Pronoia, Elysium
August 3rd, 1879
King Alexandros Galantinus, first of his name, smiled sadly. This was good, wasn’t it? Surely father would approve?
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He did not belong here, in this chair, this seat, with this crown.
Did he?
He turned. His wife, oh his beautiful wife. She stood there, smiling at him. His dear, kind, wonderful wife.
“How did the meeting go, my dear?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Alexandros. I know that look. You
are more than good enough. Your dreadful father, he is gone and you are his better. Please, you need to start believing it. Believe in yourself. Like I believe in you.”
She stroke his bare head.
“Just you at you, so tall and strong. You have inner strength you don’t know, my dear.”
Alexandros nodded, slowly.
“I want to believe, Persephone. I do. Really. But it is hard.”
He pointed to his desk.
“As for the meeting, it was good. More than good. Pomerania signed the peace proposal. They are, again, a loyal vassal of Sweden. And Finland is, as agreed upon when we approached Sweden, ours.”
He smiled, more broadly now.
“Elysium has a vassal – a foothold – in Europe. Not the most conveniently placed, but it is ours.”
Persephone smiled warmly.
“See? My darling, you are capable. This was you. All you. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially not the ghost of your father.”
