With a toot on his horn and wave of his hand, the colourfully costumed herald welcomed Joseph into the court of Duchess Anneke of the House of Koch. “Presenting the Lord Joseph III, Earl of Scotia and Ceo of Acadia and his escort the noble Stewart, Baron of Brunswick and Duke of Fredericton.” The crier stepped back to his place beside the massive maple doors and allowed for Joseph and Stewart to walk their way up the red velvet carpet to where the Duchess sat. The vaulted ceiling of her court seemed to echo and distort the voices spoken there a thousand years ago. The walls and plafond had been plastered with more beautiful classical paintings than the Louvre. The pillars that appeared to hold the sky from falling such as the mighty Atlas was doomed to do looked as magnificent and wholesome as the Titan himself.

The throne of Brooklyn had been built by carving the stone rubble from the Rockefeller Plaza into a curvaceous and almost sensuously smooth and seamless chair that was said to arch the back of royalty into perfect posture. The deep red cushion that softened the throne for the arses of nobles had been sewn from those once liberated people who had been subjugated once again by the rulers of the five duchies after the fall of Charles’ Empire. Its silk and laces had been crocheted and stitched into wondrous, fantastical patterns that had taken a team of ten women their entire lives to sew. Even the side that had stayed pressed to the stone, sandwiched by royal behinds and never seen except on its conception, depicted the Stock Market Crash of 2046 and the Battle of the Bronx that had come after it. And now, sitting on it herself was the Duchess Anneke and she looked upon her guests with a most welcoming smile on her face, though Joseph knew from personal experience her true thoughts were anything but friendly.

“Aw,” Anneke said, shifting her head and tracing her fingers through her flowing red hair, “finally I have an excuse to leave this blasted court. All day I have sat in this terribly uncomfortable chair and listened to those pitiful forms who call themselves humans declare their woes. ‘Please, milady, a dime for the poor’, ‘please, milady, my sister’s starving, ‘please, milady, ‘please, milady your soldiers raped my daughter. It’s always ‘please, please, please, please’ all day with these people.” Anneke looked rather agitated now. “Why doesn’t anyone ever inquire as to how I’m feeling, huh? Why doesn’t anyone care how much I’ve eaten? You can’t even imagine what I would give to hear someone say, ‘please, milady, how’s the most beautiful woman in all the land doing this day?’ Anneke closed her eyes a moment, dreaming, and then opened them, ire beginning to manifest itself again. “But no, it’s only, ‘please this, please that, please I wish, please I want’ and then I have to say, like I’m the villainess in all of this, ‘no, no, no, no’. It’s rather exhausting, Joseph.”

“I’m glad to take you away from your most difficult of tasks, my lady,” Joseph replied, bowing as low as customary. Stewart followed in suit, though his bow was far lower, always touching his nose to the floor, and afterwards he came forward to the throne and kissed the Duchess’ signet ring. The lady gave a friendly smile, although she was much too mature to give the giggle that Stewart usually looked for when he kissed the gentle hands of princesses. Anneke arose from her throne and almost knocked Stewart aside, though she was too graceful to do it.

“Follow me to my private chambers, gentlemen. My cooks have already prepared a meal to match your stature. Tomorrow we will all have our fair share of excitement.”