Bastian

The mood of the party quickly shifted when Bastian Klauswitz made an appearance. Quickly, the news that had been spreading across the city, spread through the guests in the banquet hall. By the time Admiral Demel and his wife had finished greeting all the new arrivals, everyone’s attention was turned to Bastian, the Count Maximin Xanders included.

   “I’m surprised he didn’t make an excuse not to come,” some at the party were saying.

   “Well, he’s a shameless man, there’s nothing surprising about it.”

   “Even so, isn’t it a bit much to be showing his face at a party, while rumours of his wife running off spread? I think it strange Marchioness Demel invited him in the first place, the grandson of a junk dealer, what was she thinking?”

   Maximin sighed pensively. It was an uncomfortable conversation to listen to, but it was hard to ignore when it was on everyone’s lips. There was no way to escape it.

   “Did he really abuse his own wife, the Emperor’s niece? I thought they were well known for having a loving relationship.”

   “I think it strange he would cherish her like a lover. Bloodline aside, she’s practically a commoner. I feel he married her just to protect himself from Princess Isabelle.”

   “You may be right, it was strange that he would go off for two years without her, and not even so much as come back for a quick visit.”

   “Well, I heard that it was her fault,” one guest said, speaking of Odette. “While her husband was away, she played around a bit, you know? And ended up conceiving a child with another man.”

   Bastian moved around the flood of conversation, feigning ignorance of the gossip which died away before him like the wake of a ship. He conversed with important naval figures, minor nobles and even members of the royal family, as if it was just another party to maintain his network of relations. There was no sign of any concern for his wife.

   Maximin excused himself from the conversation, not able to withstand another second of degenerate speculations, it flowed on without pause. His own feelings on the matter were hard enough to comprehend.

   “Hello, Sir Xanders.” A low tone reached Maximin’s ears as he reached for his drink. He knew instantly who it was.

   “It’s been awhile, Major Klauswitz,” said Maximin, as politely as he could manage.

   They stood a short distance apart, a quiet no man’s land between them. Bastian stood as an imposing figure before Maximin, he couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or just his military bearing. There were many well built and sturdy naval officers at the party but Bastian stood out amongst them.

   What if this man really did abuse Odette?

   Maximin hadn’t realised the rumour had taken root in his mind. His mood darkened significantly. Bastian continued on a conversation as if he didn’t notice and skilfully led the conversation through subjects of no importance and recent events. Stock market values, sporting events and something about the weather.

   They spoke as perfect gentlemen to each other. Without any prior information about his lineage, no one would have guessed that Bastian was a commoner. Maximin kept his eye on him, who spoke in a short and consistent manner. He looked rather tired, maybe long nights spent awake, worrying about Odette or he could just be overworked. Without any other tells, Maximin couldn’t distinguish.

   “How is Mrs Klauswitz doing?” Maximin decided to take charge of the conversation.

   Bastian looked away as if he didn’t hear the question, choosing instead to pass a greeting between someone across the hall. Maximin had provoked Bastian and he felt a sense of satisfaction at unbalancing the man, if only briefly.

   In reality, Bastian had been studying Count Xanders, looking for any signs that he had anything to do with Odette’s escape. Satisfied that the Count did in fact have nothing to do with it, he moved on, satisfied that he had successfully confronted Count Maximin von Xanders.

   He had wanted to bring up the topic of membership, but that could wait for the opera house, and even without Count Xanders help, he could acquire it another way.

   “You never answered my question,” said Maximin, stopping Bastian from walking away by placing a hand on his shoulder.

   “I don’t see why I have any obligation to convey my wife’s well being to you,” said Bastian, brushing the hand away, but Maximin didn’t back down.

   “She’s not just your wife, she’s my friend too.”

   “Ah, your friend.”

   “I understand that she is in a very vulnerable spot and not in good health,” said Maximin, probing for an answer.

   “So?”

   “I’m simply saying that it is normal for someone to worry about a friend, who’s out travelling alone and in such poor health,” Maximin said in a scolding tone as if admonishing a child.

   “I know it perfectly well,” Bastian said with a bark of laughter. He looked at the count with an amused smile. “I wonder, are you the father of the child she carries?”

   “Major Klauswitz?” Maximin flushed bright red.

   “I’m kidding.” Bastian shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I lost myself in the moment there, I didn’t mean to be impolite. I promise, there was no ill intent. Please understand.”

   Bastian returned to his imposing, upright posture and offered Count Xanders an apology. Maximin was silent for a moment. It was an admonition disguised as an apology, as if to tell Maximin that he had crossed the line first.

   “Have a pleasant evening Count Xanders.” With that, Bastian offered the smallest bow and walked away.

   Maximin turned and walked out onto the balcony of the banquet hall. Only when he felt the chilly breeze did he take a breath, as if not wanting to inhale the toxic miasma in the hall.

   Bastian’s remarks had been impertinent beyond any measure, yet there was some validity to them. Maximin knew that his interference had crossed a line, and yet despite that, he couldn’t stop himself.

   Why am I behaving so foolishly?

   He could have spent all night trying to untangle that incredibly complicated knot of thought.

   Maximin looked up at the deep, dark sky over the garden. Regrets niggled at his thoughts. Regret that he didn’t get to say goodbye to Odette. Regret that he didn’t do more to help her. He couldn’t help but think that it was his fault.

   Maximin stayed out on the balcony, alone, until his flushed cheeks cooled and he could face going back into the hall, where Bastian had humiliated him.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

“Shall we continue?” Noah said in a low whisper.

   Sandrine turned away from the window that looked out over Ratz, bathed in the gloom of night. She looked over the dinning table, at Noah past its lavish centre piece, he wore a smile like a child ready to play a prank.

   “I mean, the exhibition. So, I heard that Mrs Klauswitz has run away, so would it not be pointless to display that painting?” Noah sighed, the smile fading a little.

   Sandrine remained silent, tilting her glass toward her mouth as she stared out at nothing, thinking. Her look was intense, like the night they had snuck into Franz’s studio.

   She desperately wanted to display the painting at the exhibit, telling everyone that she thought it was a crime to keep such a masterpiece out of sight. She told Noah to prepare it for a friend and if all went well, they could arrange for official sponsorship from the House of Laviere. It was far more reliable than a dowry.

   The idea was insane and Noah knew it, but how could he refuse? Franz wouldn’t be able to continue on as a painter, given the strife at his house and if later he got married, and his wife’s family intervened, a young and fragile noble like Franz would not be able to budge.

   Would Franz be able to sponsor young painters any more, should that day come? Noah made up his mind the moment he found the answer to Sandrine’s question, which struck him like a dagger. Rather than risk being abandoned, Noah would turn his back first.

   “What about the next exhibition?” Noah suggested with caution, fearing that Sandrine might be set to change her mind.

   “No, there’s no need,” Sandrine said firmly, putting down her glass.

   If Odette had genuinely ran off on her own accord, then there was no point in trying to humiliate her. If Bastian didn’t cut ties with her now, he was going to suffer a lot of loss. His only course of action was to finally divorce that woman.

   There was no way Bastian wasn’t aware of this fact. He was a cold, calculating man, he knew when to cut ties and which to strengthen. It had been a month already and the shock of him still holding onto Odette was unbearable.

   Bastian refused to let go of Odette and his reputation was taking a pounding for it, he was no longer seen as the brave war hero that nearly lost his life, but the sad husband who had lost his wife.

   Sandrine wanted to ask him why he was holding on so stubbornly, but feared the answer, for then there would be no turning back. It was better to endure in ignorance, than risk collapsing that bridge for good.

   “So, does that mean we are cancelling the plans?” Noah said gloomily.

   Sandrine raised her head and exhaled slowly, smoke billowed up toward the ceiling and she bit down on her cigarette holder.

   She needed to do something that would utterly ruin Odette, destroy any chance of her being able to come back to Bastian. He would inevitably get burned by whatever Sandrine had planned, but it would be worth it to get him all to herself. Anything would be better than being with a fake wife.

   “No, we continue as planned.” Sandrine brushed away the ashes.

    Is it because she still loves Bastian Klauswitz

   Sandrine mulled over this question multiple times without arriving at a conclusion. However, one fact stood out: she refused to accept          her love ending like this.

   That sole reason enough to explain why she couldn’t stop.