Joint post with Excalbia
Stadtschloss, Bodendorf, Ernestria
“Ah, well, give me the itinerary again Tanchev. From the top. Tell me everything. Cross every I, dot every T.”
Sir Bogomil Tanchev, Private Secretary to HRH The Prince Regent, rolled his eyes.
“Of course sir, I would be delighted to repeat it again.” He glanced down at his Peaco*ckPad and cleared his throat.
“His Imperial Majesty’s plane from Mara is expected at about quarter to nine.”
The Prince Regent, dressed in the uniform of a Field Marshal, turned around sharply.
“About quarter to nine?” he asked, “You will need to be more detailed than that. When I was in the navy I wouldn’t have countenanced such imprecision.”
Tanchev bowed. “Apologies, Your Royal Highness, the plane is due at…” He turned and looked at Valentin Steriovski, the Assistant Private Secretary, who did nothing but look panicked and shrug.
“At 09:43,” guessed Tanchev, “At RAF Braylan.”
The Prince Regent nodded. “Good,” he said, “And who is to meet him?”
Sir Bogomil inhaled through his teeth like a builder giving an estimate. “It’s unusual sir in that it isn’t a State Visit per se. The Imperial Party are making a small tour of the region prior to their return to Excalbia. The IHA are keen not to delay His Imperial Majesty longer than is necessary. He has, after all, only just attended the wedding in Ultrasylva.”
“I know,” replied in a testy Prince Cyrille, “I also attended.”
“Of course sir, of course. But to answer your question,” he swiped through some open tabs, “I believe His Excellency the Excalbian Ambassador..Mr…,” some more swiping, “Sorry, Baroness Jaunais, will be in attendance along with the Foreign Secretary of course.”
“Hrytsenko?” gasped the Prince, “That old crook. I hope you told the Emperor to check he still has his gold watch after they shake hands.”
Sir Bogomil gave a titter of polite laughter. “Ha ha, most amusing Your Highness.”
“I wasn’t aware I was joking Tanchev.”
“Right, okay, well,” he looked down at the tablet again, “From there the Imperial Party will be taken to the Excalbian Embassy on Lindenstraße and from there to the Stadtschloss.”
The Prince Regent looked down at his uniform. The Ernestrian ceremonial uniform was a green tunic in the pattern that existed before the Great War when armies were more concerned with presentation rather than camouflage; high-necked and without chest pockets. The trousers white with red piping down the seam. As a Field Marshal the Prince had enough gold braiding to replenish the Zamimbian reserves. The royal forehead furrowed.
“Party?” he asked, “Is the Empress attending?”
“I don’t believe so,” replied Tanchev, “But Her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess is.”
The Prince Royal looked concerned.
“Well,” continued the Secretary, “She’s got to learn the ropes at some point.”
“True,” conceded the Prince, “And he’s here to receive the Order of the Pewter Crown. Did we give that to his father?”
“I….don’t know sir. I will check. Steriovski, look that up for me won’t you?”
“Yes Sir Bogomil.”
“We’ve also asked,” continued Tanchev, “Whether the Emperor would acquiesce to becoming the Colonel-in-chief of one of our regiments. You will doubtless recall, sir, that it is a longstanding custom of ours that members of other Houses become the ceremonial patron of a regiment, the one which comes immediately to mind being the 4th Tarján Hussars whose colonel-in-chief was the late Manuel IX of Pantocratoria, which is why their badge is the double-headed Pantocratorian eagle.”
The Prince nodded. “Which one is it again?”
“The 24th Regiment of Foot sir,” replied Sir Bogomil, “You will recollect during the last defence reorganisation that a number of regiments were amalgamated and of those that became the 24th were some with long and prestigious records. It was thought best to grant them a new badge rather than cause any animosity with the men.”
“Of course, so the Excalbian Coat of Arms will become their badge.” The Prince paused. “What is the Excalbian Coat of Arms again?”
“I….also don’t know. See to that will you Steriovski?”
“Yes Sir Bogomil.”
“His Imperial Majesty may reciprocate in kind to His Majesty The King and yourself sir.”
“Jolly decent of him.”
“Well, quite. There will be time for some pleasantries, maybe a spot of lunch depending on the timetable, and then the Imperial Party will be taken to the Parliament Building for a short tour.”
“Parliament has broken up for recess hasn’t it?”
“Yes sir,” replied Tanchev, “I rather think that was the plan. The Government didn’t want any of the more…fractious representatives from causing a scene. There will then be some discussions with His Grace the Duke of Starograd and the Right Honourable Mr Keszthelyi.”
“Hmm.” The Prince Regent thought it all rather curious that the Emperor of Excalbia played such a prominent role in the Holy Empire’s politics. But then again, who was he to judge? How many times had his dear Papa attempted to engineer governments more to his liking.
“After that I believe there is an exhibition at Bodendorf University by the art students of pieces inspired by Sir Tenis and Lady Gosvald..”
“Who the devil are they?”
“Famous Excalbian artists sir, I don’t expect you will be familiar with their work. From hence it will be back to RAF Braylan and, presumably, on to Cyretopolitania. It is very much, as they say, a whistlestop visit sir.”
The Prince Regent nodded. “Ah, well, very good Tanchev. Carry on.”
“Your Highness.”
RAF Braylan, Kingdom of Ernestria
The 900-series long-range, low-emissions, wide-body jet touched down smoothly on the airbase’s runway. The plane, bearing the blue and gold livery of the Excalbian Imperial Air Force’s executive fleet taxied to where a coterie of grounds crew workers, security officers and diplomats waited alongside a mobile staircase and an idling motorcade.
After the plane cut its engines and the ground crew had done their necessary tasks, the door opened. Inside the plane, Crown Princess Elizabeth peaked out of the window closest to the door and turned to her father. “Why Bodendorf? It seems terribly… boring.”
The Emperor suppressed a smile as he straightened his Imperial Army uniform. “Elizabeth, you wanted to come with me so that you could stop in Cyretopolitania. To see that Braslander boy.” Elizabeth turned and gave her father a sharp look. This time, he could not keep the smile from creeping across his face. “Of course I’ve noticed how he… keeps turning up at events when you’re around,” Joseph said with a hint of a chuckle.
“Well, it’s just…,” Elizabeth began awkwardly.
“Don’t worry. It’s ok.” The Emperor put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “But consider Bodendorf the price of your trip to Cyretia.” He gestured towards the door. “Besides, we won’t be here long and it’s good for you to get used to dealing with… all sorts of diplomatic obligations.”
After several minutes, the Emperor and Crown Princess emerged from the plane and walked down the stairs to the tarmac. Baroness Deborah Jaunais, His Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Kingdom of Ernestria, and her husband, the Baron, bowed to the Emperor and Crown Princess.
“Welcome to Ernestria and to Bodendorf, Your Imperial Majesty. Your Imperial Highness,” she said. “May I present His Excellency, His Ernestrian Majesty’s Foreign Secretary.” She nodded and gestured towards Hrytsenko.
Leonid Hrytsenko bowed deeply. For all his many flaws (a corruption scandal was bound to get him at some point), the Foreign Secretary was no fool. He knew that Foreign Affairs had, across the region, increasingly become the concern of heads of government. He was aware that gone were the days when a single man (for they almost always were men) dictated the relations of entire polities. To be a Foreign Minister today was more paperwork than diplomacy. It was, to quote another official about another office, "not worth a bucket of warm piss". But it paid well, with an impressive desk and a chateau in the country. There were worse gigs.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, “Your Imperial Highness. Welcome to Ernestria.” His English was passable but his Ruthenian accent heavy. “I trust you had a pleasant flight?”
“We did,” the Emperor said pleasantly. “It was not nearly as long a trip as the flight to Mara from the Citadel.”
He paused to allow Elizabeth to speak, and after a few moments, she said, “Yes, it was fine, thank you.”
The Emperor smiled at the Foreign Secretary. “We are looking forward to seeing the Prince Regent.”
“No doubt,” replied Hrytsenko. He turned and nodded towards a fleet of cars which slowly started to pull across the runway. “I will leave you in the capable hands of the Baron and Baroness, though I will see you both again at the Parliament Building.
He bowed, briefly wondered how expensive the Emperor’s shoes were, and straightened just as the Imperial car arrived.
The Stadtschloss
There was nothing stopping Cyrille from sitting on the throne itself. He was, after all, ‘acting king’ (and recent medical reports indicating that he might be acting for some considerable time). He fulfilled all the roles that the King was expected to do (expected being the operative word considering his older brother Gussie had never shown much inclination to do them). He straightened his uniform and cast an uneasy eye to the two great chairs behind him. They were impressive things, gilded with gold with two great hounds (symbols of the Jæger family) that supported arm rests.
And yet he couldn’t, for embroidered onto the back of the larger in silver (a nod to the pewter crown) was the monogram E VII SOTER II R. On the other was the Queen’s monogram. Even now, after all these years, it felt to Cyrille presumptuous; like climbing into the still warm shoes of a dead man.
He therefore sat on his own chair, slightly forward of the thrones, and on a lower step. It was still a rather magnificent affair, red velvet with arms supported by gold painted sphinxes in the Empire Style, even if it had not been created especially for the purpose (it had been found in an attic). The Prince Regent began to look at his watch when suddenly the great doors opened to reveal the Emperor of Excalbia and his heir.
Cyrille stood and tried to look the ‘acting king’. A herald, dressed in a tabard of the Kingdom, appeared from behind a curtain.
“His Imperial Majesty Joseph, Lord of Valmiera, Grand Duke of Saulcrasti, King in the Citadel,
Defender of the Faith and Temporal Head of the Church of Excalbia, Guardian of the Upper and Lower Lands, Heir of the Sword of Alsgood, by the Grace of God Emperor of Excalbia.” He took another breath. “And Her Imperial Highness The Crown Princess.”
“Goodness,” said the Prince Regent with a smile, “I had quite forgotten how many titles you had.” He descended the few steps and offered a gloved hand. “Joseph, nice to see you again.”
Joseph returned the smile and nodded. “It is a mouthful,” he said, taking Cyrille’s proffered hand and shaking it. “It's nice to finally be here in Bodendorf. My father used to speak highly of it.”
He turned to the Crown Princess. “And you remember my daughter, Elizabeth.”
“Your Highness,” she said with a slight bow of the head.
“Of course,” said the Prince Regent, “Your Imperial Highness, looking as lovely as ever I see. How old are you now? 18? 19?” He turned to the Emperor. “She is becoming a fine young woman. You must be very proud of her.” He turned back. “Have you given any thought to university, your highness? My family used to be very much of the opinion that Princes and Princesses of the Royal Blood ought to be educated at home by tutors but I insisted that my Yulia go to school.” He neglected to mention it was a very expensive school. “I like to think she is the better person for it. She studied….” There was a brief pause.
“History of Art,” chipped in Sir Bogomil at a respectful distance.
“Yes,” continued Cyrille, “I knew it had something to do with pictures. At the university in Evksinograd. All our universities have joint programmes these days, from what I understand, so if you ever wanted to do a sabbatical in Ernestria then I am sure it can be arranged, and you should always consider yourself a guest of this House in general and myself and Princess Ana Maria in particular.”
Elizabeth smiled politely, as her mother had taught her, and said, “I've just turned 18, Sir. And, next year, I plan to attend the University of Landing.” She glanced at her father. “Though I will enroll in the reserve officer program and train as an Imperial Air Force cadet while at university.” She paused. “Thank you for your kind offer, Sir; I will certainly consider it.”
Joseph nodded, then added, “I am quite proud of her.”
Sir Bogomil appeared at the Prince Regent’s elbow. “Your Imperial Majesty, Your Imperial Highness, sir. The guests for the investiture have started to arrive.”
“Ah, well, of course,” the Prince Regent smiled the smile of a man whose days were spent fulfilling an itinerary not of his own making, “We shall talk more afterwards.”
The Emperor, Crown Princess and other Excalbian dignitaries were shown to their seats on the front row. The throne room was not filled to the brim of seats but there were enough both to indicate that the Ernestrians were mindful that this was no mere trinket they were pinning to Joseph but nor were there so many that the Emperor might have thought a speech was needed. It was mainly the great and the good of the Kingdom; party leaders (who Joseph and Elizabeth would meet later), peers, a smattering of clergymen, prominent members of the Excalbian community in Ernestria and representatives of charities either linked to the work of the Holy Empire or the House of Alsgood. Most kept a respectful distance, there would be time for pleasantries later, but one bearded cleric wearing a large ruff did appear before the Emperor.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “Hermann Diekwisch, sir, Bishop of Weingartskirchen. I was invited to the Church of Excalbia’s Synod a few years ago and I never got the chance to thank you for your hospitality.”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” the Emperor said. “We were very pleased that you could attend. I hope you found the Synod… enlightening.”
The figure of the Prince Kocobędz, Obersthofmeister and ever the dark cloud to a silver lining, appeared and stood at the front. The hushed conversations grew silent as the heralds, their trumpets ready, awaited the sign. With an almost imperceptible nod from the Prince the fanfare began and everyone stood up.
Mohyła, his uniform glittering under the electric lights, held out an imperious gloved hand into which a page placed a roll of vellum. He seamlessly moved this from his left to his right and held open his free hand again onto which another page deposited his reading glasses. He placed these onto this face with the appropriate dignity and unrolled the vellum.
“Whereas we the Grand Master Pro Tempore of the Most Illustrious Order of the Pewter Crown have full power, in the name Of His Majesty, to dispense with all the Statutes and Regulations usually observed within the same; We therefore upon divers considerations Us thereunto especially moving do hereby dispense with all the said Statutes and Regulations and do give and grant unto Our Dear Cousin..”
He cleared his throat.
“His Imperial Majesty Joseph, Lord of Valmiera, Grand Duke of Saulcrasti, King in the Citadel,
Defender of the Faith and Temporal Head of the Church of Excalbia, Guardian of the Upper and Lower Lands, Heir of the Sword of Alsgood, by the Grace of God Emperor of Excalbia.”
He paused.
“Full power and authority to wear and use the Glory or Star of Silver with the a crown with eight gold florets without apses, placed on a blue enameled headband, the bottom of which crown and in the middle pose an eagle and a lion backed and crowned by a single crown, on the right side of the lion, is the horse; on the left, on the side of the eagle, is the lion, the whole surmounted by the imperial elephant and carried on its lightning, on which is written: “Deus spes nostra” encompassed by a ring having the shape of a snake biting its tail upon the left part of His Coat, Cloak and upper garment as also to surround his Coat of Arms with the Insignia and to wear and use the Collar and all other Ornaments belonging to the said Most Illustrious Order and to sit in the Stall that shall be assigned to him in The Royal Chapel of Saint Tudno at Tekendorf and to exercise all the Rights and Privileges belonging to Knight Companion of Our said Most Illustrious Order of the Pewter Crown in full and ample a manner; any decree, rule or usage to the contrary notwithstanding.
Given under the Great Seal of Our said Order at His Majesty’s Court at Bodendorf in the Thirty-Second Year of His Majesty’s Reign and in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Twenty-Four.
Cyrille, Princeps Regens.”
The Prince Kocobędz took precisely 1 and ½ steps to the side. Into his place stepped a young officer of the Royal Air Force carrying a velvet cushion on which sat the insignia. The Prince Regent stepped forward and picked up the mustard yellow riband, or sash, and placed it over the Emperor’s head such that it sat upon his left shoulder and fell to his right waist. The Prince then took collar and placed it, like a great necklace, over his head. Finally he took the star. The Emperor was not new to this and so (to prevent an awkward removal of the Imperial Jacket) the star was pinned to a specially designed spot on the Imperial Army uniform.
Cyrille stepped back and gave a satisfied nod. “Very nice,” he said, “It suits you.”
Let it not be said that the Royal Court was nothing if not prepared. The Prince Kocobędz returned to his spot and another vellum passed to him.
“Cyrille Gregor Philipp Ernst, Prince Regent, on behalf of Ernest VII Soter II, by the Grace of God, the Constitutions of the Republic and the Assent of the Peoples, of Ernestria, King and Grand Commander of the Most Honourable Order of Ernest II Philopater, have thought fit to nominate and appoint you, Her Imperial Highness Elizabeth Theodora Mary of Excalbia, as Dame Commander of Our said Most Honourable Order of Ernest II Philopater. We do by these presents grant unto you the Dignity of a Dame Commander of Our said Order and authorise you to have and enjoy the said Dignity and Rank together with all and singular the privileges thereunto belonging or appertaining.
Given at His Majesty’s Court at Bodendorf in the Thirty-Second Year of His Majesty’s Reign and in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Twenty-Four.
Cyrille, Princeps Regens.”
The Obersthofmeister again took his precise measurement of steps and was this time replaced by a young female officer of the Royal Ernestrian Navy. The Order of Ernest II Philopater might not rank as highly as that of the Pewter Crown but nor was it made of plastic and given away at fast-food restaurants. The riband was lilac with a white line down the centre (to denote the fact it was an honorary appointment to a foreign royal). A ribbon of the same colour (without the line) held the pointed cross of a Dame Commander. The benefit of a Dame Commander was that it did not require the pinning of a star to the Crown Princesses chest.
The ribbon (because this is Ernestria and everything has to be slightly awkward) was placed the opposite direction to the Emperor’s; falling from the right shoulder to the left hip. The medal of the order was placed around her neck. Again the Prince Regent smiled.
“We’d hoped,” he said, “To give you this for your 18th birthday so you will have to accept our apologies for the lateness.”
The Prince Regent stepped back and stood up straight. There followed another fanfare followed by a round of applause from the guests.
“You can wave now if you like,” said Cyrille to Joseph and Elizabeth.
Joseph and Elizabeth waved to the crowds and thanked the Prince Regent, with Joseph offering his hand for a hearty shake and Elizabeth offering hers palm down in the Caldan fashion.
After the crowd had settled, Captain William Hicks, the Naval Attaché from the Excalbian Embassy, approached and opened a large wooden box. Baroness Jaunais, the Excalbian Ambassador, joined him and opened a blue and gold portfolio. Inside was a parchment adorned with ribbons and seals. She began to read:
“Whereas Cyrille Gregor Philipp Ernst, Prince Regent of the Kingdom of Ernestria and Our dear cousin, has demonstrated the highest commitment to duty and proven himself a man of loyalty and honor, it is Our privilege as Sovereign Commander-General of the Order of Alsgood, the Great to bestow upon him the rank of Commander of the Order of Alsgood, the Great, with all the duties and privileges that pertain therein.
“Given by my hand and sealed this day,
Signed, Joseph, by the Grace of God, Emperor of Excalbia”
The Baroness closed the portfolio and Captain Hicks took a step towards the Emperor, who turned and lifted a heavy metal chain bearing a golden St. Andrew's cross - known in Excalbia as Joshua's Cross - with a stylized blue and yellow enameled miniature replica of the Sword of Alsgood from the box.
Turning back towards the Prince Regent, he lifted the chain and placed it around Cyrille's neck, so that the cross and sword medal fell about the middle of his chest.
He then took a step back and saluted.
The chain was heavier that the Prince Regent imagined but he straightened himself as though he was the proudest ensign on the flagship.
“I would thank His Majesty for the tremendous honour he has bestowed on me and to our country,” he said, his voice raised slightly for the benefit of those at the back, “And hope that by these tokens of our esteem we may continue to build upon the friendship of our two countries.”
The Obersthofmeister, never one for the modern blight of spontaneous speechifying, return to his position. “God Save The King.”
“God Save The King,” intoned the rest of the room.
A Short Time Later
The assembly having been dispersed and the more precious regalia packed into velvet lined boxes, Cyrille chatted with the Excalbians. It was unsure as to how long the Emperor and his party would be able to stay and so the palace kitchens had prepared a small buffet lunch such that the Excalbians could eat as much or as little as they wished.
“You must be pleased,” continued Cyrille, “To see your brother wed and to a woman of such self-evident qualities.” He sipped his coffee. “Has Elizabeth shown any interest in such things? She is perhaps a little young but I know what girls are like. One minute they are playing with dolls and declaring boys to be these beastly things and then, in the flash of an eye, they are swooning over a handsome stable boy.”
Joseph nodded as he stopped his own coffee. “It is a… relief to see James settle down. Especially with a woman of, as you said, such self-evident quality.” He smiled at Cyrille's remark about Elizabeth turning her attention from dolls to boys. “Elizabeth does seem to have grown up overnight. She's not yet interested in marriage, but she is quite interested in boys. Be they would-be archeologists from noble Braslander families or young baseball stars.”
A little further away Johann, the Prince Royal, had been pried away from his computer to talk with the Crown Princess. No attempt was made to hide his displeasure at this act. “My uncle thinks I should see something of the world,” he sniffed, “There’s talk of sending me to stay with my sister Bernice, she’s doing an officer exchange with the Excalbian Air Force. Did you know that 0.00684% of flights end up crashing. They say it’s safer than driving in a car but at least you can walk away from most car accidents.” He looked at Elizabeth who, for the first time, he noticed was not completely unattractive. “Is Excalbia boring? I’ve been to the Midsummer Thingy you have but I thought it was very strange and not very safe. I wonder what the accident statistics are for that?”
Elizabeth forced a smile in Johann’s direction. He seemed like such an odd boy. “I'm afraid I'm not as good at memorizing statistics as you are,” she said pleasantly, “but I don't believe anyone has ever died from Midsummer festivities.” She leaned towards Johann, whom she towed over in part due to her natural height and in part due to her heels. “There's a trick to the bonfire jumping,” she said as if sharing a secret. “You wait for it to die down to where you can easily clear the height.”
The Crown Princess straightened. “And I don't think Excalbia is boring at all. We have the beach in the south in summer, skiing in the winter, sports of all sorts, the theater. And, now that I'm old enough, some nice dance clubs.” She paused again. “You should definitely take the opportunity to visit Bernice. You can both visit me at the Summer Palace or one of our other estates, depending on your interests.”
Johann looked horrified at the thought of jumping, especially over fire. “Won’t you damage your ankles? What if you landed badly and damaged a ligament?”
He shifted slightly. “Bernice says I don’t take enough risks, that I should, what’s the phrase, ‘go outside and touch grass?’ Well that’s easy for her to say. My uncle AND my grandfather got blown to pieces by a bomb on their boat. No one is going to bomb Bernice, unless it’s a jilted wife.”
Still, something awakened in Johann that day, staring up at the Crown Princess. He had been the only boy in his family, of a sort, and had always looked down at women. The experience of looking up at one was…novel. Plus an assortment of other emotions he lacked the vocabulary for.
“What are your interests then?” he asked, “With your other estates?”
“Well,” Elizabeth said, “it depends on the season, really. In winter, I like skiing at our mountain estate. In spring, I like horseback riding at one of our coastal estates. In summer, there’s the beach, though the beaches in Cyretopolitania are better. And in the fall, I like riding in the mountains.”
She smiled at the younger boy. “What sorts of things do you like to do?”
Meanwhile, away from the children’s table, Cyrille nodded at the Emperor’s remarks. “Ahh the Braslanders, they’re quite the bunch aren’t they? Always marry well, except Georg of course.” He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice, as though sharing a secret of shattering importance. “Bit of a scoundrel I think. A rogue. A salient example for what could have become of your brother. Him and that Latgale boy, I forget his name. His sister is alright, married to my nephew. She seems the best of a bad bunch.”
“Ah,” the Emperor said with a smile, “Jonathan. He is a bit of a… rogue, as you said. But so was Peter before he became Caldas’ Prince Consort. I’m sure he’ll come around a some as he finds the right woman.”
He sipped his coffee. “Speaking of international playboys, or at least semi-reformed international playboys, you must come to Laodice’s wedding. Very wisely they are having it in Providencia. Well we don’t have the weather for it here. I remembered when I married Ana Maria. The week before was one of the hottest weeks in October on record. The day itself? It never stopped ra no ining. Ah well, they say a rainy wedding is good luck.”
“I will certainly try to make it. And we’ll be well represented in any case. And congratulations,” the Emperor said. “From what I hear, or rather what’s reported to me by those more… in tune with the social comings and goings, Laodice has already had a salutary effect on Felipe’s behavior.”
*Entirely up to you whether you want more chitchat or want to go to the politicians*
He looked at his watch. “But don’t let me keep you Joseph, I realise you’ve a very strict schedule today. Politicians don’t like to be kept waiting, which is a bit rich considering they make the voters wait five years. But you must come for a longer visit. Birthälm is lovely this time of year, and in the Fall there is always stag hunting.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Joseph said.
