The Inner Circle

[Brettaine]

The clock chimed eight times in the King's meeting room at the Aquitaine Palace. Prime Minister Jeanne Hollingsworth glanced at her watch, set fast by five minutes, as she waited for the King to finally arrive. Hollingsworth was not the type to be late, and she wasn't very tolerant of people who were late for meetings. Of course, as Prime Minister of Brettaine, she answered only to the King, so she would have to bite her tongue and wait until the sovereign arrived.

Two minutes later, with his aide de camp by his side, the King entered the room. He was dressed in casual clothing, having played polo with his sons earlier that afternoon. It was the first time the King would be meeting with Hollingsworth's ministry.

The King had dealt with female Prime Ministers in the past. Upon the untimely death of his father in 1986, the King found himself meeting with the strong-willed Margaret Shaw, the first Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Brettaine who stayed in that position until 1990. Twenty-one years later, Brettaine elected their second female Prime Minister, one who cold give Shaw a run for her money vis-à-vis determination, willpower, and confidence.

As was customary for the evening meetings, things were handled quite casually. Paul had done away with the formality of evening meetings that persisited until the end of his father's short reign, opting instead for a quick, casual discussion about domestic and international affairs with his ministry before a light supper with his family. The King disliked formality in private settings, and liked the way Hollingsworth's predecessor handled the meeting.

When he arrived in the room, the Ministry stood and Hollingsworth, a shorter woman standing about 160 centimetres high, offered her hand to the King and a short bow. The King knew that Hollingsworth would be more likely to cling to tradition than Dahlgren. It was one of the reasons why he didn't care much for Conservative ministries.

"Your Highness," said Hollingsworth, welcoming the King to the meeting.

"My dear Mrs. Hollingsworth. There is no need to bow in my study for the sake of an evening meeting," said the King. "Please be seated," he said to the other Ministers.

The only familiar face the King saw in the room that evening was Defence Minister Caudyll, whom Hollingsworth had kept on board from the previous Ministry for his voluminous knowledge about the Brettish Armed Forces and his willingness to expand the Defence Budget. Stymied by the Reform ministry of James Dahlgren, Caudyll found an ally in Hollingsworth, and hoped that staying on board would help build up Brettish defences at home and abroad.

"Well, first I would like to welcome you all here. I hope you didn't have much problems at the door," said the King, a witty opening which generated some dry laughter from the Ministers. "Madame Prime Minister, would you please provide the evening report?"

"Your Majesty," she started. "Today, the Senate ratified the treaty for the Northwestern Collective Security Coalition by a vote of 75 to 1, which has formalized our entry into the alliance and will need only Royal Ascent pending your signature," she started.

"I plan to sign the treaty tomorrow morning before a Press event," said the King in response.

"The Premiers of Kenamond and Kent provinces in the east are requesting further assistance in regards to the Aresuran refugee crisis, which has worsened over the past few weeks. The House of Representatives plans to address these concerns tomorrow afternoon. They are requesting more resources to counter increased crime in the region as well as providing for civilian refugees who cannot be fed properly."

The King simply nodded in response.

"Next week, I plan to travel to Villesen to meet with President Renaudière and formally present the Sereniérrese heroes of Flight 239 with the Cross of Valour for their actions," said the Prime Minister.

"No," said the King in response.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty?" asked the Prime Minister, taken aback by his curt response to her proposal.

"You may meet with President Renaudière to discuss security matters as part of your constitutional duties as Prime Minister. But I shall present the CV awards myself. I believe it is the duty of the Sovereign to present such a prestigious award. Therefore I ask you to inform the Sereniérrese that I shall visit Villesen as part of the State Visit myself, with you and your Ministry in attendance." said the King in response.

"Very well, Your Majesty," said Hollingsworth in response.

After discussing domestic concerns, particularly the Parliament's agenda for the next three years, the King dismissed the group and went to supper with his wife and youngest son, Prince Michael.

A new day, a new ministry. It would prove to be a rather eventful one at that, the King could already tell.

(OOC: please excuse typos, I'm writing this on an iPad and touch typing is impossible.)

 

[Brettaine]

The birds were chirping in the Rose Garden outside of the Aquitaine Palace on the unusually warm early June afternoon. The King walked through the garden, chatting with the newly appointed Foreign Affairs Minister, Robert F. Hensley. The King didn't care much for Conservative politicians, but he always made sure he had the chance to get to know his Ministers personally. The 168 centimetre-tall Hensley looked something of a midget standing next to the 190 centimetre-tall Monarch, his narrow shoulders supporting a gaunt, oval face. Hensley had a head of salt-and-pepper hair, and thick circular glasses before his dark, beady eyes.

The King had been told by Jeanne Hollingsworth that Hensley was one of the Kingdom's finest international analysts. Yet the Monarch only saw a short, ugly man with an inflated ego and a fatally idealistic mindset. "A goddamn Shaw Conservative," lamented the King to his wife the night after first meeting Hensley. "That insufferable woman's Premiership still haunts me twenty-one years later." The Progressive Monarch made no secret his dislike for the politics of Margaret Shaw, Brettaine's first Prime Minister and the incumbent PM when Paul was crowned King in 1986. The two leaders constantly clashed with one another, quite publicly it may be added, until Shaw retired from politics after the elections of 1990.

As the two men chatted, Hensley commented to the King about a story he had seen on National Nine News out of Melbourne the night before. A paparazzi had caught the young Prince Michael with his romantic interest, actor Cody Mallette. Hensley, being a Shaw Conservative from Lancaster and holding some rather conservative social views, candidly remarked to the King about the possible ramifications that the relationship would have on the image of the monarchy in Brettaine. The King slowly paced beside Hensley and listened politely as the Foreign Affairs Minister said that such public acceptance and display of the Prince's homosexual tendencies would possibly sour relations with other monarchies throughout Europe, particularly nations like Hajr. It was at that point that the King stopped in his tracks, prompting Hensley to do the same.

"Mr. Hensley, with all due respect: you are my Foreign Affairs Minister, not a psychiatrist sent to survey the dynamics of my family life," said the King.

"Yes, Sire, I understand that, but..." said Hensley, before being cut off by the Monarch.

"But...frankly Mr. Hensley, your job is not to analyze the relationship between my son and myself. Your job is to analyze the relationship between Ashtonfield and the international community. And while you may feel the need to bring up such a stretched notion that my acceptance of my own child may sour relations overseas, I advise you that I have been in my position for nearly a quarter-century and have developed a rather strong filter for hyperbolic rubbish. While I welcome your views and fully support your right to free speech, I do not appreciate your candid observation of the affairs within my family. I do not care for unsolicited advice from my Foreign Affairs Minister vis-à-vis my son's lifestyle. And while the Royal Family maintains a rather powerful public profile, that fact in and of itself it does not automatically grant immunity from social etiquette. You are, Mr. Hensley, still one of my subjects and it still is uncouth for you to be suggesting such ideas to your King. Do I make myself clear?" said the King, his voice both firm and calm.

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Hensley. "I do apologize."

"The affairs of the Royal Family are mine and mine alone. I would appreciate it if you kept out of them," said the King. "Seeing as this is the first time this has happened, I accept your apology and will put the matter behind me. Be sure not to let it happen again."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Hensley, feeling quite eviscerated after the King calmly reamed him out.

"Tell me of the plan to visit Villsen," said the King, starting to walk down the pebbled pathway again. "That is, after all, within your job description."

"Madame Hollingsworth plans to visit at the start of the week. We are still finalizing details with Mr. Rogére and President Renaudière as to the logistics of the state visit. Of course, since His Majesty will be travelling with the Prime Minister and much of the cabinet, it is only proper to make sure one member of the Ministry stays behind in Kronstadt as a 'designated survivor,' in case something goes wrong," said Hensley.

"Well, pack your bags then, Mr. Hensley. You'll be an invaluable asset on our trip to Villesen," said the King with a smile.

"I'll sooner burn in Hell before I leave a goddamn Shaw Conservative to sit in Ashtonfield as the 'designated survivor'," thought the King to himself.

"Be sure to contact Monsieur Rogére with our travel arrangements as soon as possible," said the King.

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Hensley as he continued to walk beside the King.

Paul stopped in his tracks, and turned to Hensley.

"As soon as possible, Mr. Hensley," stressed the King.

Hensley got the message quite clearly that time. He quietly slithered away through the garden, leaving the King puffing on his pipe in solitude. The King knew that the next three years were certainly going to be interesting if Hollingsworth was willing to pick men like Hensley for her cabinet. With his pipe nearly empty, he turned the wooden bowl over, tapped out the remaining white ashes, and walked onto the alfresco for tea with his mother, the Dowager Queen.

 

[Brettaine]

Ashtonfield Royal Air Force Base, Ashtonfield, Brettaine
8 June 2011, 4:30 a.m.

The Royal limousine pulled up alongside the gleaming blue-and-white hull of the King's jet, waiting on the tarmac for the King's flight to Villesen. The chauffer quickly walked around and opened the door for the King, who would be travelling with his youngest son, Prince Michael. The Queen Consort was still touring the Northern Provinces with the Heir Apparent, Prince James, and his three sisters Elizabeth, Grace, and Diana. Normally the King would not take a family member along for an international awards presentation, but he felt as Michael was now sixteen years old it would be more interesting for him to attend his father on a state visit than stay alone at the Aquitaine Palace in Ashtonfield.

Unlike his son, who dragged along at the early hour, the King was spry and vigorous as he stepped out of the car. He quietly approached Prime Minister Hollingsworth, who stood on the tarmac awaiting the Monarch's arrival. The entourage would be travelling together on this particular trip: the King to present the Cross of Valour to members of the Black Jaguars and Hollingsworth to meet with the Sereniérrese President Renaudière. The King walked up and extended his hand to Hollingsworth as she prepared for her first state visit as Prime Minister.

"Good morning, Madame Hollingsworth," said the King as he shook her hand.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," she said.
"Well, I say, is the hour early enough for you?" the King asked with a dry laugh.
"I understand my predecessor had issues with early morning departures. However, I assure Your Majesty that insomnia has never been a condition I've suffered from," said Hollingsworth wryly.
"Well, indeed. Shall we board the aircraft then?" asked the King as he started up the air stairs.

In the distance stood the open hangar where the fuselage of Clipper Orion, the ill-fated Bowen 747 on Flight 239, lay in pieces as the investigation into the hijacking continued. The King looked over at the hangar from the top of the air stairs, seeing that the wings had been removed along with the engines. Even at the early hour, investigators combed over the aircraft under bright fluorescent lights, preparing their report for Parliament which was due in a week's time. After stealing a glance, the King quietly boarded the aircraft.

Over Lancaster Province
6:00 a.m.

As the first pink and orange rays of dawn started to peek over the horizon, the King peered out the windows at a most magnificent sight. His airborne office was empty that morning, sans Prime Minister Hollingsworth, who decided to stay with the Monarch while the rest of the entourage rested in their seats. Coffee had been served, and the Monarch and Prime Minister made small talk as they drank their beverages.

The King had made no secret to Hollingsworth that he did not care for Conservative Prime Ministers, and Hollingsworth understood. She couldn't ignore the fact that the King had such a trying start to his reign when, from his coronation in 1986 until four years later, he reigned over the administration of Margaret Shaw--his chief political rival. The King wasn't sure how to interpret Hollingsworth, and in his mind she was the same as the "Steel-Willed Lady" that he had come to loathe. But, then again, this particular morning was the first time the King was in a private setting with his new PM. He decided, after some thought, that this would be the perfect time to start "orienting" himself to Hollingsworth's politics.

"Do you have a fear of flying, Jeanne?" asked the King.
"Of course not, Your Majesty," said Hollingsworth in response.

The King pulled out his pipe from the desk drawer, and started packing it with some vanilla-flavoured tobacco.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" asked the King.
"It's a disgusting habit, but it is your plane," said Hollingsworth.

The King interpreted this as a yes, and quietly lit a match, lighting up his pipe.

"I must be honest, Jeanne. I interpreted your rather ardent desire to see stronger security at the airports as a fear of flying," said the King.
"Well, Your Majesty," started the Prime Minister.
"Paul, you may call me by my Christian name. It is a Ministerial Privilege I grant to all my Prime Ministers when we are in informal situations as this," said the King.

Hollingsworth was stunned by the revelation. She had never thought to call the King by his given name, seeing such as a sign of disrespect.

"Your Maj-, err, Paul," she started. "I've never thought to call you by your first name," she said.
"In informal situations like this, Jeanne, I prefer it. I believe in honesty and integrity. While protocol may require it at our evening meetings, or around other Ministers, I do prefer to remain on a first-name basis with my Prime Ministers," said the King.
"Were you on a first name basis with Mrs. Shaw?" asked Hollingsworth.

The King laughed at the question.

"Of course we were. I called her the 'Puritanical Old Witch' and she called me the 'Snot-Nosed Brat'," he said, jokingly. "To be honest, it was a policy that I adopted during Mr. Keating's administration. The two of us were quite fond of early morning flights such as this, and since most everybody else was in the back sleeping, the two of us often found ourselves in the office here. One day, in 1993, we were flying to Winchester. It was around the same time as now, and we were playing cards over coffee, you know, to pass time. Now, Mr. Keating was just about as passionate a pinochle player as myself. On this particular flight, we were really in the heat of the game, and he completely caught me off guard with Aces Round. I started shouting at him by first name, and he burst out 'I got you good, Paul!' And things suddenly got awkward when he put his hands over his mouth -- John Keating became the first commoner to address the Monarch by his first name since the Time of Troubles two centuries ago. But I figured, oh, what's the bother. We weren't King and Commoner at that point. We were two men playing pinochle, one masterfully and one miserably. Ever since that time, I have granted it as Ministerial Privilege. Although, this is a State Secret, I must warn you," said the King.

The Prime Minister listened intently to the story, laughing at times. She looked over at the King, wearing casual business attire as he quietly puffed on his pipe.

As the two of them chatted, they began to realize that they really weren't so different. The King was a relatively easygoing guy, despite his somewhat pompous and short dealings with Ministers. Outside of business, though, he seemed like a regular person, albeit quite educated and intellectual. Likewise, the King realized that aside from her cold and strict façade, Hollingsworth was very thoughtful and interesting. As the two of them divulged into topics of political theory, the two leaders found that they aimed for similar goals, although they had different ideas on how to achieve those goals.

Time started to pass so quickly that before they knew it, a Palace Assistant knocked on the King's office door to inform him that they were twenty-five minutes outside of Villesen, and it was perhaps best for the King to change into his formal dress uniform for the arrival. The King agreed, and excused himself from the room as the Prime Minister fastened her seatbelt and cracked open a book she had brought along for the trip.

Not long afterward, the jet touched down in Villesen. Their state visit to Sereniérre had begun.

 

[Brettaine]

Flying at two-thirty in the morning was not exactly unusual for the King. After a long visit in Villesen, he looked forward to returning to Ashtonfield, where his wife and children waited for his return at the Aquitaine Palace. As was when he was flying to Villesen, most everybody on board the plane was sleeping.

The King, however, couldn't sleep. In fact, ever since he was a young child, he could never sleep in moving vehicles. Secretly, the King had a slight fear of flying, and often stayed awake drinking coffee and smoking a pipe waiting for the flight to land. On this particular night, he sat in his on-board office doing exactly that. A knock at the door came, and in came Prime Minister Hollingsworth.

"Ah, Jeanne," said the King, standing from his chair like a gentleman.
"Your Majesty. Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you would be asleep," she said, reaching behind her for the door knob.
"No, please, have a seat. I'm afraid I don't sleep well on airplanes," he said. "I would most certainly enjoy the company."
"Well, I see my qualms about flying are not unique," said Hollingsworth with a smile, as she took a seat in an armchair.

The King offered her a cup of coffee, which she graciously accepted.

"Michael was quite helpful during the awards ceremony. I must say, he doesn't seem the rebellious teenager that the media portrays him as," Hollingsworth commented.
"You are quite astute, Jeanne," said the King, taking a seat in an armchair across from Hollingsworth. "No, the media has done a sterling job of mischaracterizing Michael's personality," said the King.

The King poured some creamer into his coffee, and started to talk about his children.

"Michael, quite honestly, is the easier of my two sons. I mean, he's quiet and compassionate. You set a pad in front of him and he's either doodling or writing something. He has a rather overactive imagination that certainly pacifies him. And indeed, the media is hooked on his being gay but quite frankly I have always regarded the whole matter as hogwash," he mentioned.

"You don't believe your son is sincere in his sexual orientation?" asked Hollingsworth.

"Oh no, quite the opposite. I know Michael is gay. I've had my suspicions since he was a child, and wasn't particularly shocked when the matter came to a head last year. No, I regard the media's fixation over it as utter rubbish. Michael never changed in my eyes, rather I suppose he changed in the public's eye. And yes, his dating Cody Mallette has drawn considerable media attention. But to me, Michael is still the same kid he has always been. He may sneak out and go to clubs, but honestly I trust him. Frankly it's his brother James, the Prince of Aquitaine, that I worry about," said the King.

Hollingsworth tilted her head gently to one side with a quizzical glace on her face.

"James has always been headstrong, complacent, borderline arrogant, and perhaps even conceited. Ever since he was a child. I always found it odd: James takes much of his physical features from his mother, the blonde hair and blue eyes, facial structure, et cetera. Michael, meanwhile, looks a spitting image of myself at a younger age, with his brown hair and gray-green eyes. Yet while Michael looks like myself, his personality is so in tune with that of Alix. James, meanwhile, acts much like myself. Pretentious, arrogant, cynical. I look at James and wonder what I did wrong as a parent to have my oldest son act so much like me," said the King, packing his pipe with his trademark vanilla-flavoured tobacco.

"Is it wrong for a son to take after his father?" asked Hollingsworth.

"I suppose not. I just wish my son would build upon my shortcomings as a human being. God knows I am only human, and have my imperfections," he said, lighting his pipe. "I don't particularly want to see James follow in those footsteps. But James isn't under the microscope as much as Michael is. Nobody in the media wishes to criticize the Prince of Aquitaine. And let's face it: James doesn't make for an 'interesting story.' But in my eyes, it's James that I worry about most. James and Diana," the King said.

"Your daughters?" asked Hollingsworth.

"Oh, of course. I mean, Elizabeth and Grace are dreams. But it's the same story with the girls: Lizzie and Gracie take my looks and Alix's personality. Diana takes Alix's looks and my personality. And like James, she's very headstrong, very competitive. She's a pistol, just like her brother. The two of them are the closest in age of any of my children and they have always had a rivalry. I remember one time, in 2002, when we had the Great Blizzard: a storm dumped 30 centimetres of snow on Ashtonfield and even managed to bring snow to Melbourne of all places. The entire city of Ashtonfield was shut down because of the snow, and even at the Palace we were all on a 'snow holiday.' So, this particular afternoon, I was in my office overlooking the central lawn and Oval, watching my sons engage in a snowball fight with the other Minister's sons. Of course, James took it all the way. He put on his uniform, complete with polished boots and medals, and had Michael dress up in his winter Naval uniform, God knows why. His team of about a dozen or so took on Prime Minister Peterson's son and his team of ten or so in a snowball war. They built forts out of snow, igloos and whatnot. For the first twenty minutes or so, James was whipping Peterson's group to the point of total surrender. So I'm watching this, studying their 'battle' with intensity, when what from the corner of my eyes should I see but someone riding a bike through the snow. I couldn't make out who it was at first, until sidesaddle she jumps off the bike and into Peterson's group. It was Diana! Wearing one of James' uniforms," the King said, laughing. "Oh, I knew their governess would have my head for allowing them outside in their dress uniforms. But once Diana took over Peterson's group, they started to turn the tide against James. Ultimately, it was James who lost the battle. Diana threw a snowball directly at James' face, and that was it. The children decided it was too cold to stay outdoors and they decided to come in for cocoa," said the King, laughing as he thought about the snowstorm.

Hollingsworth chuckled over her cup of coffee.

"James and Diana I worry about because they're so alike to myself it's almost uncanny. But, frankly, nobody sees that in them. The media rather fixates around Michael and his boyfriend with an almost perverse intensity that frankly it becomes hard on Michael to handle it all. I know there are rumours about Michael having a 'classmate' come to the palace to help him with arithmetic, but Michael is quite good at mathematics. The alleged 'tutor' is Cody Mallette. He arrives at the Palace incognito to avoid a media frenzy," said the King.

The King's thoughts started to drift away on him. Although he couldn't sleep on airplanes, it didn't necessarily mean he wasn't tired. In fact, he was exhausted, and when he was tired his mind began to run off on tangents.

The two continued to chat as the plane continued through the night sky towards Ashtonfield. Despite the King's nonsensical blabber, Hollingsworth listened intently to his conversation, hoping not to tell the King that his stories seemed to ramble on about a whole lot of nothing. Then again, there wasn't much more to talk about on a long flight home in the middle of the night.

 

[Brettaine]

The Aquitaine Palace
Ashtonfield, Capital District, Brettaine

Guests gathered in casual summer wear in the Gardens at the Aquitaine Palace. Members of the Royal Family, both immediate and distant, hobnobbed as they sipped on chilled wine and ate from the buffet table. After the grandeur of ceremonies earlier in the day, the King and Queen often looked forward to the afternoon party where they could enjoy a relaxing afternoon with their family.

The Summer Celebration, held on 21 June every year, has been a state holiday since 1814. It was originally intended to celebrate the beginning of the harvest season for fruits and flowers, although in the 20th century, with modernization, the holiday was celebrated more for tradition than anything else. The day began with an opening of celebration by the King at Parliament Hall, followed by a Royal Parade through the streets of Ashtonfield. By two o'clock, members of the Royal Family, along with a very select group of friends, relatives, and dignitaries, gathered at the Aquitaine Palace for a private celebration. A string quartet played waltzes and other songs while the Royals and dignitaries enjoyed a laid-back summer affair. Ladies donning wide-brimmed hats sipped on chilled wine and gossiped, while gentlemen in casual shirtsleeves played croquet on the lawn as they talked about politics and business, among other things.

Children ran around playing, some of them kicking a ball around the grass while others swam in the small pond near where the gentlemen were playing croquet. A swing was attached to a large tree that hung over the lake, affixed there by Prince James and his friends when they were younger. The Queen detested the rope swing, always fearing it would cause problems, but the boys nevertheless continued to swing on it anyways.

The King stood with four other gentlemen, playing croquet. Standing beside him was his brother, Prince Albert, Duke of Kent, as well as his second cousins Lord Arnold Cantor-Brandeis, 4th Earl Houlden and Anthony Lyon-Thieriot, 9th Marquess of Efren. The King, Houlden, and Efren watched as their children swam in the pond nearby, chatting about the new Parliament in the meanwhile. Along with Vanessa and Alexander Lyon-Thieriot swam Prince Michael and Lord Jonathan Cantor-Brandeis. Efren's children were both younger, and the King had specifically tasked Michael to watch after them as Alexander was only 12 and Vanessa was 10. Jonathan, who was a year younger than Michael, had been charged the same by his father. The four men, likewise, were under strict orders from their wives to see to the welfare of the children in the pond. But, typical of Thieriot men, they simply kept an eye on them while giving enough distance for the children to retain their independence.

"I don't see how Parliament could possibly be considering the new defence bill as written," said Houlden, aiming to club the ball through the hoop. The other men remained silent until Houlden finished his swing.

"I agree," said the King, whose liberal views were often shared by his cousin Houlden.

The Duke of Kent, who unlike his brother shared the conservative views of his father King Charles IV, joined Efren in a rebuttal of their criticism of Hollingsworth and the Conservative Parliament. "Paul, my dear brother. Certainly you understand our pressing need to rebuild Brettish defences after the hijacking of the airliner six weeks ago," said the Duke of Kent while the King made his swing.

"Bertie, while I concur that something needs to be done, the bill passed by Parliament goes farther than anything we need," said the King. "Your swing."

The Duke of Kent lined himself up for the swing. "I certainly wonder what Father would think of your attitude towards this affair. God rest his soul, he would never allow such a destructive idea eviscerate Brettaine's defences. You made that mistake two decades ago when Madame Shaw retired. Now, you're making the same mistake today."

"May I remind you, Bertie, that I am King now, and have been for two and a half decades. What Father did during his reign is his legacy. I shall have my own," said Paul, rather defiantly as he gestured to Lord Efren to go. The two cousins stood by in silence as the King and the Duke of Kent sparred in a civil-yet-tense episode of sibling rivalry.

"I'm just saying, Paul," said the Duke of Kent before being interrupted.

"Dad, look!" came a shout across the lawn. Jonathan Cantor-Brandeis stood at the top of the branch with the rope swing in his hand, wanting his father to watch his trick dive.

"Jonathan, get down from there. You'll hurt yourself," said Houlden.

"No, it's all right Lord Houlden," said Prince Michael, swimming in the water.

"Michael," said the King very calmly, yet firmly. "Don't argue. That's inappropriate," said the King.

"Jonathan, get down," said Houlden again.

The boy started to retreat from his stance and Houlden turned his head for his swing. As he did, Michael gestured for Jonathan to jump in the water, and Jonathan, unwilling to disappoint, jumped at the rope and started his trick dive.

"Michael!" shouted the King, catching Houlden's attention.

The four of them watched in horror as Jonathan caught his ankle on the rope and dangled from the swing, heading right towards a stony bank. The boy's head slammed into the stone wall, knocking him unconscious as the rope finally untangled and dumped the boy into the pond.

"Jonathan!" shouted Lord Houlden, throwing down his club and rushing over to the pond. The King, Lord Efren, and the Duke of Kent were not far behind.

"Jesus Christ!" shouted Houlden, rushing to pull off his shoes. While Houlden struggled to pull off his shoes, Lord Efren dove into the water without stopping, and grabbed Jonathan, swimming him to the arms of Houlden. The Duke of Kent ran to call emergency services, while Efren started CPR on him. After a few seconds, Jonathan started to cough, but he was suffering a concussion.

Michael emerged from the water and looked over at the scene. The King turned towards him and began to rebuke him for not listening.

"Michael, you stupid boy! I specifically told you not to be disobedient, not to egg him on. Now look at what has happened!" said the King, his voice going hoarse from yelling so loud. The King rushed over to help Jonathan in any way he could, while the scene began to draw the attention of the other guests. Lady Houlden, the Queen's sister, ran over in a panic, before being pulled aside by her husband and young daughter.

An hour later, Jonathan Cantor-Brandeis rested on a lounge in the Blue Room of the Palace. The King and Queen sat in the adjoining Red Room with Prince Michael and Lord and Lady Houlden, waiting for any news from the doctor. After several minutes of tension, the doctor emerged from the room, folding his stethoscope and putting it in his jacket pocket.

"Lord Houlden," said the doctor.

"Is he okay?" asked Houlden.

"He will be fine, My Lord. He has a bit of a concussion, but he is responding well. We're going to keep him in hospital overnight, just to keep an eye on things," said the doctor.

Lord and Lady Houlden walked into the Blue Room with the doctor to see their son, while the Queen walked out to the lawn to mingle with the guests. Michael, realizing he was in trouble, glanced over at his father. The King leered at him.

"Your cousin could have been seriously hurt, Michael. Lord Houlden told Jonathan not to jump off that rope swing and you did it anyway," said the King.

"I said I'm sorry," Michael protested, typical of a teenager.

"Sorry isn't good enough, Michael. I am tired of you offering cheap apologies as if simply saying it fixes the problem. No, I intend for you to learn something from this ordeal," said the King as two palace servants walked past the doorway in the hall.

"Oh, you two there, come here please," said the King to the servants, having not recognized them. When the two servants entered the room, the King instantly recognized them: William, the head groundskeeper, and Rita, the head of the kitchen staff. The King instructed William to cut down the rope swing as soon as possible. He then turned to Rita.

"Rita, I want you to have Michael shadow you for the rest of the afternoon," said the King.

"Shadow, Your Majesty?" she asked, puzzled.

"He is your employee for today. I want him to learn about listening to people and doing the right thing. I trust there is something you can have him do," said the King.

"Well, actually, the grease traps need to be cleaned in the kitchen stoves and then the dishes have to be done after the party. It will probably take us until eleven o'clock before everything is done," she said.

"Perfect! Have Michael help you out with the more 'rewarding' jobs that the kitchen staff has to do tonight," said the King.

Michael's eyes widened as he looked at the elderly Rita, then at his father as he began to protest.

"Michael, shut up and go change into some work clothes," said the King. "Rita, he's yours for the afternoon. Just don't damage him…too much," the King said with a laugh. "I'd like a full progress report this evening."

"Absolutely, Your Majesty. Come on, Michael," said Rita, grabbing Michael by the wrist.

The King certainly knew how to play games with his children. He had gone through the "disobedient teenager" phase four times before: Elizabeth used to help mow the palace lawns, Grace would dust the parade rooms, Diana and James both cleaned and maintained the automobiles. All in a day's work, Paul thought. Perhaps learning about the jobs of everyday people would make them less arrogant and less spoiled, as well as more willing to listen to what their father told them to do. It had worked for the Thieriots since Elizabeth, and Paul didn't feel he should break tradition.

 

[Brettaine]

Ashtonfield Opera House
One Halifax Way
Ashtonfield, Capital District, Brettaine

The King and Queen sat in their Royal Box at the grand Ashtonfield Opera House as they watched a performance of Oberon. Draped from the box was the Standard of the Kingdom, with a golden Coat of Arms affixed at the centre. Contrary to previous nights, the King and Queen were alone in the box, with only their bodyguards hiding behind the curtains in the shadows.

Her Majesty the Queen was dressed in a royal blue-coloured evening gown, spangled with diamonds and pearls. Amidst her golden locks was a diamond tiara, a staple in the Queen Consort's evening wear for nearly a century. His Majesty the King was dressed in his Dress Uniform, his gold and enameled medals glinting in the dim light of the theatre. As the Queen peered through her opera glasses at the stage below, she couldn't help but chat with her husband: a continuation of an argument they had been engaged in since earlier that afternoon.

"Darling," she whispered. "I do wish you'd reconsider the proposal," she said.
"It is out of the question, Alix. Now please, I am trying to enjoy the opera," said the King, rather curtly.
"I think it would be good for Michael," said the Queen, pressing the matter.
"Alix, please. If you feel the need to discuss it further we shall do it later. Right now I wish to enjoy the opera in peace," said the King.

Rather than continue to argue, the Queen simply fell silent and continued to watch the opera as per her husband's wishes. For the next hour and a half, the Queen barely breathed a word to her husband, steeping him in her "silent treatment" that so effectively communicated the fact that she was upset with him. As the opera came to a close, the audience stood in ovation, as the King and Queen stood themselves to applaud. Afterwards, the Queen silently exited the box before her husband, and walked out into the hallway where the King asked her if she enjoyed the opera.

In response, the Queen simply nodded her head as she draped a shawl over her shoulders. As was customary, the King escorted the Queen Consort out of the theatre in his arm, while the Queen still made sparse conversation with her husband. The Royal Couple marched through a lightning storm of photographer's cameras as they exited the theatre and entered the safety of their Corsair Royalé 98 Special limousine.

"Alix, after twenty-seven years of marriage I am quite aware when you are giving your silent treatment," said the King after the door to their limousine was closed.
"Paulie, I wish you'd listen to me," said the Queen, breaking her silence.
"Darling, I understand you want Michael to engage in some activities during the summertime," said the King before the Queen interrupted.
"And I think this would be a perfect activity. He is interested in this and," said the Queen before the King interrupted her once more.
"And, Darling, it is dangerous. Why can't he study the piano or drawing or something?" asked the King.
"He already knows how to play the piano and he is quite the talented artist. Having him take piano or drawing classes would be a waste of time!" said the Queen.

The King looked at his wife as he pushed the button to close the divider between the Royal Couple and their chauffer.

"Alix, listen," started the King.
"No, Paul. You listen. For twenty-three years, it has always been 'Oh, Alix is so overprotective of the children. Alix won't let the children do this. Alix won't let the children have their independence and do what they want, et cetera.' Whenever you and your brother are together, or whenever you and the other men are together, it's always 'Alix the drag. Thieriot Men know how to let their children have their independence.' Well, now that I support Michael doing what he wants, now you are the one standing in his way!" said the Queen, rather vehemently.
"Dear, I understand your feelings. But really, a class in deep sea diving?" asked the King.
"Michael wants to do it. When he saw the brochure at school he came running into the boudoir waving the pamphlet in his hand, excitedly asking to do it. Well, I did my research and I think it would be a very enriching experience," said the Queen.
"It's dangerous, though!" said the King. "What if he runs out of oxygen while diving? What if he gets the bends? What then?"
"He will be fine! The class is out of St. Kilda. They stay at a camp where they teach them all sorts of things. And when they do go diving, it's not more than fifteen metres and their oxygen sensors are observed remotely. He will be perfectly safe. In fact, they'll be diving to the wreck of the old paddle steamer Puck, which you were just reading about last month. You know Michael's interest in shipwrecks. This is what he wants to do." said the Queen. "Besides, since we are planning to travel overseas this summer it would be a lot better with just the two of us. We haven't had that experience for some time," she continued.

The King mulled at the proposition.

"Michael is bored. James has left for Aylette, Diana is in Fairfax at university. Grace and Elizabeth are both travelling abroad and living their lives. Our baby is all alone, Paul. And it's because he's bored that you and him have been going at one another for months. With school out for the summer he has nothing to do but mill about the palace. He's seventeen years old. He needs something to stimulate his mind, otherwise he'll look for other things. Like arguing with you, or swimming in that pond," said Alix.
"Well," started the King.
"Well, here's how it's going to be. You will either deny Michael this opportunity and admit to your cousins and brother that it was your own doing and not that of 'Alix the Terrible,' or you will allow Michael to do this and save face," ordered the Queen in a spousal tone.

The King sighed at the proposition. He knew his wife had him in a bind.

"Okay," said the King. "He can go," he continued.

The Queen smiled at the King's answer.

"You know, Dear. You would certainly make a great diplomat. You do know how to get what you want," said the King.
"Don't forget, my darling: my grandfather was Prime Minister for your grandfather during the Great War," said the Queen before pecking her husband on the cheek.
"Speaking of which, I need to inform Madame Hollingsworth about our intentions to tour Europe this summer. Although it would certainly be a most treasured trip, with the children at home doing their own things," said the King.

The limousine continued to roll down the streets of Ashtonfield towards the Aquitaine Palace, aglow in the foggy darkness of the evening.

 

[Brettaine]

Birds chirped in the flowering bushes in the garden as the sun was rising in the eastern sky above Ashtonfield. On the stone alfreso overlooking the flower garden, the King indulged in his usual Sunday morning routine of coffee and biscuits. During the summer months, he would sit alone on the alfresco, listening to the birds chirp and enjoy the crisp early morning air as he read his newspaper.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," said Colonel Sellgren as he walked out on the alfresco where the King was reading the newspaper. The King looked over his gold-rimmed reading glasses at his aide-de-camp, ready to give the King the morning political report.

"Colonel Sellgren, I heard a funny rumour this morning about the travel alert issued for the Long Sea. Apparently, the Carentanians seem mildly perturbed that we singled them out specifically," said the King.

"No, sire. The travelers placed on alert are in Carentania, Nicosia, and Solaren. Travelers in Lorraine are simply encouraged to monitor the situation," said the Colonel. "The news report from Melbourne last night simply stated 'Carentania, Solaren, and neighbouring countries,' which of course tacitly means Nicosia as well."

"Communists," said the King with a hint of irritation in his voice as he lit his pipe. "You know, I do believe the Sereniérrese are the only ones who are able to make at least some form of Marxism work."

"Of course, Your Majesty," he said as he held up the blue leather-bound dossier in his hand. "May I?" he asked, tacitly referring to the political report.

"Please," said the King as he sat back in his chair.

"Well, as I'm sure Your Majesty is aware, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs issued a travel alert for passport holders in the Long Sea region yesterday afternoon. It may be expanded for Lorraine and other EDF nations should the situation continue to deteriorate. The Senate is expected to vote on same-sex marriage tomorrow afternoon. Almost all of the politicos expect the bill to pass between 48-28 and 54-22. Oil futures have risen on the market, so Madame Hollingsworth is planning to meet with her Ministers to formulate a response to rising energy prices before they can undermine national security. And, here you are," he said, handing a small envelope to the King.

"What is this?" asked the King.

"A letter from Michael," said the Colonel.

The King smiled. "I'll read it with Alix when we leave for Mass," said the King, placing the letter in his vest pocket.

"Very well, Your Majesty," said Sellgren. "That's the morning report. There isn't much going on today, not on a Sunday over a Long Week-end."

"Thank you, Colonel Sellgren," said the King.

"Good Day, Sire," said Sellgren as he walked off the alfresco, leaving the King alone once again.