The Day When The Stationery Was No Longer Stationary – #Blog Battle – March Miscellanarian

Miscellany

To avoid the dangers of The Ethereal stood the ever vigilant Custodians of the Lord God’s Word. Tireless,  Evaluators of Sins and Blasphemies, Dispensers of Justice.

Officially.

Custodian Vernünftig had dispensed with this view of the entire Custodial Office. Therein could be found quotas of time-servers, bombasts, opportunists, and fanatics; each adding their own handful of grit into the workings of the Imperial Machine and the Ecclesiastes in particular, through the Sin of Wilful Stupidity. He worked with a pragmatic dictum. Get the job down sensibly you will survive and possibly succeed.

Which made him valued and sent to deal with difficult, often dangerous matters. He could not make up his mind where this current deployment fitted.

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A small princedom, not very strategic. One lordship within likewise, the noble puzzled more than flustered, welcomed his arrival.

The village did not exude any of the nascent or obvious threats he had grown to discern. The hill was some what abrupt as if someone had put it there to make a point, but not of sufficient dimensions to loom and brood.

‘I can make out the cave Guv’nor,’ Zwanglos said peering through her eyeglass ’Leastways whatever passes for one,’

Respectful to him, eye for detail and spirited. Her common of city speech, barely reverential to the official dictates and naturally her gender barred progress to Custodian. A loss. She would remain his assistant, A Tildelte. They were greeted by a clutch of villagers and the local Translator of The Lord God, a small man who seemed to be bearing the problem with but mild irritation.

‘Good Revered,’ he said as Vernünftig dismounted ‘Has anyone briefed you about the curious events emanating from that cave?’ he gestured with thumb over shoulder in the direction Zwanglos was still addressing with an eyeglass.

‘My Brother in Calling,’ Vernünftig  began, and the Translator nodded at the implied sarcasm ‘Was sparse in his report,’

‘Makes a change,’ Zwanglos volunteered ‘Ol’ Geschwollen usually won’t use ten when a hundred will declare his importance,’

‘To be precise,’ continued the Translator ‘He went up the hill, with Holy Book and Staff declaring loudly for the presence to be gone. There was an even louder ‘Be Gone You’, stuff was thrown out and down he came, rolling most of the way. His book and staff are still up there. White as swans he was. He’s recovering, somewhere, safe,’

Zwanglos fidgeted.

‘Can I get up the hill an’ retrieve ‘em Guv’nor?’

‘Yes Tildelte. But you cannot keep them,’

‘Spiffle,’ was the only audible word. He could guess the rest of the litany. While she was off, Vernünftig continued to converse with the Translator.

*******************************************************************************************************

‘So then. How did this all start?’ he might as well have been discussing unexpected early blooming of spring flowers, his preferred approach.

‘A traveller came through. At first we thought he was a bit lost and offered shelter. But the pest snuck out at night up the hill. The first we knew was a sudden bright light from the cave a loud cry of ‘Be Gone thief,’. By moonlight we saw him scampering off westwards never to return. It was never much of a cave more like a dent, one for shepherd to huddle in when it rained. When all that happened. Well I notified Custodian Geschwollen,’ a grimace ended the account.

‘His expertise,’ Vernünftig said, with little solemnity ‘Is more in ensuring adherence to the minutiae of religious decorum,’ he observed his Tildelte’s progress, she had the staff and the holy book ‘I fear he underestimated the problem,’

She had stopped some three quarters of the way, crouched behind a rock then directing her attention to the cave called out.

‘Wotcha! Got time for a chat?’

The illumination was bright even in daylight, the reply ‘Begone’ a boom which unsettled the escort and their mounts, Zwanglos ducked as a shower of small objects erupted from the cave.

‘Please yerself,’ she retorted and pausing to scoop up some of the missiles made an orderly retreat.

‘It’s very deep cave Guv’nor,’ she said on return and began to comb small items  out her hair.

Vernünftig, with the eyeglass studied the cave entrance, his practiced eye noting the slightest of hint of two outlines, between which was a greyness. He concluded the larger of the two outlines was the usual which the folk saw, its lighter shade indicating shallowness; therefore the deeper dark was an entrance within an entrance which had recently arisen and he did not doubt leading to some Ethereally bound location.

‘Acorns,’ said Zwanglos, offering him a handful for examination.

‘They are blue,’

‘Noteworthy that. All back to the Age of Conceits. Many experiments going on then. Some reckon as to why The Ethereal Arrived; because of footling about with cheap machines. Dunno why blue acorns though, no records about nowadays. Another thing,’ in her other hand were slender metal objects curled down at each end, since she was getting more animated Vernünftig let Zwanglos continue unabated ‘Now these. Legendary. Staples,’

‘Staples? That’s a new word on me,’

‘Definitely Age of Conceits stuff. You load them into a device. Push paper or parchment into it, thump it, and they fix all the papers together. The LifeGuard probably got one,’ she shrugged.

‘How do we know about them?’

I found out footling about in that old archive of archives, when we was investigating them heretics of Fraud’

‘Oh yes. Very tiresome,’

‘Not so bad,’

‘For you. We need to reflect and approach matters in the dawning,’

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Before sunrise the pair made a cautious approach, Zwanglos with her prize, the staff, Vernünftig never felt the need for one, he indulged her.  At the rock Vernünftig halted and called out in a stern, calm commanding tone.

‘Sir. A word with you please,’

There was a pause before the expected demand for him to leave.

‘No Sir. I cannot do that. You are causing upset to the local folk by your sudden, albeit understandable actions. I am obliged therefore to request your discourse,’

There was a silence, Vernünftig felt whoever they were they were thinking over matters. Always a tense interlude.

Then the voice boomed ‘No’

At the first inclination he was diving to cover, counterpointed by Zwanglos standing up staff pointed at the cave entrance.

Objects of varying sizes appeared, just as she yelled ‘Nah ya dont’ and blue flared from the staff, meeting the objects which halted and fell to the ground at the cave’s entrance.

Vernünftig viewed his Tildelte with mild paternalistic censure.

‘You are not supposed to be able to do that Tildelte. Yet, while whoever is shocked scuttle up there and get as many of those objects as you can,’

‘Takin’ me staff,’ she said with heavy dignity.

By the time she was back unscathed, and laying out her booty Vernünftig had made some evaluations, he viewed the variety.

‘What are these?’

‘Treasure Guv’nor. Safety pins. Erasers. Pencils. Sharpeners for Pencils. Plugs – lucky he didn’t have a basin. All sorts of small stuffs,’

‘Thank you Tildelte,’

He strode forth calling out.

‘Sir. Please cease. We have come only to discourse. Know you that you are in another time?’

There was another silence.

Then the voice came out questioning.

‘Another time? How say you? On what assurance have I?’

‘Well come forth?’ and to Zwanglos

‘And you Tildelte put that staff away. It will make the fellow nervous,’

A smallish man came out of the gloom, he was dressed in functional clothes of greys, before his eyes rested glass framed in metal. He peered out.

‘Oh my goodness. What happened to the city?’ he looked up ‘The skies are uncommonly clear. I hear not the sounds of war. All is actually calm. I thought they had come to steal and destroy? Thieves in the night,’

Vernünftig altered his pose, a slouch, hands into pockets, ironic grin.

‘My dear sir. We have much to discuss and educate each other on. We must talk, here and now. We will not be interrupted,’

There was a muted grumbling behind him.

‘Gladsome day Guv’nor. It starting rain and we’re gonna have to sit in the open while Master Mystery has the comfort of a cave,’

‘Be stalwart Tildelte. Our service often requires our discomfiture,’

She had a feeling he was making her squat in the rain for unauthorised use of a Custodial Staff. She pulled up her hood.

‘You have the evidence of your own eyes, ears and nose,’  Vernünftig reasoned ‘Time and circumstances have taken away those surroundings you knew. Were you not aware of the passage of time? Master?’

‘Thaddeus Greylane,’ it seemed as if the fellow was unsure how he felt about the name ‘I am an archivist. Not of wonderous things but the small items which mean much to ordinary folk. It is not a profession with great reputation. Yet, when The Ethereal arrived and under the weight of its implications came the subsequent failure of innovations which had been deemed necessary, then perceptions changed. It seemed as if everyone with any motivation of preservation was trying to store items and information,’ and this point he shrugged ‘And it all came my way. Small objects, books, memory containers, poured, into my offices. There was no help either. So many people were involved in survival, machinery and fighting. The influx was such that I fear my offices sunk somewhat, in a gentle way, which I assumed to be through causes Ethereal, until eventually I was blessed only with artificial illumination. What else could I do, but carry on my work, it was either that or go quite mad,’

‘I see you point,’ Vernünftig said in all sincerity, a not uncommon outcome when in pursuit of or the maintenance of knowledge. ‘Were you aware of detailed events?’

‘I could not say for sure. All measure of days passed by. I had some idea that frightful matters were taking place and unearthly creatures were abroad, but no one or nothing threatened me. I continued and itemised some fifty -seven thousand, four hundred and thirty two major items, each with their sub-categories, averaging fifty-two and then there was the issue of classifications,’

Vernünftig conducted some mental maths.

‘Your archive must be vast,’

‘When one relies on clerical records, yes,’

The man’s whole demeanour had quite relaxed, Vernünftig thus pressed on.

‘Thus came the day when you were aware of someone?’

‘Indeed, a furtive, vulgar air intruded. I was alarmed, all my hard work being pilfered. Not being a person versed in weaponry, I threw disposable things, and tried to sound in authority,’ he peered around Vernünftig ‘I fear your assistants caused similar alarm, although this one less bombast and more protective,’

Zwanglos managed a feminine smile and brief wave.

‘She is young, enthusiastic and loyal. I fear my predecessor lacked diplomacy,’

The fellow had obviously been thinking over matter.

‘So much change, in surroundings, dress, accents. How much time has passed?’

‘The Ethereal,’ Vernünftig began as it seemed common ground ‘Was and still is a vast field for study. You may have travelled through and not passed centuries,’

‘Oh my,’

Zwanglos had squelched up.

‘Ethereal takes a bit of getting used to,’  she said ‘That said. Since you could throw lots of pins and things around I reckons you got Ethereal in you, therefore could be quick on the uptake,’

Vernünftig clapped a hand on her shoulder, she sagged.

‘Splendid idea Tildelte. You will stay here and exchange information with Master Greylane. You are ideally suited .It might take a year or so, but will be good and worthy work,’

He began to pace down the hill.

‘Where you going Guv’nor?’ she demanded.

‘I am going to find that wretch who started this, learn what he knew and what was his purpose,’

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Greylane addressed his puzzled attention to her.

She had to admit such rummaging did sound compelling also bringing the fellow up to date. And she kept the staff.

‘Firstly. Can I come out of the rain?’ she asked, adding ‘Why blue acorns?’

 

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One Christian’s Confession

Left SideRight Side

Sometimes. For better or for Worse. For no specific reason, you just have to try and put down into words on something which will not let you rest. You know you may be risking censure, incredulity, dismissiveness, even mockery. You don’t care though. Whatever it is that drives you to write will not let you rest until the jumble of thoughts are put out there into some attempt at coherence. You don’t even expect to put A Case that will win any sort of approval. You just have to write.  Irrespective.

Back about…..several months ago I was going to write one of my ‘Why I Am A Christian’ posts. I was going to take the tack on the universe is filled with wonder and quote all sorts of stats, then tie those up with philosophical lite musings on existence, statements on tolerance and wrap it all up with a conclusion that this how I see it. There were drafts, re-writes and ‘what were you thinking bout when you wrote that!’ interludes (several). As Christmas approached determination beckoned to Get This Done.

And then Events intruded, or maybe challenged, or perhaps just came along in some kind of synchronicity with a Cosmic intention to drive out any complacency or even flippancy masking as ironic humour, because dear reader….that….was…not…going…to…work! Not now. As if it ever should in this world. Nothing like Christmas run-up to bring the arguments / challenges for and against all into sharp relief. I’ll explain.

Local (ie UK) news in December:

Channel Isle- Jersey 8 retired folk killed in an explosion at their small, sedate apartment block.

West Midlands – 4 small boys died when the ice on a frozen lake gave way

Manchester – Woman knocked down and killed when struck by a police car perusing a stolen vehicle.

Christmas Eve – One killed, three injured in a shooting at a pub in Wallesey (Near Liverpool)- A national news event in the UK.

At the night. One killed when their car struck by a vehicle pursued by police- London area. Two died when their car went into the sea at a harbour, near Swansea.

Those are the ones I can recall in the news. I may have missed others. That does not count the accidents, sudden deaths and serious illness diagnosis (I can count three in my personal circle). OK, maybe it is possible to be compassionate and fatalistic and philosophical in one’s own comfy bubble. But four young lads on ice? How does anyone justify that in the Cosmic Scheme? Dare you use The Folly That Are Humanity’s Errors excuse in that case??? And do not try and tell me that such heart-breaking events are all part of God’s Plan. I am simply not buying into such a Detached or at the other side Complacent view. Not for the sake of the children, their families, friends, neighbours, rescue service crews and so on. Or in those other cases.

I can circumnavigate the issues on Wars, Catastrophic Accidents, Damage to Humanity through Natural Events, even diseases. I can fill pages laying the blame at the door of Humanity itself for most things on the basis that this was a world gifted to us and we have the free-will and it is we who are screwing up. You call that Inflexible?. Dear reader I can, on an internally stormy day bring us all into the cycle of blame, citing politics, economics, social trends to name but a few no problem. Don’t blame God. Don’t say it proves there is no God. Don’t try and shift the blame. Don’t try and wriggle out with the ‘There Is No Free Will’ get out clause. I can chew them all up. And point the finger back at We The People.

But kids falling through ice, when playing? Folk mown down by speeding cars? Exploding residencies? How do those random, tragic, spirit breaking events fit in? My dear wife who was brought up in all sincerity with the notion of a Guardian Angel is now very scathing on the topic. As I said earlier The All Part of God’s Plan gets no room with me, and pity help anyone who tries to even suggest to me such events are judgements; if that were the case there should be a whole lot of folk spontaneously dropping down dead right now.

So, NO. NO I can’t explain, I can’t justify. Probably some might try and suggest, it’s all to do with degrees of scale. Dozens, Hundreds die and it’s just ‘news’. If it’s smaller numbers and children, it hurts. Some will analyse the various Human responses. That’s fair enough on the Human Secular Scale and folk will accept that. However if I try and quote, say Luke 12 6-7….

Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?

But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.

Then am I not risking getting a very hollow laugh in response? Indeed there are many theological and honest faith-based answers there. The trouble is, how do you use them when innocent folk die? How do you convince folk that your faith is based on something? And dare you say them to the grieving, in their raw unimaginable anguish?

At this stage in such a post it would be traditional for me either to. (A) Offer up a confession that my faith has evaporated and I can no longer belief (B) Slog on with some convoluted explanation which might relate to folk of faith but no one else (C) Go Cosmic. Link Life with the Rest of the Universe and degrees of scale and lose everyone irrespective of beliefs after the fourth sentence when the readers give out in one big collective….. UH?

OK. So none of the above will have a universal, ‘popular’ appeal. Thus I have to be starkly honest about this issue of God, Faith and Tragedy.

I…Do not…Know. I have no answer for you.
I have my Faith.
You know how that works? You have your ‘Something’, be that Theistic, Atheistic, Spiritual, Political, Social, Cosmological or a mix of all. You have your ‘Family’ be that by Blood, Societal or Friendship (wide labels). You have your…‘Something’. You know there are flaws, you know some of it / them drive you crazy, test your limits and yet you are still drawn back there…. Just because.
So that’s what I have.

Without sentiment though. I’m sure I could quote a biblical quote to cover that, but right now I’m not the one to use such, on ‘paper’. You have to be careful of the Written Word, it does not always convey meaning too well. No, I’m just one person with a set of beliefs I hold to, ones which don’t make me better than someone with another set. I hold to my beliefs.
I just question some of the teachings my fellow believers bring to the debates.

And I have no theistic answers why in the proverbial Scheme of Things little boys playing on one winter’s day drowned in an icy waters.

Maybe there are none.

That’s the problem with Faith. It’s not a comfort blanket.

It’s a…

Your turn. You fill in the blank as you see it.

These Chartered Yet Unsettled Waters December #BlogBattle-Navigate

Navigation 2

‘Spoofle,’

Queen Gervalene’s muted outburst was as much a commentary as she would allow herself.

Both her grandfather Gerveg (The Rock) her father Gerveg II (The Just) had died early, their bodies giving out through the demands of their spirits and minds. The former through war, the latter at the demands of constructing an iron sure administration. Thus was Greymorell a stable, uniform and secure kingdom amongst a region of still dyspeptic neighbours.

Not one which had previously had a queen though. And a young one.    

Gervalene knew there were many unhappy about this. However, she was the only heir to her father and the laws were quite specific about The Line of Succession. Such were the heritages of her forbearers no one questioned The Law.

The Law, however, would not stop folk nagging her about the Supremacy of her Council, ‘Ware The Ethereal’ and naturally Marriage.

After her coronation she had spent twenty and five days at this wind and sea swept remote bastion. Contemplating. At least people respected that; The House of Nüchtern was ever serious and reflective. She was of The Blood and would do her duty.

Whatever storms. She rolled up her chart.

 

Queen Gervalene’s wish to ride the sixty miles back to Castle Verwaltung was in keeping with House of Nüchtern.

On arrival she was greeted by her trusted Lady of Service Liefje.

‘Your Highness. Chancellor Dringend and council await,’

‘Choppy waters,’ she added.

‘Of course,’ Gervalene said.

‘And sewerage spill,’

‘Oh,’

 

‘Your highness,’ Dringend observed the stride of Gervalene’s entry, still dressed in manly riding gear, gauntlets into her belt. No delay with changes into courtish dresses.

‘My Lords,’ she called as if hailing another in a fog ‘To business,’ 

Murmuring of approval.

Nonetheless Dringend felt it was his duty to ensure this young Queen listened and did as advised. Unforeseen problems had arrived.

‘Your Hghness’ promptness is to be praised,’ as always, he drew breath before he launched into the list of ‘matters’

Taking advantage of the calm before the storm Gervalene steered towards the table bearing a large map and being studied by Duke Krijgsman, commander of the Greymorallench army, of noble bearing, veteran, widowed.

Conventional courtly wisdom reckoned just the right husbandly material for a young untested queen.

All eyes were on Gervalene, evidently she was drawn to him. He smiled, benignly, a good open gambit.

She drew closer.

Finger traced along the map.

‘My dearest duke. I am comforted to see you studying our positions. With the empire still being young, it is necessary to consider our security and make good our loyalty,’ she leaned in focusing on a land two kingdoms away ‘The question of Accession in Unurhig threatens war, thus spilling into our fayre neighbours in Besorgt. Our emperor dislikes squabbles. Please invoke the Treaty of Wohlwollen. Our neighbour King Glücklos will be relieved we come to aid of both Besorgt and beyond,’

Krijgsman appeared conflicted, then resolved. Whereas he had intended to make initial maneuvers for the queen’s hand, going back to his youth he had a particular loathing for the trouble making faction in Unurhig. Gervalene smiled encouragingly.

‘With all due speed your Highness,’ he said heart moving ahead of head and loins ‘Unurhig is a complex land, the campaign will take some time,’ It was, he felt only correct to let her disappointment down gently. As she had steered him to.

‘Good Duke, your attentions to duties does you credit,’ Gervalene said and swiveled to lock eyes upon a small man of attentive and eager poise, ‘Lord Ferris Clerke of Our Offices. Please draft correspondence of Emperor Lexor explaining our intention in this is to support the empire and request our consideration for Duke Krijgsman to be elevated to a General for the Imperial Throne,’

Krijgsman’s beam of pride was equaled by that of Ferris’. Ferris had yearned often not just to record the word of the Throne of Greymorell, but to draft on its behalf. The honour of trust. Oh Joy!

 

Dringend already distracted was caught off guard by the speed and astuteness of Gervalene’s moves which he had to admit were flawless. The marriage matter would be moved down the agenda. There were other sudden unwelcome issues.

‘He’s got the Tightening Nostrils; father warned me about those. Here come the serious squalls, and watch out for flying sewerage,’

 ‘Your Highness,’ Dringend said teeth gritted ‘Our own Arch Expeditor of The Lord God’s Word, Aufgeblasen has been unexpectedly, or so it seems, visited by Imperial Custodian Captain Ondsindet. They approach,’

Ah. The Sewerage,’

Gervalene had to assume Dringend had been, for once, outmaneuvered. There was mutual dislike between the Chancellor and senior fellow in the religious hierarchy of Greymorell. She had to assume this Ondsindet was another of the opportunistics looking to rise up the ranks. The Imperial Office of Religious Purity was full of them. A chancer seeing a new and young queen as easy pickings. Aufgeblasen by association must be trying for an imperial office.

Now for a hard tack into the wind as her old marine bodyguard would say.  

She appraised them in best emotionless regal style as her father had taught her. For when The Time came.

‘Gentlemen,’ she said. There were mental gasps. Displeasure. The Queen was not using either man’s title. When arrogantly challenged that had been her father’s opening response. She had been taught well ‘You concerns please,’

Aufgeblasen at seeing a younger female version of Gerveg faltered, playing for time coughed and cleared his throat, Ondsindet ignorant of the land’s heritage forged on. There was strong evidence of a spready of Whychery into ‘this realm’, it had been simmering but with the death of Gerveg II had moved to seize the prize, he did check himself by adding the words ‘during transition’, but Gervalene caught the message. ‘Instead of Ethereal he had used the abusive word ‘Whychery ’and not just insulted her but her father. Prepare to engage,’

‘Your solicitude is appreciated Captain Custodian,’ some imagined frost was in the air ‘This is weighty indeed. A regent must care for their people. Respect their emperor. But must above all serve The Good Lord God,’

Having made what probably would not be a very memorable statement she curtly ordered the two men to follow her. A glance from her Chancellor and the ceremonial guard fiercely stepped into the herd the two men.

Gervalene did not pay attention to the words trailing her or Aufgeblasen’s puffing to keep pace, anyway she was sure he knew what was coming. They steered the swift tack to port and she led them down a quiet corridor to an rarely visited room.  She knocked softly.

‘Please enter,’ came a quavery, friendly voice

Theologian To The Throne Geleerd had been middle aged in her grandfather’s years, unofficially he was known as The Conscience of House Nüchtern. It was known, but not spoken of, that he had been the only one who could steer both Gervegs away from some of their more frighteningly harsh ideas. He maintained an unswerving iron resolve to the moderate and could quote from all five holy books in a gentle but deep reproof to his target. Those who thought him a wandering old duffer were swiftly appraised otherwise.

Gervalene took his hands as he rose with greetings to her, his body seemed to rely on resolve to keep going.

‘Your Highness. How kind to visit,’ a twinkle came into his eye ‘And you dear Aufgeblasen,’ then a knowing look ‘A Captain Custodian too. I am honored,’

 Steering around the smidge of sarcasm Gervalene explained the reason for the visit.

‘Dear Master Geleerd,’ Gervalene spoke as grand-niece ‘These gentlemen,’ there could have been more frost and a chill breeze ‘Are concerned over matters of Ethereal Abuse in Our realm,’ one admonishing regal index finger rose as The Custodian began to say ‘Whychery,’ he got as far as ‘Wh’  ‘As your queen I would ask of you to discuss this with them,’

          ‘Of course, your highness,’ he said with much affection.

          He had been her Ethics tutor, he taught with humour. She still thought of him as an uncle.

          ‘I will instruct the guard to stay. To ensure there are no interruptions,’ these words were addressed to Ondsindet.

          And she left, Aufgeblasen full aware that there was going to be a remorselessly long discourse which would leave him floundering. Why he could not have avoided this? She had moved so fast. Ondsindet was on his own.

 

          The muted hub-bub stopped on her return.

          ‘Let us be seated good lords,’ she said ‘There must be more to discuss,’

          Dringend was impressed by her maneuverers, she was indeed of The Blood and presently he was in her wake. At his imperceptible nod others waded in with their own matters.

          As Gervalene could only grasp about one quarter of what was being said but assumed each proponent had his own possibly financial interest. To avoid the shoals of delay she agreed to proposals, although saying pointedly to the clerkes ‘Let the record show: On the advice of- ‘. Thus, when something went wrong, as it probably would, everyone knew who to blame. After the first two had doomed themselves, the others were less intense with their interests. Tax reform reducing the burden on the wealthy was completely dropped.

 

          The council ended. Two remaining. As Dringend gathered his papers Gervalene placed a hand softly on his arm.

          ‘This was all a test? I am sure you could have stifled clumsy Aufgeblasen without my help,’

          Dringend seemed to muse on the question.

          ‘The Regent will ever be the last bastion,’ he replied.

          As cryptic as the reply was she read the undertow.

          ‘I do hope The Captain Custodian is careful with his subsequent commentary. He should know how much in Fond Regard Dear Gerleed is held in our realm. And The Emperor would not like some mere Captain Custodian to upset such a loyal realm,’

          ‘Quite so Your Highness,’

         There was unsaid agreement.

          The Guards would report on words overheard. Agents disguised as peasants would record predictably sour comments made by the fellow on his journey out of the realm. It would all be managed and filtered to the Emperor.

          Ondsindet would be wrecked on the rocks of politics. Aufgeblasen would limp back to his safe habours and be compliant.

          ‘Marriage? Another day then?’

          ‘Quite so Your Highness,’

 

          In the deep night she surveyed her chart, it had served her well, warning of the dangers upon this stretch of the Sea of Life. Look to the Ethereal for guidance but never predictions. When her abilities had surfaced Geleerd was there to tutor her, as he had with her father. She learnt never to abuse the ability only to navigate with it. Her chart, crafted with her own skills. And never make much of this gift. Just a skill like any other.

 

          She slipped into bed welcoming arms enfolded her.

          ‘Long day sweetling,’ sympathised Liefje.

          ‘There will be the marriage thing,’ came the grumble.

          ‘Got an answer. Grand Duke Profugi. Younger son of Maggiore of Cisapline. His older half-brother wants him dead to tidy up the inheritance. It’s not unusual thereabouts. He’d make a good King Consort. The rank and station would remove him as a threat to his sibling. Thus, he would be happy to settle here,’

          ‘There will have to be children, ‘grumbled Gervalene in between yawns ‘I like children and would make it my business to cope with pregnancy and labour. It’s the starting which vexes me,’

          ‘Only a few times a year,’ Liefje said ‘after that he can run free, but discreetly. He will understand. It’s ever such a common arrangement these days. And you can learn to be friends. He is known to be affable and open minded,’     

‘A few times a year,’ Gervalene muttered as sleep advanced ‘Oh the duties my realm calls upon me,’ her hand squeezed Leifje’s ‘Be thou my guide sweet pilot,’ she said and slipped off to sleep.

          ‘Thine evermore sweet Captain,’ Liefje whispered in reply and kissed the sleeping head.