At Liberty

A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Prompt: independence


The celebrations had started as the sun rose over the eastern tip of the island of Croix-Verte, with solemn Masses well-attended by the citizens of the still largely Catholic nation. It was the anniversary of the founding of the nation after it chased the Spanish out, as it had seen off the French before that.

A few also considered it the anniversary of the end of the Spasm War, where Croix-Verte had thrown off another, more subtle and insidious, foreign yoke.

Queen Zoe and her family attended Mass in Port-Roc’s Cathedral of San Denis, seated in the first pew while the cardinal archbishop of the country delivered a homily on the responsibilities of freedom and the duty that all had to live up to the ideals of the nation’s founders. The cardinal, a tall and austere rabbit, made a special point of stressing the duty that the leader had to the citizens.

The otteress, dressed in the formal uniform made especially for her as the sovereign, nodded in agreement with the points made in the rabbit’s homily. Her children sat to her left, in order from oldest to youngest, and all shared their mother’s quietly interested look as the service went on. Her youngest, Marie, sat with her husband and took notes. A lawyer, Marie had been educated abroad and had missed the worst and bloodiest period of the Spasm.

When the priest had completed his homily, he stepped down from the pulpit as two altar boys brought out a small lectern before bowing and backing away as Zoe stood up, a small folder in her paws. There was a murmur among the congregation, and the television crews zoomed in on the otteress.

The Queen stood at the lectern and opened the folder, clearing her throat softly before saying, “I wish to start by thanking all of you, citizens of Croix-Verte, for coming together today to celebrate the day we won our freedom from foreign domination. Today, we celebrate liberty.

“I had planned to speak to you about the founders of our nation. The Ten, who rose against the French and led the people to victory, or Jean the Wise, who convinced the Spanish to leave without resorting to force. However, a somewhat more personal matter of liberty was brought to my attention.

“Although I have willingly shouldered the burden of Queen that you, the people, have placed on my shoulders, I am first and foremost a mother. A mother wants the best for their children, and to see them fly free.” Her son, dressed in his formal Air Force uniform, had a pensive look on his muzzle, while Marie whispered something to her husband.

“My eldest child and heiress presumptive, Princess Leticia, is a trained doctor, and she has acquainted me with the desire to marry and raise a family, as well as pursue her avocation as a physician. I am happy for her, but she has also told me that she does not want to raise a family as the heiress to the throne of Croix-Verte.” Zoe paused as she waited for the crowd to grow quiet. “Knowing as I do the duties of your sovereign, I can hardly blame her.

“Therefore, yesterday I summoned the Prime Minister and the Cabinet, along with the leaders of the three main parties. The result of that meeting is the following executive order.” Zoe cleared her throat again, rested a paw on the holster at her belt, and read aloud.

“Order in Council, November the first, in the year of Grace two thousand nineteen.
“Whereas the Princess Leticia, being the oldest child of Queen Zoe I, does not desire the crown of Croix-Verte upon the Queen’s passing from this life; and
“Whereas the Princess has agreed to lay aside her rights as the heiress presumptive; and
“Whereas the Princess will retain the style and dignity of Princess despite this revocation of her right to succeed; and
“Whereas the Prince Samuel, being the next oldest child, has agreed to set aside his military career in order to obey the will of the people of Croix-Verte upon his mother’s passing;
“Be it resolved, that the Prince Samuel de Vega is proclaimed and confirmed as the heir apparent to the crown of Croix-Verte.
“Done in the Executive Palace, Port-Roc, on the thirty-first day of the tenth month, in the third year of my reign.
“Signed by my paw: Zoe, la Primera, et la Premiére.”

The conversations rose again, but Zoe was looking at her children. Samuel looked like he was about to be sick, but was controlling himself. It made her proud of him.

Leticia, tears in her eyes, mouthed, “Thank you, Mother.”

That evening, as parties started throughout the country and fireworks lit up the night, the island kingdom’s most prominent citizens began gathering for the gala being held that night at the Executive Palace. The Royal Family would be there, of course, along with the government and the diplomatic corps.

The main topic of discussion and gossip was the change in the succession.

“Darling, think about it – she just wants to have a family out of the spotlight.”

“Hmmph. Shirking her duty, that’s what I call it.”

“Surely she could have both a family and the crown.”

“Ask the British about that, or the Germans.”

“Oh? What’s the Kaiser done now?”

There were other conversations, mostly drowned by the others and the music that issued from speakers set into the walls at strategic locations.

“She’s a doctor, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Did good work during the – well, you know.”

“Hmm.”

Zoe ignored the whisperings, at least for the moment. Members of her personal bodyguard detail, either dressed as waiters or in plainclothes, were circulating among the guests, listening; additional surveillance was provided by concealed microphones in the walls, pillars and statuary.

A leader had to be careful.

The otteress shook paws and nodded with the Minister of Trade, and exchanged a few pleasantries with the hound’s wife. The canine looked quite happy, as well he should have been; the trade agreement he had negotiated with the European Union promised more jobs and a boost to Croix-Verte’s economy. The Minister and his wife moved on to be greeted by the new heir apparent, Prince Samuel.

Samuel still had an expression of resignation on his muzzle.

“Doctor Artur Ktakchuk, Ambassador of the Rain Island Anarchcracy,” a Foreign Ministry functionary called out as a tall, spare sea otter strode in at the head of a small entourage. The mustelid wore a business suit with no tie, his collar open and a small twist of red-and-black ribbon in his lapel. The Iranian envoy, himself no stranger to omitting neckwear, gave him the eye as the anarcho-syndicalist made his way to the receiving line to be greeted by the Queen. Of course, the farrow deer might also be expressing his opinion of the shaman standing behind Ktakchuk.

“Ma’am,” the larger otter said as the Queen took his paw. He blinked as her grip easily matched his, but he recovered quickly and said, “You certainly gave us a surprise this morning.”

“It had been brewing for a while,” Samuel said, just loud enough for Ktakchuk to hear. The Air Force officer flicked his ears back as his mother glanced his way.

The envoy smiled and moved to shake Samuel’s paw. “Well, whatever happens, know that Rain Island will always be a friend to Croix-Verte.” He glanced around before releasing the officer’s paw. “Where is, er, Princess Leticia?”

“She's still upstairs,” the Queen replied. “She’ll be down shortly.” Ktakchuk nodded and moved on.

Somewhat later, Zoe and her son sat along one wall while furs moved about, clearing an impromptu dance floor. As a hired string quartet started to play, Zoe leaned over to Samuel. “I don’t see Jeanne anywhere.”

“She didn’t want to come,” Samuel replied. “Her squadron commander gave her permission to come if she wanted.”

“How does she feel about your new status?”

The younger otter shrugged. “She guessed that it might happen one day.”

“How’s that?”

“She told me once that Leticia always looked so sad.”

“Ah.” Zoe frowned, unable to recall if she’d seen any sign of disquiet in her daughter. Granted, she was the leader of the nation, but she still had a duty to her family. She craned and looked around. “Do you see her?”

“Um,” and he looked around, “ah! There she i – oh.”

“What?”

He pointed and she looked.

Her eyebrows rose at the sight of his oldest daughter and the Rain Island envoy dancing together among the other couples. A few onlookers were watching the Princess and exchanging inaudible comments.

Samuel leaned close to his mother. “I’ve never heard of a Socialist Princess.”

“Ask the Belgian Ambassador, or the Swedes,” his mother said. Zoe sat up and smiled at her daughter as she and Ktakchuk came closer to her while they danced.