The Alpine Chronicles II (CLOSED - Invites Only)

[Brasland]

She was crying and screaming while asleep, her face tense and sweaty. It was the worst nightmare of all, even worse than death. There was no escape, or so it seemed, but if you open your heart, help always comes. A familiar voice made its way between the hellish sound of barks, howls and wails.

Everything around you is turmoil, get used to it. This is only the beginning.

I’m making a big mistake, I’m ruining my life!

You’re on the right track, little one. Keep going.

But everything seems wrong!

It seems, indeed, but it’s not. Keep going.

I’m afraid, Aunt Alix. I don’t want to do it!

Sure you don’t?

No...

Then?

I’m confused.

Be confused, but keep going.

I need you.

I’m right here.

Where?

You know.

Helena woke up, her pillow soaked with tears. She sobbed for a long time, all her fears rushing to her mind, making her whole body shiver until she no longer felt a thing. Then, she understood. And a shy smile appeared.

[Brasland]

Schloss Allsbach
January 2023

The King handed his rifle back to an attendant and went to inspect the kill. Twenty stags lay on the ground in order, and the King checked each of them with interest, as guests and local villagers watched from afar. Tall and imposing, Georg IV cut a lonely figure, even though he was hosting a rather large group of friends for the weekend.

“It’s been a good day, Your Majesty”, said Franzl, the oldest of the keepers.

Georg smiled. Franzl was his one of his favorite servants.

“Make sure to send a quarter of the meat to the village, the rest is for selling”, he ordered.

He walked up the castle’s façade, where some of his friends awaited. He nodded as they congratulated him, but ignored most of them and went directly to his brother, Prince Leopold.

“Are you staying the night?”, he asked.

“I don’t think so”, said the prince. “Isabel and the girls are waiting for me.”

“Of course”, the King replied, seemingly amused. “Let me know you arrived home safely.”

The two hugged and then the prince bowed to his brother and sovereign. After Leopold left, others approached.

“You’re a natural hunter, Georg”, said Count Paul von Urbach, raising his glass.

“And stag is not the only thing he hunts!”, laughed a rather mischievous friend.

“It’s the Balkronn genes”, joked Duke Winrich of Kerlich, tapping the King’s shoulders.

Georg did not smile, and instead excused himself, saying he had some phone calls to make. He went upstairs to his bedroom, where he sat on a comfortable couch. He rested his legs on the low window frame and sighed. Months ago he would have enjoyed being with the boys, behaving like teenagers and talking about wives, girlfriends… and mistresses. The fun was no longer there, not since Cassia had broken up with him.

“I’m a fool”, he muttered to himself. “I should forget her.”

Then the cell phone rang.

"Hi, Lena", he said, greeting his younger sister.

“Hi Georg, are you busy? I have news”, said Princess Helena.

The King raised his eyebrow.

“You mean…?!”

“Yes!”

“Nooo...”

“Yes!! I’ve found him”, she declared, triumphantly.

“I’m impressed”, said the King. “Who is he?”

“Prince Nikodem Szewczyk-Butwilowicz”, she said. “The Prince Jan August.”

“Isn’t he Ewelina’s…?”

“Yes, he is”, said Helena.

“What’s the arrangement, then?”

“We haven’t agreed where he will live yet, but he wants prestige…”

“What does that mean?”, asked the King. "He's marrying my sister. What else does he want?"

“He wants his titles and orders recognized”, Helena explained.

“I can recognize his title, but I cannot accept orders from a defunct monarchy”, he said, firmly.

“Georg! It’s important for him and I need to keep him happy”, she said.

“You do know there are other ways to keep a man happy, right?”, he asked mischievously.

“Ughhh! You are disgusting!”

“Disgusting or not, let me congratulate you, my dear, manipulative, ambitious sister”, he said, dramatically. “Just make me one favor.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t get too close to Nikodem’s sister.”

“Why? She will be my sister-in-law”, Helena asked, confused.

“I don’t trust her”, the King confided. “She seems a bit too… eager.”

“Eager for what?”

“Status, prominence. I’ve also heard she’s been spreading false rumors about our brief meeting at the Residenz.”

“Oh, Georg! Don’t tell me you slept with her too!”, Helena exclaimed, scandalized.

“Of course not! I just gave her a tour of the palace”, he said. “But I do know she was expecting more, much more.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Be cautious, Lena. The Residenz is not Villa Ardelia. You’re entering in shark-infested waters.”

“I’ll keep that in mind”, Helena said.

“Good. We'll talk again soon”, he said, hanging up.

Moments later, in New Chalcedon, Princess Helena scrolled through her contacts and send a message to her fiancé.

Hey Nikodem! Could you send me Ewelina’s number? I'd love to become friends with her. We’re going to become sisters, after all!

[Brasland]

Residenzschloss Friedrichsburg
Markund

Georg woke up in the middle of the night. He couldn’t sleep. He had thought of Cassia all day. The desire to be with her was so strong that he had almost ordered his jet to be prepared, but that was a bad idea. He had done it before, more than one, or two, or three times. He had flown to Dillenburg and knocked on her door. Each time they had made love with passion, only for her to wake up in the morning crying and begging him to let her go once and for all, because she wasn’t strong enough to do it. Each separation had been worse than death, or at least that’s how he felt it. Before meeting her, he thought he knew what he wanted in a woman. He was wrong… she was who he wanted. How to let go of the love of your life? How to be a man… and a king? He had spent all his life keeping his emotions in check, consciously sacrificing pleasure for duty to train himself on how to put the country first, and self, second. Women had just been an escape to the tensions of his life. He could easily let go of them. He did it with Ludovika, whom he had loved so much… or thought he had. But Cassia, she was much more. No, she was everything. Georg lay in his bed, the summer breeze entering his bedroom. He was alone, as he had been for the last months. Suddenly, all the loneliness of his past life weighed over him like an elephant, suffocating him. His childhood in exile, his teenage years away from the family at a military school, his rise to the throne at nineteen, the necessity of keeping his father abroad to avoid rumors about undue influence, Paul II's untimely death, his conflicts with his mother and sisters. It all became just too much to bear and, for the first time in his life, the King of Brasland felt pity for himself. He was alone, so no one heard him cry. He kept crying for a long while, until he felt asleep.

[Brasland]

Court Chapel
Residenzschloss Friedrichsburg

Father Eubert von Kloss, the court chaplain, held a rosary in his hands as he walked across the chapel. His mind focused on the meaning of the words, which he muttered with true feeling.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…

As he prayed, Father Eubert raised his head and looked at the Cross behind the altar. He was still trying to understand the Lord’s will for himself. If it were up to the priest, he would be serving the poor in Mayagua or Ambara, but his superiors had decided otherwise. His noble birth – the von Kloss family was as ancient as the stones of Marsburg Castle – meant that he was included in a list of names that the archdiocese presented to the palace to decide on a court chaplain. His sister’s marriage into one of the most influential clans of the Braslander nobility had sealed the deal. He was chosen to serve as the head of the His Majesty’s Spiritual Household.

… now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

A man was kneeling besides a pillar, deep in prayer. Father Eubert, who had not noticed him before, was shocked when he realized it was the King. Since the sovereign was right next to the door that led to the sacristy, the priest moved silently, trying to pass unnoticed.

“Pater…”

Father von Kloss stood still between the door and the pillar, looking at Georg IV. They had never been close, for the King’s interests were more of an… earthly kind. This time, however, the young monarch seemed different. As he turned his face towards the priest, Eubert saw the tears, the burdened expression, the wrinkles on his forehead and near his eyes, and those steely blue eyes that intimidated so many, but that now looked defeated. The thick lips, usually pressed against each other, were now half open, as if he was – for the first time in his life, the priest thought – unsure of himself. The Balkronn jaw, the most famous genetic trait of the royal house, now looked asymmetrical as its owner let down his regal mask and seemed almost – only almost – like a normal human being.

“Pater”, the King repeated.

“Your Majesty”, said Father Eubert, bowing.

“I wish to speak to you”, said Georg, with a voice both serene and sad.

“Of course, Sire”, said the priest. “Why don’t we sit in the sacristy?”

Minutes later, the King and his chaplain sat face to face. It was an odd scene, for Georg was in full uniform (he had attended a military event earlier) and Father Eubert wore his usual black cassock. Friedrich Balkronn’s successor had recovered his composure by now, and looked imposing, cold, and impossibly handsome. The priest, on the other hand, looked (and felt) small and insignificant. However, he knew that he was just an instrument of a power higher even than that of the Balkronns, and that gave him strength.

“Pater Eubert, I need your guidance”, said the King, looking at him with an icy glare.

“How can I help you, Sire?”, asked Eubert, nervously.

“I face a dilemma”, the King explained, tensely. “A personal dilemma.”

“I see.”

“I love a woman”, Georg continued. “She loves me back, but we can’t be together.”

Eubert said nothing, but he knew the Cassia Taylor story well. It was the talk of the royal court.

“I can’t see myself building a life with anyone else but her”, sighed Georg. “Which is a problem...”

“It is, indeed, Sire”, said the priest.

“What to do, then?”, asked the King, sounding upset. “I cannot find fulfillment as a man, nor I can fulfill my duties as sovereign to the fullest.”

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, thought Eubert.

The King leaned forward and covered his face with his hands, the medals on his chest jingling as he did this. To the chaplain’s surprise, he began to sob uncontrollably. A bit shocked, Father Eubert said or did nothing. He just sat there, patiently. Sometimes one just needed to wait…

[Brasland]

Schloss Grünenberg

Looking over from her boudoir, the Queen Dowager stood still near a window. Next to her was the Duchess of Pottin, both intrigued by the sight in front of them. They were watching the King, who was walking across the castle’s gardens with the Court chaplain, Pater von Kloss.

“Who would have thought?”, said the Queen, smiling. “Georg with a priest, I wonder what caused this change.”

“I would say it’s a miracle from Aunt Alix in Heaven”, said the Duchess.

The Queen frowned.

“If Heaven is the place where she is now”, she muttered. “I would like to know what they’re talking about.”

“Surely Miss Taylor…”

Both women looked at each other, startled. What sort of advice was Pater Eubert giving the King? Unaware of being observed, Georg enjoyed the sunny day. It was cold – although less than previous years – but that never bothered him. His chaplain, however, could not say the same.

“How can you priests live without women?”, he asked. “I can’t, at least not for more than five days.”

Pater Eubert was by now getting used to the King’s straightforwardness, but it was still shocking to listen to the Sovereign speak about such things so openly.

“It’s a calling, Sire”, he said, rubbing his freezing hands. “Carnal relations should happen within marriage. Priesthood is incompatible with marriage to a woman.”

“But why?", the King asked again, indifferent to Pater Eubert's discomfort. "Other Christian churches don’t have an issue with their ministers and priests marrying.”

“The Church of Rome believes that priests should give themselves entirely to God”, said Eubert, patiently. “Having a wife and children would interfere with that. The priest is a father, and the people he serves are, in a way, his children.”

“But don’t you miss sleeping with a woman? Our bodies were made for procreation, after all.”

“That’s why it is a sacrifice, Sire. For us Catholics, serving God requires renouncing to certain things, so we can become His instruments. A family would distract us from that path.”

The King raised an eyebrow.

“Still, don’t you miss having sex?”, he insisted, perplexed.

“Sire, please!”, the priest exclaimed. “I have never been with a woman.”

Georg’s expression changed from surprise to shock.

“So, you never knew what you were missing…”, he said.

Pater Eubert smiled, serene.

“No, because the calling to serve the Lord was so overwhelming that everything else became secondary. I was only fifteen, but even today I still remember how I felt. I am certain that nothing would make me feel as fulfilled as pursuing my vocation.”

“Well, at least you were given the chance to follow your calling or not”, said Georg, sighing. “Mine was thrown on me like a sack of bricks.”

[Brasland]

January 1915

Somewhere in the New Chalcedonian countryside…

A tall young man walked alone on a country road, lined with pine trees on each side. He wore a hat and a thick coat, his hands folded behind his back and his eyes looking at the ground. Suddenly, he stopped and glanced to his right, where a white house stood, almost completely covered by climbing plants and trees. A middle-aged woman sat on the porch, knitting. She looked in the direction of the young man.

“Are you lost, Sir?”, she asked.

The man looked surprised. He took off his hat and gave her a painful smile.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am”, he said. “I’m looking for a house, but I only have some vague indications.”

“Which indications?”

“There’s a big orange tree on the backyard.”

“You’ll have to be more specific”, she replied. “There are many orange trees in this area.”

He looked defeated and tired. The woman sensed his sadness.

“Do you know the name of the tenant?”, she asked. “That might help.”

“There was a young lady who lived in this house a few years ago”, he said. “She was Braslander.”

The woman’s eyes widened. She stood up and approached the fence.

“You mean Countess von Alderberg?”, she asked.

His expression changed from sadness to happiness, and then to sadness again.

“Yes”, he said.

“This is the house”, she replied. “I am Mrs Ioannidis, the housekeeper, and I cared for the countess during her last months. She was a darling, darling girl.”

“She was, indeed”, he said, barely containing his emotion. “May I come in?”

Mrs Ioannidis looked him in the eyes and saw the pain that he carried. Quickly, she opened the gate and signaled that he could enter.

“What’s your name, young man?”, she asked. “And how did you know the countess?”

“My name is Friedrich”, he said, simply. “She was my fiancée.”

“Lord Almighty!”, exclaimed the woman, shocked. “You are…, you are…!”

“Yes”, he nodded, serious.

She curtseyed.

“Your Highness.”

“Can I see the orange tree? She loved it very much.”

“Yes, of course. Please, come in.”

Mrs Ioannidis looked like she was going to have a heart attack. She nervously guided him around the house to the backyard, where indeed an immense orange tree stood on a corner.

“Can I offer you something to drink, Sire?”, she asked, her voice a pitch higher than normal.

“Maybe later, Ma’am”, he said, giving her a serious smile. “I wouldn’t want to sound rude, but could you give me a moment alone?”

“Yes, of course!”, she said, curtseying.

Friedrich walked to the tree. He extended his hand to caress its leaves. He stood in silence for a long while.

“My love”, he finally said, his voice breaking.

The tears fell down his cheeks as he thought of her, of what she had been, and of what she could have been if he wasn’t who he was.

“I proposed to Cousin Maria”, he muttered. “We will marry next Spring.”

He closed his eyes.

“I will love you until my last breath and beyond, my darling”, he said. “You are the only one.”

Friedrich opened his eyes, and cut a leave off from a branch. He put it inside his pocket.

“Goodbye, my Cilla.”

He turned around and left the house quietly. Mrs Ioannidis always wondered why he never said goodbye.

[Brasland]

Hetzendorf Palace
Markund

“You ungrateful child! To think I always considered you as my daughter, and this is how you pay me!”

“But Oma! I can’t force Elena to marry Georg, she’s in love with the duke!”

“Get out of my sight, Tina! I can’t bear to look at your treacherous face!”

The Infanta Doña Constantina, Duchess of La Costa del Sur, abruptly walked away from her grandmother’s boudoir, crying. On her way out she almost knocked one of the chamberlains.

“Are you alright, Ma’am?”, asked the courtier.

“Leave me alone, please!”, she cried, her steps on the marble floor echoing all across the palace.

An hour later…

The Duchess of Pottin hurried as the doors of Hetzendorf Palace were opened for her.

“Where is Her Majesty?”, she asked a footman.

“In her boudoir, Your Serene Highness”, he replied.

Minutes later, Aliénor de Pottin was curtseying to the Queen Dowager, whose face was covered in tears.

“I can’t bear this anymore”, said Queen Charlotte, lying theatrically on a sofa. “I give up completely! I’ve tried so hard to find a good girl for Georg, but no one will do! Now Elenita is getting married to a Mayaguan no one. She was perfect for Georg, perfect!”

She covered her face with a handkerchief, sobbing. The duchess raised an eyebrow.

“She’s not marrying a no one, Lotti”, she said, the informality due to her being Charlotte’s niece and confidante. “Her fiancé is the Duke of Santa Clara. His family is very important there.”

“What is being a duchess when you can be a queen?”, snapped Charlotte, irritated.

She instantly regretted saying it, for Aliénor’s expression was not precisely an understanding one.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry”, she said. “That’s not what I mean. Your situation is different.”

“Can I say something?”, asked the duchess. “It will hurt you, though.”

“Go on.”

“You are a failure at arranging marriages, Lotti”, said Aliénor. “None of your grandchildren’s marriages have been the product of your scheming. Sophia has Aunt Alexandra to thank for, while Irene and Leopold married for love. And Helena, even hers can be considered a good marriage, but she arranged it herself! Stop trying to match Georg with these girls. Elenita was clearly terrified by the prospect of being Queen of Brasland, but you tried so hard to push her into it. No wonder she accepted the first one who appeared!”

The Queen looked defeated.

“That was rather unpleasant to hear”, she said. “But you may be right. All these girls have ended up rejected by Georg or rejecting him. Laodice, that foolish girl, preferred that Providencian airhead! Violante of Itayta wouldn’t ever hear of the prospect, and now Elena… You are right, Aliénor, I should just give up.”

The Duchess, relieved, sat on a nearby chair, feeling triumphant.

“But…”, the Queen said suddenly. “What if he decides to go back with that islander? And marry her! Oh Lord, no! I cannot allow that, Aliénor. The survival of the monarchy has been the work of my life, and I won’t let this spoilt brat of a grandson to ruin it! Quick, bring me pen and paper. I’ll write to the Kartlians, and maybe the Ernestrians have a spare princess. And what about the Despot’s sister, she’s single too! I’ll find a wife for this boy, even if it’s the last thing I do!”

Alienor de Pottin gave a deep sight, thinking she should have retired a long ago.