September 30th, 1840
Kurzheim, the Southern Isles
Kristina stepped out, holding the bucket filled with soapy bloody water, from cleaning the abattoir after slaughtering the next week's lamb. She was headed to the drainage ditch when she felt a familiar presence. It was Lord Hans.
While she did not give him the dignity of a glance, she was able to see him all the same through the corner of her eye. He was sitting casually in the courtyard, eating his familiar breakfast food, the sandwich. She could have asked him what he was doing outside the entrance to the abattoir, but she knew the "answer" to that already. That he was just "in the area." She also knew this was false. She had noticed a distinct pattern of Hans hovering around where she worked during his off time the last few days, as she figured he was poking for answers. Either that or he wanted to say something. Or perhaps both possibilities were true. After she dumped out the rinse water and returned to the kitchen entrance, she finally decided to bite.
"What?"
"You really should tell her, you know."
"Excuse me?"
"Your secret. You should tell her."
"And why in god's name would I want to do that?"
"Well, in my experience, a major secret like this has the chance to ruin a relationship, even… discreet ones such as yours."
"Your experience? You mean the time that Anna uncovered that you were a bloodthirsty sociopath, and that you only wanted to marry her so you can steal the throne? That kind of secret?"
Hans swallowed the food in his mouth, before nodding full on in approval. "Yeah! Exactly that kind of secret. Though to be fair, I'm not bloodthirsty. Remorseless and uncaring about human life, sure, but I don't enjoy killing."
"How is possessing magic the same as being an evil bastard?"
"Easy. Because like being a power hungry monster is for me, Sorcery is an inherent and key part of you. People don't like being surprised to find out that sort of thing. Especially when they find out on their own."
"Even IF I were to listen to you, what do you gain by me and Johanna having a good relationship?"
"I care because when Johanna finds out about your skills and this whole thing explodes, I'd rather not see your ass kicked off the island. You're very good at what you do. And it's just not the magic either."
Her eye twitched, as she tried to feign innocence. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the torture dungeon you think I don't know about, the body disposal system, the "clumsy" maid that snatches things and arranges accidents, etc. etc. You are very good at the game, Kristina. But I'm better."
Kristina stood in reposed silence, as she knew the jig was up. There was no point in playing the helpless maid anymore.
"One of these days, I'm going to want to make use of your many abilities, magic or otherwise. And while one day I'd like to truly merge both my and Johanna's espionage programs, I can't do that if my wife's program is crippled. Which it would be without you. So for both my sake and your own, just tell her the damn truth."
With that Hans silently got up and departed for his office, as he had other work to do. Kristina stood there and watched him depart, wondering whether or not to recognize the merits of what he had to say.
He's in it for himself, that's for certain. The real question is whether or not I should listen anyways. Either way, this will be something to think about.
October 1st, 1840
There was only one thing Hans could think to say.
"That's a lot of ceramics."
Both Hans and Johanna looked at the first large-scale production batch of the glassware of the Kurzheim Ceramics Company, which despite their astonishment was actually a small number, compared to the actual maximum output of the plant. It was done that way to ensure that if the business failed, it would incur minimal loss. Even now the plant was shut down and the workers on furlough to avoid unnecessary expenses. They'd have to receive raises to keep them happy, but if Hans had a contract by then, he could afford that. For now survival was everything.
"So, dearest wife." Hans began sarcastically. "What do you suppose we do with all this porcelain?"
"Don't play games, Hans. We both know what the next step is. Release some on the local markets, both here and the rest of the Duchy. The rest we sample out to the region with promises of low prices to secure a contract."
"Well, at least I know I didn't marry an idiot." A look that could shatter glass was his reward for that comment. "Still, I'm worried about Royal Copenhagen. They have a nice monopoly in Scandinavia, and they'll be out for blood once they figure out what's going on here."
"True. But everybody hates Royal Copenhagen for that very reason. They've grown fat and lazy, while Denmark has grown weak. The backing of the Danish Government isn't what it used to be. If we offer a good deal, we can survive. If we can land a good contract."
"Well, we'll talk to our contacts and get a good idea of who to ship samples to. Though I already have one customer whom I insist get a free sample. Though that sample will need a little altering before we ship…"
October 4th, 1840
The Kingdom of Arendal
Elsa and Anna simply stood, fuming at the small crate of porcelain sitting on the table before them. The Royal Guard had done their jobs admirably, triple checking the gift sample of plates to ensure that it wasn't some deadly device meant to kill the sisters. But while they prevented a possible physical attack, they failed to stop the mental attack they had just suffered.
For on the plates was seal of the Lordship of the man they hated most in the world, with the words Life, Liberty, and Prosperity painted on the bottom. The "hidden" message was overwhelming blatant: I'm alive, free, and prospering. And there's nothing you can legally do about it.
Elsa maintained a stoic expression as she cursed a storm in her own mind, furious at the insult and the fact that she couldn't officially react without looking petty. Though she had a large number of choice words to comment on the gift, she knew better than to explode in front of her own Guardsmen. Anna though was freer to speak her mind.
"That son of a bitch!"
October 5th, 1840
Kesselburg, the Southern Isles.
As Frederick sat quietly as the representative from the Royal Copenhagen Porcelain Company protested and made poorly veiled threats, the only thing he could think about was how easily he could kill this man with only the various blunt objects within arm's reach. Not that this man's behavior was unusual for the Danish elite.
Frederick could remember a time when Denmark could slam its fist on the table, and all the Nordic nations would shut up and listen. But that was before Napoleon. During the war the British sank damn near their whole navy, and after as punishment for joining the war on Napoleon's side a number of its holdings. Norway went to Sweden, and all the Islands except Zealand went to the Southern Isles.
Yet, now they still acted like the last 40 years never happened. They still expected that they could still throw their weight around as if they still owned the Sea of Jutland. It was sad really, as Frederick had already heard through his contacts in Sweden and Prussia that the wolves were starting to turn a hungry eye towards the wounded beast.
"… and we find the business activities of your son unacceptable! We signed a contract with you, one that clearly states that all Porcelain in the Southern Isles is to come from the Royal Copenhagen plant!"
"That's where you are mistaken, Mr. Taastrup. The agreement that we signed with your company was that all Porcelain imports was to come from the Royal Copenhagen plant. The Kurzheim factory is labeled as a local business and not subject to the agreement. Not only that but the agreement expires within a month, leaving our options at this point open."
Which is why you're here. Press me into shutting our plant down so we can sign another Danish favoring agreement.
"I think it's quite clear that this venture is a state-backed enterprise attempting to stamp out free trade in the region. And a rather obvious one at that."
"Says the representative of the Royal Copenhagen Company." He fought to hold in a smile after the well timed insult caused the man's face to twist in rage. "As I have mentioned many times before, I show no favoritism to the youngest of my Sons in economic matters. As before, I will judge all participants fairly in the trials next month to determine what Company gets the government contract. If Royal Copenhagen can still make the best product, I will more than happy to once again enter into a contract."
With little show of dignity, the man simply turned and stormed off with little bearing, once again showing the Dane's clear disdain of the once weaker power. But Frederick knew that the Dane wasn't the only one unhappy about the events on Kurzheim. He had heard the whispers and grumbles of the court. And it all came down to one thing. They all now truly hated Lord Hans of Kurzheim, for one simple reason.
He was an industrialist.
Sure, the attempted regicide and overthrow of a trusted ally was not desirable behavior, mostly due to making too many waves. After all, they all played the Game of Thrones. They all plotted and aimed to backstab each other for every possible advantage. This was the norm. They would have likely forgotten about Arendal within a year.
But becoming an industrialist was taboo. Industry threatened everything they built, and worst yet, undermined their little lies to themselves that they were good people. That they were noble for taking care of the peasants that they effectively owned. Sure, King Frederick had killed the few remaining laws that had survived Queen Ariel and King Eric that made true Serfdom legal. But on the actual fiefdoms, little had changed. People still depended entirely on the nobility for their employment, and therefore their lives.
And then comes in Industry. Started spreading such evil ideas that a man could leave his Lord's fields and make a living working in a factory. That the factories were teaching women how to read and write as to promote better production. That for the first time ever, people had options. Sure, the nobles were quick to point out all the horrible things that the industrialists did to make a better profit. But Frederick oddly seemed to remember that child labor, long working hours and safety violations were just as bad if not worse before industry came. It wasn't truly about nobility. It was Industry threatening their Agrarian "utopia".
So in the eyes of the court, Hans did the worse thing a noble can ever do. He betrayed the very system that he was born into.
He was a traitor to them all.
Bit of Notes-
Starting with this chapter and from this point on in all my works I have decided to begin using the real spelling of Arendelle, that being Arendal. Being a real town in Norway and the basis for the geography I use when researching, I decided to use it instead. There are differences of course as the architecture of the town takes more after the Western Norwegian town of Bergen and the appearance of the Castle after the famous Stave church, I am running my Canon as an Alternate universe in which Arendal developed differently. I do apologize if in future works Arendelle pops up, after all I imagine there will be a force of habit when writing and editing doesn't catch everything.
The chapter turned out to be quite a bit shorter than normal as a lot of the original content got cut for either pacing or to ensure that the already late chapter even got out the door. Sorry for the shortness and tardiness, but I've been incredibly busy at work thanks to a NTC rotation. The foreseeable future has us spending a good deal of time out in the field, so quick updates I cannot promise.
With Regards,
Dragunov