The Summer Palace
Genes, the Genoise Kingdom
Not in decades had there been such excitement at the Royal Court of Genes. Once known for being the most opulent of courts in the world, a glittering crown with too many diamonds, the rule of King Frederick III, even without the Great Collapse, had been one of strict rigorous monotony, with no dancing or singing, with no parties or games, and certainly none of the famed debauchery associated with the reign of his father, King Frederick II. Oppressive silence and modesty had only been briefly interrupted by whispered prayers. Things had changed once he had died, but his daughter and successor, Queen Louise, and her husband Prince Antoine were a bookish lot, more interested in intellectual pursuits rather than entertaining the nobles or people of the country. One could sing or dance if one wished, but why would one? But then a matter of dynastic, intellectual, and political interest had converged, and it had all converged on one person.
Her Royal Highness, Princess Helena Antoinetta Frederica of Genes. The twenty-three-year-old eldest granddaughter of Queen Louise was destined to one day be Queen of Genes herself, though after her oft-forgotten mother, the Crown Princess. Unmarried, a number of men ranging from distant cousins to foreign royals to daring commoners had pursued her hand in hopes of being her consort. She had rejected them all, struggling to find a suitable man, one not only acceptable to her but also worthy of her position, lineage, and legacy. A private person, raised in the dichotomous extreme religious upbringing of her great-grandfather's reign and the adroit secularism of the present, the princess was a largely unknown entity even amongst her own people. Thus it had come all the more surprising when she, when mulling over two potential suitors had suggested a competition. A princestrial.
A princestrial, as those eager for the present were calling it, was a formal competition created for Princess Helena's grandfather, Prince Antoine, the Duke of Anjou when he had been in search of a wife. If he could have one, Helena had decided, she could have one as well, thinking of the Narumadan princesses who had men fight for their hands. Helena had no desire to see her suitors fight, but she wished to be able to compare the men, and select the one best for her and her kingdom. She wished to meet them and know them. For her marriage would seal the future of Genes and would launch them into a war against their neighbor Turanda, one of the many conditions made in the agreement between the Genoise and the Colficoan and Caraintese, allies in their war against Turanda but with competing candidates for Princess Helena's hand in marriage.
The Caraintese had presented her with Prince Angemar of Safar, brother of Princess Regent Tasa, uncle of the toddler Queen of Caraintos, heir of the defuncted Lajaz throne, which would only exist again with Genoise military aid. The Colficoans had presented her with Commander Felix Skotnicki, chamberlain of the Queen of Colfico, Commander of the Colficoan 32nd Mountaineers and Peacekeeper of the mysterious Visari Order and their archives, but notably a commoner. Helena had carefully weighed her choices and found that what Felix lacked in bloodlines and prestige, was made up for by Colficoan's deep military pockets. And what Angemar lacked in a kingdom he made up for in his status, heritage, and the claims he had in his blood. An odd and strange balance that Helena decided that needs to be broken through her own princestrial.
Thus she had invited both of them, prince and chamberlain, alike to the Summer Palace, and the moment word had gotten out, it had turned into an event. The courtiers and nobles of the Royal Court, along with the many cousins from the half a dozen or so branches of the Valois Dynasty came rushing to the Summer Palace to witness whatever it was that would unfold, for nothing as interesting as this had occurred in half a century. The Summer Palace thus had in an instant transformed, not quite back into the glittering ball of the past, but something new and full of life. Built over a century earlier by Queen Adela, Helena's great-great-great-grandmother, it was the only royal residence that had survived the Great Collapse, famed for its ornate beauty. The famous fountains, after being dry for decades were once again brought to life.
The Royal Court waited in the throne room, the vast cavernous marble room gilded with gold and emerald trims, a series of vast arched windows carving on either side the dais on which the thrones of the queen ornate designs of gold and emerald, glittering in the sunlight like the tail feathers of a massive peacock made from precious metals. Hundreds of people fill the room, dressed in their best clothes for the spectacle. An emerald carpet cut through the middle of the room towards the dais. Near the front, closest to the dais stood the Queen's cousins, the princes du sang, all eager. Flanking the throne along the back walls were the Queen's brothers and sister, their children, the ones old enough to understand the proceedings at least. Suddenly doors next to the dais opened and the Queen, a small elderly dark-skinned woman with a mahogany cane swept into the throne room in an emerald green dress and crown on her head.
Behind her followed the bespectacled Prince Antoine, dressed in a formal all-black uniform with a hussar jacket and shiny knee-high boots, with an emerald sash across his chest. He stood dutifully behind the massive peacock throne as formally as a statue.
"I can't wait for this," whispered Queen Louise with unbridled delight. "Helena is so clever."
"I can't believe you are enjoying this," Antoine said with a sigh.
"I am enjoying this far more than I enjoyed my time around in it."
"I have apologized for that for fifty years."
"Your grandmother was horrid to me," hissed Louise.
"To be fair she was horrid to everyone," Antoine said with exasperation. His grandmother had been known as Alara the Terrible.
"I had to ride in a chariot," continued the queen, undeterred. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to ride in a chariot?" Louise glanced to her husband, who only looked down at his feet, a blush on his aged face. A smile tugged at Louise's lips. Antoine did a better job of hiding his own. The Queen settled in her throne. "Chariots... These men need only walk."
The Queen waved her hand and doors of the throne room opened. It was time for the future prince consort of Genes to arrive. to meet the Queen. And it was anyone's guess which of the two it would be.