Panenske Brezany
1st May SY153
I decided to let Rupert do the calling come May 1st, because in truth I wasn't sure that he would actually bother. My sources told me that he was up and about, and had been seen at Hradcany Castle, apparently back at work, albeit putting in shorter days than usual. But what state he was in I was uncertain. Several times during his convalescence I had wondered about calling him, but I could feel he was alive and slowly recovering, and in the end I'd come to the conclusion that it was probably tactful to wait for him to decide where we should go from here. Civilised, after all, had been his idea in the first place: the question was, would we ever be able to regain the fragile balance between us?
Not that there was much to talk about this month, if Rupert did call. Apart from the general conduct of the war, both his people and mine had been reasonably quiet in April. Of course, he'd spent most of it in no position to meddle with anything, which did make for a peaceful month.
On a more positive note, at least from my point of view – my brother would naturally have disagreed - Andrew had been a different person since the incident up in the mountains. He seemed more relaxed, and I'd actually seen him laughing and joking with Chris and Adam over the snooker table a couple of times. It was as if his attack on my brother had opened the floodgates to let his old self out of the box in which it had been trapped for too long to mention. My worry, though, was whether Rupert would bottle up his desire for revenge and let it out just as violently with as little warning at some point in the future, or whether he would finally accept that he and Andrew were even, and that détente should now prevail. Only time would tell.
But at four o'clock, I felt the stirrings of a Trump call, and I identified it as my brother. Cautiously, I opened the link, to see him regarding me. He was pale and drawn, and the scar was vivid on his cheek.
"Christ, Rupert, you look like Hell," I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"I love you too, Mein Bruder," he answered, with a sigh, and I instantly regretted what I'd said.
"I'm sorry, that was..."
"Don't worry. You're right," he said, and I thought I could the trace of a smile from him, "if it helps, I feel like Hell, too. Join me..."
He extended his hand and I took it, stepping through to his office at Panenske Brezany. The most obvious difference from my visit two months before was the presence of Obersturmbannführer...no, make that Standartenführer I thought, taking in his collar tabs...Schultz in the room when I arrived. As before, at the wedding, his 'honour' dagger betrayed him for what he was, and I was both surprised and slightly disturbed when he approached me.
"Your Majesty, I have been ordered to make sure that you are unarmed," he said, in accented but perfectly polite English, "please forgive the inconvenience."
I glanced over at Rupert who shrugged.
"Once bitten and all that, Robert. I'm sure you understand."
I nodded, and submitted to the quick, professional search which the Head of the Honour Guard subjected me to. As he did, I wondered how he'd actually managed to get promoted since Rupert's misfortunes. I would have expected him to have been executed for incompetence, given the state my brother returned home in after our last meeting. Or perhaps, like Gray, Schultz had always counselled caution in his master's meetings with me and had been proven right, and in a fit of magnanimity, Rupert had acknowledged that it wasn't his fault, and that maybe he had a point.
"All is well," he said, stepping back with a smart salute to both of us, "and the room is secure. Do you wish me to remain in here until your business is complete?"
My brother paused for a moment, obviously in two minds about his answer, then shook his head.
"No, but stay close at hand, just in case."
"I will be here instantly, if you need me, Herr Reichsführer," he answered, clicking his heels and saluting, before crossing to the door. He stepped through, and I couldn't help noticing that he didn't close it fully behind him. Obviously he was planning on being outside, just in case Rupert called.
"I hope you are not going to betray my trust again, Robert," my brother said, quietly, "Schultz would infinitely prefer to stay in here with me, although I think I've convinced him that if he is that close enough at hand, and you know that, I won't come to further harm. But believe me, when next I come to visit you, I have no intention of asking him to wait outside. I hope you understand."
"What happened was a one-time occurrence," I answered, with conviction.
"It was one time too often," he replied, quietly, "never again."
"Will it always be Schultz?"
"For the foreseeable future. Until I am once more confident of your intentions. But if you feel you need to invite Auguste de Lyon along when you visit me, I will also understand."
It was hard to argue with his reasoning, although I hoped neither Andrew nor Gray would ever cross paths with Standartenführer Schultz when he was in Sable. They were unhappy enough about Rupert coming to dinner, as it were, without him bringing another of the Black Lodge with him.
Rupert called for coffee, cake and schnapps, and then sat down, and as he did so, I noticed he was still moving stiffly, either through the last vestiges of pain, or just through inactivity. I guessed the latter, given how long it had taken me to regain my fitness after my encounter with Paolo, and my medical assessment was that he was probably still tiring easily. But still, he wasn't in bad shape given what he'd been through a month before. I sat down opposite him, and we waited in slightly uncomfortable silence, until a servant brought in a heavily laden tray. He poured the coffee and then left us to our own devices. My brother passed one of the schnapps glasses to me and took the other, then looked intently at me.
"Before we go any further, I want one thing from you, Robert."
"Which is?"
"I want you to be able to look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn't know what Andrew was going to do."
I met his gaze, knowing that that question, at least, I could answer honestly. I just hoped he wasn't planning on asking any others.
"No, Rupert. I didn't know," I answered, "he caught me as much by surprise as he did you."
"If rather less painfully," he replied, and after a moment he nodded, then raised his glass, "to recoveries. Yours two years ago, and mine now."
As there was little else I could do, I joined him in the toast, and we downed the fiery spirit in one.
"So appearances aside, how are you actually feeling?" I asked, finally.
"As well as can be expected, I think. Of course, unlike your convalescence after the Courtroom, I've been unable leave my body to its own devices."
"At all?"
"At all," he answered, "and my physician isn't a healing mage. So as far as I'm aware, unless he sneaked something into my treatment that I don' t know about - which I suppose is possible, as he's a resourceful young man - I've had to go about it the hard way. I wonder if Andrew knew that would be the case when he decided to make chopped liver of my intestines."
I looked at him, surprised and the physician in me actually felt compassion for him, even though I'd been all set to do him harm myself. Healing with the shifting was bad enough, but after the injuries he'd taken...
"Remember my position, Mein Bruder. Of all the billions of people in the Reich, I am the one who can never, ever reveal myself to be a shapeshifter to the population at large," he said seriously, then chuckled, "otherwise I'd have to have myself arrested by the Forstapo and dragged away to one of the camps."
I wasn't sure I appreciated his sense of humour, but my answer was neutral.
"I can understand shifting, but why not magic?"
"Initially there was merasha in my system, and later...as I said, my physician isn't a mage, and I was in no state to treat myself. So he did what he could. And, smart lad that he is, my secret remains safe."
"From everyone but him."
"I trust that Oberstgruppenführer Gerlinde won't betray me," he replied, and he actually seemed to mean it. Perhaps there was a trust there which Gray might be interested to learn of, "he inherited his quick wits from his father, even if he thankfully didn't inherit his temperament."
I could tell that we was waiting for me to ask the obvious question, but I decided that I probably already knew the answer, and didn't bother. Instead, we lapsed into silence, drank coffee and enjoyed the delicious offerings his pastry chef had provided, before he finally resumed the conversation.
"So, you've been busy lately. An Aurellian god no less."
"That's was a few weeks ago now."
"True, but I wasn't in a position to notice last time we met," he said, a trace of bitterness underlying his affable tone, "and Andrew's followed your example since our...encounter. God of Vengeance and Advocate of Victims, I'm told."
"He obviously felt passionate about both," I answered, keeping a straight face as I said it, "that's the way the whole Aurellian god thing works."
For a moment his eyes narrowed, but then he relaxed and actually smiled.
"Touché."
"You're well informed," I observed, wondering where he had got his intelligence from.
"I try," he answered, "although catching up with the paperwork has been a bitch. In this case, though, Our Beloved Kaiser told me at our weekly briefing session yesterday. I imagine it came up when he and Sirius met last week."
Gray had commented in the past that Wilhelm and the Emperor of Eboracum had a similar arrangement to myself and Rupert. It was related to the fact that when they first met, they had discovered they had a lot in common - they were both ex-military, and while they were supposed to be the rulers of their respective realms, they both felt they had an éminence grise to contend with: in Sirius's case, Roland and the Pantheon; and in Wilhelm's... The result of this had been that they got on like a house on fire. Hence the cordial relations between the Empire and the Reich that neither myself, nor Roland appreciated, but I think amused my brother no end.
"So, how do you think Roland would take it if I presented myself for his Creation's consideration, do you think?"
"I have no idea," I replied, taking a strategic drink of coffee.
"Oh, Robert," he said, with a chuckle, "at times you're a lousy liar."
He drained his own cup before refilling it, then continued.
"I cannot believe that the subject didn't come up when you were down there. I might not have been a Deity without Portfolio for as long as you, but I have still been accorded the rank since the Reich and the Empire entered into diplomatic relations. So I rather doubt that he wouldn't have considered the possibility that I would feel honour bound to follow your example when I learned that you had visited down there."
"Honour bound?"
"Of course," he answered, "I can't let you have the kind of influence that position gives you without wishing to share it."
"Keeping up with the Joneses?"
"Pure self defence," he answered, "what do you think? I rather fancy myself as some kind of official protector. Looking after the threatened of the Empire and all that. Guarding its boundaries against all comers, as I protect the Reich. Unlike you, I even have a priesthood already in place, in the form of the Knights, the Reichsprotektors and the SS officer corps."
"That is too horrifying to contemplate," I retorted, and I wasn't entirely sure I was joking, "perhaps God of Nazis, or God of Totalitarian Regimes would be more your line."
"But you forget what the SS was formed to be."
"Originally, maybe. Your version, certainly not. You missed out the whole bodyguard stage and leapt straight to taking over the world. I really, really hope you're joking, Rupert."
He looked at me for a moment, then smiled.
"It would be ironic, though, wouldn't it? And thus, as the universe has no sense of humour, it is unlikely to happen unless I really, really want it to and his Creation understands."
We sat in silence for a few moments, sipping coffee, then he put his cup down beside him and regarded me once more.
"Tell me, Robert, what were you actually planning to do on April 1st?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Oh don't play innocent. You were planning something, otherwise you wouldn't have been out on Mount Vanaheim. What was it that your son pre-empted?"
"Does it really matter now?"
"Actually, to me, yes it does. And were our positions reversed, you would feel the same way. You would want to know. Because that will be the foundation of our future relationship."
"It wasn't anything quite as decisive as running you through with a Power blade, if that's what you mean."
"But you wanted to cause me harm?"
"In as much as I'd learned what you'd done to Andrew, yes. I wanted to teach you a lesson."
"Much as I did to you after the Lebensborn Centre? Or something more lethal?"
"Somewhere between that and what actually happened."
He looked at me than nodded.
"Honest. But why now? That's what I don't understand."
"Because I'd only just found out what had happened the night before the Black Friday offensive. Andrew showed me his memories of the...ritual."
"I'm impressed they were clear enough for you to read," he commented, interest in his tone, but no trace of sarcasm, which I think I would have expected, "what you have to understand, is that I did what I did for the good of the State, Mein Bruder."
"You went too far," I answered quietly, "you sacrificed an innocent member of the family, and then played god and brought him back."
"Family, certainly. Innocent...? How far would you go to preserve your realm, Robert? If the Reich really threatened you, would you stop at anything to protect Sable? Come now. I remember your response in the whole Joscelin/ Channelling/Pattern bomb incident."
"You had threatened to behead me," I retorted, "it gave me motivation."
"Yes, I suppose I had. But you haven't answered my question."
"Aside from the fact that in my understanding of blood and death rituals, what you did shouldn't have worked – and moreover, should have hurt you as much, if not more, than it hurt him - I would never have gone as far as sacrificing another human being to power an offensive. No."
"Would you have sacrificed yourself?" he suggested, and I shrugged.
"Were it to come to that, it would be my choice and none would suffer but me," I replied, "but no, I have no intention of making myself a Sacred King any time soon, unless there is truly no choice. I enjoy breathing too much."
He looked at me briefly, then stared out of the window for a while. Outside the spring sunshine was illuminating the green shoots on the trees in Panenske Brezany's garden.
"Robert, I've had a lot of time to think over the last couple of weeks," he said, finally, "and while I know you would like me to apologise for what I did to you son, I cannot in all honesty say that I regret it. I did it for what I consider the best of reasons. Andrew was unlucky in that he was the perfect tool at the perfect time, and I took the opportunity presented to me. Can you understand that?"
"Not really," I replied, "I don't understand how you could have gone so far. He wasn't your enemy. He was lonely, and he was hurting, and you took advantage of his situation and destroyed him."
"There are those who would say he'd done a good job of doing that for himself," Rupert replied, his tone matter of fact, although it still caused my hackles to rise, "but..."
He paused, and I controlled my temper and waited for him to continue.
"But in serving my people, I ended up creating a greater enemy than they had ever faced before. One who is so dedicated to the cause, that he, of all of your kin, fights the way we do, and has defeated us on several occasions because of that. Reich troops aren't used to having their own tactics thrown back at them. So consider this, Mein Bruder, perhaps I did get my just desserts after all."
I listened in silence. It wasn't an apology, but it was probably the closest he was ever going to get to admitting he had been wrong.
"I have no love for your son. In fact, I have a great deal of hatred for him right now. But you have my word that I will not take this further and avenge my hurt on him. I should like you to give him a message for me: I am willing to leave this be if he is."
"By which I assume you have no desire to tell him yourself."
"Strangely not, Mein Bruder," he answered, with a wry smile, "in fact strangely, I have no desire to ever see him again. But tell him what I have said. I mean it."
"I will," I answered, "although I cannot promise that he'll listen."
"I understand. Thank you. Now, I've said my piece. Would you consider me an uncharitable host if I asked you to leave at this point."
He sounded tired, and looked paler than he had when I arrived, calories and caffeine notwithstanding.
"No, I can see that you might wish to bring things to a close," I answered, "should I call you next month?"
"I think it's your turn, and it's time we returned to civility," he replied, getting to his feet, so I followed suit, "hostility can be surprisingly painful."
Then slightly to my surprise he offered me his hand, and because it seemed appropriate, I took it.
"Until next month, Robert."
"Until next month, Rupert," I answered. Then I brought a Trump of Sable Palace to mind, and took myself home.