Arc One
Shadows of the Past
Chapter One
Tomorrow, at the request of Montaigne, I will meet with the Bishop Clement for guidance. I really don't think of myself as a religious woman, but all the same Jean-Baptiste is a wise man and I respect his counsel. I don't look forward to replacing Agatha Merke; I've never had to replace a magistrate before, and it's like father left notes behind on how best to do it. The whole matter strikes me at the wrong time. It's not like Merke was even very old.
Elsa's diary
The Royal Palace,
Arendelle
October 7th, 1842
Elsa stood upon the balcony adjoining her father's old study, gazing down upon her courtyard and its lethargic preparations for the day. Gilt by the morning's light, a stablehand led a stubborn mule along as it snorted and stomped its feet in protest. Smoke was just barely beginning to rise from chimneys out across the city beyond the palace as her people rose to make breakfast. A flock of migratory birds passed by overhead, honking their goodbyes to the nation as they headed south for the oncoming winter.
Elsa had many things upon her mind as she absently twirled the end of her braid around and around one of her fingers, not least of which the turning of the seasons. She was well aware that, even though she was now confident in her abilities to control her powers, the state had seen longer and harsher winters even since it had crowned her queen. Her magistrates assured her that weather patterns were cyclical, and this was merely a normal patch of long winters, and my lady, if you were alive during the winters from 1811-1814, you wouldn't think these ones were so bad after all.
The Ice Queen didn't believe them. Elsa was well aware that it was the release of her powers that was strengthening their winters; although she wasn't actively trying to use her magic during the wintertime, there was no other explanation that quelled her worrying. As a matter of fact, Elsa wasn't trying to use her powers at all. She wasn't hiding them anymore, but the ice queen realized that there was little use for magic in the world of statecraft. It bothered her, sometimes, that the thing that made her most special was something that didn't help her very much in the life that she led.
Elsa absently flicked her hand as she gazed down into the courtyard, a small flurry of snow whipping up about her in frustration. Of course my powers aren't going to help me, the Ice Queen thought to herself. They're not really going to help me with any job, save, I don't know, mercenary or something. Elsa snorted. Or ice master.
Elsa was still deep in thought when she heard the door behind her open. Without turning, she knew that it must be her master servant; others did not dare disturb her when she appeared to be introspective.
"You know, miss, it's a bit late in the season for such a light gown," the good Montaigne said as he stepped out onto the balcony, carrying with him a tray of tea. "I would certainly advise you to put something on to ward off the chill, if I didn't know better."
Elsa smiled as she accepted a cup of tea from her master servant, placing her other hand on his shoulder and saying as she glanced out again upon the courtyard, "Thank you, Montaigne. I was just thinking that I could use a bit of a pick-me-up."
"Black tea with a drop of honey, miss. Just the same as always."
There was an amicable silence as the queen and her aged servant gazed upon the courtyard. Not for the first time, Elsa felt a surge of gratitude towards Montaigne for taking the position of master servant. In the queen's youth he had served as the royal tutor, but upon Elsa and Anna's coming-of-age, he had insisted that he remain as a personal servant to the girls. This was, to be sure, a demotion in status, and his willingness to do so spoke volumes about the man's character. He was great of heart and white of hair, always impeccably groomed and with a good and kind demeanor.
"Will you accompany me to the church, Montaigne?" Elsa glanced sidelong at her master servant, trying hard as she might that she not smile. She knew that Montaigne and the Bishop were friends, of a certain variety.
Her inimitable servant, unshakeable as always, merely smiled a bit wryly. "I wouldn't dream of requiring the Queen to attend such a meeting alone, without the support of any of her servants.
"Of course you wouldn't. Where would I be without you, master servant?" Elsa turned a bit, ready to return inside for the day, but stopped herself as a thought struck her. "How do you suppose I should dress? I mean, something somber of course, but do you think that I should dress for mourning? I mean, I didn't really know Merke –"
"Just a muted color should be appropriate, miss."
xxx
The Saint Adelaide Cathedral was a gigantic structure, completed just five years ago and dedicated to the legendary, possibly apocryphal saint who banished the plague from Arendelle in the fifteenth century. Its tallest spire rose to over 140 mind-bending meters, the country's shining, modern answer to the Strasbourg Cathedral. A magnificent façade of stained glass depicting the virgin Mary towered over the queen's carriage as she stepped down from it.
The queen had not been to the church since her coronation, and it was no less intimidating now with the crown atop her head. This was a place where her authority was second to another power. She ascended the steps to the cathedral quickly, followed a step behind by her master servant. Elsa wore a modest, floor-length gown of midnight blue and wore a similarly dark shade of eyeliner to complement it, very much a picture of the queen who had suffered the loss of a close advisor.
To be truthful, even as Elsa was admitted to the church by a lesser preacher, she did not miss Merke as much as her garb would imply. Agatha Merke, her late magistrate, was in life a woman of great severity. She had been a middle-aged, bespectacled woman with a tight, brunette bun, a sharp tongue, and a conservative mind. Lost in thought as she was, Elsa hardly followed the chambers of the cathedral through which she was led until she heard a rap against the bishop's door.
Elsa looked up to see that the preacher who had led them had done the knocking. "Bishop Clement. Queen Elsa is here to meet with you."
Just as the man finished speaking, he bowed his head and retreated from the room, leaving the queen and her master servant alone with the Bishop. The door clicked behind them.
Jean-Baptiste Clement was handsome in his age, a tall, silver-haired man with a powerful jaw and the simple robes of a penitent. His chamber was likewise simply adorned, with several bookshelves and its magnificent desk as its only trappings. The Bishop stood and smoothed his robes with one hand as he flourished the other into a deep bow.
"Your highness. It is a pleasure in the utmost. Please, have a seat." The aged man motioned to the seats before him, and Elsa noticed with a nonzero satisfaction that two chairs had been prepared.
Elsa and Montaigne took the proffered seats and the queen crossed one leg over the other, clasping her hands in her lap and attempting to project as much confidence and authority as she could muster.
"Thank, you, father. Your hospitality is very generous and your advice on this matter will be very welcome."
"Of course." A side door to the room opened and a servant entered, carrying a tray of tea; the servant set it upon the table, bowed to both Bishop and queen, and retreated from the room. "Do you prefer sugar, your highness?"
Elsa politely declined and Montaigne accepted a cup with a single lump of sugar, and they settled back. Elsa wondered whether she was expected to approach the subject first but the Bishop answered her question for her.
"Agatha Merke was a great friend to this church, always very generous in her tithing. I am sure that I need not enumerate to you how truly great the nature of her loss is, your highness."
"Yes. She served my father for many years before myself, altogether dedicating more than half her life to the service of our nation." Elsa found herself resorting to the talking points that her speechwriters had provided her the day that Merke had passed. She cursed herself as the Bishop chuckled.
"I am terribly sorry, your highness. I tend to forget that, although you certainly are your father's daughter, your tenure as ruler has been short. I certainly cannot hope to expect that you will have had a lifetime to befriend your advisors."
Elsa dipped her head, embarrassed but grateful that Clement excused her. To the queen's surprise, Montaigne spoke up.
"I recommended that my lady seek your counsel, Jean, because I know that your blessing will provide much in the way of legitimacy to her selection." More was said, to be sure, between the two than Montaigne's words alone could imply, and Elsa suddenly felt like a child, lost in a conversation with two adults. It was terrifying.
"Of course, Arno." Clement turned to peer at the queen with a hazel gaze. "I am, as you can no doubt imagine, well-connected with the academic and social elites of this nation and many others. I can offer you many recommendations, all men and women well-suited to the position, but of course we can narrow the field substantially by determining the qualities that you would search for in an advisor."
Elsa knew exactly what she was looking for, but she suddenly realized that putting her wishes into words felt impossible. "Well, I…"
Montaigne picked up the queen's slack, saying, "My lady's platform for the coming year is very progressive. We plan to make inroads towards the abolition of sodomy laws, at least the ones referring to same-sex relations. In addition, the queen wishes to propose a more progressive tax law and comprehensive welfare reforms."
Elsa turned to face Clement, searching his face for any sign of change at these mentions, but the Bishop's face remained pleasant.
"That's an ambitious platform, your highness, and to complement it I would recommend nothing less than an ambitious appointment."
Montaigne glanced at the queen sidelong and smiled just a bit, as if to prove himself right. Elsa placed her cup of tea back upon the table, surprised but happy that her ideas were well-received by the Bishop.
"Do you have someone in mind, father?" Elsa cocked a single eyebrow.
"As a matter of fact, your highness, I do. I hold a professorial position at Lannister University, and I happen to know quite well a young woman who earned her law degree just last spring. She is young, but still several years older than you and well-learned. Besides, your father's father appointed Vander when he was only twenty-four, so such a move is not without precedent. Her name is Odette Marie Novare, and if you'd like to meet her I can arrange for this to occur at your convenience."
Elsa was shocked. She had figured this all would be so much more difficult – could it really be that the Bishop had already referred her to the woman who would replace Agatha Merke?
"Um, yes. Yes. That would be very good of you, father."
"Excellent. Now, that settled, I'll attempt to persuade your highness to consider our church for your Sunday services. It would do a great deal of worshippers good to see their queen participating in the Mass."
Elsa found herself caught in another pincer entirely, one that she was certainly unprepared to deal with. On the face of the state, Elsa was a non-institutional Christian who preferred to keep service in the privacy of the castle. She even employed a special minister who held weekly services in a special room designated for Mass, but Elsa never attended them. Much of the castle staff did, including Montaigne; it was one of the more difficult feats of her young monarchy that none of the many men and women involved had let the secret out.
She recovered, so quickly that she was sure the infinitesimal change in her face went undetected. "I'm flattered, father, but I prefer to keep my faith in my own way. I'm sure you're aware that royals have a very personal connection with God."
"Of course, your highness." Clement looked somewhat disappointed but covered it with excellent tact. "Might we count on you, at the very least, for Christmas services this coming winter?"
Late December felt so far away right now that the queen found herself agreeing to placate the man before she had really considered.
"Excellent, simply excellent. I just know that your people will be very excited to see you there, your highness. And as for Odette Novare, I'll let her know that the queen requested an audience and make sure that all of the ends meet."
To Elsa's relief, Clement stood again, bowed, and opened the door for the young queen.
"It was such a pleasure, your highness. And always, of course, an honor. Please, do come again soon, your highness; the doors of Saint Adelaide's are always open."
Elsa performed a small curtsy for the man and led the way out, saying, "Thank you, father. Your hospitality was most generous, and I look forward to meeting your Novare."
