The King's Isle
1st July SY154
July 1st, 3.55pm. Rupert's turn to come to me. And I'll admit, I was pretty much hoping that he wouldn't bother to call. Since our meeting up in Argent, I had made a trip down to see Roland and reinitiated to the Aurellian Logrus, and the restoration of my connections to the Churches of Teaching and Investigation did at least make me feel better: as if there had been an aching void in my soul which was now healed. But apart from that, I'd had a singularly frustrating time trying to figure out any way of reversing what Rupert had done, and as yet, hadn't come up with any form of workable plan.
I'd tried drawing a Trump of both the Library of Memories and the original external framework of Panenske Brezany, in which it was set, but had never managed to get it to activate. That meant it was quite possible that the place was either no longer there, as Rupert had suggested at our meeting, or so changed that I was unable to draw it properly. I didn't particularly like the idea that perhaps the only way I could ever get back there was if I ended up brain damaged in a coma and needed to rebuild my memories. Even being stuck in Rupert's body was better than that.
His comments about my general fitness had rankled, too, even if I knew damned well that he was exaggerating in certain aspects, so I'd changed my daily schedule to make sure that I consciously took some exercise every morning. Not that he could entirely talk. I'd also had to make sure that what felt like a growing dependence on cocaine was eradicated from his system, which had meant spending a few uncomfortable days while the process took its course. Along with everything else, I was unimpressed at the possibility that he might abuse my body in the same way.
As on May 1st, I'd arranged for the servants to set everything up for our July meeting in the summer house. After what had happened between Rupert and Claire when he'd first come back in my body, I didn't want the son of a bitch anywhere near my family. Ever again. As the clock ticked towards four, I realised that I felt tense and on edge, and found myself pacing the beach outside, failing to enjoy the warm July sun, and throwing the occasional stone into the water in frustration. And then, bang on the dot, I felt the call. Stealing myself, I opened the contact.
"Afternoon, Robert," he said pleasantly, and I noticed that unlike the last time we had met, he looked calm, tanned and relaxed. He extended his hand to me, and given a choice of either shutting the link on him or accepting, I pulled him through, his inevitable shadow beside him.
"Rupert," I answered, trying to keep my tone neutral, then nodded to his companion, "Standartenführer Schultz."
"Your Majesty," Schultz replied politely. As before, I thought again that he was wasted as Rupert's bodyguard. Despite the fact that he was a Black Knight, he was too inherently decent to be stuck working for a tyrant like my brother.
"You're still pissed at me, then?" Rupert said, with a sigh.
"You're surprised?"
"I had hoped that after a month you might be feeling more amenable," he replied, shrugging, then indicated the summer house, "presumably we're in there?"
"Yes."
"Excellent."
And without further ado he headed inside, Schultz behind him. I stood on my own for a few moments, and then followed them. Rupert had prepared a cafetière of coffee, and had brought it and two cups to the table before sitting down and making himself at home. He was waiting for it to finish brewing as I walked in, looking out towards the beach, his shadow hovering protectively nearby.
"I thought we'd dispensed with frosty when we met in Argent," Rupert said, as he pushed down on the plunger, and then poured, and I'll admit the aroma of it was very tempting.
"You may have dispensed with frosty. I don't feel that charitable," I replied.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he answered, and it almost felt like he was being sincere, "have you made any progress on your project to swap us back?"
"Would you care if I had?"
"Of course I would," he snapped, "it affects me as well. Did your Trump idea pan out...?"
I looked at him, and then shrugged.
"Obviously not," he replied, "as I'd expected. You know, life would be so much easier if you just accepted the new status quo. You'll give yourself an ulcer worrying about it. You've been like this for a month now. How bad are you really finding it?"
"Having to effectively go cold turkey didn't exactly amuse me."
I didn't expect his reaction to be surprise.
"Why on earth...?"
"Don't play innocent, Rupert," I snapped, "you know damned well what I'm talking about."
"Actually, I don't," he answered, apparently meaning it.
"Your drug usage. What about the other night? You seemed to be living it up."
"This enhanced link is getting tedious," he replied, coldly, "as it happens, I was helping one of the Kameraden blow off some steam. A public service, if you will. As I've admitted to you before, not that it's any of your business, I occasionally indulge for recreation, and then always of the sort which flushes out of my system within hours. And given that I've spent some time in fast time since I woke up, I wouldn't exactly call once in four months a problem."
"What about the fact that there was cocaine in your system when you chose to have a heart attack on the floor of Sable infirmary on May 2nd?"
"It had been a long day, and by the time it came to what I had to do on Beltane night, I needed to focus. Hence I needed to sharpen myself up. You never criticised your consulting detective friend for doing the same thing."
"I still suspect the whole thing is not as occasional as you'd like me to believe. Given what state your body was in when I inherited it, from a medical perspective, I'd say you've been using the hard stuff two or three times a week."
"I wouldn't be such an idiot," he retorted, "and moreover, I spent the month of May in a bloody coma, which even you have to admit would put a cramp in your theory. Unless someone was giving it to me with my medication."
"Who was in charge of your medication?"
"Gerlinde, mainly, and no...he wouldn't have done that, before you accuse him."
"He slipped shifting inhibitor into your meds after Andrew attacked you."
"That was different," Rupert protested, but I could see he was feeling uncomfortable.
"Could your allies have been trying to stimulate your recovery without telling you?" I said, looking pointedly at Schultz, "Things were getting pretty desperate as I understand it, and they might have taken matters into their own hands?"
"No, Your Majesty," Schultz answered, firmly, "it was none of our doing. You had assured us that the RFSS would recover, and we believed you."
However, he obviously didn't like that possibility that someone might have meddled any more than Rupert did.
"Then is there any way that one of those who died in the 'terrorist incident' could have tampered with either the drugs you were being given, or your IV supply?"
"I would rather hope that they were kept under lock and key," Rupert commented.
"But you don't know?"
"I never thought to ask," he replied, and he looked pensive, then glanced at Schultz.
"I made sure they were locked away," the younger man said, quietly, "and the cabinet was guarded at all times."
"By whom? Honour Guard or castle garrison?"
"Castle garrison," the younger man replied, and I saw his face register a look of dismay, "forgive me, Herr Reichsführer. It never occurred to me..."
I looked at them, fascinated at the reaction. Obviously something had happened which hadn't been covered in Gray's security briefings, although now I came to think about it, the titular head of the Wewelsburg garrison had died in the aforementioned terrorist incident, as well as three of the Black Knights. How ingrained had the problem been?
"You couldn't have known," Rupert replied, quietly, taking whatever epiphany Schultz had had far better than I might have expected. Far better than he would have done a few years before.
"I should have realised," the younger man answered, all but hanging his head in shame. For his sake, at that moment I was very glad that my brother appeared to have a soft spot for Schultz...the old Rupert would probably have killed him for whatever transgression he thought he'd made.
"We can discuss this once we're back home," Rupert said to him, then turned back to me, his expression oddly calm, "thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mein Bruder."
"That's it? Thank you for bringing this to your attention?"
"What else would you have me say?" he replied, with a shrug, and lapsed into silence.
He took a sip of coffee, and then stood helped himself to some sandwiches and cake. I joined him, and stacked a few morsels on my own plate, before refreshing the coffee pot and sitting back down.
"I need to do some work on the Sable Pattern," he said, finally.
"What sort of work?"
"I need to undo something that I foolishly did after Manira. I thought it would be polite to tell you in advance."
"That's never bothered you before."
"However, given the change in our circumstances, I have no idea whether you're going to get hit by the backlash. It may even be that you need to be there."
"You want me to come to the Black Pattern with you?"
"It might be sensible. I was in that body when I did what caused the situation I now need to remedy."
"And so, even though you don't want to swap back, it's suddenly necessary to have me along?"
"In my book, given our current circumstances, if we both need to be present when either of us has to do anything which changes the fundamentals of the universe, then that can only be good for my piece of mind. And I would have expected you to feel the same. I'm well aware that there are...or at least were...various arcane tricks which you could do that I couldn't, and vice versa. And whether they were linked to soul or body is potentially relevant just now."
"What if I refuse to co-operate?"
"I would be...disappointed. Not surprised, but disappointed."
"What do you need to do?" I asked, curious despite myself.
"How much do you know about the Dark Broken Patterns?"
"As we've discussed before, I've not had as much opportunity to study them as you have, for obvious reasons."
"Then let me explain," he replied, pouring us both more coffee, "the Dark Broken Patterns all had a taint in them...a corruption, if you will. What that basically meant was that anyone who went to those worlds was corrupted in some way, and more so if they actually walked said Broken Pattern. We both saw it on Manira with Francis Edwards and Gregor Konstantin, back in the days we were fighting over the place. They went thoroughly native and ended up being declared traitors by our respective governments."
"I knew it was the case on Manira...I hadn't realised you'd had the same problem on Thuringia and Sachsen."
"That's because I took steps to neutralise it," he replied, "very early on in the history of the Reich."
"You somehow extracted those tendencies, repurposed them and built them into the Black Pattern," I answered, realising this was the key to something which had been puzzling me for years, "which is why initiates of it end up utterly loyal to you and secondarily to the Reich, unless they're taken to another Pattern in short order thereafter."
"Exactly," he answered, with surprising candour.
"So what went wrong?"
"When I did the same with the Maniran corruption..."
"Which you presumably extracted as you were rebuilding the Broken Pattern there..."
He nodded, and continued. "...it overloaded things. It corrupted the purpose I wanted to put it to, and once it was part of the Sable Pattern, it worked on the initiates so their primary loyalty was to the Reich, rather than me."
"Which begs the question, what was so different about Manira? That the effect was more exaggerated."
"That's a conversation for another day, I feel," Rupert answered, "perhaps once we're back to being capable of discussing metaphysics like civilised people. However, to go back to where I began this conversation..."
"You want to clean the Maniran corruption out of the Sable Pattern and put it somewhere where it won't bugger up your plans."
"Pretty much."
"When did you realise something was wrong?"
"I wondered when Sigiswald tried to kill me," he replied, "and I realised for sure when I re-walked the Pattern to get my memories back after coming out of the coma. And I'm very curious to know if Düdesch is the physical manifestation of it. After all, he seemed very keen to upset the apple cart in our relationship...and succeeded."
"I'm also going to hazard a guess that not only is it working on new initiates, but it's also breaking the loyalty of older initiates to you...hence the recent 'terrorist incident'."
"I certainly think it was a factor with Hauer and Rudolf Lange. Probably Sigiswald as well."
I glanced over at Schultz, who seemed ill at ease at the turn of the conversation, and the obvious conclusion came into my head.
"No, Your Majesty," he said firmly, obviously anticipating my unanswered question, "I serve the RFSS, not the greater Reich. I would never act against him."
"You seem very sure," I commented.
"I know my own heart in the matter," he replied with surprising certainty, "my honour is my loyalty."
"So be it," I said, nodding to acknowledge his point, then turned back to Rupert, "there are others, though: Gerlinde, the Kaplers, the former Head of the Ahnenerbe..."
"With Marin, there were various factors behind her recent resignation. Elsewhere, Matthias should be fine, as he's a higher initiate, as is Silke, and Gerlinde has his own reasons for staying loyal, but certainly there are others at risk, and not just Knights of either Circle. Hence my desire to get this sorted out as quickly as I can."
"And Kessler?"
"As far as I've managed to figure out, he was merely ambitious, and for my sins I didn't that realise in time to give him alternative focus," he said, then sighed, "we've shed too much blood this last few months. It needs to stop." His expression was an odd mixture of saddened and resolute. "Will you help?"
"Turmoil in the Reich, and specifically within the SS, is good for Sable," I answered, "what possible benefit would it be to me to help you in this?"
"What about the new spirit of openness and co-operation engendered by the Treaty?" he replied, "we have a common enemy in the Machine. Turmoil in the Reich isn't going to help that."
"But you've taken major steps this last couple of months to mitigate that," I pointed out, "albeit not steps I would have considered sensible. Or even potentially sane, given that one of them has left us in our current position."
"What is important is the overall result," he answered, "and there is still a lot to do to eradicate the threat from the Machine. We've only scratched the surface."
"From what Andrew has said, however crazy what you did on Beltane was, it did more than scratch the surface," I commented, "but laying that aside, you can't have it both ways. You can't both refuse to do anything to help me switch us back where we belong, and yet at the same time insist that I work with you because you need your own mortal flesh to fix a screw up you made all by yourself."
"So you won't assist me?" he said, obviously disappointed.
"You made this particular bed," I answered, "you get to lie in it."
"I had thought the greater good of the Sable universe would be more important to you than your personal feelings towards me."
"As far as I see it, the greater good of the Sable universe isn't at stake here. If it turns out that it is, then I'll come and help."
"Assuming it isn't too late by then," he replied, then downed his coffee and got to his feet, "so be it. On which note, I will leave you. But if what I need to do feeds back on you, don't say I didn't warn you."
"So noted."
"Until the next time, Robert," he said, as Schultz came over to join him.
"Until the next time," I replied.
I felt him bring a Trump to mind, and then they were gone.
I called for the servants to clear up, and then went and sat in my favourite spot under one of the trees, looking down at the beach, to think. What if he was right? And yet, he hadn't exactly given me the motivation to help him, and I knew damned well that if Gray discovered that I'd been drafted in to help sort out the root of the mess in the SS, he'd have my guts for garters. And justifiably so. Neither Gray nor Andrew were too upset about the new coolness between myself and Rupert, even if neither was completely in the loop as to what had caused it.
"Gone already?" came a familiar voice, about ten minutes later, and I saw Andrew coming down the beach.
"Yep."
"Short and sweet."
"Short...not that sweet. I'm surprised you're here."
"Perhaps I realised that this time it would be different. And trust me, I'm not upset that he's gone."
"I wouldn't expect you to be," I answered, indicating for him to sit, and remembering the last time we'd done this here, while I was still recovering from being shot by Paolo, almost exactly three years before.
"Want to talk about it? You haven't seemed yourself since you had that seizure, back at the beginning of June."
Wasn't that the truth?
And yet I was strangely reluctant to tell Andrew exactly what had passed between Rupert and myself on June 1st. Not least because I could see my son going after my brother, Nexus sword blazing and making sure he finished the job this time, which given that it would be my body he was killing...
"There's a lot going on right now, and I'm tired," I replied.
"Maybe you need a holiday? The Royal Calendar's been pretty full recently."
I shook my head.
"That wouldn't help. At the moment I want to keep busy....speaking of which. There's something in my In Tray which I've kept putting to the bottom until I had a chance to discuss it with you and Dominic. Do you happen to know if he's around?"
"I can make a good guess what it is..." he replied, "shall I call him?"
"That would be helpful if you didn't mind."
He got out Dominic's Trump and concentrated for a few moments, then reached out his hand and my grandson joined us.
"Afternoon, Grandfather," he said, brightly. It had been a while since I'd seen him, for one reason or another, but he looked well.
"Pull up a tree," I said, and then concentrated on bringing a bottle of The MacAllan and three glasses into existence. I poured, and handed them to the others. Dominic put his beside him, while Andrew took a sip.
"This is about the Restoration Bill, isn't it," Andrew said, after a moment or two.
"Yes it is," I answered, "I actually don't have the slightest idea what to do about it, so I thought I'd better see if either of you had any strong opinions."
"I'm not sure there's anything to discuss," Andrew replied, "I made my decision. I did the paperwork. What's to say?"
"You mean apart from the fact that by doing this as a Private Member's Bill, they aren't calling your original Writ of Abdication into question?" Dominic answered, and we both turned to look at him, Andrew more startled than I was.
"Go on," he said, calmly.
"Don't you think I wouldn't have had someone look into the legal ramifications of this?" Dominic answered, if anything a little offended that his father thought he wouldn't have done so, "As Grandfather says, it affects both of us, and contrary to popular belief, I'm actually not a fool. The assessment I've been given is that by doing it this way, they aren't specifically overturning the existing document which you signed; they're passing a completely separate Bill through Parliament which happens to have the opposite effect."
"A good lawyer could still shoot it down," Andrew commented.
"But given that it's sponsored by the Attorney General, plus the former Solicitor General, who would actually stand against it in a court of law?" Dominic answered.
"I'm sure I could find someone if I really tried," Andrew replied, "Hell, I could do it myself."
"Technically, you're no longer a practising barrister under the Sable legal code," said Dominic, smoothly, "you never requalified when you came back."
"That could be changed."
"Given time. However, I'm guessing that the natives are going to get restless rather sooner than that unless Grandfather signs the Bill."
"I've only had it in the In Tray for a couple of weeks," I pointed out, "I don't think they're going to get restless just yet."
"Perhaps not," Dom answered, acknowledging the point with a shrug, "but it isn't going away. That's the downside of Sable being a constitutional monarchy. The government, rather than the will of the King, is pre-eminent. And as the people elect the government..."
"Which is why I'm hoping that between the three of us, we can decide what I should do about it."
"Why is that even a difficult choice for you, Grandfather? You should sign it."
"What the Hell?" Andrew said, looking at him in surprise.
"I never wanted to be Crown Prince of Sable in the first place," Dominic said, meeting his gaze, "and I've realised that even more since you came back."
"But I'm not even here all the time," Andrew said, quietly, "I have to split my time between Sable and the Technocracy. Hell, I'm the ruler of a Primal Realm in my own right."
"I know that well enough. However, I'm not sure that you really realise how the general Sable populous feels about you," Dominic pointed out, "especially the group who are unhappy about the Treaty, who see you as some kind of poster boy for truth, justice and the Sable way. Since you've been back, things have very different for me. Difficult."
"In what way?" Andrew asked.
"I've always known that Grandfather regretted that you thought you had no choice but to walk away when everything blew up in your face, and my weasel of a brother got what he wanted, ie you out of the picture," he answered, then turned to me, "but earlier on, it didn't seem so bad. You and I worked pretty well together...I was Master at Arms, which meant I had a recognised position here, and it wasn't anything like as obvious that you had doubts about me."
"I've never had doubts about you," I protested, "you've been fully involved in Royal duties...when you haven't been working for me on the Outside."
"Yes, I'm fully involved in Royal duties, but since Dad came back, I've felt the atmosphere change. He's the great hero...the strong arm against the Reich...and a lot of people, probably more than either of you realise, remember the old days, before he disappeared, when the pair of you made an unassailable team. How could I possibly live up to that, especially now he's back? Of course, everyone is always very polite and proper, but so often there's an edge underlying the etiquette, and to be honest, I'm tired of having to try to ignore it."
"Dominic, I..."
"I'm not angry about it," he said, quietly, "after all, I've spent a lot of time Outside, and to be honest, I feel more comfortable there than here. Outside, I'm just me, whereas here in Sable everyone's always wondering who I am, where I came from, and why Dad left all those years ago. Especially as I've come to understand over the years that the only reason my father ever made me his heir, and therefore de facto Crown Prince when he stepped out of the succession, was that I was a better choice than the Weasel...not that he wanted me to inherit in my own right."
"That wasn't the only reason, Dom," Andrew said, quietly.
"Please, give me some credit," he replied, "we both know that isn't true. After all, it's not as if you and I were particularly close when I was growing up, even if things were getting better between us when the time came for you to leave. But as I said, I'm not angry about it."
"And what if I don't want Robert to sign the Bill?" Andrew asked.
"But is that true?" I said, looking at my son, "when we last talked about this, when I asked if you had ever considered reversing your decision, your answer was 'can't be done'. Followed by a legal justification as to why."
"That the only way to overturn it was to prove I was mentally unfit when I wrote it, and therefore to overturn it you'd need to tell everyone that I wasn't in my right mind when I drafted it."
"However, the way Julian Castle has done this, your state of mind at the time isn't even a factor. It's plain and simple a Parliamentary Bill restoring you. No reasons offered why you left in the first place, or questions asked."
"As I said before. I'm now a Creator, and the ruler of a Primal Realm in my own right. I'm not even sure it would be appropriate for me to be restored to the Sable succession."
"Why not? It's not like Grandfather is planning to die any time soon, so you'd never inherit," Dominic commented.
"Not necessarily," Andrew replied, "my worry is that if he enacts this Bill into law, Robert will be signing his own death warrant."
"Where do you get that from?" I asked, concerned at his conclusion.
"From my conversations with you and Gray it became obvious that the Friends of the Lost, our pet extremists, have two main aims: to restore me to the succession, and then to potentially remove you through easing you out, outright abdication or some other misfortune, so I become King and revoke the Treaty with the Reich."
"But Sable can't exist without Grandfather," Dominic commented, "so that's not even relevant. In fact, you could argue that the whole succession thing is irrelevant, as the Crown is never going to pass."
"Again, not necessarily," Andrew stressed, "for two reasons: one, Robert has been very careful never to reveal to the Sable populous that he is more than just their King, so as far as they're aware, he isn't the immortal creator we know him to be; and two, if for any reason he were sent to regenerate, then in the eyes of Sable, he would have died. And sure, we know he'd only be missing for a year or two, but they don't. So legally, the succession would pass to his heir. Then Robert comes back, and the new King - be it you or me - suddenly has an éminence grise looking over his shoulder who would make the tension between Wilhelm and Bloody Rupert look positively cheery."
"So we get our own Bill introduced into Parliament, which states that should Grandfather be rendered either incapacitated, or otherwise incapable of ruling Sable, he would be replaced by a Regency for a period of, say five years," Dominic answered, sufficiently smoothly that he'd obviously already thought that argument through, "then, if nothing had changed...say the regeneration didn't take or something...the Regent could be obviously crowned ruler of Sable, or choose someone to rule in their stead. That should cover both bases, as we all know that it wouldn't take him as long as five years to come back."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I commented, not entirely sure that I liked the turn of the conversation, "and what if I chose to abdicate?
"Apart from the fact that we all know you wouldn't do that..." Andrew commented.
"I rather doubt Edward VIII planned to abdicate before he met Wallis Simpson," I retorted.
"Edward VIII didn't create the land he was ruler of," Andrew replied, "and moreover, you love this place. It's part of you. And while Sable would continue to exist without you as its King if you stepped down, I'm not sure you could continue to exist without it. However, were the unthinkable to happen, then presumably the succession would pass normally under Dominic's scenario."
"Exactly," Dominic confirmed, "as I see it, we have two possible courses of action here: either Grandfather signs the Bill, restores you and lets me return to obscurity, either here or on the Outside; or you need to make a public declaration that you have no interest in being restored to the succession, and Grandfather lets the Bill die without it looking as if he's going against the will of the democratically elected government."
"With the second option, we would both need to make sure that your position is supported," Andrew pointed out, "Robert would need to choose you as Regent instead of me and Claire from here on out. You would need to step up and put your heart into Sable, and I would do better to be around less, so the sponsors of this Bill don't get the impression that I'm going to be here if anything happens. Could you do that?"
"I'd do it if I had to...but to be honest, I don't want to. As I said, I never wanted to be Crown Prince. It's yours by right, and since you came back, I've felt awkward about the fact that you've never reclaimed the title. It just seems that my feelings are now being reflected by the Sable populous."
"You want me to say yes to this?"
"You should never have been forced to leave in the first place."
"Robert?"
"I rather agree with Dominic. I regretted from your decision from day one, and more so as the truth has come out."
"You dislike Sable that much, Dom?"
"I don't dislike it at all..." he answered, "but it's never felt like home, and I have a lot of history against me. For nearly three hundred years before Sable was Created...before you both knew who and what you were...about the Family...about the world outside Terra Magica...you and Grandfather were the only constants in each others' lives. It brought you together in ways which I couldn't begin to understand. You knew how each other ticked, you complemented each other, and moreover, you were Crown Prince of Sable for almost seventy years. The people remember that. And almost as soon as you left, I knew that while Grandfather was willing to try to follow your wishes, I could never take your place."
"So what would you do?"
"I'd take my family away, at least for a while, so no-one has awkward questions about what's happened. I love travelling, both Inside and Outside, and Kristin misses her home. The freedom to visit the Outside just for ourselves, rather than on a mission for the Crown, would make a lot of difference. And then, a few years down the line, I could come back and take up some lesser position once more. One which I'd feel more comfortable holding: after all, I'd infinitely prefer to be Grandfather's ambassador than his heir."
"Did you know how this conversation was going to pan out when it started?" Andrew demanded, looking at me, his expression dangerous.
"No," I replied, hoping he could sense I was telling the truth, "I hadn't discussed this with Dom before today."
"And what about the Technocracy? If, God forbid, you were to die permanently, then where would that leave me if I agree to this? I can't rule two Primal Realms. Andreas would have a field day. "
"You're making a big assumption that if I died permanently, there would be any of Sable left to rule," I answered, "but allowing for the possibility that there would be, you have a good team in the Technocracy, in Niamh, the children and Helena-Maria."
"But it's the Technocracy, not Sable which is my world. My home. Neither you nor Dominic has the right to take that away from me."
"Then no doubt you'll find a good team here, instead, should there be anything left."
"This is crazy."
"Why?" Dominic answered, "it's only returning to you what was yours by right."
"One condition," he snapped, obviously sensing he was outnumbered, "I'll consider this on one condition."
"Which is?" I asked.
"I talk to Julian Castle and get him to introduce a Regency Bill, as Dom suggested earlier, setting in law enough time for Robert to regenerate before the succession passes. If that Bill passes both Houses, then he can sign them both together, so they complement each other. If it doesn't, then I will publicly declare that I don't want to be reinstated, and you..." he fixed his attention me, "...will make damned sure that Dominic is the clear, undisputed heir. You back him every step of the way. You show you have confidence in him. You teach him what he needs to know."
"Fine by me," I replied, "Dom?"
"If that's the only way you'll agree, Dad, then alright."
"This is a big mistake," he said, finally, as he got to his feet.
"I guess we'll see," I answered, as we stood as well.
"You're insane. Both of you."
"Only time will tell the truth of that," I answered, and with a last disbelieving look at us, Andrew stalked off down the beach.
"That could have gone better," Dominic commented to me.
"We had to have the conversation," I answered.
"Yes, and I think it was the right conclusion," he replied, "he deserves this after what he's been through. See you at dinner?"
"Yes," I replied, and then he turned and followed his father, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Was he right? Was it the right thing to do? As I had said, only time would tell. But right or wrong didn't detract from the fact that Andrew was still my son, and I still felt I needed to do something to try to make up for what had happened to him. Because I still felt guilty about not going to find him, despite his wishes. If I had, so much pain would have been avoided...
The day was still warm, and I found myself reluctant to head back to the palace as yet, so instead I walked back into the summer house. I sat down and conjured up a sketch pad, then began to doodle randomly. But after a few minutes, when I looked down at the paper in front of me, I realised what I was actually doodling. The Sable Pattern. Over and over again. Then I became aware that I was tense, and I realised my shoulders were aching.
To Hell with Rupert anyway.
Disgusted with myself, I threw the notebook down on the table and decided to go back to the palace and immerse myself in paperwork for the rest of the afternoon. However, I'd barely got two hundred yards down the beach when I was staggered by a burst of agony so intense that it all but knocked the wind out of me. And then, in my mind, I felt waves of pain. I tried to focus, to push them to the back of my mind, but as I did, I felt a Trump call coming in, powered by an undeniable sense of desperation. I scanned my mental deck, expecting it to be my brother, but instead, I realised it was Schultz. Surprised, I opened up the contact, to see the younger man looking actively frightened. I hadn't even realised that was possible for him.
"Your Majesty," he said, urgently, "he needs your help...please..."