered, "but you have to appreciate the irony of our situation. Six of the Knights - the Winter Circle - whatever we're called now - plus presumably the Head of the Forstapo..."
"I think you're getting off the subject, Jochen," Conrad commented, obviously uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation, and I could appreciate why. Neither he nor Tristan had legally declared their status. In fact, it had been so long since Jochen died, that I had forgotten that he had been registered.
"My apologies, little brother," he said, with a nod in Conrad's direction, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Rikart visibly start in surprise at the form of address Peiper used towards his father.
"Jorge, Rikart? Are you willing to undertake a ritual as suggested by Brother Joachim?"
"Does it involve killing anything?" Jorge asked, quietly.
"Not unless you're careless," Tristan answered for me.
"Then I'm willing."
"Good. Rikart?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. Hand me the weapons you're wearing, if you please..."
They both drew the daggers they were carrying and handed them to me, hilt first, and I noticed that they were pretty much identical. Daggers following the standard SS pattern, but dedicated for use with the magic of the Church of Protection. I didn't recognise the hand of the smith who had made them, and wondered if Rikart had learned how to conjure them himself in the months he'd been doing my old job. What was going to be odd, was tapping his ability to do what I needed to do to repurpose the weapons so they were dedicated both to the Church and to the Order.
I returned to my place and laid them on the table in front of me, placing my own between them as a focus, and then leaned forward and began to work. Using my own abilities, and reaching across to borrow Rikart's, I began to weave the conjurations needed to change their form and re-empower them. It was far trickier than just making the things from scratch - or modifying them, as I had in the past when I had held Rikart's current aspect - and I realised that not only the blood of the wielders was going to be required to make this work, but my own as well. I was going to have to modify the ritual Jochen had proposed on the fly.
I have no idea how long I worked for, or even if they just stood and watched me work, or talked among themselves, but eventually I was done. Both weapons followed the Pattern Jorge's had before it had been destroyed: runes of protection on the hilt, interspersed with the more usual SS heraldry, and the standard motto graven on the blade. Now all that remained was to activate them. This was going to hurt.
"Brother Rikart. Step forward and join me. Roll up your left sleeve"
In silence, Rikart did as he was bid, while in turn I bared my right forearm. I handed him his modified dagger and took my own into my left hand. Then I reached out for his bare arm, placed the blade to the vein, and cut. Blood welled instantly, covering the blade which seemed to sigh. It obviously hurt him, but he held his peace.
"Now its your turn," I answered, hoping to the gods that I could still trust him.
He hesitated for a moment, then reached out, took my right wrist, and repeated what I had done. The weapon burned me as it cut, with a power I hadn't expected, and soon it was coated with red as my blood flowed rather faster than I'd intended. Biting back the pain, I took it from him, and held it against mine, guard to point, so the blades were touching along their full length. Then I closed his right hand and my left around them, tightly enough to cut shallowly, and intoned the words from the initiation ceremony to bind him back into the company of Knights. Once I was done, I cast a spell which cleansed both of the daggers of blood, and handed his weapon back to him hilt first. As he received it, I saw that the wound on his forearm was already pretty much closed, although it was obvious to me that it would leave a scar, and noted with regret that mine was still healing.
"Brother Jorge," I said, holding my right arm tight to my body to temporarily slow the blood flow, "step forward."
He did so, and we repeated the process, although at least the weapon I had handed to him didn't burn so badly as he drew blood, and the overall effect was rather less dramatic. Once we were done, I sheathed my own dagger and spent a few moments consciously closing the still seeping wound on my forearm. And as I did, I realised that I, too, was going to bear a scar from this one. Just like the one Robert wore in the same place for far less noble reasons.
I centred myself, and then looked up at the men around the table.
"Is it the opinion of this Honour Court that judgment has been served on our brothers?"
"Aye," Conrad said promptly, and his response was echoed by Tristan.
"Brother Joachim?"
"Not quite what I'd suggested, but judging from what you've said about Gerlinde's punishment, then I'm willing to say that honour is satisfied."
"As am I," I answered, "in which case, given that it's 19.40 and we're due back here in twenty minutes, I declare us adjourned."
Salutes were made around the table, and they began to leave, although I noticed Tristan hesitating, as if he wanted to say something to me. However, first I had a question I needed to ask Jorge.
"Oberstgruppenführer von Raeder. A moment, if you please?"
Conrad and Rikart quickly left together. Tristan caught my eye, and indicated that he'd be waiting for me outside, and then followed Peiper out, and as he did, Heinrike slipped back inside to wait by the door. In the meantime, Jorge hesitated then crossed back to my place to join me.
"How can I help you, Herr Reichsführer?"
"I'd like to know the truth," I said, quietly, so Heinrike couldn't hear me.
"In what regard?"
"Did you ask Rafael to clean the taint of Hauer's death from your soul?"
He looked at me for a few moments, and I could see warring emotions on his face as he tried to decide how to answer. But his hesitation was enough to tell me what I wanted to know.
"I understand. I don't approve, but I understand."
"Thank you, sir."
"What about Rikart?"
"From what I've figured out, the day he became God of Protection, the Aurellian Logrus cleared his slate," he replied, "there was nothing for Rafael to clean except the symbol of his membership of the Order."
"I've spent time with him since then. Why did I only notice this for the first time today?"
"Perhaps you didn't want to look," he answered, quietly.
I regarded him for a moment, weighing up whether he was being flippant or sincere, and came to the conclusion that it was the latter.
"Thank you for your opinion, Oberstgruppenführer von Raeder. I'll see you at 20.00."
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer," he answered, with a sharp salute, and headed for the door.
"And Jorge?"
"Sir?" he asked, turning back towards me.
"I'll let you get away with this once. Next time you meet the Host, make yourself scarce, or I won't be so forgiving."