In Mount Evor, like in Britain, but unlike the rest of continental Europe, the oldest son of a peer gets a courtesy title, which is why Julian is a marquess, Antoine a viscount, and Henri a mere monsieur, the only untitled member of his family.
Another mere monsieur, spymaster Adam Von Dietz, arrived in an unmarked car, shortly before me. We’re all gathered here for a strategic meeting masquerading as a social call.
While the maid serves an array of treats and beverages, my gaze is drawn to the floor-to-ceiling window. It’s a view of Château des Neiges looming over Lake Pombrio. With its imposing towers and stern battlements, the castle hosts the royal palace and other central Pombrio buildings and possesses an imposing, timeless beauty, a testament to centuries of history and power. The vista from here outside of the castle’s walls beats the one from anywhere in the royal palace.
“The view you have here is breathtaking,” I offer.
The countess beams. “We do enjoy the perspective, Your Highness.”
Henri catches my eye from across the room and quickly looks away.
Adam clears his throat. “Shall we begin?”
The count answers, his voice commanding. “Of course. We are at your disposal.”
Adam starts by talking about the existential threat looming over Mount Evor and the source of said threat.
“Kurt Ozzi?” Openmouthed, the countess looks from me to Adam. “Friend of the royal family? Why would a Swiss zillionaire philanthropist wish Mount Evor ill?”
“His reasons are complex and not entirely clear,” I say. “There’s a theory that, ultimately, Kurt and a group of other zillionaire philanthropists seek complete control of the world.”
The count frowns. “But why scheme against us? We’re a tiny principality, hidden from most of the world. I don’t see why Mr. Ozzi and his friends see us as a threat to their plans.”
“They didn’t, until recently,” Adam picks up. “But that has changed now, and we aren’t quite certain why.”
Henri’s older brother Antoine cocks his head. “Still, what impact can a country like Mount Evor have on a power grab like what you describe? We are a drop in the ocean.”
“A drop can convince another drop,” Henri says. “And with some luck, the pair of them can persuade four more drops, and so on. Before you know it, a torrent destroys your house of cards.”
“House of Valois-Montevor” is what he means, I’m sure.It’s hard to be the only person in the room who suspects that Henri’s metaphor wasn’t about the royals and the people resisting Kurt, but about the people resisting the royals. In his mind, we’re no better than Kurt.
The countess rolls her eyes at her son’s allegory.
The count glares at Henri, “What makes you think this is a good time for philosophical digressions?”
“Please forgive our younger son,” the countess says to me. “I assure you he has been taught that it’s better to say nothing when one knows nothing than to share random thoughts.”
I can almost hear Henri’s teeth grinding as he turns to gaze out the window.
My blood boils on his behalf. Despite the count’s statement being valid on principle, despite the antagonism I feel for Henri and despite his past betrayal, I hate seeing his parents pour scorn on him. It turns him into an underdog and makes me root for him.
An alarm blares in my head:Attention, attention! Slippery slope!
I purse my lips to make sure I don’t jump to Henri’s defense.
“As it happens,” Adam says, “Henri’s philosophical observation was spot on. Recently, Prince Richard withdrew from a scheme of Kurt’s. His decision inspired a few other countries to do the same. They weren’t many, but enough to infuriate Kurt.”
“What scheme was that?” Antoine asks.
“A very clever one, actually,” I reply. “It involved bribing, intimidating, or hoodwinking governments across the world into adopting a set of measures that harmed their own people.”
Abandoning his window gazing, Henri stares at me. “Are you serious?”
“It’s quite out of character for me, I know, but I am,” I quip.
“Kurt and his friends rolled out a global psyops,” Adam explains. “As a result, people consented to forgoing some of their rights and freedoms in exchange for a bogus protection against a fabricated peril.”
“Mr. Ozzi and his friends made hundreds of extra billions from that,” I add.
