So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Good Night (Closed-ish)

[Excalbia]

James started to walk towards his mother, who was still standing at his father's casket, when his older brother, the Crown Prince, started walkng towards her with his family in tow. James wrinkled his nose and turned slightly. He walked past the catafalque and the honor guard and out one of the back doors of the Great Hall.

Safely tucked away in a dark corner of the back corridor, James leaned against the wall and pulled our his phone.

The prince scrolled through his contacts, stopping when he got to Sunnie. He still could not bring himself to delete her contact. He opened her contact info, and scrolled through their text messages and photos. Then he sighed deeply and returned to his contacts list.

James continued to scroll until he came to a young woman. She worked at a club or bar, as he vaguely recalled. He had enjoyed the pleasure of her company a couple times since Sunnie broke up with him. "She'll do," he muttered to himself as he wrote her. When she wrote back and confirmed a time, late that night, and a place, her apartment, he wrote her back saying he had missed her and was anxious to see her again. At least one of those statements was partially true. He sighed. "Fake is better than nothing," he mouthed silently.

[Pantocratoria]

Princess Anna squeezed the hands of both her husband and her daughter as they stood in the Great Hall of the Citadel. In front of them, the Empress stood by the open casket of David IV, with Princess Christiana and Lady Janet Latsone alongside her. At first, Anna had thought they should wait until the Empress gave a sign or stepped back before approaching, and her Pantocratorian upbringing made her feel that Christiana had somehow breached protocol by moving up before the Crown Prince, but she had been Excalbian long enough by now to know that it wasn’t the same. Christiana was simply comforting her sister-in-law - it was an act of compassion, not a slight.

Anna placed her cheek against Joseph’s shoulder, and asked him just above a whisper: “Are you ready?”

Joseph drew in a breath. Was one ever ready to see their father in a casket? He nodded. “Yes, we should go.” He gently squeezed Anna’s hand and led the way towards the casket.

As they approached, Empress Elizabeth turned and reached out for Joseph’s free hand. “Oh, Joseph,” she said as she pulled him close.

The Crown Prince let go of his wife’s hand and hugged his mother.

Christiana gave a half smiled and nodded, then backed away, taking Janet’s hand to led her away to allow Joseph and his family time with his mother.

Elizabeth stroked her son’s face. “You look so much like your father,” the Empress said. Then she turned and opened her arms to Anna and to young Princess Elizabeth. “My dears,” she said, drawing them close.

“Elizabeth, we’re so sorry.” Anna told the Empress, holding her own Elizabeth’s hand as she did so. “We’ll miss him terribly.”

Anna looked at the Emperor lying in state herself, then back to the Empress, and then to her daughter. It occurred to her that this was probably the first time her daughter had seen death up close, and she drew her near and kissed her cheek.

“Yes, we’ll all miss him,” the Empress said. She began to tear up. “We had forty years together… more than half my life…” She turned and looked back at the casket. “I… I don’t know that I know how to live without him any longer.”

Joseph took his mother’s arm. “You have us, Mother. You always will.”

Young Elizabeth cautiously approached the casket. She trembled slightly as she looked inside, then quickly stepped back and reached for her mother’s hand. Anna quickly took the younger Elizabeth’s hand, and kissed her cheek once more.

“It’s not easy to see him like this, but he’s at peace now.” Anna told her daughter. “He’s with God.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I hope so,” she said softly.
The Empress turned from the casket to face Anna and Elizabeth. “He is,” the Empress said. “He is.”

Joseph stepped closer to the casket and looked in, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” he muttered under his breath.

Anna placed her other hand on Joseph’s shoulder as if to reassure him that he was indeed ready.

“You can be sure of it.” Anna told Princess Elizabeth.

Young Elizabeth nodded. She believed, of course, but she had never been so close to death before. “I miss Grandfather,” she said. She turned and hugged the Empress, who patted her head.

Joseph took one last look into the casket, then turned and put his arm around Anna. “We all miss him, Elizabeth,” he said. “And it won’t be easy, but we will do what we must and move forward.” He glanced at Anna and back at the casket. “That’s what he would want. For us to keep moving forward.”

Elizabeth nodded, still holding onto her grandmother.

[Pantocratoria]

Despotic Court of New Constantinople
Pantocratoria

Princess Louise, the eldest child of Prince Andreus and Princess Sophia, the Despot and Despotess of New Constantinople, was a happy, golden-haired toddler who was not quite three years old. She was entirely oblivious to the fact that her newborn baby brother, Prince Manuel, had usurped her place in the line of succession by virtue of being born with more historically desirable genitals. Prince Manuel was still a babe in arms, but Princess Louise happily romped up and down the playroom of the nursery apartments of the Despotic Court, pushing a pink wooden toy train down a wooden track laid out along the floor as she did so. Their mother, Princess Sophia, watched her from a distance while the palace maids played with the young princess. Although she loved Louise and Manuel, Sophia was not a particularly affectionate person. Her own mother had been distant and strict, something the Despotess had resented as a teenager. Now she was repeating her example, and she felt guilty about it, but she did it anyway. She was programmed like that. Would Louise hate her some day? She preferred not to think about it.

Next to Sophia sat her favorite lady-in-waiting, Diane de Ledonitz. Ten years younger than her mistress, Diane’s intelligence, loyalty and naiveté had earned her Sophia’s trust. Plus, she was quite plain, as the Despotess was intent on letting no woman outshine her in the eyes of her husband. He was the only person to whom she showed her true self completely, the only man she had ever truly loved, perhaps because she was also in love with the destiny they both shared. Whenever she was with him, it felt like being in a bubble. No one else but André existed. Just as she was thinking of him, he entered the room.

“Madame,” Prince Andreus began, moving towards Sophia with a warm smile. He nodded to Diane de Ledonitz. “Mademoiselle. And how are the children?”

For the brief periods of time he spent with his children, Prince Andreus was generally warm and attentive. He strode over to Louise and her train, which he duly inspected at her urging, before excusing himself to say hello to his son, and then circling back to Sophia and Diane de Ledonitz.

“Madame, you look even lovelier than when we were parted this morning.” he declared. “I trust that you and Mademoiselle de Ledonitz have had a pleasant day so far?”

“We have, Monseigneur”, she replied, slightly blushing. “To what do we owe this visit? You are usually busy at this time of the day.”

“Well, I’ve been making arrangements.” the Despot replied. “You have heard, I assume, that the Emperor of Excalbia has died?”

“I did, Monseigneur. How sad for his family, he was a good man. Are we attending his funeral? I would very much like to see the Crown Princess.”

“Well, I wanted to ask whether you felt well enough to travel yet, so soon after Manuel’s birth?” Prince Andreus asked. “There will certainly be a delegation from the Imperial Family, including the Emperor himself.”

The Emperor? Sophia has nothing wrong to say about her father-in-law, but he was a scary man. A conversation with him - usually short - felt more like an exam than anything else. His gaze was cold and penetrating, so much that it gave her goosebumps. For an instant she had second thoughts about going to Excalbia, but then she remembered her father’s death, eight years earlier, and how much she had valued her family’s support. Anna, Joseph and Elizabeth deserved the effort.

“I certainly feel good enough to go, Monseigneur. Apart from His Imperial Majesty and both of us, who else will join us?”

“Probably Zoë.” Andreus continued. “Monsieur and Constantine would likely stay here - Monsieur would probably serve as regent should there be any emergency requirement for one.”

There was obviously another thing, as Andreus paused over long.

“My daughter will attend too, but she won’t be with us at the funeral. She’ll be with the Ambassador and his family.” Andreus said. “We don’t know exact seating arrangements yet but one would think the ambassadors will be some rows behind visiting monarchs and heads of state.”

Sophia pressed her lips. Whenever Andreus talked about his eldest child she felt tense, for she knew the girl hated her.

“I see”, she said. “Isn’t it possible to sit the girl alongside family? Maybe with the Excalbians? You know how close she is to Princess Elizabeth…”

She did not want to say more in front of Diane and the maids, but she hoped Andreus would understand. If Marie-Jeanne sat at church with a bunch of strangers she would blame her. Sophia knew how she called her in private, she had heard the five-letter word once or twice coming out of the girl’s mouth.

“Please, Monseigneur”, she insisted. “I just want Marie-Jeanne to feel included.”

“There will be social receptions and a wake, not just the funeral itself.” Andreus answered. “She will certainly be close by through those, away from the cameras. The idea of sitting her with the Excalbians would, under normal circumstances, be ideal, and indeed, she is desperate to attend the funeral primarily to support her friend Princess Elizabeth.”

Andreus paused for a moment and reflected that Sophia had noted that closeness to Elizabeth herself. It was clear she had made an effort to get to know Marie-Jeanne even though their actual social interactions tended to be limited to events around Christmas and Easter, and some (but certainly not all) birthdays. And, Andreus thought to himself, even though Marie-Jeanne was generally ice cold towards her the whole time, and often said nasty things about her behind her back.

“But all eyes will be on Joseph and Anna and Elizabeth during the service.” Andreus concluded. “If Marie-Jeanne is sitting there, well... it will certainly be commented upon who she is. Imagine the caption of the photo in every newspaper which covers the event.”

“That’s true”, she said, sighing. “I guess the current arrangements are alright.”

Then she decided that there were a few things she wanted to discuss with her husband that required privacy.

“Diane, my dear”, she said, turning to her lady-in-waiting. “Could you and the maids take the children to play outside?”

Mademoiselle de Ledonitz understood the implicit message. She curtseyed to the Despot and Despotess, and the room was quickly emptied.

“André, I want to discuss Madame de Montmanuel”, she said, quite reluctantly. The sole mention of the name caused her distress.

The Despot, whose gaze followed the children being taken outside, rolled his eyes while they were outside of Sophia’s view, then turned back to face her.

“Oh, why?” Andreus asked.

“I heard that her living conditions are not very agreeable”, said Sophia, her face showing that she was making an effort in discussing the subject. “I’m sure you know that as well. Maybe we should give her a house and some funds so she could be financially independent from her family. A house far away from here, of course. I just don’t want Marie-Jeanne to keep thinking that I’m responsible for everything wrong that goes in her life, because sometimes I do feel she’s right. I mean, I came here and broke up her family, didn’t I?”

As she said that, her eyes welled up with tears.

“It’s not that I regret our marriage, far from it”, she explained, knowing that she did not need to explain anything further, because he understood what she meant. “It’s just that Marie-Jeanne’s suffering has been the inevitable collateral damage of us getting together.”

She sighed deeply, drying up the tears with a handkerchief.

“What I’m trying to say is that I feel guilty, André, and I want to make things easier for your daughter. And if that means helping the mother, I’m willing to do it, as long as she remains at a distance when Marie-Jeanne is not around.”

Andreus had deeply mixed emotions as he watched Sophia dry her tears. Madame de Montmanuel had been, in effect, his partner for over a decade, and the relationship had ended because Sophia wanted it to end. She had been sent away, first to the other side of the city, then away to the country, because Sophia wanted her sent away. Now Sophia was concerned for her living conditions, the living conditions Sophia had inflicted upon her. Although he had frankly been cruel with his distant indifference towards Madame de Montmanuel in recent years, he still felt for her deeply - which is why he couldn’t trust himself to maintain any level of contact above the absolute minimum. This too he had done for Sophia. He had half a mind to throw this all in her face, but he resisted. After a long pause to collect himself, he responded.

“Madame de Montmanuel…” Andreus started, then stopped. No, she had a name. “Henriette has been living with her family. It is better for her than living with her husband. Her family are not wealthy by aristocratic standards but they have the means to support her in material comfort. I am quite sure that she could be made more comfortable if she had a home of her own and some funds with which to live independently. However, she is not a member of the Imperial Family. I cannot ask that Treasury funds be set aside to maintain her in the manner to which she became accustomed while here in New Constantinople. As my natural daughter, recognised by the Emperor, Marie-Jeanne is entitled to a residence and certain household funds - and that is how Kogchuliates is funded. While Henriette was allowed to live there, she was part of Marie-Jeanne’s household and her living could therefore be provided for by the taxpayer. And so, my dear, I wish to ask you, what is more distasteful to you? That the mother of my child should live with her family in the country, within their means, or that she should live in the same city as us, at the public expense? Or, and there is a third option, that I should buy a home for her and lavish her with money from my personal funds, as a personal gift, and to let people make of that as they will?”

Sophia understood the implicit reproach beneath his words, and couldn’t help resenting it. What did he expect? To live with his wife and mistress under the same roof? Did he expect she would enjoy waking up every morning and seeing the Kogchuliates from her window knowing her rival was there, waiting for him? She did not voice her thoughts, for she knew that he had made a lot of sacrifices for her, and she loved him even more for that. Deep down, Sophia felt she was being unfair. He had made the best out of a terribly complicated situation and she was putting more pressure on him. She extended her arm and squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry, André”, she said, getting closer to him. “You’ve done enough. I’ll find a way to make Marie-Jeanne feel more included within the family.”

She looked at him hoping she would notice her diamond earrings - his birthday gift - and her cleavage (more revealing than usual). As she thought of this, she worried whether he’d think she was too needy. And on top of that, she remembered the times she ruled her own duchy and was not obsessed by a man. But most of all she thought of being in his arms, kissing his lips. For his part, Andreus certainly noted her cleavage, and even while he reproved her reflected on the pleasing effect childbirth had had on this particular feature. He was certainly attracted to her, and he was very fond of her. Perhaps it was love, or a kind of love, although it was held back by precisely the sort of rarely discussed issues (and the Despot’s thoughts about them) which they had just aired. If they were any other couple, perhaps some time with a marriage counsellor would have helped them sort out the baggage associated with his previous relationship and move forward together happier and unequivocally in love. Andreus softened a little bit and opened his arms to embrace her, and non-verbally beckoned her closer.

“She needs to recognise it isn’t easy for you either.” Andreus told her. “I can see how you tried with her at Christmas, just most recently. She needs to meet you part way.”

Just at that moment, as the couple was on the verge of embracing, the Despot’s phone rang. Rolling his eyes, and complaining “Timing” to Sophia, Andreus drew it from his pocket and blanched - the caller ID read Henriette and the screen was filled with her image, an informal photo of her Andreus had taken himself about 7 years ago, unposed, taken mid-laughter. He stood dumbstruck by it for a few seconds and looked to Sophia.

“It’s... well… Henriette.” he said, as the phone rang. He showed her the screen.

An expression of dislike appeared in Sophia’s face. She could not hide it, nor did she want to.

“Answer”, she told him, coldly. “I’ll go and check the children.”

Without waiting for a reply, she let go of him and left the room. He winced and answered the phone.

“We were just talking about you.” Andreus said.

On the other end of the line, Henriette de Montmanuel could scarcely believe he had picked up the phone. The next thing she processed was how he had greeted her. They hadn’t spoken directly to each other for nearly a year, and he greeted her with “We were just talking about you.” She took a deep breath in, got past it, and spoke.

“Monseigneur,” she began. OK, maybe she wasn’t past it, she had chosen to be formal because she didn’t know how to take the greeting. “Marie-Jeanne has called me. She is pleased you have arranged for her to attend the funeral, very pleased. Thank you, so much, for making that happen.”

Henriette’s voice wavered and she paused. She looked back towards the hall towards drawing room in her family home in Altain, from which she could no longer hear the piano being played, and wondered if her mother and her nieces were listening in.

“But?” Andreus prompted her. He followed Sophia slowly as he did not want to part with her the way they had just parted, but nor did he want to invite further anger by following her closely.

“André, is there no way she could sit with you?” Henriette asked. “She’s never been to a funeral, you know. She wants to be there because of Princess Elizabeth of course, but I understand Anna…”

“The Crown Princess.” Andreus corrected her.

“The Crown Princess…” Henriette de Montmanuel corrected herself, her eyes welling with tears. They had once been so close… “I’m sorry, monseigneur, please forgive me.”

“Of course, go on.” Andreus bade her. He hurt too but he was determined not to show it in case Sophia turned back or in case Henriette could hear it. It was cleaner to be like this, like he imagined his father would be if his father had ever gotten himself into this sort of situation to begin with.

“Thank you, monseigneur.” Henriette squeaked. “I was saying, monseigneur, that I understand that Her Imperial Highness would want only members of the Excalbian Imperial Family seated with Princess Elizabeth, but… monseigneur, could Marie-Jeanne not be seated with you?”

“She’s not a part of the Imperial Family.” Andreus said, the second time in just a few minutes.

“But…” Henriette started. “Monseigneur, His Majesty recognised her as his granddaughter, surely that…”

“Doesn’t affect…” Andreus started to answer then stopped. “Actually, you’re right.”

“I am?” Henriette asked, in surprise. What kind of mind games was he playing? Why did he manipulate her like this?

“Madame the Despotess was just saying how she wanted to make Marie-Jeanne more included in the family.” Andreus told her.

“Oh, good…” Henriette answered. The answer did, after all, signify she might actually achieve her purpose in calling, but the words were nevertheless like a dagger to the heart.

“Hold the line.” Andreus instructed her.

He sped up to stride after Sophia with purpose, following her out into the garden where the children (well, really just Princess Louise) played under the supervision of Mlle de Ledonitz and the maids. Pressing the mute button on his phone, he held it about waist height, and called after Sophia.

“Madame,” he called. “I’ve thought about what you’ve said, and I realise I was thinking about the issue the wrong way around. Rather than having her sit with the Excalbians, perhaps Marie-Jeanne could sit with us?”

Sophia initially avoided looking at him, but the question perplexed her, so she turned towards her husband.

“Is that possible?”, she asked with a serious tone, but then she realized André would not have proposed it if it was not, so she added: “Of course she should sit with us. I would very much like that.”

She moved away from him, bending her knees in front of Louise, and gave her daughter a hug. She hid her face behind her little blonde head, as the tears fell down her cheeks.

Andreus smiled as he watched Sophia embrace her eldest child - his second child - then pressed unmute on his phone and held it to his ear.

"My wife would like to invite Marie-Jeanne to sit with us. I will discuss it with His Majesty, but as you say, he has recognised her, so he should accept." Andreus told Henriette de Montmanuel.

"Thank you, monseigneur, thank you." Henriette responded.

"You must speak to Marie-Jeanne and extend Her Imperial Highness's invitation." Andreus told her. "You must also explain to her how important it is that she should be courteous and polite to her step-mother, and that she should recognise the efforts her step-mother has made and continues to make to make her feel welcomed, and that she should strive to reciprocate them."

"I…" Henriette stammered. "I will, monseigneur."

"You know, Madame the Despotess was just telling me that I should make your country life more comfortable." Andreus told her.

Henriette didn't know how to respond to this particular twist of the knife, and so there was a pause on her end.

"I had to explain to her that you were too proud to accept her kindness." Andreus lied.

"I'm not proud, André, monseigneur, not anymore." Henriette responded, the hurt of how he dealt with her getting the better of her, mixing anger and grief into her voice.

"Then prove it." he told her, and hung up.

[Pantocratoria]

In Altain-en-la-Frênaie, Henriette de Montmanuel felt emotionally wrung out and exhausted. Her eyes were red from crying, almost as much as in anger as in sadness, but she had nearly composed herself now. She told herself the most important thing was that she had fought for her daughter and won, and that Marie-Jeanne was the one who mattered, and the fact that she felt like a wounded animal was irrelevant, but she wasn’t as hard as that. Not like he evidently was. She cleaned her face in the sink of a bathroom renovated 15 years ago with the largesse of either her lover or her husband, patted it dry with a towel, took a deep breath and stepped back into the hall adjoining the drawing room. Her niece Charlotte was loitering in the hall, affecting to be studying an old family portrait. She pretended to be fully engaged in this study and then looked up at her aunt and affected surprise.

“Oh, Aunty, I didn’t realise you were here.” the girl lied.

“Really? I was the one crying in the bathroom, you didn’t hear me?” Henriette joked, smiling weakly at the girl.

“Oh no, what’s wrong?” Charlotte asked.

“Well… I hardly know where to begin, to be honest.” Henriette answered. “But you better get back to your homework, I have to call Marie-Jeanne.”

“Oh. Well… say hello to her for me.” Charlotte said, disappointed she wouldn’t be given more gossip, and headed back to the drawing room.

“I will.” Henriette replied, and then dialed her daughter’s number.

After the phone had rung for some time, Marie-Jeanne’s voice came through the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello, petite, it’s me.” Henriette told her daughter.

“I’m the same height as you now!” Marie-Jeanne jokingly complained at her mother’s use of the diminutive.

“I spoke to your father.” Henriette continued.

“Oh good, and?” Marie-Jeanne asked, crossing her fingers.

“He told me that your stepmother, the Despotess, wished to invite you to sit with them at the funeral. You would be in the Imperial Family’s party, not the Ambassador’s.” Henriette said.

“Maman, why’d you have to say it like that?” Marie-Jeanne complained. “You could have just said that Daddy said I could sit with him.”

“Now, Marie-Jeanne, that’s not an acceptable attitude.” Henriette told her, slumping into a not-particularly-comfortable old wooden chair positioned against the hall wall and closing her eyes. “The Despotess has tried very hard to make you feel welcomed, not just this time either, you cannot keep dismissing her.”

“She’s a jealous cow and I hate her!” Marie-Jeanne protested in a sudden rage.

“Stop it!” Henriette chided. “She’s neither of those things. She’s young and pretty and a royal princess, she has nothing to be jealous of anyone about, believe me.”

“She’s manipulative and conniving and she wrecks everything!” Marie-Jeanne objected.

“No, she’s not…”

“What are you saying? You’re the one who always used to say…” Marie-Jeanne protested. Tears of rage welled in her eyes.

“Marie-Jeanne!” Henriette snapped, using her most authoritative mother-voice. It was not unlike the way the Dowager Baroness snapped at her, truth be told. “I was wrong and stupid when I said those things. I was hurt and jealous and bitter. Sophia isn’t any of those things. Sophia didn’t do any of those things you think she did. I did them, with my jealous vindictiveness. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, MJ! It’s my fault, it’s all my fault!”

There was a long pause. Henriette heard a half-suppressed sob from her daughter’s side of the call.

“I’m sorry, my treasure,” Henriette said more softly. “But please, you must give her a chance. After all, she fought for you to be able to join the Imperial Family at the funeral, your family, Marie-Jeanne. And she may be able to do more for you than that if you let her…”

“I don’t…” Marie-Jeanne started to object that she didn’t care to be bought off by acts of kindness or charity, but her mother talked over her.

“Don’t lose sight that the whole reason you wanted to go to the funeral, you begged your father to go, in fact, was to support Elizabeth.” Henriette de Montmanuel said now, a bit firmer. “We don’t always get to choose on what terms we do the things which are important in life, let me tell you. Elizabeth is important to you. Accept this kind invitation to sit with your father and his wife at the funeral so you can support your friend, and stop complaining.”

“Yes, Maman.” Marie-Jeanne said after a long pause. “You’re right. I wanted to go because of Elizabeth. Complaining about sitting with the Ambassador was just my ego, and I suppose… the Despotess… is giving me exactly what I asked for. So. I will accept her invitation.”

“Graciously.”

“Maman! Yes, graciously.” Marie-Jeanne nodded.

“Good, now you better pack for Excalbia, young lady.” Henriette de Montmanuel said, forcing a cheerful tone and a smile.

“I’m packed! But maybe I should check again… OK, bye bye, thank you Maman!”

[Cyretopolitania]

The Royal Jet En Route to Citadel Excalbia

“Is there anything new in that folder?” Queen Samia asked, looking across the compartment at her husband.

King Aksel IX looked over the top of his reading glasses and made a noncommittal sound.

“It’s just that you've read that one twice, dear,” the Queen said with a slight smile.

“I've been… inattentive to my duties,” the King frowned. “And look what it got me: my own ministers and officers conspiring to get me to wage war against my own people.”

“But they failed,” the Queen said. “They could only fail. You would never wage war on your own people!”

“Yes,” the King said softly, “but I should have stopped them sooner.”

“How? By reading files over and over again?”

“I should have known…”

“How?”

“I am the King! I should have known!”

Queen Samia stood and walked over to her husband, wrapping her arms around him. “You are the king. But you are also only a man. A great man. But only a man. You cannot be everywhere and know everything.”

The King leaned into his wife.

“And there are more pressing issues closer to home,” Samia said.

“The boy?” The King frowned.

Samia laughed. “The boy has a name: Peter. And he's your son-in-law.”

“I didn't think you liked him… You tried to break them up, as I recall.”

“I didn’t try to break them up,” the Queen said. “I just wanted to make sure Ilizibith wasn’t rushing into something with her first serious relationship…”

The King harrumphed.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” the Queen said. “He’s our son-in-law and he’s not going away. We need to embrace him.”

The King made a sound that resembled a growl.

[Brasland]

(Joint post with Cyretopolitania)

The Royal Jet En Route to Citadel Excalbia

One compartment back, Princess Ilizibith sat next to Prince Peter holding his hand. Across from them Crown Prince John and Crown Princess Consort Irene sat in silence.

Ilizibith looked from Peter to her brother to her sister-in-law and back to Peter. “Have you been to the Citadel before, Peter?” She forced a smile.

“Huh? Eeerm no, never been”, said Peter, as he nervously fiddled with a pen.

He had asked for paper and pen to write a letter, but in reality he just wanted an excuse to avoid conversation. He had barely written a few words. And who wrote letters these days, anyway? He turned to his now wife and tried to smile. The truth is that he felt the tension in the air. Except for Irene, most of Ilizibith’s family had received him with what he felt was forced cordiality, but he could read the disapproval in their faces. He, the northern barbarian, had stolen their most precious jewel!

“It’s beautiful”, said the Crown Princess, trying to lighten the air. “Maybe a funeral is not the best occasion to appreciate it, but the city has many charms.”

“I see”, muttered Peter, who then looked at John. “Ilizibith tells me you like fast cars, do you have a particular favorite?”

He neither knew nor cared about cars, but he thought that the subject may tempt the Crown Prince to be more willing to bond.

John nodded. “I do,” he said clearly trying to sound casual and cheerful, “there’s actually a small manufacturer in Upper Virginia - Dominion Motors - that makes an absolute beast. The Charger, it’s called. Hugs the road, turns like a dream. Several racing teams use Charger engines in their custom models.” He winked at Irene. “Of course I don’t often get to drive as fast as I used to like to drive.”

The Crown Prince paused. “Ilizibith tells us you’re more one for… physical pursuits. We should take a journey into the...”

Ilizibith’s eyes widened.

“Err,” the Crown Prince paused, “that is we should hike into the mountains sometime. If you’d like.”

Peter blushed slightly, while Irene looked to the window to repress a laugh.

“Sure, the mountains sound like fun”, he answered. “You are also always welcome at Schloss Augustenberg, our family home. Well, you Irene know the schloss already, but John might enjoy some boar hunting.”

Irene gave a reproving look to her cousin. She disapproved of hunting.

“Or maybe we could just go horse riding… or fishing at the lake”, Peter corrected himself, noticing her face.

He turned to his wife.

“Ilizibith has already made herself liked by everyone at home”, he said, proudly looking at the beautiful princess. “My siblings adore her. You see, we’re seven siblings, a very tight unit, so it’s not easy to get them all to accept a newcomer, but she won them in a matter of minutes.”

Just as it is not easy with you all either, he thought. Instead of voicing this, he squeezed her hand, feeling a sudden need to kiss her. How much until they landed?, he wondered, impatiently.

Ilizibith turned and smiled at Peter as she squeezed his hand. “The schloss is lovely.” She turned to look at John. “And the mountains are incredible. So different than ours. And everyone has been so,” she paused, “welcoming,” she stressed the word as she looked at John.

“I’m so glad to hear, my dear,” Queen Samia said as she entered the compartment followed by the King. She walked over and touched her daughter’s cheek, then smiled at Peter. “I’m so glad your family has welcomed Ilizibith,” she said. “That brings me great… comfort when she is away from Cyretia.” She looked at her husband. “Isn’t it wonderful how Peter’s family has embraced our daughter, dear?”

The King scrunched up his nose. Then he caught the sharp look from his wife. “Well, yes,” he said after a moment, “of course.”

“How are you all doing out here?” The Queen asked.

“Well,” John began, “we’ve had a… pleasant conversation. I, um, just invited Peter to join me on a trek into the mountains…”

“You’ll love it, Peter”, said Irene. “As Lizzie said, so different from the ones at home. Maybe you should bring your father and siblings. You all had a very hard year.”

The prince knew Irene was referring to his mother’s death, but he avoided the subject.

“They will love the idea”, he agreed, forcing a smile. “Papa complains that he doesn’t know Ilizibith’s family.”

He turned to his parents-in-law.

“Through no fault of your own, of course”, he clarified, his cheeks suddenly reddening.

“Of course,” the Queen said, “but we will remedy that,” she looked at her husband, “won’t we, dear.”

“Errmm… yes, of course,” the King said.

“You know,” the Queen said, laying a finger along her cheek, “it has been a long, difficult year for everyone. Why don’t we plan a month’s stay or so at Seafront Estate… We have the beach, the mountains… all right there. We could all go,” she looked at Peter, “and we could invite Peter’s family to join us. We could get to know each other. And if you and the boys wanted to trek into the mountains, you could,” she looked at Ilizibith and, then, Irene, “while we enjoy the sea and the sun… and vineyards.”

The King almost winced. “But… the investigation…”

“Unless you plan to personally interrogate someone, they can proceed without, dear.” There was a surprisingly stern look in the Queen’s eyes.

“Well,” the King said with sigh, “I suppose if everyone wants to…”

“Oh, yes, Father, please!” Ilizibith smiled excitedly. “It’ll be lovely.” Then she looked at Peter, and then Irene, and back to Peter. “Don’t you agree?”

“I do, can’t wait!”, he said, trying to inject all the enthusiasm he could muster into those four words.

Without looking at the King directly, he couldn’t help but notice his lack of enthusiasm, which he resented.

“And while we’re there”, Irene intervened. “His Majesty could show you his excellent sword collection. Don’t you, Papa?”

She hoped the King would be compelled to look at his son-in-law, whose face he had been avoiding the whole time. Men! thought the Crown Princess, both amused and impatient.

Aksel IX, heir to pharaohs conquerors and warriors, sighed and drooped his shoulders in defeat. “Of course, Irene,” he said with a slight smile, his voice softening. He looked at his wife, then at Ilizibith, who smiled expectantly. Finally, he looked at Peter. “You’re a military man… Peter,” the King said after a moment. “You might find some of them interesting… One is reputed to be the sword wielded by Aksel Kusilian - King Aksel I - himself in the war against the Umayyads. Of course, after 14 centuries, the exact provenance is a little… in doubt. It is, however, from that time period. I have many others, of course - Roman, Temeterian, Phonecian, Crusader...”

John leaned towards Irene and took her hand giving it a gentle squeeze. “Father is quite proud of his collections,” he said looking towards Peter. “He relishes the chance to inflict them on others.”

Slightly more at ease, Peter smiled and turned to his father-in-law. “I would like that, Sir. My father is a collector as well, he especially likes wheellock and matchlock rifles, as well as Morgensterns, a cutting weapon that Markunder peasants used against Westbund soldiers during the War of Independence. He also has a few medieval swords and sabres here and there, but rifles are his real love. Needless to say, my sisters think that Father needs a new hobby.”

Irene laughed. “I think your sisters are right. Uncle Stephan needs something else to obsess about. Men’s obsession with violence really worries me sometimes. If more women ruled countries there would be less wars.”

Incapable of giving a response, Peter leaned back on his seat, feeling more relaxed, but not too much. King Aksel could be nice, but he could also be pretty scary…

The King, too, seemed relaxed. "I should like to see that collection. I don't have many in my collection. Though my Type 44 cavalry rifle might be of interest… it was used in the First World War when we drove the bloody Ernestines back into the sea…"

Queen Samia cleared her throat. "Don't forget that your other daughter-in-law is an Ernestine.."

The King coughed. "Well, Yulia isn't here… and I don't mean the Ernestines today… they're… lovely people… I was, er, only talking about the invaders…"

Samia tilted her head. "Still, it's best to be careful, dear…"

Just then, to the King's visible relief, a steward entered the cabin. "Your Majesties, Your Highness, we'll be starting our descent into Citadel Excalbia soon."

[Mayagua]

As part of the new government’s plan to insert Mayagua in the international arena after years of isolationism, the King had sent his two children to the funeral of his second cousin once removed, the Emperor of Excalbia. The Prince of Sierra Verde, Don Maximiliano de Sajonia-Coburgo-Gotha, and his sister Infanta Catalina, descended from the steps of the plane. Their faces were sour, a sign they had been fighting.

“I just can’t understand you, Cata”, muttered the prince, forcing himself to smile as some diplomats bowed to him and the Infanta . “But we’ll talk later.”

“Your Highnesses”, said a short man with grey hair.

“Ambassador Cisternas”, greeted the prince. “My sister, Doña Catalina.”

“Ma’am”, the ambassador said. “We have prepared rooms for you at the embassy, so you can freshen up before the ceremony. I imagine that visiting Excalbia brings family memories for you both.”

“No, why would…?”, mumbled the prince, but stopped when his sister gave him a discreet poke in the ribs. “ Cata! What’s goi…?”

“Of course it does!”, the Infanta interrupted, smiling to the ambassador. “Our great grandmother was Excalbian after all. We keep many mementos from her at the palace.”

The prince listened to the exchange and involuntarily opened his mouth, truly surprised. As they followed the ambassador from a distance, Catalina gave him a furious look.

“I can’t believe you didn’t read the dossier, Max”, she whispered. “It’s always the same, you never prepare…”

“Oh shut up”, he snapped back, quite more audibly. “At least I don’t hide weapons for Marxist revolutionaries in my lands.”

Catalina’s eyes were in flames, but she did not reply. She just kept walking, angry. They were both in their forties, but they fought like schoolchildren.

Maximiliano was slightly above medium height, and definitely above medium weight. His figure was voluminous, and he had the expression of a good-mannered five-year old boy, and sometimes the same level of maturity. Catalina, on the other hand, was slender and beautiful, but her style was very sober and understated. She did not wear make up and used high heels only as a compromise to her position whenever she was on public duty. Unlike her older brother, she was sharp and a good observer, and had a tendency for melancholy. The two siblings were very close, maybe too close, and they adored each other, but lately their relationship was not going well.

During the trip from the airport to the embassy, they did not speak, which meant they had a lot to say to each other, but could not trust in the discretion of those in the car. Although a small, forgotten country, Mayagua was full of intrigues, especially as of late. The Communist Party was growing again, or at least mobilizing very well, and the people were divided between those who preferred the status quo and those who wanted radical social change in a nation of deep inequalities. That same division had arisen at the heart of the royal house, as the conflict between Catalina and Maximiliano proved. The palace was a bubble of luxury in the middle of a very poor country, and the Infanta felt offended by the contrast between her life and that of her countrymen, many of whom struggled with less than the minimum wage. Maximiliano, on the other hand, did not even want to consider the idea of reforms, convinced they would only strengthen the Communists, who were the instigators of many of these proposals. The elites would not accept any changes to their privileges, and were blind and deaf to the problems of their countrymen. The rich had bought homes abroad, in Providencia, Brasland or the Caldan Union, just in case the Communists won the next elections and the economy sunk. Money was leaving Mayagua faster than lightspeed and the threat of inflation hung in the sky. Meanwhile, the King, a widower, dallied with a voluptuous married woman who had him eating from her hand, and who wanted him to marry her. If there was one thing on which Max and Cata agreed was that Eugenia Hurtado could not become Queen of Mayagua. She was a shameless and ambitious operator who dumped men when they no longer served her. The King was just her ultimate prize, the key to her complete social triumph. Max and Cata knew that Eugenia would pressure the King to put her own family in positions of power. As a mistress, she could demand nothing more than what the monarch gave her, which was mostly jewels and expensive trips. As a wife, she would have no remorse in claiming it all, and she would throw the monarchy’s credibility to the rocks. Mayagua was a conservative country, and the only institutions that the people still respected were the Crown and the Catholic Church. If the monarchy fell, what else would Mayaguans have? Many priests and nuns, as well as some bishops, saw Marxist ideas with sympathy, and some of them went even further and secretly supported the Communists, thinking that only them could bring social justice to the poor. Infanta Catalina herself shared that view, but she doubted her own opinions. Was Communism the solution for Mayagua? Everyone in her circle told her it was absolutely not, and that she only needed to look at Daytanistan to see what happened to countries when they embraced those ideas. She recognized they had a point, but how could no one find a way to change things? Why everything in Mayagua had to be extreme? Why couldn’t they find a middle ground? She did not understand, and she saw that no one around her really cared, everyone absorbed in their own problems and interests. With these thoughts in mind, the Mayaguan Infanta looked outside as the car passed through the city.

[Excalbia]

The Great Hall of the Citadel
Citadel Excalbia

Princess Rebecca and Duke Andrik stood to one side of the Great Hall, not far from the Crown Prince and his family. She held tight to her husband's arm and worried about how Rachel and Andrew, her two young children, would handle the loss of their grandfather. They were too young to really grasp it at the moment, but she worried about it nonetheless.

When Joseph, Anna and Elizabeth walked towards her mother, the Empress, Rebecca's eyes drifted to her other brother, James, who had started towards their mother before veering off and leaving the Great Hall through a back door.

"Excuse me," Rebecca said, gently squeezing Andrik's arm, "I need to check on James."

Rebecca walked across the Hall and out the same door James had exited. She looked up and down the corridor, but did not see her brother. She walked along a little further and nearly bumped into her brother as he walked out of a small alcove.

"James," she said, stepping back before wrapping her arms around her brother. "Are you ok?"

James stood stiffly. "Yes," he said weakly.

Rebecca stepped back. "What are you doing out here?"

James shrugged but said nothing.

Rebecca shook her head. "You've been hiding in Parnu or Tariq's apartment for almost a year. You send one-word answers when I text... you haven't even visited Mama or Papa or in months... and now you're hiding out here when our mother needs you?"

"Mother has Joseph..."

"James!" Rebecca folded her arms across her chest. "I can't fathom how or why you blame Joseph and Mama and Papa - and all of us, really, for Sunie breaking up with you..."

"Stop it," James said, frowning.

"No, James," Rebecca jabbed a finger at his chest. "You've been acting like you're the only one who's ever been hurt. You've been acting like a petulant child. Our mother needs you. She's acting brave for everyone else's sake, but her heart is shattered. Joseph acts calm and in control, but I know him: he's scared. He's about to bury our father and become emperor, and thinks he has to put on this show for everyone. He needs us, James."

"Needs you, maybe. But me?" James stepped back from his sister. "What does he need from me? What do you want from me?"

Rebecca gritted her teeth. "How about your grow the **** up, James and act like a man? Or if that's too much, maybe you just pretend for the next five day?" She spun on her heels and marched back into the Hall.

[The Resurgent Dream]

Great Hall of the Citadel
Citadel Excalbia

Queen Gwendolyn and Prince Consort Peter had been with the family when they received the Emperor's casket, and had joined the procession to the Great Hall. They stood to one side of the Hall as Empress Elizabeth stood by the casket with Princess Christiana.

"I'm glad we could come early," Peter said softly to Gwendolyn. "Aunt Elizabeth is putting on a brave face, but I can tell how brokenhearted she is."

“I am too,” Gwendolyn answered her husband. “It was no bother, really. I know how important he was to you.”

Peter gave a slight smile. “I still don’t know how I ended up so lucky…”

A few moments later, after the Crown Prince and Princess approached the Empress, Princess Christiana and her wife Janet approached the Caldan royal couple.

"Peter… Gwendolyn," Christiana said, holding out her arms.

"Your Majesties," Janet said with a slight bow.

“Christiana, Janet,” Gwendolyn greeted them.

Peter embraced his aunt. "How are you doing?"

Christiana sniffed and began to softly cry. "I'm ok," she said, "I… I just can't believe David's gone."

Gwendolyn was always struck by the far more lenient protocols of the Excalbian imperial court, especially among the family. Normally, she found it refreshing but now she found herself largely at a loss for what to do, what to say to Christiana. Everything that came to mind felt like a platitude or a piety. She would have welcomed some somber, predetermined ritual.

Christiana sniffed and pulled away from Peter. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, and turned to Gwendolyn. “I’m so glad that you could come early. It’s so important to have the family all together before… before the circus starts.” She turned to Peter. “You remember what it was like when Paul - your father - died and when Father - your grandfather - died.” She looked back at Gwendolyn. “It was so hard to be the perfect Imperial princess through all the pomp and ritual…,” she sniffed, “when all she wanted to do was run to her room and cry.” She gave a sad smile. “You know, it was David who kept saying we’d get through by supporting each other. And that would let us do our job… and put a brave face on for everyone else...”

Peter nodded.

Gwendolyn smiled softly and sighed. “I’m so sorry for what you must be going through. When my brother died, it was in the midst of a political and military crisis. Almost every moment was devoted to managing the situation, something I had to do or say for the people, for the family, for the church, for the government,” she said. “I came to think of it as a blessing. It didn’t give me time to dwell on the awfulness of it. When I was alone with my thoughts or even when it was just me and Peter,” she reached for her husband’s hand, “all I could do was dwell on everything he and Marisa would never do. I was so angry. I was angry at Alekthos Jyhad, angry at the security services, angry at the prime minister, angry at Owain for leaving, angry at, well, angry at God.” She lowered her eyes abashedly at the last comment. “I don’t know what to say to make it better.”

Christiana nodded sadly. “There wasn’t a national crisis when my father died, but…,” she drew in a breath, “I know the pressure… and benefits of ritual well. And the anger.” She paused. “I don’t think anything anyone can say can make it better.” She gave a slight, sad smile. “But having those you love and care about with you, does help.”

At that moment, Janet suddenly turned and bowed slightly. “Your Majesty…”

“Elizabeth, please,” the Empress said, “you’re family, Janet.” She turned to Peter and Gwendolyn. “I’m so glad you’re both here,” she said. “David loved you both. He’d be pleased you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Gwendolyn said softly. “We loved….We love him, too.”

[Brasland]

Somewhere in the skies of the Western Atlantic

The flight to Excalbia took several hours, which the King decided to take for a break. Usually, he would use that time to work, but he reserved the last stretch of the trip to himself. He felt that he needed some time to reflect about the latest events in his life. He asked to be left alone, and his extremely efficient and protective Private Secretary, Ena de Mahlberg, made sure no one bothered him. Only his young sister, Princess Blanche, was allowed in his cabin but, as she was fast asleep, Georg had no distractions. As he watched the formations of clouds from his window, he thought of Cassia Taylor, and how much she had changed his life in only eight months. On one side he felt grateful for having met her, but on the other he thought it was a curse. He knew that there was no one like her in the world. At least not for him. For the first – and he suspected, the only – time in his life he had fallen deeply and unreservedly in love. They understood each other so well, their chemistry was electric and they shared many things: ambition, discipline and an unlimited drive to pursue their goals. With her, he felt safe, he knew she was someone he could trust completely. Georg sighed, feeling confused. If they had never met, he would be a content man, one satisfied with just fulfilling his duty, whatever that entailed. Before he met her, he was beginning to consider the possibility of an arranged marriage (hence, why Princess Ewelina had been invited to the palace), giving the country the heirs that it was demanding for years. Now it was different. Cassia, he knew with the certainty that one has only once in a lifetime, was the woman for him, Georg. The problem was that he was the wrong woman for the King. She was seven years his junior, a commoner, and the daughter of a mixed-race couple that never married. The establishment would never accept her. Also, she was a worldly woman whose father had built the family empire from scratch, one by one opening hotels in the Gulf Islands and then expanding into other businesses. Even if she was perfect for the role of queen, Cassia would never want it. She was too free to be happy in the prison of royal life.

The King barely noticed the passing of time. Blanche was still sleeping quietly. Only when Ena appeared he realized they were getting closer to Excalbia.

“Ena”, he said, suddenly, and then asked: “What is a life of duty without pleasure?”

She looked at him, her expression impassive, but her eyes scanning him, and he knew perfectly well that she would do that. In a matter of seconds, her mind had processed many variables surrounding the question, and gave the answer she thought better for this particular situation.

“A life of duty”, she replied.

Without realizing, Georg bit his lower lip. He chastised himself when he noticed. He was not supposed to show vulnerability.

“Good answer”, he said in turn, half-smiling.

She scanned him once more, but this time he had recovered his self-control and had turned again in the enigma he had fought so hard to become. Ena was pleased of this. That’s what he was expected to be for everyone, even to her closest collaborators. He was not a man. He was an institution.

[Excalbia]

Citadel Excalbia
Excalbia

While most businesses were closed as the nation observed a state of mourning leaving the capital oddly quiet, in some parts of the city furious activity was underway. Additional military units had been called in to serve as color guards and honor guards for the arriving heads of state. Extra staff from the Ministry of State had been called in to augment the Office to Protocol to help with shepherding the various senior foreign officials. Artillery units, equipped with blank shells, had been stationed around the city to honor the late Emperor with 21-gun salutes during the upcoming funeral procession.

Even the Government Printing Office was working overtime printing new official portraits of soon-to-be Emperor Joseph. While the state of mourning would continue for 40 days after the Emperor David IV’s interment, people need to be assured that the Imperial Government continued. So as soon as the Senate and the Synod officially approved Joseph’s elevation to Emperor, all official portraits of David IV would be quietly replaced with those of Joseph. Though it would take longer, the changeover would also begin on the nation’s stamps and currency. The Emperor is dead. Long live the Emperor.

* * *

At the Citadel, a host of officials, including the Chancellor, the Cabinet, the leadership of the Imperial Senate and the high officers of the Imperial Household Agency waited patiently outside the Great Hall. Once the Imperial Family felt it had had enough time, the doors of the Hall would be opened and those officials, soon to be joined by visiting foreign heads of state and officials, would begin filing in to pay their respects and offer their condolences to the Empress, the Crown Prince and the rest of the family.

In lines stretching far down the street, ordinary Excalbians waited just outside the gates of the Castle for their chance to file past the Emperor’s body.

After a rather lengthy wait, the doors slowly opened. The Empress was flanked by the Crown Prince and his family on her right, and Princess Rebecca, her husband and Prince James on her left. Other members of the Imperial Family, including Prince Peter and Queen Gwendolyn, stood nearby.

By tradition, Lady Jenolyn Temane, joined by her husband, Lord Andrew, was the first person to enter. The couple bowed deeply and expressed their sympathy to the family, then walked up to the casket. Lady Jenolyn briefly closed her eyes, then moved on. The Imperial Chancellor, Baron Dainis Murniece, his wife and children were next, followed by the rest of the Cabinet and, then, the leadership of the Senate.

Some of the officials closed their eyes, a few mouthed a silent prayer. The few who were Catholics crossed themselves as they walked past the Emperor’s casket. Once the most senior officials has paid their respects, other VIP guests were free to enter.

Among the first was former chancellor Sir Albert Cummings. The famously rotund chancellor, now over 80, was quite a bit thinner, though his mustache had grown thicker and longer. He was known to be frail and in poor health, so he entered the Great Hall in a wheelchair. Nonetheless, he insisted on standing, with assistance, and, with more assistance, bowing to the Empress.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, voice still strong despite a slight wheeze, “I am so, so very sorry. The Emperor was the greatest man I ever knew, by God.”

“Thank you, Sir Albert,” the Empress said, gently touching the older man’s shoulder.

Sir Albert nodded, then turned to the Crown Prince. “Your Imperial Highness,” he said, “I know you would have wished this day never come, but I know your father is looking down on you and is proud of you. We’ll all be honored to have you as our Emperor.”

“Thank you, Sir Albert,” Joseph said. “Your support means so much to us.”

Sir Albert nodded, and at the encouragement of his caretaker, Sir Albert returned to his wheelchair and was wheeled towards the casket. Once there, he could be heard audibly sobbing.

[Brasland]

Citadel Excalbia

The King of Brasland entered the Great Hall, walking with what was called “king’s speed”, meaning not too fast or too slow, but at a dignified, intermediate pace. True to Braslander protocol, he dispensed of styles and titles among equals. He approached the Empress and gently squeezed her hand.

“Aunt Elizabeth”, he said, kissing her cheek. “I am so sorry for your loss. Uncle David was such a formidable person. I always looked up to him, and he gave me not few advices about this position we both shared. Please know that we are all with you and your family.”

He then turned to the Crown Prince, putting his hand over his shoulder.

“Joseph, I am very sorry, my friend. Your father was a great man, and I know you will carry his legacy with the same dignity. And of course, you can always count on me for anything you need.”

After giving his condolences to the rest of the family, he walked up to the casket. Only then, true to protocol but also to his own feelings, he gave a deep bow to the man he had admired so much.

Let's pretend Princess Blanche felt suddenly ill and could not attend this pre-funeral reception.

[Excalbia]

Citadel Excalbia

The King of Brasland entered the Great Hall, walking with what was called “king’s speed”, meaning not too fast or too slow, but at a dignified, intermediate pace. True to Braslander protocol, he dispensed of styles and titles among equals. He approached the Empress and gently squeezed her hand.

“Aunt Elizabeth”, he said, kissing her cheek. “I am so sorry for your loss. Uncle David was such a formidable person. I always looked up to him, and he gave me not few advices about this position we both shared. Please know that we are all with you and your family.”

The Empress received King Georg with open arms. “Thank you, Georg,” she said. “I’m so glad that you could come. David was quite fond of you, you know.”

He then turned to the Crown Prince, putting his hand over his shoulder.

“Joseph, I am very sorry, my friend. Your father was a great man, and I know you will carry his legacy with the same dignity. And of course, you can always count on me for anything you need.”

Joseph nodded to the King. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate your support.”

After giving his condolences to the rest of the family, he walked up to the casket. Only then, true to protocol but also to his own feelings, he gave a deep bow to the man he had admired so much.

After the King had paid his respects, an Imperial steward approached and bound. “Your Majesty, if it pleases you, there are refreshments in the adjacent room. The Imperial Family will be joining you shortly.” The stewart gestured to an open door to the side.

At the doorway a young woman in a black dress bowed. “Your Majesty,” she said in a pleasant voice. “I’m Jennifer…,” she hesitated and looked away, “Lady of Latgale…,” she paused again, “a cousin of the Imperial Family.”

[Brasland]

As Lady Jennifer appeared, the King smiled slightly. When she explained her blood relation to the House of Alsgood, the smile broadened. Giving her a quick glance, he kissed her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am”, he said. “We must be distant cousins, then. Sadly, our families have few opportunities for social interaction, and it’s only on occasions like these that we get to meet distant relations. I gather you descend from our Princess Clotilde, my great grandfather’s sister. Am I correct?”

[Mayagua]

Citadel Excalbia
Excalbia

The Prince of Sierra Verde and his sister, Infanta Catalina, entered the Great Hall. Maximiliano looked a little bit intimidated by the rather impressive surroundings, so different from the smaller palaces and haciendas in which he had spent his life. A little shy and awkward in front of strangers, he clumsily approached the Empress, and kissed her hand.

“Your Imperial Majesty, please accept my condolences and those of my father, the King, and of the people of Mayagua”, he said, trying to sound solemn, but exaggerating the tone a little bit. “He was a great guy…. Errr I mean, a great man, and his fame has crossed the borders of Excalbia and reached everywhere, even our own little Mayagua. Our country is a land of poets, volcanoes and blood, and in the words of our great Julio Felipe Chacón, “la vida es nada más que…””

Behind him, mortified for her brother’s over-the-top outburst of emotion and the unnecessary mention of blood, Infanta Catalina cleared her throat. She looked beautiful and dignified in a black dress, with matching pearl earrings and necklace. Maximiliano turned to her and apologized to the Empress.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am”, he said, looking uncomfortable and not entirely sure of what to do. He decided to introduce the two women. “I’m monopolizing your time. This is my sister, the Infanta Catalina.”

She gave a deep curtsey, to compensate the fact that Maximiliano had inadvertently - and characteristically - forgotten to bow. Feeling a natural sympathy for the Empress, she shook hands with her.

“I am so sorry, Your Majesty”, she said. “We didn’t know the Emperor personally, but we know that he was not only an admirable leader, but also a decent, honest man. And in the end, that’s what we all should aspire to be. You are in my prayers.”

Catalina gave the Empress a warm smile. After she and Maximiliano had greeted the other members of the family, they bowed before the Emperor’s casket and joined the King of Brasland in the adjacent room.

[Excalbia]

As Lady Jennifer appeared, the King smiled slightly. When she explained her blood relation to the House of Alsgood, the smile broadened. Giving her a quick glance, he kissed her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am”, he said. “We must be distant cousins, then. Sadly, our families have few opportunities for social interaction, and it’s only on occasions like these that we get to meet distant relations. I gather you descend from our Princess Clotilde, my great grandfather’s sister. Am I correct?”

Jennifer smiled, relieved that the subject had not turned immediately to her late father. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but the pleasure is mine. And, yes, Empress Clotilde would have been…” she paused and bit her lip, “my great-great-great-grandmother.” She paused. “Could I offer you something to drink, Your Majesty?”

[Excalbia]

Citadel Excalbia
Excalbia

The Prince of Sierra Verde and his sister, Princess Catalina, entered the Great Hall. Maximiliano looked a little bit intimidated by the rather impressive surroundings, so different from the smaller palaces and haciendas in which he had spent his life. A little shy and awkward in front of strangers, he clumsily approached the Empress, and kissed her hand.

“Your Imperial Majesty, please accept my condolences and those of my father, the King, and of the people of Mayagua”, he said, trying to sound solemn, but exaggerating the tone a little bit. “He was a great guy…. Errr I mean, a great man, and his fame has crossed the borders of Excalbia and reached everywhere, even our own little Mayagua. Our country is a land of poets, volcanoes and blood, and in the words of our great Julio Felipe Chacón, “la vida es nada más que…””

Behind him, mortified for her brother’s over-the-top outburst of emotion and the unnecessary mention of blood, Princess Catalina cleared her throat. She looked beautiful and dignified in a black dress, with matching pearl earrings and necklace. Maximiliano turned to her and apologized to the Empress.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am”, he said, looking uncomfortable and not entirely sure of what to do. He decided to introduce the two women. “I’m monopolizing your time. This is my sister, Princess Catalina.”

She gave a deep curtsey, to compensate the fact that Maximiliano had inadvertently - and characteristically - forgotten to bow. Feeling a natural sympathy for the Empress, she shook hands with her.

“I am so sorry, Your Majesty”, she said. “We didn’t know the Emperor personally, but we know that he was not only an admirable leader, but also a decent, honest man. And in the end, that’s what we all should aspire to be. You are in my prayers.”

Catalina gave the Empress a warm smile. After she and Maximiliano had greeted the other members of the family, they bowed at the Emperor’s casket and joined the King of Brasland in the adjacent room.

“Thank you both,” the Empress said, taking the Princess’ hand. “I appreciate your kind words.”

As the Mayaguans entered the adjacent room, Prince James approached. “Your Highnesses,” he said with a slight bow, taking the Princess’ hand and kissing the air above it, “thank you for coming and for your sympathy.” He stood and straightened his black jacket. “The Emperor is… was… my father. I am James.” The prince, tall and blond, like most of the Imperial Family, addressed both Prince Maximiliano and Princess Catalina, but his eyes kept drifting back to the princess.

[Providencia y San Andres]

Citadel Excalbia

King Carlos III de Habsburg and his wife, Queen Sofia Letizia, entered the Great Hall followed by their son, Prince Felipe, and their youngest daughter, Infanta Letizia.

The King approached and kissed the Empress’ hand. “I am so sorry for your loss, Madame” he said, before moving aside to allow his wife to embrace the Empress.

“Yes, Elizabeth, we are both so sorry.”

“Thank you,” the Empress said. “I’m pleased that you could come.”

Felipe bowed slightly, then he, too, kissed the Empress’ hand. “Madame, my condolences,” he said.

Next to him Letizia gave a small curtsey. “Madame, I’m so sorry.”

The Empress nodded.

The King offered his hand to the Crown Prince. “Joseph,” he said, “sorry for your loss. And I offer you my… all our prayers for the success of your reign.”

“Thank you,” Joseph said with a nod.

After the rest of the Royal Family had greeted the Crown Prince and Princess, they made their way to the Emperor’s casket.

“He looks at peace,” Sofia Letizia said after crossing herself.

“Yes. Yes, he does, God have mercy on his soul,” Carlos III said, also crossing himself.

Felipe barely looked at the body before turning to follow the Braslander king and the Mayaguans towards the refreshments. Letizia, however, lingered at the casket.

“Your Highness,” Lord Tariq said, approaching the Infanta. “Are you alright?”

Letizia turned and nodded. “Sorry,” she said, “death is… not a common thing for me.” She offered Tariq her hand. “And please, let us drop the titles, my Lord.”

Tariq kissed her hand. “Of course, Letizia.” He offered her his arm. “Let’s join the others; my mother should be joining us soon. Then, my Aunt Elizabeth and the rest of the family will come.”

(OOC: Joint post with Excalbia. )

[Mayagua]

“Thank you both,” the Empress said, taking the Princess’ hand. “I appreciate your kind words.”

As the Mayaguans entered the adjacent room, Prince James approached. “Your Highnesses,” he said with a slight bow, taking the Princess’ hand and kissing the air above it, “thank you for coming and for your sympathy.” He stood and straightened his black jacket. “The Emperor is… was… my father. I am James.” The prince, tall and blond, like most of the Imperial Family, addressed both Prince Maximiliano and Princess Catalina, but his eyes kept drifting back to the princess.

Catalina noticed that James was talking to her more than to Max, who did not pay much attention anyway, as he was distracted looking at the room’s decor. Somewhat flattered that she could still capture the interest of a younger man, she smiled at him.

“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness”, she said, her brown eyes widening to look at him better. “It’s unfortunate that it has to be in these sad circumstances.”

[Brasland]

Jennifer smiled, relieved that the subject had not turned immediately to her late father. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but the pleasure is mine. And, yes, Empress Clotilde would have been…” she paused and bit her lip, “my great-great-great-grandmother.” She paused. “Could I offer you something to drink, Your Majesty?”

Always pleased to be in the company of a good-looking young woman, the King smiled back.

“Wine, please”, he answered.

As she left, he noticed the arrival of a couple, both with dark heir, who were approached by Prince James, whom Georg remembered well. Then he saw the Providencians, whom he knew better, for his brother Leopold had married their daughter Isabelle. Nevertheless, he preferred to wait for Lady Jennifer.

“Thank you, Ma’am”, he said, as she returned with his drink. “I was wondering, have you ever been to Brasland? I have the feeling that I have seen you before.”

[Excalbia]

Always pleased to be in the company of a good-looking young woman, the King smiled back.

“Wine, please”, he answered.

As she left, he noticed the arrival of a couple, both with dark heir, who were approached by Prince James, whom Georg remembered well. Then he saw the Providencians, whom he knew better, for his brother Leopold had married their daughter Isabelle. Nevertheless, he preferred to wait for Lady Jennifer.

“Thank you, Ma’am”, he said, as she returned with his drink. “I was wondering, have you ever been to Brasland? I have the feeling that I have seen you before.”

Jennifer handed the King a glass of wine, keeping one for herself. “Your Majesty,” she said as she did so.

In answer to his question she nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I attended your New Year’s Ball a year and a half ago. It was a wonderful time.” She let out a breath she had not realized she was holding, then took a sip from her glass, holding it with both hands to steady a slight tremble. ON some level she supposed that she still feared that the King had really recognized her from stories about her father.

“I just regretted that I couldn’t see more of your country while I was there,” she said, forcing a slight smile.

[Excalbia]

Catalina noticed that James was talking to her more than to Max, who did not pay much attention anyway, as he was distracted looking at the room’s decor. Somewhat flattered that she could still capture the interest of a younger man, she smiled at him.

“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness”, she said, her brown eyes widening to look at him better. “It’s unfortunate that it has to be in these sad circumstances.”

"Yes," the Prince said. "It's a difficult time for all of us." He paused and drew in a breath. "Have you visited Excalbia before?"

[Brasland]

Jennifer handed the King a glass of wine, keeping one for herself. “Your Majesty,” she said as she did so.

In answer to his question she nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I attended your New Year’s Ball a year and a half ago. It was a wonderful time.” She let out a breath she had not realized she was holding, then took a sip from her glass, holding it with both hands to steady a slight tremble. ON some level she supposed that she still feared that the King had really recognized her from stories about her father.

“I just regretted that I couldn’t see more of your country while I was there,” she said, forcing a slight smile.

The King did notice Jennifer’s tension, but assumed it was due to his presence. This was not out of arrogance, but he realized that most people were in awe of royalty and frequently did not know what to say or do in front of them. However, the young woman was a relation and she most probably knew the protocol from birth. Could there be another reason behind her tension? He decided to find out.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”, he asked, giving her an understanding smile. “You seem tired, and I would most certainly understand if the strain that the Emperor’s death has caused you all forces you to retire for the day. Please, do not mind about me, I know several of the guests here.”

He slightly bent towards her and gently touched her arm. As he got closer, and to avoid putting her on the spot in front of everyone, he whispered: “I understand the pain of losing a loved one.”

[Mayagua]

"Yes," the Prince said. "It's a difficult time for all of us." He paused and drew in a breath. "Have you visited Excalbia before?"

“No, I haven’t”, she answered. “Which is quite odd, considering that my great grandmother was Excalbian. Have you been to my Mayagua?”

[Excalbia]

The King did notice Jennifer’s tension, but assumed it was due to his presence. This was not out of arrogance, but he realized that most people were in awe of royalty and frequently did not know what to say or do in front of them. However, the young woman was a relation and she most probably knew the protocol from birth. Could there be another reason behind her tension? He decided to find out.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”, he asked, giving her an understanding smile. “You seem tired, and I would most certainly understand if the strain that the Emperor’s death has caused you all forces you to retire for the day. Please, do not mind about me, I know several of the guests here.”

Jennifer gave a weak smile. "I'm fine, Sir. Thank you."

He slightly bent towards her and gently touched her arm. As he got closer, and to avoid putting her on the spot in front of everyone, he whispered: “I understand the pain of losing a loved one.”

She nodded. "Yes, it's very hard. Uncle David - he wasn't really my uncle, but he always encouraged us to call him that - was a great man. Kind. Forgiving..." her eyes began to tear up. "I just hope he knew how much... I respected... loved him."

Jennifer bowed. "Pardon me, Your Majesty. Thank you for your kindness," she said, before stepping back and making her way out of the room.