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A King, a Pope, and the Grand Master

Jydsken-Østveg

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It was late September, but the weather in the Petits-Pays was holding up as warm. They all sat seated at a table outdoors in the garden of the Chateau d’Tartu. A luxurious location on the western coast where King Frédéric III sat with Cardinal Dubois, Pope François II, Crown Prince Phillipe, Princess Béatrice (the Crown Prince’s daughter), Charles (the Crown Prince’s son) and his wife. It was a rather large and important gathering because they were welcoming the Grand Master of the Knights of Josepania. Most of this had been put together at the behest of Cardinal Dubois and he insisted on the specific participants to all be in attendance. This was supposed to be special to hopefully continue the unique relationship Josepania and give them a glimpse into the future.

The Grand Master and his entourage arrived at the table and horns played the anthem of Josepania as they took their seats. The staff at the Chateau all opened a new bottle of wine for each attendee in front of them to assure the person that no foul play was at work and pour it for them. A wonderfully fruity Cabernet Sauvignon. Served later for lunch would be a peppered duck breast in a red wine sauce with baby potatoes roasted with dill. Everyone took their seats together after a vague exchange of pleasantries. As they waited for their meal, escargot was served. Pope François asked the Grand Master if he wished to say something before they ate.

Thus far the King has barely spoken a word. His white beard looked well manicured but his expression looked a bit lost, occasionally irate as he seemed lost in his own thoughts.
 

Josepania

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Seated next to the Knight Ambassador Gilles Bellefeuille, a kindly middle-aged man who had already made brief but pleasant small talk with some of the staff in perfect Gaulois, was the Grand Master and Prince of the Knights of St. Joseph, Giuseppe Ceretto. He was dressed in a simple but classy three-piece suit, with little indication he was a Knight of St. Joseph save for a small pin on his lapel that displayed the Emblem of the Lands of St. Joseph, and no hint he was the Grand Master save for an impressive gold-trimmed purple ribbon with an equally stunning medal displaying the Cross of St. Joseph hanging around his neck in place of a tie. His humble appearance notwithstanding, he had also heard some of the hushed gossip from staff around him over one of his most striking features...

"He's so young..." One would mutter. "Such a young man in his position? How?" Another would reply. "I thought the Grand Master was usually an old man..." Yet another would ponder.

Their shock was nothing new to Grand Master Ceretto, as he adjusted his glasses and briefly ran a hand over his neatly trimmed beard, for he had experienced plenty of it back in the Lands of St. Joseph, and the circumstances of his election were indeed unusual, given he was only in his early thirties, two decades younger than the average age of Grand Masters elected to the position over the past eight hundred plus years. True, there were times in the past that young men were elected to the position of Grand Master, but they tended to be much rarer, and in the more... confidential histories of the Order, hidden away from most prying eyes, it generally involved corruption and scandal, along with a healthy dose of attempts by the Order to use such young men as puppets.

Giuseppe had vowed to be different, but patient and quiet in his efforts. There were more than a fair share of demons plaguing the Order he needed to exorcise at home, but that could not and would not be at the forefront of his mind now. So he paid the gossip no mind, and used his eloquent charm and ability to converse with people regardless of their social standing to ease any tensions. He'd have plenty to focus on for this particular meeting with the Crown in order to smooth over recent tensions, especially with the old man himself who, mercifully, had stayed silent thus far.

The Grand Master's advisers had also made it clear this was an opportunity to gauge the successors to the throne, determining who would be most useful to the cause of the Knights in the years to come, and how to keep them on the good side of the Knights, especially considering the developing situation in Sylvania that Giuseppe himself had, confidentially, waded himself into... but such thoughts were swiftly wiped away as Pope François II asked Giuseppe if he wished to say anything before they dug into their escargot and sipped their wonderful wine.

With a smile, the Grand Master bowed his head in acknowledging reverence of his Spiritual Father, "Only that we say grace, Your Holiness. I would be honored to lead if you shall permit me?" Finding no objection from him or any others seated, the Josepanian Grand Master piously made the sign of the cross and bowed his head over his clasped hands in prayer, his eyes similarly closed as he incanted, "Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, the Liberator of Mankind. Amen. "

He knew full well, as he lifted his head and opened his eyes, that the insertion of that last bit was most likely not repeated by all assembled, if any aside from the Josepanian entourage, as it was not standard Tiburan Catholic vocabulary. But, as the Grand Master had reasoned, Liberationism was an accepted doctrine by the Pope himself who was present, and it was the Grand Master who had been invited to say grace regardless, so he had plowed ahead with no hesitation. He piously believed it after all, and what sort of Knight of St. Joseph would he be, let alone the leader of the Order, if he did not proudly proclaim his faith?

Regardless, without acknowledging any potential puzzlement from those who did not expect the insertion of Liberationist thinking so soon, he helped himself to a sip of wine and looked to King Frédéric III/IV, though most there probably knew he was speaking to Cardinal Dubois, "I must thank Your Majesty for organizing this gathering, especially for a chance to taste your outstanding wine. Such a commodity is prized amongst Knights, Bishops, and Bourgeois equally in the Lands of St. Joseph."
 

Jydsken-Østveg

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The King looking as lost as ever murmured something to himself, and the Cardinal spoke for him, “His Royal and of course Imperial Majesty is pleased that you could arrive and reaffirm our cordial relationship as both friends and allies during the war. Our friendship is one of the key cogs in European affairs. An entente that stands before old decrepit empires such as Auraria and Remion.” The Cardinal spoke with a certain confidence that emphasized both his status and recognition that he could do no wrong.

Pope François II then interrupted, “—and the Knights most valiant rise to the call of their faith is most important. The rats from the south that believe in some heathen basis of governance also follow a false King of their own. Such a paradox that they can believe in their dogmatic Republicanism and yet bend the knee to a false King, a false pope. Yes, and of course, and I thank you for your kind words Grand Master Ceretto.” There were some empty stares across the table. Other participants felt the need to thank the Grand Master for his arrival. First the Dauphin, then his wife, and then the Dauphin’s son which stirred awake the slumber of the King who interrupted his grandson.

“—Shut up!” His grandson quickly silenced. Charles was a soft person and did not know what to do. Obediently obeying his cantankerous grandfather. The King seized the moment, “I know you all think I’m damaged goods, too old for job, too slow for this job... a fossil!” The King slammed his hand the table which cased the silverware on the dishes to make their specific clanking noise. “I’m still the fucking King!” The Cardinal sat unmoved while there was some visible shock among the other guests. “I thank the god-damned Grand Master because I am his host. You all eat my fucking food. You drink my fucking wine. Leeches! When the Grand Master thanks me, he is thanking me. Not you who jockey for my Crown and act as if I am already dead. I am right here, and I’ll be damned if I let a homosexual take my place! Now, I am sorry Grand Master that you have to hear this, but my children are fools. Don’t let their foolishness and glutton mare this meeting of great and important people. Grand Master Ceretto... you are my distinguished guest. I appreciate your help during the war, and MY Kingdom, is bound to a great alliance with you that I intend to keep going well after my death!” He rang a bell which summoned a servant. “Bring the Grand Master a fine bottle of cognac. These other fucking leeches can’t give gifts, but I can. I can show my appreciation. Thank you.” As the servant walked away to fetch a bottle the King asked a question, “Grand Master, what do you think about my children? What would you do in my situation? You, so blessed with your youth still, yet you have achieved so much. These children of mine, they just suck me dry. What motivates you? What makes you so much better than these leeches?”
 

Josepania

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Throughout the King’s rant, the Grand Master forced himself to remain nonchalant, if only outwardly, and silently thanked God and Ambassador Bellefeuille for the latter’s crash course on how to weather the verbal storm he himself had witnessed in the Royal Court. If anything, Giuseppe was lucky that the objects and persons of the King’s irritation were his children and grandchildren, and not the Josepanian personally. He nonetheless couldn’t help but flinch in surprise at the initial outburst towards Charles, and tense up at the noise of silverware rattling on the table, but fortunately kept up the charade of calm observance, smiling slightly and nodding his head in thanks to the King’s gift of cognac, which he would absolutely enjoy at his earliest convenience, the earlier the better.

Because internally, Grand Master Ceretto was anything but calm, casting damnation on the divine luck he had of not only witnessing the Royal Outburst so soon, but also being put on the spot in judging the heirs to the throne, a position he wanted to be nowhere near. The idea was to observe, not commentate, but the King had foiled those plans in a most spectacular fashion. Now the Josepanian had to diplomatically worm his way out of this mess while irritating as few people as possible, with the King and the heir firmly in that category at the absolute minimum. As such, Giuseppe made sure to buy himself some more time as he sipped his wine immediately after the King’s inquiries, while putting on a mask of pensive thought, before responding.

“Your Majesty, just as I am blessed with youthful vigor to respond to the stresses of rule, you are blessed with children and a clear line of succession, your observations of them notwithstanding, a blessing that the Knights of St. Joseph are forbidden from through our vows of chastity. As such, any imperfect observance I make must have that caveat firmly included.” This, he hoped, would reassure the heirs who were paying attention that he was in no way qualified to weigh in on the royal succession, lessening any sting that may follow in his indirect judgement. Further, there was a vague, wistful tone in his voice, as he had his own personal objections to the vow of chastity, but they did not need to be so openly aired at this time, especially in the presence of the Holy Father. He took another sip of his wine, fully intending on having the glass empty by the time the cognac came back and buying a little more time, before continuing. “Were circumstances different and I was fortunate to have foresight on whom my successor to the office of Grand Master and Prince of the Lands of St. Joseph would be, let alone having any choice in the matter, I would endeavor to have them trained in the art of rulership, as early as possible and as thoroughly as possible, so that I may impart whatever wisdom and experience I possessed unto them and ensure the smoothest transition of power possible.” It was, after all, what Grand Master Ceretto received in the build-up to his election, albeit in secret, even from the recipient of such training. At some point, the Josepanian knew he’d have to investigate just how much of a hand his mentor had in the election, and why this all transpired, but that was a problem for a later date and similarly to his objections to chastity, did not to be revealed for the moment…

“I have persevered thus far, partly due to faith in the Savior of the Poor, and God the Father to see me through all evils and challenges…” at this he paused to make the sign of the cross, “… but also because of the immense responsibility I feel in leading both the Order and the people of the lands we rule. They rely and depend on me to make the right decisions for any situation, in every moment, of every day, for the rest of my life. I have never and will never forget that weight upon my shoulders, my own personal cross to bear, just as you have carried that same cross through your many decades of just and successful rule over such a prestigious, wealthy, and powerful empire. But we both are lucky to not have to endure the passion similarly to God the Son, and can pass that cross on to the next generation of rulers, be they our blood or not. The least we can do is prepare them as much as possible for that burden. That too, I believe, is also the responsibility of any leader.”

It was a dangerous line the Grand Master was walking, potentially implying that any doubts the King possessed in his heir came from a lack of preparation of the same, while also silently critiquing those potential heirs who lacked any obvious feeling or at minimum display of responsibility that was needed to become King. But as he named none, and kept such critique vague, he retained plausible deniability of any direct criticism, and more likely than not, would turn the Royal Family only on each other rather than him.

He had wanted no part of this intrafamily squabble and could only pray he navigated the dangerous waters with his ship of integrity and sanity intact. Whomever else who was dashed against the rocks or the waves in the process… well, he may have worshiped and followed the Savior, but unlike Him he could not walk upon the terrible, churning waters. “Small blessings of lack of divinity indeed…” he thought darkly to himself as he finished his glass of wine and observed the reaction to follow his sermon.
 
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Jydsken-Østveg

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King Frédéric III stared blankly at the display he just witnessed. “How diplomatic. I appreciate your deft handling of this criminal affair in my family. I know you are thinking, this mad king is nearly dead, who’s ass do I need to kiss among this group of moochers? I appreciate your position. Father, tell him what he’s won.”

The Pope which clearly had some kind of past with the King smiled and nodded. “Dearest Grand Master, you are obviously the key player in this Liberationist Catholic order. What my dear friend wishes for me to convey to you is that for your continued faith in this papacy, the most holy and true faith, is that he desires for me to extend to you an official consulate in Clermont. You would be the first. Technically, matters of church and god tumble through the pipeline from Le Vieux-Bourg and the embassies that all exist there. I believe there was a certain delay in processing, and with affairs of the imposters of Tibur in mind, it is our belief that allowing for this development may be the beginnings of a more holy alliance bound both by god and common interest of course.” As the Pope finished speaking he motioned to the Cardinal Dubois.

The Cardinal nodded, “I believe we have a key role to play together in continental affairs. I do not wish to speak too much of state business here though, because I believe you know it as well as I, and the present company need not always know the details.” The King interrupted, “See, even the Cardinal thinks of you all as extraneous to the affairs of State. It’s a pity I’m going to die! One of you will have to take over. Maybe we should play a game and figure it out right now. Who is going to be my heir? It’s fun game. Charles stand up you twat! Phillipe! Up!”

“Oh, I don’t know... this really isn’t necessary...” retorted Charles. “Shut the fuck up, stand up Charles, or I’m going to make one of those guards outside the grounds sodomize you, and condemn you both to hell. Up!” Phillipe and Charles stood. “Show me you’re man! Get a sausage from the kitchen and put it in your wife’s knickers! Go! First one back and accomplishing the task is King!” There was a look of bemusement between everyone at the table. Frédéric continued, “It’s game! It’s fun! The stakes are high! That makes it even more fun!” Charles began to sheepishly walk to the kitchen. “Do I look like I’m fucking kidding!?” the King yelled. Charles began to run and then Phillipe ran quickly behind him.

The King smiled as two left sight and into the Chateau. “See, this is fun. The little maggots will do anything. Now Grand Master Ceretto, I want to apologize for this insanity. I think we have a good future between our lands and within our united faith. Is there something I can do to reward your service to our God and most certainly to my people? Anything? You name it and I’ll consider it!”
 

Josepania

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Grand Master Ceretto silently sighed in relief to the King's immediate response, his jab over the Grand Master's ass-kissing written off as a small price to pay for the victory and, if Giuseppe was honest to himself, not entirely incorrect, and so no protest was necessary. If anything, the reward of a consulate in Clermont on top of the existing embassy in Le Vieux-Bourg would have been worth further royal verbal abuse. The Patriarch of Hierosolyma and, indeed, the other Archbishops and clergy in the Lands of St. Joseph would be ecstatic to hear of having achieved direct access to His Holiness, and even the remnant Catholics silently, and some annoyingly not so silently, loyal to the Exiled Tiburan Pope would pause over such a diplomatic spiritual triumph. The notion of a more holy alliance was intriguing indeed, and would give Giuseppe the credibility and foreign support he so badly needed to carve out his vision of the Knights in Josepania independent from traditionalists and advisors who hoped to use him as a puppet. As such, when His Holiness finished giving the good news, the Grand Master bowed his head in humble gratitude to both Pope and King, unable to hide his smile of pleasure over the presentation of such a gift.

Then the Cardinal spoke, and for a brief moment the Grand Master dared to hope that serious diplomatic business could begin with the old King, ideally, silently watching from the background, and so he nodded in agreement to Cardinal Dubois' observation. But alas, the ancient royal was not done with his embarrassing torture of his son and grandson, and so Giuseppe silently and calmly held out his wine glass as a clear order for a nearby servant to refill it, for he knew he was going to need it. The game, if the ludicrous farce the King came up with could be called as such, drew bemusement from the crowd, not even the Grand Master was immune to reaction this time around, and his confusion morphed into ill-concealed disgust as he watched Charles and then the Dauphin scurry off to do the King's bidding. While he personally objected to the game out of principle, it was clear to those around Giuseppe that his ire was primarily directed towards the men next in line to the throne of Petits-Pays. It was degrading, the abuse they willingly went along with in pursuit of a crown. And the more the Josepanian observed the royal family, the more he wondered if the depraved fossil of a king was right about his children, at least these two...

Clearly the Grand Master's disapproval was noticed by said fossil, for he blissfully apologized for the insanity that had just transpired, and then offered something that Giuseppe did not expect: another reward. Was this a trick, bait from a cruelly playful King to lure the Grand Master out of his diplomatic shell and trap him into the same cycle of abuse he had just witnessed? Or was it genuine generosity, a sign that the King liked him and was willing to shower him with gifts and favors for his ability to put up with this ridiculous circus that was his family? It may have been the wine that was beginning to take control of his tongue in combination with a lack of patience, but an idea did pop up in his head that he otherwise would've dismissed outright, but would now float out as a sort of weather balloon, to gauge the storm he could potentially unleash.

"Your Majesty's generosity is truly legendary." Giuseppe began, raising his already half-drained refilled wine glass in recognition to the King, pondering "My God, have I already drank that much...?" before continuing. "There is one issue I would seek your wise advice on and any assistance at all in helping me address, an issue that has been silently plaguing the Lands of St. Joseph, exacerbated and made all too clear thanks to the ravages that was the Great War: our numbers are dwindling. The royal and noble families from around the world, even the respectable bourgeoisie, have been sending fewer and fewer of their children to become Knights of St. Joseph, even to replace those fallen in the conflict years ago. Our attempts to induct more members of the ennobled and wealthy laymen of our population have met with resistance as well, and they have not been enough to keep up with the demands of missions abroad combined with administration at home. We've had to tighten belts, metaphorically speaking, when it comes to staffing these missions while keeping our administration of the Lands of St. Joseph efficient, and that has cost us dearly in spreading the Good News of our Lord and Savior of the Poor."

"Short of lifting the vow of chastity upon the Order and enabling the Knights to become like the nobility of lands such as your own..." At this supposedly nonchalant line, the Grand Master watched intently for the visible response from Pope François II and King Frédéric III, "I am at a loss as to how this decline in the numbers within our Order can be reversed. I therefore seek your advice, Your Majesty, and you Your Holiness, in how to reverse this impending tragedy, and your help in accomplishing this."

"Lord... into your hands I commend my spirit and my honor..." Giuseppe prayed silently as he braced himself for the response.
 
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