Royal Palace, Cyretia
Kingdom of Cyretopolitania1877 Theodor looked at the city and its harbor from one of the palace balconies. He sighed. Synessia, his beloved Synessia, he would never see it again. The thought hurt him deeply, so he tried to think of something else, but how? It was only two days ago, when he was visiting his wife’s nephew in Cyretopolitania, that he was informed that a coup had deposed him, and was advised not to attempt a restoration. The Braslander ambassador, Prince zu Waldberg, had urged him to return to Markund, where his brother would give him asylum. Brasland, good old Brasland, the land of his birth. He had not set foot there in almost five decades. His siblings were still there, all of them ancient like him. He had changed too much to feel at ease there. Synessia had changed him.
He looked at his wife, who was sitting close by. As usual, he did not know what she was thinking, but he suspected it. Her heart was heavy, as was his. At the dawn of life, they had been stripped of everything. They had given their souls to Synessia, forty-six years ruling that immortal land so frequently ravaged by conflict. Life could be senseless, thought Theodor. He gave them a constitution, a parliament, a prosperous economy, and what was their answer? Ingratitude. Silent tears fell down the old prince’s face, as he saw the ships and boats sailing from and to the harbor. At moments of finality like that one, men thought of their lives and their past decisions…
The prince remembered the day he left his native Brasland. It was at the great port of Halvan that the court gathered to give him their farewell. His parents, King Georg and Queen Amalia, looked like they always did. Statuesque figures deprived of emotions. Theodor, who by then had accepted the throne of Synessia, was now an equal to them, a fellow sovereign. When he said goodbye, he was about to bow, so used he was to be a subject. The Prince of Gialia, who had come as the president of the Synessian delegation that offered him the throne, cleared his throat before Theodor could bend his body. At that moment, and for the first time in his life, he heard his mother cry. He looked at her in shock, and saw the anguished expression on her face. Was she sad because he had not bowed? Or because she feared that she would never see him again? He saw the King’s regal mask fall upon seeing his wife’s pain, and passing an arm around her. Theodor looked at the Prince of Gialia, a stern man, and did not dare to cry. It would not do to show weakness upon his subjects. Instead, he approached his father, who put his hands in Theodor’s arms and pressed them hard. That was all the emotion Georg I could allow himself to express.
“May your reign be long and prosperous, my son”, said the King, with his deep voice. “May the Lord and our Holy Mother protect you all along.”
When Theodor approached his mother, he took her hand and kissed it. She took his hand, in turn, and kissed it too. Then, for the first time in his life, they embraced each other. The Queen sobbed and said nothing, but the prince saw her eyes. He never forgot that sadness, and he carried it with him ever since. It was the last time he saw her.
The voyage from Halvan was difficult, as they sailed in the stormy season. At first they had kept close to the Ultrasylvan coast, for there were fears of a Qubtian ambush in the Avar Sea. They stopped in Monostori, where Theodor and his delegation left their Braslander ship and moved to a Synessian one. They were traveling to Cyretia, where his bride was waiting. He did not want her as a wife, but the Great Powers had decided that she had to be. He landed in the capital of Cyretopolitania in the middle of great pomp and celebration. Cyretians, he had been told, were masters in the art of royal ceremony. The young Sovereign Prince of Synessia was received warmly by the royal family, but he was shocked by how different they were. He had lived all his life in Markund and had never seen people of a different skin color. They were also shorter, so among them he felt like a giant. Theodor remembered when he saw Ilizibith for the first time. She looked younger than her twenty-four springs, and was rather delicate. At the time, he did not know if he liked her or not, but it did not matter. She was a princess, that was all he needed. They married in a bit of a haste, for they had to be in Synessia very soon for their proclamation.
Despite his initial reluctance, Ilizibith became instrumental in his life. She was his best friend and most competent advisor, and even though he had not been faithful, her loyalty never wavered. Unlike his Braslander ministers, who understood little of Kemetian sensibilities, the princess knew that in these lands one needed to impress. Synessians loved grandeur, and they delighted on seeing their princely couple dressed in Byzantine attire, riding across the city’s streets followed by a large entourage of courtiers. The great families of Synessia – the Gialias, Acheleias, Condostefanos and others – loved Ilizibith, and she knew how to cultivate their favor. It was a pity that they did not have children, for Theodor was sure that an heir would have changed his prospects. The people would have been loyal to a child born in their soil.
As he remembered these episodes of his life, Theodor looked at his wife again. He extended his hand and placed it over her shoulder.
“We have lost everything, my darling”, he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “But we still have each other.”
Ilizibith turned and looked at her husband. It seemed so long ago that they had married. She had initially resented being matched with a barbarian from such a distant, upstart kingdom. However, she had relished the opportunity to be the wife of a reigning monarch. She would have had no such opportunity in Cyretopolitania. Of course, over time she had grown used to Theodor. And eventually that familiarity had become something that, if not love, was close enough akin to it to make Ilizibith happy.
“That we do, my dear Theodor,” she said, rising from her chair and offering her husband her hand.
She had hinted and encouraged as much as she could that Theodor rid himself of his Braslander advisor and keepers, but he had not listened until it was too late. But there was no point in saying that now. Instead, she offered a sympathetic smile and said, “You were a good Prince, my dear. The best the Synessians could have hoped for.” She shook her head. “Times, sadly, seem to be changing. Gersem V was chased from Jrawa by republican rascals just over ten years ago. Other countries are seeing unrest and rebellion.” She crossed herself in the Orthodox manner. “I pray every day to the Mother of God and the martyred Saints Cyrus and John that our Lord forbid that my dear nephew never face such rebelliousness here.”
She placed a hand on her husband's back. “We will always have each other, my dear. And we will let that be enough.”
The next day, the deposed Prince and Princess of Synessia boarded a Braslander warship.
“What is her name?”, asked Theodor to the captain.
“Amalia”, replied the officer.
Theodor’s eyes widened. Too impressed to talk, he just nodded, moved. As the officers saluted him, he did the same. A few moments later, with little ceremony, the
SMS Amalia departed from Cyretia. As he gave one last look at the Kemetian coast, the Prince’s memories passed in front of him: the clear morning sun from his room in the Old Palace, his loyal valet Arkadios waking him up with his funny Lymosian accent, his campaigns against the Muslim rebels in the south, the Duchess of Livera's delicious lavender scent, riding dangerously fast near the Greek temples of Kilofagu, his proclamation in 1831, meeting Ilizibith for the first time and wondering how they would build a life together... Theodor's eyesight was blurred and he did not move for a long time. The sea breeze caressed his white moustache, as if Aeolus was trying to comfort him.
"Goodbye, Synessia", he muttered to himself. "My body is leaving you, but my heart stays forever."