Francis didn’t even have great responsibilities, as most of those had been swallowed up by his elder siblings. Frederick, his second elder brother, assisted Joseph in matters of state. Not to mention Joseph had two queens assisting him: his wife, thecurrent reigning queen, and Granny, former queen.
So, being the third son and unmarried meant there really wasn’t much for Francis to do. He performed his fair share of dull stately tasks, as dictated by his brother the king, and also his uncle, another king. There were plenty of kings and queens in the close family.
But Francis did his duties, and he didn’t complain. He never stepped out of line.
Well. Not by much.
He tucked his hat under his arm as he strode through the gallery with Granny’s secretary, Aleks, insisting on escorting him even though Francis had grown up here as well. He’d been a child in these grand rooms, playing hide and seek with his brothers, little sisters, and many cousins among the suits of armour, taxidermy, and stately furniture.
The long gallery boasted huge oil paintings of Francis’s older cousins and other close relatives, most of them rulers.
Francis’s portrait wasn’t up there, because he wasn’t a ruler. He only appeared in family portraits, and those were displayed in less important rooms.
He was, indeed, a royal nobody.
They reached the end of the gallery and approached the double doors with two armed guards posted.
Aleks knocked, and on Granny’s reply to enter, the guards opened both doors wide.
Francis allowed the butler to walk in first and announce him.
Protocol.
Aleks strode into Granny’s study and bowed his head.
“Prince Francis, your majesty.”
“Thank you, Aleks,” she replied, her tone its usual cool and aloof.
Francis walked in, a smile already on his face.
He waited until Aleks left and shut the doors before approaching her desk.
“Your majesty,” he greeted, standing still and bowing his head in respect.
“Dear Francis,” Granny said, glancing up with a smile. “Do sit down.” She indicated the empty chair opposite.
On other occasions, Granny would ask him to sit with her on the chaise, or in the parlour so they could have a natter.
Now Francis worried he was in trouble.
“Come, now!” Granny scolded. “I won’t bite.”
Francis smiled, set at ease. He pulled out the old mahogany chair and sat down in it.
Granny had a cushioned armchair on her side of the desk. She was a big lady and needed a wide chair. She wore her usual style of silk dress in mourning black, though she had taken to accessorising more with white lace trim and jewellery in recent years.
Her grey hair was pinned up neatly underneath a white lace cap studded with pearls.
“Let me just finish this,” Granny said, writing her signature neatly onto a letter. “Dreary old business,” she muttered as she replaced her ink pen made of silver and reached for the powder shaker.
“There’s more letters to sign in peace time than there is during a war,” she said, shaking powder onto her letter to dry the ink. “Still, whatever helps the economy.”
“Yes, Granny,” Francis agreed.
He never handled negotiations or anything this high up. He only got the frivolous jobs that nobody else wanted.
Again, because he was a nobody.
