(OOC: Joint post by Jrawa and Itaytá)
“That was quite a scene,” a young man said as he approached Violante. He momentarily paused, then added, “I’m sorry to disturb you, if you wanted to be alone.” Be bowed slightly. “I’m Jacob Trabelsi.” He shrugged. “Prince, actually, though we no longer have claim to our throne.”
Violante turned around to see who was talking to her. She touched her arm, a bit embarrassed.
“Yes, it was quite the scene”, she said. “No, it’s alright, it’s actually nice to talk to someone. I’m just not good at making the first step. Trabelsi? I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of the name. What throne is this you mention? Oh, and my name is Violante. I’m from Itaytá. Nice to meet you, Jacob.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness,” he said with a smile and another bow, waiting to see if she offered her hand. “My family is originally from Jrawa - a small country between Cyretopolitania and Qubti.” He gave a lopsided smile. “My grandfather, as he is fond of reminding us, would be King of Jrawa, if they hadn’t thrown our ancestors out almost 200 years ago and declared a republic. And, I’ll confess, I’m not terribly familiar with Itayta.”
“Few people are familiar with my country”, said Violante. “We’re not very relevant in the grand scheme of things, but I prefer it that way. May I ask why your family was overthrown? I know Qubti might not have been the easier neighbor to have. We Itaytans are always careful in our dealings with them.”
“The Qubtians have often played the villain in our history, but in this case,” Jacob said, “I think it was a case of the wrong people at the wrong time. Gersem V came to the throne aspiring to the absolute authority great grandfather at a time when republicanism was on the rise. He lacked the… deftness to achieve indirectly what he could not command by fiat, and the politicians of the day were full of an oversized sense of their own importance. So, the politicians decided to remove the King to make great names for themselves. And, sadly, my ancestor had, by then, alienated anyone who could have been any ally thanks to his own hubris.” The young man shrugged. “Change the spirit of the times, make Gersem less of a bull in a china cabinet, make the politicians a little less enamored of their own historic importance, and perhaps a constitutional compromise could have been reached.” He shook his head. “Sorry for droning on.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry, I love history”, she replied. “My family has a tumultuous background as well. We descend from Cosimo de’ Medici Paliardi, an illegitimate nephew of the last Grand Duke of Tuscany. When the Medici line died out in the peninsula, Itaytans rebelled against the new Habsburg rulers and proclaimed Cosimo, who was viceroy of the island, as king. The family still keeps a nominal claim to the grand ducal throne, out of tradition more than anything else, but what is lost is rarely recovered, and I don’t expect to be living in Florence anytime soon.”
She laughed at her own comment, slightly embarrassed.
“And what is that you do now, Jacob?”, she asked. “What are the plans for the future?”
“I just graduated from the University of Landing here in Excalbia,” Jacob said. “I’m taking a gap year, if you will, before I return home to Cyretopolitania to take my place in the family business.” He smiled. “To be honest, I’m trying to put that off; I find Excalbia more… agreeable than Cyretopolitania.” He paused. “So, what does your future hold in store for you?”
“Well, I studied History of Art at the Università di Nuovo Castiglione”, she explained. “I work for the Museo Nazionale Itaytano, organizing exhibitions and getting in touch with our counterparts abroad to coordinate activities. It’s a nice job and I enjoy it, but my real passion is writing. And, of course, I’d like to have a family some day.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Jacob said. “What do you like to write?”
“Stories involving large families, where every character has a different personality and the clash between them all creates interesting interactions. They are usually set in Itaytá. My family is so large and we have so many friends that I’m not short on inspiration.”
She took a glass of orange juice from a passing waiter. “What about your family? Is it big? And are you close to them?”
“I’m close to my sister, Alexandra; she’s over there,” he gestured to a tall, curvy young woman not far away. “And we have a lot of cousins, including,” he smiled, “ironically some of the younger generation of the House of Jawharin - the former ruling house of Qubti. But I wouldn’t say that we’re particularly close to my cousins. How about your family - do you have cousins in all the ruling houses? That sort of seems par for the course around here.”
“Maybe not in all of the houses, but most”, she said. “Ties were closer in my grandparents’ generation, though. My father and uncle both married Itaytans, so we have not led the international social life of previous generations. You mention being related to the Jawharins, how so? I understand they are also related to us through the Braslanders. My grandmother, who came from the Gulf Islands, told me stories of her distant aunt Liene, who was kidnapped by one of the Qubtian sultans.”
“My great aunt Sara is actually married to Yusuf Jawaharin, the pretender to the throne of the Sultan.” Jacob suddenly laughed. “I’ve never realized it before, but that makes the Muslim would-be-Sultan of Qubti the brother-in-law of the Jewish would-be-King of Jrawa! Their ancestors must be spinning in their graves!”
His smile became more subdued. “That story about your distant aunt is interesting.” He thought for a moment, then said, “If I’m remembering the Jawaharin genealogy right, great uncle Yusuf is descended from Sultan Yusuf II and a foreign Christian princess - that might be your ancestor.”
“Yes, that’s probably Liene”, said Violante. “You see why I say my family is full of eccentric characters? I wonder why no one has written a novel about them. Maybe I should. And what about you, do you like the prospect of working for the family business?”
“You should definitely write a novel,” Jacob agreed. “I’ll read it. I promise!” He smiled, then shrugged. “I can’t say that taking my spot in the family business… excites me. But, it is my… responsibility. If we still ruled Jrawa, it’d be no different; I’d have certain duties and responsibilities that were… inescapable. With no throne, the family business is, I guess, the equivalent. It… ‘maintains our status, promotes the family name, and provides income and meaning to our supporters’.” He gave another shrug. “At least that’s what my grandfather says.”
Violante paused to think for a moment. “That makes sense, and it gives you something else, which I think many of our peers lack, which is purpose.”
“Of course you’re right,” he said. Jacob looked off into the distance, then back to Violante. “Still, I look forward to making the most of my year of freedom before I assume my duties.” He smiled broadly.
“Are you planning to travel?”, Violante asked. “We have an old villa on the eastern coast of Itaytá. You should come for New Year, we always invite friends. We don’t do much except for sailing, eating lots of pasta and lying on the beach. It’s heaven.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Jacob said. “I’d love to visit.”
