Chapter 4 : Banquet Scandal

The Great Hall of the Hofburg Palace had been transformed. Tapestries depicting Habsburg victories hung from the walls, long tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, spiced wines, and elaborate pastries. Torches and candles cast a warm glow over the assembled nobility, their silks and jewels glittering in the light.

Oliver stood near the entrance, Jasper at his side. He wore the deep blue tunic of the Habsburgs, the double-headed eagle embroidered in gold thread across his chest. For the first time since arriving in Vienna, he looked every inch a prince.

"Remember," Jasper said quietly, "watch, listen, speak only when necessary."

"I know." Oliver''s eyes scanned the room. He saw Charles holding court near the high table, surrounded by Wittelsbach supporters. He saw Archbishop Siegfried speaking with other church dignitaries. He saw Chancellor Starhemberg watching everything with an amused expression.

The emperor entered, and the hall fell silent. Frederick IV took his seat at the high table, gesturing for the banquet to begin. Music started—lutes and flutes playing a lively tune.

Oliver found his assigned seat, several places down from the high table but still within view. Jasper took up position behind him, as protocol dictated for a prince''s guard.

The meal began. Course after course was served: venison in wine sauce, roasted pheasant, fish from the Danube, vegetables cooked with exotic spices. Oliver ate little, his attention on the conversations around him.

He heard snippets: "...bastard prince..." "...three years with heretics..." "...what does Frederick intend..." The words were like tiny daggers, each one finding its mark.

Halfway through the meal, Charles stood. He raised his goblet, and the hall quieted.

"Honored guests," Charles said, his voice carrying easily. "We celebrate many things tonight—the bounty of our lands, the strength of our empire. But we also celebrate something else: family."

His eyes found Oliver. "Family is the foundation of everything. Legitimate family, bound by blood and law and God''s blessing."

A murmur ran through the hall. Oliver felt his face grow warm but kept his expression neutral.

"I propose a toast," Charles continued, smiling. "To family. To legitimacy. To the proper order of things."

The nobles raised their goblets. Oliver had no choice but to do the same. As he drank, he felt every eye in the hall on him.

But Charles wasn''t finished. "You know," he said conversationally, as if speaking to the entire hall, "I''ve been thinking about what makes a true prince. Is it blood alone? Or is it something more? Education, perhaps. Proper upbringing."

He turned directly to Oliver. "Tell me, brother. At that... Blackstone Keep. What did they teach you? Swordplay, I assume. But what of philosophy? Theology? The arts of governance?"

Oliver set down his goblet. "Lord Sterling taught strategy and leadership. Teacher Elliott taught astrology and politics."

"Astrology!" Charles laughed, and several of his supporters joined in. "The reading of stars. How... quaint. And useful, I''m sure, for predicting the weather. But for ruling an empire?"

The insult was clear, deliberate. Oliver felt Jasper shift behind him, a subtle movement of readiness.

"Teacher Elliott''s insights have proven valuable," Oliver said, keeping his voice even. "He understands that the heavens and the earth are connected, that patterns repeat."

"Patterns," Charles repeated, still smiling. "Like the pattern of legitimate succession, perhaps? Firstborn to firstborn, father to son?"

The challenge hung in the air. Oliver knew he had to respond, but carefully. "Succession is determined by many factors. Wisdom. Capability. The will of God."

"And the will of the emperor," Charles added. "Which brings me to an interesting point. Father." He turned to the high table. "Perhaps we could have a demonstration? Of what our... guest... has learned?"

The emperor''s expression was unreadable. "What kind of demonstration, Charles?"

"Swordsmanship," Charles said. "My guard, Klaus, is quite skilled. A friendly match. To show us all what three years at Blackstone Keep produces."

It was a trap, obvious and brutal. If Oliver refused, he looked cowardly. If he accepted and lost, he looked weak. If he won... he''d humiliate Charles publicly, making an even more dangerous enemy.

Before Oliver could answer, Jasper spoke. "If it''s a demonstration of Blackstone Keep''s training you wish, Your Highness, I would be honored to represent."

Charles''s smile tightened. "I asked for Prince Oliver, not his guard."

"And as his guard," Jasper said, his voice calm but firm, "it is my duty to protect him from unnecessary risks. A friendly match, as you said. I am a product of Blackstone Keep''s training as well."

The hall was utterly silent now. All eyes were on the confrontation.

The emperor spoke. "Sir Jasper''s offer is reasonable. Klaus against Jasper. A demonstration."

Charles had no choice but to agree. "Very well. Clear a space!"

Servants hurried to move tables. A circle was created in the center of the hall. Klaus, Charles''s guard, was a large man with the build of a bear. He drew his sword with a flourish.

Jasper removed his cloak and drew his own blade. The two men faced each other.

The match began. Klaus attacked first, powerful swings meant to overwhelm. Jasper moved with economical grace, deflecting, dodging, waiting. Oliver watched, heart pounding. He''d seen Jasper train countless times, but this was different—public, political, dangerous.

Klaus grew frustrated, his attacks becoming wilder. Jasper saw an opening and took it. His blade flashed, not to strike Klaus, but to disarm him. With a twist of his wrist, Jasper sent Klaus''s sword clattering to the floor.

The match was over. Jasper stepped back, lowering his blade. "A good match," he said politely.

Klaus''s face was purple with rage and humiliation. He snatched up his sword and stormed from the hall.

Charles''s expression was thunderous. "Well," he said through clenched teeth. "Blackstone Keep produces... competent swordsmen."

The emperor stood. "Enough demonstrations. The banquet continues."

But the mood had shifted. Oliver saw the calculating looks, the whispered conversations. He''d survived the confrontation, but at what cost?

As he returned to his seat, his hand brushed Jasper''s. The contact was brief, accidental, but it sent a jolt through Oliver—part gratitude, part something deeper, more dangerous.

The banquet continued, but Oliver barely tasted the food. He was aware of Jasper behind him, solid and steady. Aware of Charles''s simmering anger. Aware of the emperor watching everything.

When the meal finally ended and nobles began to drift away, Oliver felt exhausted. He and Jasper made their way back to their chambers in silence.

Only when the door was closed did Oliver speak. "Thank you."

Jasper was checking the room, his usual routine. "It was my duty."

"It was more than duty." Oliver turned to face him. "You protected me. Again."

Jasper met his gaze. "Always."

The word hung between them, heavy with meaning. Oliver wanted to say more, to ask what Jasper meant, to confess his own feelings. But he couldn''t. The risk was too great.

"Get some rest," Jasper said finally. "Tomorrow will bring new challenges."

Oliver nodded, but as he prepared for bed, his mind replayed the moment Jasper had stepped forward, had offered himself in Oliver''s place. The thrill of it, the dangerous, intoxicating thrill of being protected, of mattering to someone like Jasper.

It was a feeling he knew he shouldn''t cherish. But he did.

---

Alone in his chamber, Oliver leaned against the door, the solid wood at his back. His body still hummed with the adrenaline of the banquet, with the memory of Jasper stepping between him and Charles''s malice.

He closed his eyes, replaying the moment: Jasper removing his cloak, the way his tunic had stretched across his shoulders, the sure grip on his sword hilt. The controlled power in every movement as he faced Klaus. The final, elegant disarming that had left the larger man humiliated and Jasper untouched.

Oliver''s hand went to his own chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric. His skin felt overly sensitive, as if every nerve was awake and alert. The memory of Jasper''s hand brushing his as they left the hall—accidental, brief—replayed in his mind, and he could almost feel the touch again, the warmth, the slight roughness of calluses earned from years of sword practice.

He moved to the bed, sitting on the edge, hands resting on his thighs. His breathing was uneven, and he realized with a shock of shame that he was aroused. The danger, the confrontation, Jasper''s protection—it had all combined into something heady and overwhelming.

Oliver lay back, staring at the canopy above. His hand slid down his body, hesitant at first, then more certain. He imagined it was Jasper''s hand, Jasper touching him with that same controlled strength he''d shown in the hall. The thought made him gasp, hips lifting off the bed.

He remembered the way Jasper had looked at him after the match—that brief, intense moment when their eyes had met and something unspoken had passed between them. Had it been just duty? Or something more?

*This is madness,* Oliver thought even as his hand moved. *He''s my guard. He''s ten years older. He''s... Jasper.*

But the thoughts had no power against the memory of Jasper stepping forward, offering himself as a shield. *"If it''s a demonstration of Blackstone Keep''s training you wish, Your Highness, I would be honored to represent."*

The words had been formal, proper. But Oliver had heard the steel beneath them, the unspoken challenge to Charles: *You will not touch him. Not while I''m here.*

For three years, Oliver had watched Jasper—calm, competent, reserved. He''d admired him, learned from him, relied on him. But tonight, something had shifted. The public nature of the protection, the way Jasper had placed himself between Oliver and humiliation... it felt different. More personal.

*Or am I just seeing what I want to see?* Oliver wondered, his movements becoming more urgent. *Am I so desperate for someone to care that I''m imagining feelings that aren''t there?*

But then he remembered other moments: Jasper staying up late to help him master a difficult sword technique. Jasper quietly bringing him food when he''d been too nervous to eat. Jasper''s hand on his shoulder, steadying him when news from court had been particularly bad.

*He cares,* Oliver thought with sudden certainty. *Maybe not the way I want him to. Maybe not at all the way I want him to. But he cares.*

The climax took him by surprise, sudden and intense. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, body arching off the bed, pleasure washing through him in waves that felt like both release and surrender.

Afterward, he lay panting, staring at the ceiling. Shame followed quickly—shame at his weakness, at his need, at the fact that he''d just used the image of the man who protected him for his own pleasure.

But beneath the shame was something else: a fierce, protective warmth. Jasper had stood for him tonight. Had faced down Charles and Klaus and the entire court for him.

*I won''t forget this,* Oliver vowed silently. *No matter what happens. No matter where this path leads. I won''t forget that you stood for me.*

From the adjoining room came the soft sound of movement—Jasper preparing for bed. Oliver turned toward the sound, listening. He imagined Jasper removing his armor, washing, lying down. Was he thinking about the banquet too? About Oliver?

*Probably not,* Oliver thought with a pang. *He was just doing his duty.*

But even if that was true, even if Jasper''s protection was nothing more than professional obligation, Oliver knew his own feelings were real. And dangerous. And growing stronger every day.

He closed his eyes, trying to sleep. But his mind kept returning to the same image: Jasper in the center of the hall, sword in hand, standing between Oliver and the world.

It was a memory he knew he would cling to in the difficult days to come. A memory of being protected. Of mattering.

Of being, for one dangerous, glorious moment, someone''s priority.

---