Vienna June, 1453:
The door opened with a creak. Inside, the heavy curtains upon the windows cut down the bright Austrian summer's day light, leaving the room a hazy, shadowed area with half-seen furniture, except for the candle-lit desk at the far end. As Minister Jüng approached the desk, his eyes made out the figure of a half-boy, half-man seated there. The boy-man nervously played with a quill pen, and pretended to look "regal," not quite failing or succeding in his effort. Minister Jüng was aware that another person was present; a man standing at one window, looking without interest past the curtains toward some unseen thing. This man had features which were mimiced in the face of the boy-man behind the desk. But while the boy-man was entitled to the crown which lay on the desk, the man at the window was entitled to the name "ruler." Minister Jüng knew the air of detached indifference was a sham; it was Ulrich Cillei to whom his report would be given, regardless of to whom it was addressed.
Minister Jüng reached the desk and bowed to the boy-man, clicking his heels. It was hard not to smile as he did this, but the intense look on the face of the adolescent in front of him prevented more than a slight upturn of his lips at the corners. At a nod from the Duke-King, the minister took a seat at the desk, setting his maps, papers and such down. Ladislaus, called Posthumus, King of Hungary, Duke of Austria, soon to be King of Bohemia, glanced nervously at the figure of his uncle by the window, and then said to his chief minister, "Well, Herr Jüng, what news and plans do you have for me?"
Jüng handed across to the young teen king/duke a paper wordlessly. The boy-man looked at it, pretending to study it carefully, but from his expression the minister gathered the impression the young monarch was more interested in the paper itself; re-introduced only a few generations earlier from the heathen Arabs, it was still a wonderous substance, and perfect for the type of report which the boy/man was now failing to comprehend. A cough from the window was followed by a deep voice suggesting, "Why don't you give us the highlights, Duglas?"
"Very well, Herr Cillei. The news I bring is not good. The Turks have finally taken Constantinople. The pretender Emperor, Constantine, was killed in the defense. The Turks now have nothing to stop them from taking most or all of the Balkans, and it will not be long before Hungary is feeling the pressure of their advance, I fear."
The boy-man-duke-king rose in anger. "This cannot be allowed! We must do something about it right away!"
"Sit down, Ladislaus," the man at the window said. "The Turks are hardly at our doorstep. Hunyadi will deal with it." He waved a hand dismissively.
Jüng pursed his lips. "While true, I would think we should give thought to that sector, perhaps by sending some ..."
The young king/duke, glancing at his guardian, interjected, "I forgot myself. No, we are agreed, my regent in Hungary, Hunyadi, will deal with the Turks." He sat back down with an air of confidence which did not fool the minister. Clearly, Cillei had the boy under his thumb and intended his rival, Hunyadi, to receive no help. Jüng knew this would only cause trouble later, but, in truth, there were plenty of other things to do.
"Still, your Highness, it is worrisome. German lands begin to be squeezed from both sides. Surely you understand the implications of the successes Charles of France is having against the English?" He paused expectantly and looked at the young lad, who shifted nervously and peered at the paper as if it would have not only facts, but logic for him to parrot.
The man at the window dropped his air of indifference. He strode across to the table, poked around among the items Jüng had deposited upon it, and plucked out a fine map, drawn on a largish sheet of the new paper, with colored borders and detailed labels. "The situation in the West is our main trouble, Ladislaus. If Charles "the Good" (here he snorted in contempt) falls to the French, then the Franks will have everything up to the Rhine in their possession. Italy cannot help but fall to them, and all these silly princes and dukes and counts that make up our "Empire" will not stand, either." The disdain in his voice was not concealed at all. "We must do something soon, or you will be reduced to ruling Czechs and Hungarians. The Holy Roman Empire must become a reality, not simply a name."
The minister deferentially addressed the older man. "Do you intend, then, to go through with plan we discussed earlier? Expansion to the north? Swallow the princelings and dukes and counts and electors and so forth? Crown Ladislaus King of Bohemia later this year?"
The boy stood at once. "I will say what we do; I am King and Duke here." It fooled no one. "We will go on as planned. The Turks can wait. Venice will help us," (here the older man nodded confidently, with a secret smile) "and we can't cross their stupid lagoon with an army anyway. We must take the north and make it ours."
The minister stood. "As you wish, Your Highness. It will be as you say." Irony did not quite drip out off his tongue. "Remember, we will not be able to annex the states to our north politically, not right away. The Doge and the Polish king have made clear that they will not tolerate such expansion at this time. They will have to be our 'vassals', instead. Bavaria first, as agreed." He bowed, and turned to go. The plan was a good one, and as for Cillei, he could always be "promoted." Governor of Hungary, perhaps, should Hunyadi fail. Maybe then he would comprehend the threat in the south.