The Crucial Chess Piece

Count Boles did not make a grand show of it. Instead, through absolutely reliable secret channels, he sent separate sealed orders summoning the three men, and because their positions were low or they lingered at the margins, their movements drew no attention from any great figures.

Soon, under cover of night, the three were brought one after another into a heavily guarded, simply furnished study deep within the Governor's Office.

When they saw Count Boles seated behind the desk, imposing without anger, all of them felt tremendous pressure, along with a trace of overwhelmed excitement at being favored.

Especially Gregor. When he gave his father's name, a flicker of reminiscence passed through Boles's eyes, and he spoke first. "Gregor von Stauffenberg... I remember your father, old Knight Stauffenberg. Back in the Three Borders Legion, he was one of my most capable deputies, brave and loyal."

"To think his son now serves only as a deputy patrol commander on the southern border?" Boles's tone carried unconcealed regret and a hint of reproach.

At those words, Gregor's eyes instantly reddened, from grief for his father, and even more from shame and unwillingness over his own circumstances. He dropped to one knee, his voice heavy with pain. "This lowly general is incompetent! I have failed my father's famed name! And... and I hate even more the vicious infighting of the officialdom here, the overbearing tyranny of the local strongmen. I have strength to spare, yet no path to serve!"

Boles rose, walked up to him, helped him up with his own hands, patted his solid arm guard, and sighed. "No, it is not that you are incompetent. It is the atmosphere of Herwenham that has fouled its heroes! Rise. I summoned you here today to return a bright and open sky to Herwenham,