rix_scaedu: (Default)

The official negotiations were done and the political deal had been struck.  Now the two people who were going to have to make the public, symbolic front- end of those agreements work were meeting in a conference room.  Archduke Franz had one of his uncle’s negotiators at his side while Vordamma Princesza Rune sat opposite him with a man who seemed like a family solicitor beside her.

His Imperial and Royal Highness had a list both of issues and of things that simply needed to be decided.  The first one was, “Where will we live?  I had expected we would get a larger apartment in the Schloss Leopoldsberg but the treaty specifies that we will live in this country.”

“Yes.”  Rune acknowledged the treaty’s provisions.  “That’s a requirement from my father’s family.  Unless something surprising happens, I will be the Sjeldnjar Ruhtig and our child will follow me into the position.  It’s unacceptable for the future Ruhtig to be raised as a foreigner.”  A slight hesitation then, “Might I ask why the Leopoldsberg and not one of the palaces in the capital?  Do you prefer the countryside?”

“It’s less occupied by family and retainers and everything else that revolves around the Emperor.”  He shrugged.  “There are days when I can imagine that the whole place is mine.  I like it that there are very few people around to question my comings and goings.”  He smiled at her and added, “I like your hair, by the way.  That cut’s very fetching.  You shouldn’t cover it up.”  The other two men looked at Princess Rune’s bare short, dark hair and the solicitor raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” she smiled back and added, “I don’t yet have an opinion on beards.  My Uncle Algernon has offered us the wing of the Sjeldnjar townhouse with the nurseries.  As I’m the only member of my generation in the direct line, the implication seems to be that we should fill them.  If you don’t want to live in the city, I’m sure we have other options.”

“I would like to see the townhouse before I make a decision.”

“That’s probably wise.”  She nodded in agreement while the solicitor made a note.  “What’s next on your list?”

“Occupation.  Now-.”

She cut him off with a gesture and started talking.  “I’m glad you brought that up.  I’m resigning my position and I expect you to resign from any and all military and/or intelligence positions you now occupy.”

“Archduke Franz holds no military positions,” inserted the diplomat seated at the Archduke’s side smoothly.  “Your Highness’ request is unnecessary.”

“Indeed?”  Rune opened the folder in front of her, picked up the black and white photograph that sat on top of the papers inside and placed it right way up in front of Franz.  “Just so neither of us can put the other in an uncomfortable or difficult position if we talk in our sleep.”

The diplomat looked at the six Imperial Nachtjäger soldiers in the picture.  He’d seen it before in an article on Imperial assistance to one of the remaining satrapies.  “I don’t see what-.”

“Thank you Hermann, I’ll take this.”  The Archduke put his finger on the photo and pushed it back towards the Princess.  “Where did you get this?”

“The picture?  It was published in an international current affairs magazine two years ago.  The connection?  It came up during the security assessment of my foreign husband-to-be.”  Rune pushed the picture back towards him.  “I’ve pencilled your squad mates into the guest list, not that I have names, as I assume you’ll either be inviting them or they’ll be among your groomsmen.  Would a partner and an average of three children each be about right?  If you want to invite them personally, I can arrange for you to receive the requisite number of blank invitations after you firm the numbers up for me.”

“Your Highness?”  The diplomat was getting a little worried that this was about to be undiplomatic.

“This,” the Archduke told him tersely, “is that ‘there are no friendly foreign intelligence services, just the intelligence services of friendly countries’ thing they tell you about.”

“Yes,” the Princess agreed with him, “it is.  The other thing I’m trying to say, Franz, is that I don’t see why you should lose your friends on top of leaving your home and losing your job.  I don’t see why your friends,” she indicated the photo again, “shouldn’t come to the wedding.  There are quite enough unrelated people on the guest list that I’m sure neither of us know,” she finished tartly.

Franz sat back and folded his arms.  “What do you think I’m going to do with myself?”

“I have no idea,” Rune admitted, “but I’m out of a job too.  I thought we might be able to work it out togther.”

rix_scaedu: (Default)

The official negotiations were done and the political deal had been struck.  Now the two people who were going to have to make the public, symbolic front- end of those agreements work were meeting in a conference room.  Archduke Franz had one of his uncle’s negotiators at his side while Vordamma Princesza Rune sat opposite him with a man who seemed like a family solicitor beside her.

His Imperial and Royal Highness had a list both of issues and of things that simply needed to be decided.  The first one was, “Where will we live?  I had expected we would get a larger apartment in the Schloss Leopoldsberg but the treaty specifies that we will live in this country.”

“Yes.”  Rune acknowledged the treaty’s provisions.  “That’s a requirement from my father’s family.  Unless something surprising happens, I will be the Sjeldnjar Ruhtig and our child will follow me into the position.  It’s unacceptable for the future Ruhtig to be raised as a foreigner.”  A slight hesitation then, “Might I ask why the Leopoldsberg and not one of the palaces in the capital?  Do you prefer the countryside?”

“It’s less occupied by family and retainers and everything else that revolves around the Emperor.”  He shrugged.  “There are days when I can imagine that the whole place is mine.  I like it that there are very few people around to question my comings and goings.”  He smiled at her and added, “I like your hair, by the way.  That cut’s very fetching.  You shouldn’t cover it up.”  The other two men looked at Princess Rune’s bare short, dark hair and the solicitor raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” she smiled back and added, “I don’t yet have an opinion on beards.  My Uncle Algernon has offered us the wing of the Sjeldnjar townhouse with the nurseries.  As I’m the only member of my generation in the direct line, the implication seems to be that we should fill them.  If you don’t want to live in the city, I’m sure we have other options.”

“I would like to see the townhouse before I make a decision.”

“That’s probably wise.”  She nodded in agreement while the solicitor made a note.  “What’s next on your list?”

“Occupation.  Now-.”

She cut him off with a gesture and started talking.  “I’m glad you brought that up.  I’m resigning my position and I expect you to resign from any and all military and/or intelligence positions you now occupy.”

“Archduke Franz holds no military positions,” inserted the diplomat seated at the Archduke’s side smoothly.  “Your Highness’ request is unnecessary.”

“Indeed?”  Rune opened the folder in front of her, picked up the black and white photograph that sat on top of the papers inside and placed it right way up in front of Franz.  “Just so neither of us can put the other in an uncomfortable or difficult position if we talk in our sleep.”

The diplomat looked at the six Imperial Nachtjäger soldiers in the picture.  He’d seen it before in an article on Imperial assistance to one of the remaining satrapies.  “I don’t see what-.”

“Thank you Hermann, I’ll take this.”  The Archduke put his finger on the photo and pushed it back towards the Princess.  “Where did you get this?”

“The picture?  It was published in an international current affairs magazine two years ago.  The connection?  It came up during the security assessment of my foreign husband-to-be.”  Rune pushed the picture back towards him.  “I’ve pencilled your squad mates into the guest list, not that I have names, as I assume you’ll either be inviting them or they’ll be among your groomsmen.  Would a partner and an average of three children each be about right?  If you want to invite them personally, I can arrange for you to receive the requisite number of blank invitations after you firm the numbers up for me.”

“Your Highness?”  The diplomat was getting a little worried that this was about to be undiplomatic.

“This,” the Archduke told him tersely, “is that ‘there are no friendly foreign intelligence services, just the intelligence services of friendly countries’ thing they tell you about.”

“Yes,” the Princess agreed with him, “it is.  The other thing I’m trying to say, Franz, is that I don’t see why you should lose your friends on top of leaving your home and losing your job.  I don’t see why your friends,” she indicated the photo again, “shouldn’t come to the wedding.  There are quite enough unrelated people on the guest list that I’m sure neither of us know,” she finished tartly.

Franz sat back and folded his arms.  “What do you think I’m going to do with myself?”

“I have no idea,” Rune admitted, “but I’m out of a job too.  I thought we might be able to work it out togther.”

rix_scaedu: (Default)
This follows on from Solstice Day 3.  Not immediately but you'll see what I mean.

Lara Knutsson whose locker was next to Rune’s was the first one to say anything about her rings.  After some consideration Rune had taken her gloves off almost as soon as she entered the building.  It was a normal thing to do so she didn’t think it could be considered flaunting her newly acknowledged status whereas keeping the gloves on until she reached the locker room could be considered hiding her new silver rings from comment.  Agents were supposed to be observant so she hoped that Lara wasn’t the first one to actually notice them.

“Those are new,” was the older, blonde woman’s comment.  “Are we allowed to ask or is it too fraught and sensitive?”

“My father tracked me down.”  Rune looked down at the rings that Constantine had first tried to give her without explanation at Solstice.  “I think he might have made these himself.”

“You’ve got notable relatives then?”  Solnje came from a noble family and she was used to people knowing it.  She had found ways of making that background useful in her work.  Her little black book of contacts was becoming well known around the headquarters.  “Will you be changing your name?”

“We’ve decided that I’ll just be adding my father’s family name onto the end of what I’ve already got.”  Rune divested herself of coat, hat and scarves.  “My mother thinks that’s a good idea and it means people who know me shouldn’t get totally confused.”

“Both your parents have come out of the woodwork then?”  Lara’s tone showed her approval of that.

“Apparently putting me aside wasn’t their idea at all.  Someone with a lot of influence in my mother’s family was pushing an agenda.”  Rune started swapping her street clothes for PT gear.  “I’ve been told some of the details but I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Fair enough,” Lara nodded, “The reasons people do things can be passing strange.  Strange enough that over twenty years later it seems incredible that they did them.”

“So will you be trying to get an invitation to the Spring Presentation Ball?”  That supercilious question came from Agent Vordamma Carolinia Vorstayka, a member of the latest intake of agents who hadn’t quite realized that no-one was as impressed by her family background as she was.  She insisted on the title and hadn’t yet realized that she wasn’t the only one in the room who had one.

“No,” Rune allowed while she tied up the laces on her running shoes, “I won’t be trying to get an invitation.”  Not, she thought to herself, when Grandmother has already told me that I’m going, whether I want to or not.  “I’ll see you all in the gym.”

At the end of the PT session they came back to find a member of the maintenance staff finishing some work on the door of Rune’s locker.  “I timed that well,” he acknowledged the sweaty women cheerfully, “I’ll just finish packing up and get out of your way.”

“I thought you were just adding on the surname.”  Rune was looking at her locker door, equally appalled, frightened and excited.

“I was told to do it the old fashioned way,” the overall-clad man told her happily, “which means all the old version had to come off.  I’ll come back when you ladies have gone to your desks and redo the lettering.”

“Thank you.”  Rune was subdued.

Lara watched him leave, then looked Rune, looked at the locker door and then looked back at Rune.  “He’s ruled up for three lines,” she commented.  “I can see two to cover your name, especially with a surname tacked on the end of what you’ve already got, but three suggests you’ve come into a title and it’s going on there.”

“Well, yes,” Rune admitted quietly, “I don’t want to make too much of a fuss about it.  I’m a bit worried about what he means by ‘the old fashioned way’, though.  I really only wanted to put the surname on.”

The ‘old fashioned way’ turned out to be black-outlined gold lettering that read ‘Vordamma Princesza Rune Greymalk Sjeldnjar.’  Written over a copy of the crest her grandmother had granted her.  It was beautiful work.

Rune wanted to go back to her desk and hide in her file cabinet where no-one would find her.

rix_scaedu: (dinosaur)
This follows on from Solstice Day 3.  Not immediately but you'll see what I mean.

Lara Knutsson whose locker was next to Rune’s was the first one to say anything about her rings.  After some consideration Rune had taken her gloves off almost as soon as she entered the building.  It was a normal thing to do so she didn’t think it could be considered flaunting her newly acknowledged status whereas keeping the gloves on until she reached the locker room could be considered hiding her new silver rings from comment.  Agents were supposed to be observant so she hoped that Lara wasn’t the first one to actually notice them.

“Those are new,” was the older, blonde woman’s comment.  “Are we allowed to ask or is it too fraught and sensitive?”

“My father tracked me down.”  Rune looked down at the rings that Constantine had first tried to give her without explanation at Solstice.  “I think he might have made these himself.”

“You’ve got notable relatives then?”  Solnje came from a noble family and she was used to people knowing it.  She had found ways of making that background useful in her work.  Her little black book of contacts was becoming well known around the headquarters.  “Will you be changing your name?”

“We’ve decided that I’ll just be adding my father’s family name onto the end of what I’ve already got.”  Rune divested herself of coat, hat and scarves.  “My mother thinks that’s a good idea and it means people who know me shouldn’t get totally confused.”

“Both your parents have come out of the woodwork then?”  Lara’s tone showed her approval of that.

“Apparently putting me aside wasn’t their idea at all.  Someone with a lot of influence in my mother’s family was pushing an agenda.”  Rune started swapping her street clothes for PT gear.  “I’ve been told some of the details but I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Fair enough,” Lara nodded, “The reasons people do things can be passing strange.  Strange enough that over twenty years later it seems incredible that they did them.”

“So will you be trying to get an invitation to the Spring Presentation Ball?”  That supercilious question came from Agent Vordamma Carolinia Vorstayka, a member of the latest intake of agents who hadn’t quite realized that no-one was as impressed by her family background as she was.  She insisted on the title and hadn’t yet realized that she wasn’t the only one in the room who had one.

“No,” Rune allowed while she tied up the laces on her running shoes, “I won’t be trying to get an invitation.”  Not, she thought to herself, when Grandmother has already told me that I’m going, whether I want to or not.  “I’ll see you all in the gym.”

At the end of the PT session they came back to find a member of the maintenance staff finishing some work on the door of Rune’s locker.  “I timed that well,” he acknowledged the sweaty women cheerfully, “I’ll just finish packing up and get out of your way.”

“I thought you were just adding on the surname.”  Rune was looking at her locker door, equally appalled, frightened and excited.

“I was told to do it the old fashioned way,” the overall-clad man told her happily, “which means all the old version had to come off.  I’ll come back when you ladies have gone to your desks and redo the lettering.”

“Thank you.”  Rune was subdued.

Lara watched him leave, then looked Rune, looked at the locker door and then looked back at Rune.  “He’s ruled up for three lines,” she commented.  “I can see two to cover your name, especially with a surname tacked on the end of what you’ve already got, but three suggests you’ve come into a title and it’s going on there.”

“Well, yes,” Rune admitted quietly, “I don’t want to make too much of a fuss about it.  I’m a bit worried about what he means by ‘the old fashioned way’, though.  I really only wanted to put the surname on.”

The ‘old fashioned way’ turned out to be black-outlined gold lettering that read ‘Vordamma Princesza Rune Greymalk Sjeldnjar.’  Written over a copy of the crest her grandmother had granted her.  It was beautiful work.

Rune wanted to go back to her desk and hide in her file cabinet where no-one would find her.

rix_scaedu: (Default)
This follows on from Solstice Day 3.  Not immediately but you'll see what I mean.

Skeld was waiting for her out the front of the Headquarters building when she arrived.  He looked...awkward.  Looking at him, standing there in his winter coat with his duffle bag over his shoulder, made her feel awkward too.

"Hi." He spoke first, taller than her and standing on the step above her.

"Good morning."  She had, perforce to look up at him.  She wore a knitted cap over her dark hair while he had a fur hat with ear flaps over his lighter brown crop.

"I hear we're cousins.  I mean, I, we all got letters from the Royal Household this morning."  Skeld paused and went on apologetically, "The phones are running hot all over the family."

"Boris and Mikhail Sjeldnjar got letters about it from Uncle Algernon yesterday," Rune offered apologetically.  "Apparently there's a protocol to the timing of all of this."

"Of course there is," Skeld nodded.  "The throne and crown are surrounded by protocol to keep them in their place and doing their job properly.  To keep our portion of the world running smoothly.  Royalty is constrained and harnessed to the service of the state, then rewarded by privileges for behaving.  It's when royalty forget that those are privileges and not rights that we get in a mess.  You and I, Cousin Rune, are mostly well out of that."

"Skeld," Rune looked at him in surprise, "What did you say that 'very ordinary degree' of yours was in?"

"I haven't."  He smiled at her.  "But it was political science, theory and history."

"Just how ordinary a degree was it?"  Rune looked up at him with interest.

"You'll have to get into the family gossip net and talk to my mother to find out that."  He laughed.  "She'd love to tell you."  Suddenly he sobered.  "Rune, I said we're mostly out of the protocol and stuff.  You're an unencumbered Princess; your mother was offered up as a match to the Terrencians, twice; and there are talks with them due again...shortly.  Don't be too free with your heart just yet."

"I can't live outside the country," Rune walked up the steps until their faces were level.  "Would an Archduke live here?"

"Not Rudolph, Ferdinand or Josef,"  Skeld said thoughtfully, "the ones after them in the succession might.  Speaking of which," he grinned, "Svensson always reads the paper before PT.  I want to see his reaction and Rostov's when they find out.  See you later."  He turned and went up the rest of the steps two at a time.

Rune looked bemused for a moment and followed him into the building, wondering what the reaction was going to be in the female locker room.

rix_scaedu: (Default)
This follows on from Solstice Day 3.  Not immediately but you'll see what I mean.

Skeld was waiting for her out the front of the Headquarters building when she arrived.  He looked...awkward.  Looking at him, standing there in his winter coat with his duffle bag over his shoulder, made her feel awkward too.

"Hi." He spoke first, taller than her and standing on the step above her.

"Good morning."  She had, perforce to look up at him.  She wore a knitted cap over her dark hair while he had a fur hat with ear flaps over his lighter brown crop.

"I hear we're cousins.  I mean, I, we all got letters from the Royal Household this morning."  Skeld paused and went on apologetically, "The phones are running hot all over the family."

"Boris and Mikhail Sjeldnjar got letters about it from Uncle Algernon yesterday," Rune offered apologetically.  "Apparently there's a protocol to the timing of all of this."

"Of course there is," Skeld nodded.  "The throne and crown are surrounded by protocol to keep them in their place and doing their job properly.  To keep our portion of the world running smoothly.  Royalty is constrained and harnessed to the service of the state, then rewarded by privileges for behaving.  It's when royalty forget that those are privileges and not rights that we get in a mess.  You and I, Cousin Rune, are mostly well out of that."

"Skeld," Rune looked at him in surprise, "What did you say that 'very ordinary degree' of yours was in?"

"I haven't."  He smiled at her.  "But it was political science, theory and history."

"Just how ordinary a degree was it?"  Rune looked up at him with interest.

"You'll have to get into the family gossip net and talk to my mother to find out that."  He laughed.  "She'd love to tell you."  Suddenly he sobered.  "Rune, I said we're mostly out of the protocol and stuff.  You're an unencumbered Princess; your mother was offered up as a match to the Terrencians, twice; and there are talks with them due again...shortly.  Don't be too free with your heart just yet."

"I can't live outside the country," Rune walked up the steps until their faces were level.  "Would an Archduke live here?"

"Not Rudolph, Ferdinand or Josef,"  Skeld said thoughtfully, "the ones after them in the succession might.  Speaking of which," he grinned, "Svensson always reads the paper before PT.  I want to see his reaction and Rostov's when they find out.  See you later."  He turned and went up the rest of the steps two at a time.

Rune looked bemused for a moment and followed him into the building, wondering what the reaction was going to be in the female locker room.

rix_scaedu: (Default)
This follows on from Solstice Day 3.  Not immediately but you'll see what I mean.

“It’s from Algernon.”  Boris Sjeldnjar looked at the envelope in his hand with concern.  At least his mother, who lived with them, hadn’t tried to open it.

“So,” that was his mother, Ludmilla, “what does it say?  Has he invited us to live in the house in Thingborden?  Or is he finally going to make you a suitable allowance?”

Boris sighed.  “You’re the only one who wants to live in the capital, Mum.  Svetlana and I have our jobs here and the children are well settled in school.  I’ve told you before, there’s enough in your trust for you to live in a good location if you want to move there.”

“In a pokey little flat,” Ludmilla snapped back.  “That is not the place for the mother of a Ruhtig to live!”

“There’s no guarantee that I’m going to be Ruhtig.”  Boris would have preferred not to rehash this old ground, but if he didn’t rebut her assumptions his mother would carry on about it all night.  “It wouldn’t surprise me if Sebastian gets married after he retires in the next year or two.  It’ll probably be someone’s widow, the secretary he hires to dictate his memoirs to or,” a new though occurred to him, “his ghost writer.”  He smiled at his mother.  “Any children of his would cut me out of the succession.”

“Ptah!”  Ludmilla pulled a face as she made a disgusted noise, “What woman young enough to have children would marry him?  He’s my age!”

“He’s an Admiral and would have an Admiral’s pension, even if he has no other income.  He’s likely to be Ruhtig after Algernon and Constantine.”  Boris the accountant was counting off points against his fingers, using the envelope he held in his other hand.  “His eldest child would be Ruhtig after him.  He’s fit, healthy and active for his age and he has an agreeable personality.”  Boris smiled again.  “I imagine he would at least appear to be sound husband material to many women.”

“Have it your own way,” Ludmilla made a dismissive gesture, “but what is in the letter?”

Boris turned his attention back to the envelope and carefully opened it.  Algernon used the latest in electronic seals and he had to press his thumb firmly against the wafer on the back for the waterproof membrane that covered the envelope to withdraw.  He inserted the tip of his index finger into the opening under the fold of the flap and carefully tore open the top of the envelope, then removed the two folded sheets of paper inside.  He read the top one silently, then the second one, then the top one again.

An enormous grin spread across his face and for a moment his resemblance to Algernon and Sebastian was quite marked.  “Svetlana!”  He roared his wife’s name out at the top of his voice.  “Svetlana!  Come here, you have to see this!”  His voice echoed through the house, reaching his wife where she was supervising their children’s homework while doing some work of her own.

Svetlana ran down the stairs.  Her husband rarely sounded so boisterous and enthusiastic, so what ever he was calling about must be important.  She met him on the second storey landing.  “What is-,” she tried to ask the obvious question.

“Sveta!  We’re free!  Here,” he shoved the papers at her, “read these!”

An accountant like him, she read them twice and began to smile, “Constantine has an acknowledged daughter, verified by the Assembly of Nobles?  We could make a push for those partnerships.”

“Put Irina’s name down for the Lyceum,” Boris said in agreement, “Now we know we won’t have to move.”

“What’s this about Constantine having a daughter?”  Ludmilla was stumping up the stairs from below to join them.  “I suppose her mother’s from among the soviets?  He was there long enough.”  She took in the surprised expressions on the faces of her son and daughter-in-law.  “No-one told me, of course, but I’m not stupid you know.”

“Not from the soviets, Mum,” said Boris while Svetlana handed her the papers to read.  “She’s a shade too old for that.  Algernon’s sent me advance copies of tomorrow’s announcements by the Assembly of Nobles and the Royal Household.”

His mother, who hadn’t had a chance to read anything, looked at him sharply.  “Royal Household?”

“The Assembly’s inserting her into the Sjeldnjar Order of Succession and the Noble Order of Precedence.  The Royal Household is inserting her into the Royal Orders of Precedence and the Royal Succession.”

“So who did he-?”  Ludmilla examined the amended Royal Succession then uttered a long drawn out, “Constantine!”  Her voice was full of admiration.

rix_scaedu: (cat wearing fez)
This follows on from Solstice Day 3.  Not immediately but you'll see what I mean.

“It’s from Algernon.”  Boris Sjeldnjar looked at the envelope in his hand with concern.  At least his mother, who lived with them, hadn’t tried to open it.

“So,” that was his mother, Ludmilla, “what does it say?  Has he invited us to live in the house in Thingborden?  Or is he finally going to make you a suitable allowance?”

Boris sighed.  “You’re the only one who wants to live in the capital, Mum.  Svetlana and I have our jobs here and the children are well settled in school.  I’ve told you before, there’s enough in your trust for you to live in a good location if you want to move there.”

“In a pokey little flat,” Ludmilla snapped back.  “That is not the place for the mother of a Ruhtig to live!”

“There’s no guarantee that I’m going to be Ruhtig.”  Boris would have preferred not to rehash this old ground, but if he didn’t rebut her assumptions his mother would carry on about it all night.  “It wouldn’t surprise me if Sebastian gets married after he retires in the next year or two.  It’ll probably be someone’s widow, the secretary he hires to dictate his memoirs to or,” a new though occurred to him, “his ghost writer.”  He smiled at his mother.  “Any children of his would cut me out of the succession.”

“Ptah!”  Ludmilla pulled a face as she made a disgusted noise, “What woman young enough to have children would marry him?  He’s my age!”

“He’s an Admiral and would have an Admiral’s pension, even if he has no other income.  He’s likely to be Ruhtig after Algernon and Constantine.”  Boris the accountant was counting off points against his fingers, using the envelope he held in his other hand.  “His eldest child would be Ruhtig after him.  He’s fit, healthy and active for his age and he has an agreeable personality.”  Boris smiled again.  “I imagine he would at least appear to be sound husband material to many women.”

“Have it your own way,” Ludmilla made a dismissive gesture, “but what is in the letter?”

Boris turned his attention back to the envelope and carefully opened it.  Algernon used the latest in electronic seals and he had to press his thumb firmly against the wafer on the back for the waterproof membrane that covered the envelope to withdraw.  He inserted the tip of his index finger into the opening under the fold of the flap and carefully tore open the top of the envelope, then removed the two folded sheets of paper inside.  He read the top one silently, then the second one, then the top one again.

An enormous grin spread across his face and for a moment his resemblance to Algernon and Sebastian was quite marked.  “Svetlana!”  He roared his wife’s name out at the top of his voice.  “Svetlana!  Come here, you have to see this!”  His voice echoed through the house, reaching his wife where she was supervising their children’s homework while doing some work of her own.

Svetlana ran down the stairs.  Her husband rarely sounded so boisterous and enthusiastic, so what ever he was calling about must be important.  She met him on the second storey landing.  “What is-,” she tried to ask the obvious question.

“Sveta!  We’re free!  Here,” he shoved the papers at her, “read these!”

An accountant like him, she read them twice and began to smile, “Constantine has an acknowledged daughter, verified by the Assembly of Nobles?  We could make a push for those partnerships.”

“Put Irina’s name down for the Lyceum,” Boris said in agreement, “Now we know we won’t have to move.”

“What’s this about Constantine having a daughter?”  Ludmilla was stumping up the stairs from below to join them.  “I suppose her mother’s from among the soviets?  He was there long enough.”  She took in the surprised expressions on the faces of her son and daughter-in-law.  “No-one told me, of course, but I’m not stupid you know.”

“Not from the soviets, Mum,” said Boris while Svetlana handed her the papers to read.  “She’s a shade too old for that.  Algernon’s sent me advance copies of tomorrow’s announcements by the Assembly of Nobles and the Royal Household.”

His mother, who hadn’t had a chance to read anything, looked at him sharply.  “Royal Household?”

“The Assembly’s inserting her into the Sjeldnjar Order of Succession and the Noble Order of Precedence.  The Royal Household is inserting her into the Royal Orders of Precedence and the Royal Succession.”

“So who did he-?”  Ludmilla examined the amended Royal Succession then uttered a long drawn out, “Constantine!”  Her voice was full of admiration.

rix_scaedu: (Default)

“Here, give me back that drink and sit down,” ordered Caliburn firmly.

Rune sat on a sofa.  The brown patterned fabric had signs of wear but it was soft enough for comfort and firm enough that she wasn’t going to keep sinking into it forever.

Caliburn sat down beside her and handed back her drink.  “Now, have some of that.”  While she obediently sipped he went on, “Connie, come and sit beside her – you’re her father, you can’t just stand off and make comments.”  He paused.  “Well you could, but from my observations it doesn’t work well.”

As Constantine made his way over to the sofa, Algernon said brightly, “We can have the Assembly check their database to see if your mother’s on file.”

“There’s no need for that,” protested Constantine, “I know who her mother is.”

“Yes,” agreed Algernon drily, “but you’re not sharing.”

While Sebastian got himself a drink, Caliburn gave his two older brothers a disgusted look before turning back to Rune and asking, “So what were you planning to do today before we burst into your life?”

“Go home to my flat, shower, eat some of the ham and pickled chicken I cooked yesterday, sleep, get up and go back to work.”  Rune sipped some more of her plum cordial.

“We’ve cut into your sleeping time, haven’t we?”  Algernon changed his focus with disconcerting speed.  “If it’s no more of an inconvenience to you, you could sleep in one of our guest rooms after we eat – it would save you the travel time back to your flat.  Caliburn could drop you back at work on his way to his thing he’s got on tonight.”

“I could,” agreed Caliburn readily, then added, “I’m certainly a safer driver than Algernon.”

“As is my chauffer,” concurred Algernon, “but really, if-.”

A man dressed in the same livery as the porter opened the doors to the room wide and announced, “Your Grace, the meal is ready.”

“Then let it be served man, let it be served!”  Rune thought the exchange between the servant and Algernon was some sort of ritual, but then Algernon went on, “Krulhorn, please have one of the bathroomed guest rooms made up for Damma Greymalk to sleep in this afternoon.  So she doesn’t have to dash home after eating to rest before going back on duty at six this evening.”

Yes, your Grace,” Krulhorn replied, “it will be done while you are at the table.”

“Thank you, Krulhorn.”  Algernon smiled genially.  “Come everyone,” he turned to his brothers and Rune, “let us go and eat.”

Algernon escorted Rune to the dining room, the two of them leading the way for the others.  Runes suspected that they were progressing, as if they were in a historical novel, and thought it seemed sad for only five people.  Five settings were arranged comfortably around the end of the long dining table.  Algernon handed Rune into the seat on the right hand of the head of the table while he took the position of primacy.  Constantine sat beside Rune while Sebastian and Caliburn sat opposite them.

The meal itself was in removes instead of courses and of traditional Solstice fare.  The first remove was fish, all of it smoked, salted, fermented or dried.  There were no soups on the table but there was pie, terrine, a kitchen-sill salad with tiny brined fish pieces and a whole, thinly sliced smoked salmon.  When all of that was removed, the meat was brought in.  Rune thought that whoever did the cooking was being frustrated with so few people to feed.  When everything had been served there was baked ham, smoked venison sausages, corned beef, pickled chicken and pickled duck, all accompanied by root vegetables prepared in various ways and no less than eight jellies, preserves and sauces.

"Don't hold back if you want seconds," advised Algernon, "we'll be living off leftovers for most of the week, as you can see.  Which accompaniment would you like with your ham?"

Rune was almost nodding off in her chair by the time the sweet dishes were brought in and she was so full she had to wave off anything more than a thin slice of apple pie and a spoonful of rice pudding.

"We'd better make good with that offer of a room," Sebastian observed from across the table.

"I'm sorry," Rune apologised, "I can't seem to keep my eyes open."

"You've been up all night," Constantine reminded her, "and now we've stuffed you full of good food.  It's probably past time for you to be in bed."

"Krulhorn will get one of the maids to show you up," Algernon announced, pressing a call button under the table.

Krulhorn appeared almost immediately.  "Your Grace?"

"Damma Greymalk is falling asleep in her seat," Algernon told him.  "Please have one of the maids take her upstairs and settle her in so she can have that afternoon's rest we promised her."

"Certainly, your Grace."  Krulhorn turned to Rune, "If you would care to come with me, Damma?"

"Thank you, yes," Rune went to stand up and found that Constantine had risen and pulled out her chair for her.  "Thank you, sir."

"You could call me Father," he pointed out a touch sadly.

"I don't want to become familiar and even fond," Rune replied in the same tone, "and then find out I've only crossed and confused paths with the right girl."

"I am certain," Constantine said firmly.  "I've had a number of years to confirm my opinion, after all."

"I haven't and I'm not."  Rune looked up at him, firm rather than defiant.

"Later, children," Algernon intervened, "when Rune is rested and we have more time.  Please my dear, go with Krulhorn."

Krulhorn led Rune from the room and handed her over to a maid at the bottom of the main staircase.

"I'm sorry to be taking you away from your Solstice feast," Rune apologised to the maid, whom Krulhorn had introduced as Beatrice.

"They're clearing the fish remove now," Beatrice smiled at her.  "We had five sorts of herring alone, so it will take a while.  Cook would like to put more dishes on the upstairs table, but there is a limit to how much the four gentlemen and yourself can be expected to eat.  There are more of us downstairs - there's not just the gentlemen to look after but the house and the grounds too.  Cook's still finishing off our gravies, so I doubt I'll miss out on anything."

Beatrice showed Rune to a room that was the size of her flat’s living room, eating nook and kitchen combined.  The size of the room didn’t bother her, she’d been in larger hotel rooms and her own flat had been picked for convenience to public transport and an eye to building her savings.  “The bathroom is through here.”  Beatrice crossed the room and opened a door.  “If you need anything washed so it’s clean to put on again when you wake, you can put it in this laundry bag,” she held up a cloth bag that could have held everything Rune was wearing, “and we can put it through the washer and dryer, and then press it for you before you wake up.”

Rune did a mental inventory and said apologetically, “There are a couple of things I’d love to have washed out actually...”

“There’s a bathrobe here for you, Damma, and wardrobe space for anything you want to hang up,” encouraged Beatrice.

Ten minutes later Rune was washing off under a hot shower, Beatrice was taking her socks and briefs downstairs to be washed and the rest of Rune’s clothes were hanging up in the wardrobe.

Fifteen minutes more and Rune was fast asleep in the oversized double bed.

Beatrice woke her, shaking her gently by the shoulder.  “It’s five in the evening, Damma.  You need to get up.  Your breakfast is waiting for you.”

“Yes, right, of course,” Rune sat up, thrown by being woken up by a person, being in a strange bed and wearing a strange nightshirt.  Then she remembered where she was and why.

‘Breakfast’ was a curious but delicious meal of leftovers, specifically ham with potato pancakes.  Constantine and Sebastian sat with her while she ate, drinking coffee and making polite conversation.  Algernon turned up just as she was finishing, asked her how she’d slept and then added, “I’ve been arranging a few extra details for the Assembly’s testing.  Nothing that will concern anyone, unless they want to tamper with the samples.”

“You expect interference?”  Constantine’s question and look were sharp.

“I think suitable precautions will remove the possibility of doubtful results, that’s all,” replied Algernon with an air of self-satisfied inscrutability.

Caliburn entered at that point, obviously dressed for a polite, civilian evening party.  Algernon raised an eyebrow at him, as did Sebastian – but the opposite eyebrow.  Constantine just smiled.  Caliburn surveyed his brothers’ expressions and grinned back at them.  “So, Rune,” he turned to her and she received a friendly smile, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes, thank you sir.”  She stood readily and pushed her chair back before anyone could do it for her.

“Come along then,” Caliburn nodded, “I’ll get you to work on time.  I warn you,” a wider grin, “Cook has packed a lunch box of leftovers for you.”

Caliburn’s private car was a sleek, low slung, dark green roadster.  The way it handled, she was sure it was probably over-engined, the powerful headlights burning through the darkness.  If Caliburn hadn’t been driving to the conditions Rune might have been frightened.  Instead she tried to make conversation.  “Thank you for dropping me at work.  I hope I’m not taking you out of your way.”

“Not at all,” he smiled at the windscreen, “I’m grateful.  It’d be even more nerve racking without your company.  I’ve been invited along to a Solstice dinner to meet someone’s parents.”

“Oh?”  Rune smiled encouragingly.

“I keep running through reasons they won’t like me in my head.  I think ‘cradle snatcher’ is the one most likely to stick.” Rune made an encouraging noise.  “Yes.”  Caliburn flashed a smile at her while he checked his blind spot.  “He’s only in his early forties, so that could be a valid complaint.”

That made Caliburn’s love interest about twenty years her senior and the Major General himself was about twenty years older than that...  “That should make him old enough to know his own mind then, sir.”

“I hope so,” Major General Caliburn Sjeldnjar sighed as he cornered the car, “but parental opinion can be a powerful force.”

“So I’ve been told, sir.”  Rune looked straight ahead through the windscreen.

“I’m sorry,” Caliburn apologised, “that may have been maladroit of me.”

“No, sir, I don’t think it was.”  It was Rune’s turn to smile him.  “I really don’t get the whole family relationships thing sometimes.”

“Then that’s something we’ll have to work on with you when the test results come back, won’t we?”  They stopped at the last traffic lights before Run’s drop-off and he turned to give her a warm, avuncular smile.

In the privacy of her own mind, as she smiled back, Rune thought, “I hope he really is my uncle.”

******

The duty roving section of the security detachment that guarded the Royal Family in residence at Landislav’s Palace had a problem and it was getting worse.

rix_scaedu: (Flower person)

“Here, give me back that drink and sit down,” ordered Caliburn firmly.

Rune sat on a sofa.  The brown patterned fabric had signs of wear but it was soft enough for comfort and firm enough that she wasn’t going to keep sinking into it forever.

Caliburn sat down beside her and handed back her drink.  “Now, have some of that.”  While she obediently sipped he went on, “Connie, come and sit beside her – you’re her father, you can’t just stand off and make comments.”  He paused.  “Well you could, but from my observations it doesn’t work well.”

As Constantine made his way over to the sofa, Algernon said brightly, “We can have the Assembly check their database to see if your mother’s on file.”

“There’s no need for that,” protested Constantine, “I know who her mother is.”

“Yes,” agreed Algernon drily, “but you’re not sharing.”

While Sebastian got himself a drink, Caliburn gave his two older brothers a disgusted look before turning back to Rune and asking, “So what were you planning to do today before we burst into your life?”

“Go home to my flat, shower, eat some of the ham and pickled chicken I cooked yesterday, sleep, get up and go back to work.”  Rune sipped some more of her plum cordial.

“We’ve cut into your sleeping time, haven’t we?”  Algernon changed his focus with disconcerting speed.  “If it’s no more of an inconvenience to you, you could sleep in one of our guest rooms after we eat – it would save you the travel time back to your flat.  Caliburn could drop you back at work on his way to his thing he’s got on tonight.”

“I could,” agreed Caliburn readily, then added, “I’m certainly a safer driver than Algernon.”

“As is my chauffer,” concurred Algernon, “but really, if-.”

A man dressed in the same livery as the porter opened the doors to the room wide and announced, “Your Grace, the meal is ready.”

“Then let it be served man, let it be served!”  Rune thought the exchange between the servant and Algernon was some sort of ritual, but then Algernon went on, “Krulhorn, please have one of the bathroomed guest rooms made up for Damma Greymalk to sleep in this afternoon.  So she doesn’t have to dash home after eating to rest before going back on duty at six this evening.”

Yes, your Grace,” Krulhorn replied, “it will be done while you are at the table.”

“Thank you, Krulhorn.”  Algernon smiled genially.  “Come everyone,” he turned to his brothers and Rune, “let us go and eat.”

Algernon escorted Rune to the dining room, the two of them leading the way for the others.  Runes suspected that they were progressing, as if they were in a historical novel, and thought it seemed sad for only five people.  Five settings were arranged comfortably around the end of the long dining table.  Algernon handed Rune into the seat on the right hand of the head of the table while he took the position of primacy.  Constantine sat beside Rune while Sebastian and Caliburn sat opposite them.

The meal itself was in removes instead of courses and of traditional Solstice fare.  The first remove was fish, all of it smoked, salted, fermented or dried.  There were no soups on the table but there was pie, terrine, a kitchen-sill salad with tiny brined fish pieces and a whole, thinly sliced smoked salmon.  When all of that was removed, the meat was brought in.  Rune thought that whoever did the cooking was being frustrated with so few people to feed.  When everything had been served there was baked ham, smoked venison sausages, corned beef, pickled chicken and pickled duck, all accompanied by root vegetables prepared in various ways and no less than eight jellies, preserves and sauces.

"Don't hold back if you want seconds," advised Algernon, "we'll be living off leftovers for most of the week, as you can see.  Which accompaniment would you like with your ham?"

Rune was almost nodding off in her chair by the time the sweet dishes were brought in and she was so full she had to wave off anything more than a thin slice of apple pie and a spoonful of rice pudding.

"We'd better make good with that offer of a room," Sebastian observed from across the table.

"I'm sorry," Rune apologised, "I can't seem to keep my eyes open."

"You've been up all night," Constantine reminded her, "and now we've stuffed you full of good food.  It's probably past time for you to be in bed."

"Krulhorn will get one of the maids to show you up," Algernon announced, pressing a call button under the table.

Krulhorn appeared almost immediately.  "Your Grace?"

"Damma Greymalk is falling asleep in her seat," Algernon told him.  "Please have one of the maids take her upstairs and settle her in so she can have that afternoon's rest we promised her."

"Certainly, your Grace."  Krulhorn turned to Rune, "If you would care to come with me, Damma?"

"Thank you, yes," Rune went to stand up and found that Constantine had risen and pulled out her chair for her.  "Thank you, sir."

"You could call me Father," he pointed out a touch sadly.

"I don't want to become familiar and even fond," Rune replied in the same tone, "and then find out I've only crossed and confused paths with the right girl."

"I am certain," Constantine said firmly.  "I've had a number of years to confirm my opinion, after all."

"I haven't and I'm not."  Rune looked up at him, firm rather than defiant.

"Later, children," Algernon intervened, "when Rune is rested and we have more time.  Please my dear, go with Krulhorn."

Krulhorn led Rune from the room and handed her over to a maid at the bottom of the main staircase.

"I'm sorry to be taking you away from your Solstice feast," Rune apologised to the maid, whom Krulhorn had introduced as Beatrice.

"They're clearing the fish remove now," Beatrice smiled at her.  "We had five sorts of herring alone, so it will take a while.  Cook would like to put more dishes on the upstairs table, but there is a limit to how much the four gentlemen and yourself can be expected to eat.  There are more of us downstairs - there's not just the gentlemen to look after but the house and the grounds too.  Cook's still finishing off our gravies, so I doubt I'll miss out on anything."

Beatrice showed Rune to a room that was the size of her flat’s living room, eating nook and kitchen combined.  The size of the room didn’t bother her, she’d been in larger hotel rooms and her own flat had been picked for convenience to public transport and an eye to building her savings.  “The bathroom is through here.”  Beatrice crossed the room and opened a door.  “If you need anything washed so it’s clean to put on again when you wake, you can put it in this laundry bag,” she held up a cloth bag that could have held everything Rune was wearing, “and we can put it through the washer and dryer, and then press it for you before you wake up.”

Rune did a mental inventory and said apologetically, “There are a couple of things I’d love to have washed out actually...”

“There’s a bathrobe here for you, Damma, and wardrobe space for anything you want to hang up,” encouraged Beatrice.

Ten minutes later Rune was washing off under a hot shower, Beatrice was taking her socks and briefs downstairs to be washed and the rest of Rune’s clothes were hanging up in the wardrobe.

Fifteen minutes more and Rune was fast asleep in the oversized double bed.

Beatrice woke her, shaking her gently by the shoulder.  “It’s five in the evening, Damma.  You need to get up.  Your breakfast is waiting for you.”

“Yes, right, of course,” Rune sat up, thrown by being woken up by a person, being in a strange bed and wearing a strange nightshirt.  Then she remembered where she was and why.

‘Breakfast’ was a curious but delicious meal of leftovers, specifically ham with potato pancakes.  Constantine and Sebastian sat with her while she ate, drinking coffee and making polite conversation.  Algernon turned up just as she was finishing, asked her how she’d slept and then added, “I’ve been arranging a few extra details for the Assembly’s testing.  Nothing that will concern anyone, unless they want to tamper with the samples.”

“You expect interference?”  Constantine’s question and look were sharp.

“I think suitable precautions will remove the possibility of doubtful results, that’s all,” replied Algernon with an air of self-satisfied inscrutability.

Caliburn entered at that point, obviously dressed for a polite, civilian evening party.  Algernon raised an eyebrow at him, as did Sebastian – but the opposite eyebrow.  Constantine just smiled.  Caliburn surveyed his brothers’ expressions and grinned back at them.  “So, Rune,” he turned to her and she received a friendly smile, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes, thank you sir.”  She stood readily and pushed her chair back before anyone could do it for her.

“Come along then,” Caliburn nodded, “I’ll get you to work on time.  I warn you,” a wider grin, “Cook has packed a lunch box of leftovers for you.”

Caliburn’s private car was a sleek, low slung, dark green roadster.  The way it handled, she was sure it was probably over-engined, the powerful headlights burning through the darkness.  If Caliburn hadn’t been driving to the conditions Rune might have been frightened.  Instead she tried to make conversation.  “Thank you for dropping me at work.  I hope I’m not taking you out of your way.”

“Not at all,” he smiled at the windscreen, “I’m grateful.  It’d be even more nerve racking without your company.  I’ve been invited along to a Solstice dinner to meet someone’s parents.”

“Oh?”  Rune smiled encouragingly.

“I keep running through reasons they won’t like me in my head.  I think ‘cradle snatcher’ is the one most likely to stick.” Rune made an encouraging noise.  “Yes.”  Caliburn flashed a smile at her while he checked his blind spot.  “He’s only in his early forties, so that could be a valid complaint.”

That made Caliburn’s love interest about twenty years her senior and the Major General himself was about twenty years older than that...  “That should make him old enough to know his own mind then, sir.”

“I hope so,” Major General Caliburn Sjeldnjar sighed as he cornered the car, “but parental opinion can be a powerful force.”

“So I’ve been told, sir.”  Rune looked straight ahead through the windscreen.

“I’m sorry,” Caliburn apologised, “that may have been maladroit of me.”

“No, sir, I don’t think it was.”  It was Rune’s turn to smile him.  “I really don’t get the whole family relationships thing sometimes.”

“Then that’s something we’ll have to work on with you when the test results come back, won’t we?”  They stopped at the last traffic lights before Run’s drop-off and he turned to give her a warm, avuncular smile.

In the privacy of her own mind, as she smiled back, Rune thought, “I hope he really is my uncle.”

******

The duty roving section of the security detachment that guarded the Royal Family in residence at Landislav’s Palace had a problem and it was getting worse.

rix_scaedu: (Default)
This is part of a larger piece I was writing when I read the visual prompt title 'older gay couple' at the fourth Crowdfunding Creative Jam which has the theme "alternative sexualities/Quiltbag."  My response was "Hang on that's-".  I hope you enjoy this.

Caliburn entered at that point, obviously dressed for a polite, civilian evening party.  Algernon raised an eyebrow at him, as did Sebastian – but the opposite eyebrow.  Constantine just smiled.  Caliburn surveyed his brothers’ expressions and just grinned back at them.  “So, Rune,” he turned to her and she received a friendly smile, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes, thank you sir.”  She stood readily and pushed her chair back before anyone could do it for her.

“Come along then,” Caliburn nodded, “I’ll get you to work on time.  I warn you,” a wider grin, “Cook has packed a lunch box of leftovers for you.”

Caliburn’s private car was a sleek, low slung, dark green roadster.  The way it handled, she was sure it was probably over-engined, the powerful headlights burning through the darkness.  If Caliburn hadn’t been driving to the conditions Rune might have been frightened.  Instead she tried to make conversation.  “Thank you for dropping me at work.  I hope I’m not taking you out of your way.”

“Not at all,” he smiled at the windscreen, “I’m grateful.  It’d be even more nerve racking without your company.  I’ve been invited along to a Solstice dinner to meet someone’s parents.”

“Oh?”  Rune smiled encouragingly.

“I keep running through reasons they won’t like me in my head.  I think ‘cradle snatcher’ is the one most likely to stick.” Rune made an encouraging noise.  “Yes.”  Caliburn flashed a smile at her while he checked his blind spot.  “He’s only in his early forties, so that could be a valid complaint.”

That made Caliburn’s love interest about twenty years her senior and the Major General himself was about twenty years older than that...  “That should make him old enough to know his own mind then, sir.”

“I hope so,” Major General Caliburn Sjeldnjar sighed as he cornered the car, “but parental opinion can be a powerful force.”

“So I’ve been told, sir.”  Rune looked straight ahead through the windscreen.

“I’m sorry,” Caliburn apologised, “that may have been maladroit of me.”

“No, sir, I don’t think it was.”  It was Rune’s turn to smile him.  “I really don’t get the whole family relationships thing sometimes.”

“Then that’s something we’ll have to work on with you when the test results come back, won’t we?”  They stopped at the last traffic lights before Run’s drop-off and he turned to give her a warm, avuncular smile.

In the privacy of her own mind, as she smiled back, Rune thought, “I hope he really is my uncle.”

rix_scaedu: (Flower person)
This is part of a larger piece I was writing when I read the visual prompt title 'older gay couple' at the fourth Crowdfunding Creative Jam which has the theme "alternative sexualities/Quiltbag."  My response was "Hang on that's-".  I hope you enjoy this.

Caliburn entered at that point, obviously dressed for a polite, civilian evening party.  Algernon raised an eyebrow at him, as did Sebastian – but the opposite eyebrow.  Constantine just smiled.  Caliburn surveyed his brothers’ expressions and just grinned back at them.  “So, Rune,” he turned to her and she received a friendly smile, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes, thank you sir.”  She stood readily and pushed her chair back before anyone could do it for her.

“Come along then,” Caliburn nodded, “I’ll get you to work on time.  I warn you,” a wider grin, “Cook has packed a lunch box of leftovers for you.”

Caliburn’s private car was a sleek, low slung, dark green roadster.  The way it handled, she was sure it was probably over-engined, the powerful headlights burning through the darkness.  If Caliburn hadn’t been driving to the conditions Rune might have been frightened.  Instead she tried to make conversation.  “Thank you for dropping me at work.  I hope I’m not taking you out of your way.”

“Not at all,” he smiled at the windscreen, “I’m grateful.  It’d be even more nerve racking without your company.  I’ve been invited along to a Solstice dinner to meet someone’s parents.”

“Oh?”  Rune smiled encouragingly.

“I keep running through reasons they won’t like me in my head.  I think ‘cradle snatcher’ is the one most likely to stick.” Rune made an encouraging noise.  “Yes.”  Caliburn flashed a smile at her while he checked his blind spot.  “He’s only in his early forties, so that could be a valid complaint.”

That made Caliburn’s love interest about twenty years her senior and the Major General himself was about twenty years older than that...  “That should make him old enough to know his own mind then, sir.”

“I hope so,” Major General Caliburn Sjeldnjar sighed as he cornered the car, “but parental opinion can be a powerful force.”

“So I’ve been told, sir.”  Rune looked straight ahead through the windscreen.

“I’m sorry,” Caliburn apologised, “that may have been maladroit of me.”

“No, sir, I don’t think it was.”  It was Rune’s turn to smile him.  “I really don’t get the whole family relationships thing sometimes.”

“Then that’s something we’ll have to work on with you when the test results come back, won’t we?”  They stopped at the last traffic lights before Run’s drop-off and he turned to give her a warm, avuncular smile.

In the privacy of her own mind, as she smiled back, Rune thought, “I hope he really is my uncle.”

rix_scaedu: (Default)

After she finished her shift handover Rune changed and went outside to wait.  If the Admiral had been at the official vigil then he would have to get back here to the Old Headquarters from the bonfire up on the Halderspur.  Even with this morning’s minimal traffic she didn’t think she’d keep him waiting.  She was right.  The official car, hydrogen-engined and armour-plated, slid into the space at the kerb in front of the building.  The Admiral opened the rear door himself and climbed out to hold it open for her.  “Come on, get in,” he told her while looking approvingly at her outfit of long boots and dark green winter coat with matching knitted hat and gloves, “Our solstice feast is waiting and we don’t want my brothers to start without us.”  She climbed into the rear of the car, her leather satchel slung over one shoulder, to find the vehicle empty except for the driver.  “We’ve already dropped off my staff officer and aide-de-camp,” added the Admiral as he slid in after her.  “After he’s deposited us, Larssen is off to his own celebration, aren’t you Larssen?”

“Yes sir.”  It was a cheery response from the middle-aged man behind the wheel but he didn’t take his eyes off the road.

Rune had decided to raise one point early.  “I noticed, sir,” she began carefully, “that you and Special Agent Vlindersspar don’t use the same surname.”

“And you still came?”  He sounded like he might be teasing her.

She nodded and saw no need to mention the numbered line entry left in the duty officer’s diary or the letter she’d left in her locker.

“Vlindersspar is an alias he uses.  Sjeldnjar is a difficult name if you want to be obscure.”  Rune knew what the Admiral meant.  The Sjeldnjars were all through the history she’d learnt in school.  Back when the country had been an elective monarchy the crown had usually been on the head of a Sjeldnjar or a member of the current royal family with the other eligible families only getting a candidate elected one reign in four.

“If I am who you think I am, what does that mean for me?”  The question hung there like fog from her breath.

He reached over and patted her hand in an avuncular fashion.  “I think we should save that discussion until you’ve met the others.”

In another official car, more luxuriously appointed than Admiral Sjeldnjar’s and with all its back seats occupied, the First Councillor said, “I wonder why Sebastian Sjeldnjar dashed off so quickly after sunrise?”  Her daughters, mustered as they so often were on these occasions to provide a supporting chorus, kept their faces straight and their mouths shut.  Princess Ravnhild, the only granddaughter making up the numbers in the car and apparently oblivious to the miasma of a sneaked cigarette wrapped around her, said cheerfully, “I heard him saying something to his driver about picking someone up.  I think he said niece, but I could be wrong.”

“That’s interesting,” Princess Citrine, the Queen’s First Councillor and sister, said slowly.  “Be sure to air yourself before you come in to eat, Ravnhild.”  Her daughters conveyed volumes to each other with their eyes.

“Yes, Grandmother,” Ravnhild replied obediently and the journey continued in silence.

When Rune followed the Admiral out of the car she found herself on the footpath outside one of the massive houses in the Old Quarter.  Its portico opened onto the street but the rest of the house was set back so that there was almost a traffic lane and a half between the front of the building and the iron railings along the footpath.  She looked around, trying to place herself in the city’s geography while Admiral Sjeldnjar had a few words with his driver.

"This is Thingborden, isn’t it?” she asked as the car drove off.

“Yes,” the Admiral acknowledged her question with a smile, “we back onto the river.  Landislav’s Palace and the Althing Hall are about three blocks away.”  He looked up at the four storey building with its wide-set windows, brick and stone detailing.  “It had to be rebuilt in the seventeenth century because the old fortified manor burnt down.  There’s a story that the ladies of the family set fire to it in the hope of getting decent plumbing.”  He rubbed his hands together.  “Come inside where it’s warm.”

He led her up the steps and knocked on the door.  It was opened by a porter in subdued livery.  Rune suddenly began to feel very out of place despite her invitation.

The porter’s face split in a smile.  “Vorherr Sebastian, Damma Graymalk, please come in.”  The Admiral led the way and the porter carefully closed the door behind Rune with a gentle ‘snick’.  Rune followed the Admiral’s lead in taking off her winter coat but before she could hang it beside the Admiral’s the porter was at her side saying, “Please, allow me to take that, Damma.”  He carefully hung up the winter coat, the scarf she’d had on underneath it and her hat.  She was allowed to put her gloves in her satchel.  “May I say, Damma, how happy I am to welcome you to the house?”

Rune had time to murmur a quiet and slightly confused, “Thank you,” before the Admiral took her further into the stately building.  “They’ll be in the Brown Sitting Room,” he said confidently, leading the way.

Fortunately it wasn’t far and Rune didn’t think she’d get lost if she had to make her way back to the front door on her own.  The Brown Sitting Room itself looked as if it had been expensively furnished long enough ago to have eroded down to comfort.  The windows, framed in brown curtains, looked out over snowy terraces to the river and the snow covered Botanical Gardens on the low side of the river beyond.  There were three tall men in the room already, much of an age with the Admiral and each other.

“You already know Constantine,” Admiral Sjeldnjar indicated the thin man she knew as Special Agent Vlindersspar.  Rune and the skinny man nodded cordially to each other.  “This is Algernon,” the Admiral moved on to the thin man with mostly grey, curly hair and a sharp nose, “he’s head of the family.  This,” he moved on to the wiry man remaining, the one other then him with a military hair cut, “is Caliburn.”

“Uncle Caliburn,” the man corrected, his moustache tweaking over his smile.  “Would you rather have aquavit or Olvera?”  His hands hovered over the bottle, decanter and glasses.

“Neither, thank you.” Rune smiled back and added apologetically, “I’m back on duty at six this evening.”

“That seems a bit harsh,” protested Algernon.

“I volunteered,” Rune replied.  “After all, I didn’t think I had anywhere to go today, sir.”  She tacked on the ‘sir’ because if Algernon was head of the Sjeldnjar then he was the Ruhtig and that put him one step below the Royal Family.  ‘Uncle Caliburn’ in his jumper and leather jacket must be Major General Sjeldnjar...  Suddenly Rune wanted that alcoholic drink and to sit down in one of those very big armchairs and disappear because these very important people thought she was their relative, and...what if she wasn’t?

“I’m Uncle Algernon,” he corrected kindly.

“On what evidence, sir?”  That sounded panicked and she regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth.

“Here,” that was Caliburn putting a glass in her hand.  “This is plum cordial.  Not a drop of alcohol in it.  Connie, say something, will you?”  He looked over towards his brother.  “The poor girl is beginning to look like a deer caught in the headlights.”

“You look very like your mother.”

“I don’t think that helped,” Caliburn observed.  The Admiral had disappeared.  Some detached part of her mind suggested that he’d probably gone to change out of his uniform.

“You have our mother’s nose,” observed Algernon dispassionately.  “You’re standing the way Constantine used to when he was nervous, before he trained himself not to.”  Rune looked down and straightened her feet so she wasn’t pigeon-toed anymore.  “I’m satisfied that you’re who you say you are.  Now we just need to confirm that you’re who Constantine believes you are.  I’ve arranged for the Assembly of Nobles to have someone available to collect your samples here tomorrow.”

“Why is the Assembly of Nobles doing genetic,” she hazarded a guess, “testing on me?”

“Look around you,” Algernon indicated the room just as Sebastian came back in through the door.  “This is the full membership of the senior branch of the Sjeldnjar.  Constantine is my heir.  If you are the acknowledged child of his body, that makes you his heir, before Sebastian, Caliburn and a rather dreary cousin.  Displacing established heirs, that makes it the Assembly’s business.”

“And no fouls to you if the tests come back negative,” added Sebastian.  “We were the ones to approach you.”

rix_scaedu: (calm)

After she finished her shift handover Rune changed and went outside to wait.  If the Admiral had been at the official vigil then he would have to get back here to the Old Headquarters from the bonfire up on the Halderspur.  Even with this morning’s minimal traffic she didn’t think she’d keep him waiting.  She was right.  The official car, hydrogen-engined and armour-plated, slid into the space at the kerb in front of the building.  The Admiral opened the rear door himself and climbed out to hold it open for her.  “Come on, get in,” he told her while looking approvingly at her outfit of long boots and dark green winter coat with matching knitted hat and gloves, “Our solstice feast is waiting and we don’t want my brothers to start without us.”  She climbed into the rear of the car, her leather satchel slung over one shoulder, to find the vehicle empty except for the driver.  “We’ve already dropped off my staff officer and aide-de-camp,” added the Admiral as he slid in after her.  “After he’s deposited us, Larssen is off to his own celebration, aren’t you Larssen?”

“Yes sir.”  It was a cheery response from the middle-aged man behind the wheel but he didn’t take his eyes off the road.

Rune had decided to raise one point early.  “I noticed, sir,” she began carefully, “that you and Special Agent Vlindersspar don’t use the same surname.”

“And you still came?”  He sounded like he might be teasing her.

She nodded and saw no need to mention the numbered line entry left in the duty officer’s diary or the letter she’d left in her locker.

“Vlindersspar is an alias he uses.  Sjeldnjar is a difficult name if you want to be obscure.”  Rune knew what the Admiral meant.  The Sjeldnjars were all through the history she’d learnt in school.  Back when the country had been an elective monarchy the crown had usually been on the head of a Sjeldnjar or a member of the current royal family with the other eligible families only getting a candidate elected one reign in four.

“If I am who you think I am, what does that mean for me?”  The question hung there like fog from her breath.

He reached over and patted her hand in an avuncular fashion.  “I think we should save that discussion until you’ve met the others.”

In another official car, more luxuriously appointed than Admiral Sjeldnjar’s and with all its back seats occupied, the First Councillor said, “I wonder why Sebastian Sjeldnjar dashed off so quickly after sunrise?”  Her daughters, mustered as they so often were on these occasions to provide a supporting chorus, kept their faces straight and their mouths shut.  Princess Ravnhild, the only granddaughter making up the numbers in the car and apparently oblivious to the miasma of a sneaked cigarette wrapped around her, said cheerfully, “I heard him saying something to his driver about picking someone up.  I think he said niece, but I could be wrong.”

“That’s interesting,” Princess Citrine, the Queen’s First Councillor and sister, said slowly.  “Be sure to air yourself before you come in to eat, Ravnhild.”  Her daughters conveyed volumes to each other with their eyes.

“Yes, Grandmother,” Ravnhild replied obediently and the journey continued in silence.

When Rune followed the Admiral out of the car she found herself on the footpath outside one of the massive houses in the Old Quarter.  Its portico opened onto the street but the rest of the house was set back so that there was almost a traffic lane and a half between the front of the building and the iron railings along the footpath.  She looked around, trying to place herself in the city’s geography while Admiral Sjeldnjar had a few words with his driver.

"This is Thingborden, isn’t it?” she asked as the car drove off.

“Yes,” the Admiral acknowledged her question with a smile, “we back onto the river.  Landislav’s Palace and the Althing Hall are about three blocks away.”  He looked up at the four storey building with its wide-set windows, brick and stone detailing.  “It had to be rebuilt in the seventeenth century because the old fortified manor burnt down.  There’s a story that the ladies of the family set fire to it in the hope of getting decent plumbing.”  He rubbed his hands together.  “Come inside where it’s warm.”

He led her up the steps and knocked on the door.  It was opened by a porter in subdued livery.  Rune suddenly began to feel very out of place despite her invitation.

The porter’s face split in a smile.  “Vorherr Sebastian, Damma Graymalk, please come in.”  The Admiral led the way and the porter carefully closed the door behind Rune with a gentle ‘snick’.  Rune followed the Admiral’s lead in taking off her winter coat but before she could hang it beside the Admiral’s the porter was at her side saying, “Please, allow me to take that, Damma.”  He carefully hung up the winter coat, the scarf she’d had on underneath it and her hat.  She was allowed to put her gloves in her satchel.  “May I say, Damma, how happy I am to welcome you to the house?”

Rune had time to murmur a quiet and slightly confused, “Thank you,” before the Admiral took her further into the stately building.  “They’ll be in the Brown Sitting Room,” he said confidently, leading the way.

Fortunately it wasn’t far and Rune didn’t think she’d get lost if she had to make her way back to the front door on her own.  The Brown Sitting Room itself looked as if it had been expensively furnished long enough ago to have eroded down to comfort.  The windows, framed in brown curtains, looked out over snowy terraces to the river and the snow covered Botanical Gardens on the low side of the river beyond.  There were three tall men in the room already, much of an age with the Admiral and each other.

“You already know Constantine,” Admiral Sjeldnjar indicated the thin man she knew as Special Agent Vlindersspar.  Rune and the skinny man nodded cordially to each other.  “This is Algernon,” the Admiral moved on to the thin man with mostly grey, curly hair and a sharp nose, “he’s head of the family.  This,” he moved on to the wiry man remaining, the one other then him with a military hair cut, “is Caliburn.”

“Uncle Caliburn,” the man corrected, his moustache tweaking over his smile.  “Would you rather have aquavit or Olvera?”  His hands hovered over the bottle, decanter and glasses.

“Neither, thank you.” Rune smiled back and added apologetically, “I’m back on duty at six this evening.”

“That seems a bit harsh,” protested Algernon.

“I volunteered,” Rune replied.  “After all, I didn’t think I had anywhere to go today, sir.”  She tacked on the ‘sir’ because if Algernon was head of the Sjeldnjar then he was the Ruhtig and that put him one step below the Royal Family.  ‘Uncle Caliburn’ in his jumper and leather jacket must be Major General Sjeldnjar...  Suddenly Rune wanted that alcoholic drink and to sit down in one of those very big armchairs and disappear because these very important people thought she was their relative, and...what if she wasn’t?

“I’m Uncle Algernon,” he corrected kindly.

“On what evidence, sir?”  That sounded panicked and she regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth.

“Here,” that was Caliburn putting a glass in her hand.  “This is plum cordial.  Not a drop of alcohol in it.  Connie, say something, will you?”  He looked over towards his brother.  “The poor girl is beginning to look like a deer caught in the headlights.”

“You look very like your mother.”

“I don’t think that helped,” Caliburn observed.  The Admiral had disappeared.  Some detached part of her mind suggested that he’d probably gone to change out of his uniform.

“You have our mother’s nose,” observed Algernon dispassionately.  “You’re standing the way Constantine used to when he was nervous, before he trained himself not to.”  Rune looked down and straightened her feet so she wasn’t pigeon-toed anymore.  “I’m satisfied that you’re who you say you are.  Now we just need to confirm that you’re who Constantine believes you are.  I’ve arranged for the Assembly of Nobles to have someone available to collect your samples here tomorrow.”

“Why is the Assembly of Nobles doing genetic,” she hazarded a guess, “testing on me?”

“Look around you,” Algernon indicated the room just as Sebastian came back in through the door.  “This is the full membership of the senior branch of the Sjeldnjar.  Constantine is my heir.  If you are the acknowledged child of his body, that makes you his heir, before Sebastian, Caliburn and a rather dreary cousin.  Displacing established heirs, that makes it the Assembly’s business.”

“And no fouls to you if the tests come back negative,” added Sebastian.  “We were the ones to approach you.”

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