Chapter Eleven

As is so often the case with people when they are out of their depth, Lars did not realise quite how little he knew about passing legislation until the parliament actually started to do it. There appeared to be a process that turned the delegates’ ideas into laws, and he understood that it involved a mass vote and lots of debating, but the particulars still escaped him. Luckily, he wasn’t the only straggler, and a few weeks into the first term he attended an optional orientation class aboard Audacity. A kind and deeply patient Service member had taken him through the process, and explained what he as a delegate could do

Any delegate could write a bill’s title, explaining its purpose, such as “A Bill to Affirm the Basic Human Rights of All Citizens”. The nominee would then have to find two other nominees, one of which had to be from a different home planet, and one of which had to be an ascendant. If you had one nominee who was both an ascendant and from a different home planet, then it didn’t matter where the other nominee was from. You now had a Primary Nominee, a Secondary Nominee, and an Ascendant Nominee.

The title (itself only a shorthand for the whole bill) would enter a vast and growing list of potential titles for consideration by the President. He alone would determine which were voted on, as well as the rules for debate. However, he had to accept at least one title from each of his ascendants at some point over the course of the term.

In a vote, delegates would privately enter their decision (normally a ‘passes’ or ‘fails’) before all votes were revealed together. The side with the most votes won, although it got more complicated if there were multiple options (such as if the Parliament were voting to designate a specific planet for something). Only once the title was passed would the rest of the bill actually be written by the Service, taking into account any discussions or debates that had taken place in the chamber as well as advice from the Constitutional Court. Lastly, if the President wanted to deny assent for the finished bill they could veto, sending everybody back to square one.

That was the long and short of it, but there was a lot of room for ambiguity that would have to be cleared up. For example, constitutionally, “deliberation time” had to be made available for each new bill, though exactly what that meant was left up to interpretation. It could be weeks of thorough and detailed debate, or it could be a chance to sleep on it and come back in the morning to vote.

It was also left unexplained what would happen if the President didn’t accept a title from all his ascendants, or whether he could be any kind of nominee (was the President an Ascendant too?) to a title. Some of the early administrative debates covered these issues and others, and following the seminar Lars was pleased to have grasped as many of the basics as he had. It wasn’t quite enough for him to feel as though he had an informed opinion, however, so a few nights after the King’s election he knocked on Marcia’s door.

“Come in,” she called.

“I can’t,” he said. “You have to push a button.”

“Oh yes. Sorry.” There was a pause, and the door stayed closed. “Is that you, Lars?”

“Yes. Hello.”

Lars had to imagine that there was a sigh – the door would have muffled such a subtle sound, but it was a safe bet. Finally it slid open. Marcia was sat in bed, her device on her lap. “Come in, I suppose.” My kingdom for an alternative, she may as well have added.

He bowed, then slipped in. The door closed behind him, fast enough to almost take a finger off. “I’m thinking of introducing a title, and I wondered if you would nominate.” Marcia was an ascendant, of course. She had taken a portfolio of Scientific Research, but she could be the nominee on any title. Plus, the actual ascendant of Procedure was from Garden, and even in their new alliance they still spooked him.

Marcia said, “What’s the title?”

“It’s “A Bill to Allow For”, um, I suppose, “The Provision of an Option For Delegates to Choose to”, some such.”

“So it doesn’t have a name yet. Lars, I hope you don’t feel obligated to nominate a title just to feel useful. It’s perfectly fine to just be a voter.”

“No, no! This has an actual use. I was sitting in today’s debates on the veto and the role of the Vice President, and I was looking around at everyone who seemed totally confident and sure of what they were saying. And I thought, whatever bills come their way, they’re going to know just what to do. But there should be an option for people like me.”

“People who don’t know what they’re doing?”

“Yes. Well, no. But kind of. I want there to be an option to abstain if you don’t feel confident enough to vote.”

“I see. And what happens if all three options get an equal share of the vote? Pass, fail, abstain, all at 66 or so?”

“I suppose we do it preferentially, like we did for the election.”

“So your proposal is that people rank the options “pass”, “fail”, and “abstain” from 1 to 3 in order of preference?”

“That doesn’t work, does it? I can tell from your voice.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, okay.” Lars thought hard. “When you’re counting votes you just don’t count the abstentions, and you want a majority of everyone who did vote.”

“Alright. So, you sat in a day of debates that by your own admission went right over your head, and the conclusion you drew from all that was to introduce an option to opt out from the process completely?”

“Right,” Lars said. After Marcia gave him a stare, he added “Or do you think that might not be the best strategy?”

“I would think not. Let’s talk about it tomorrow, I’m going to bed.”

“Alright, I’ll let you be.” As he crossed the floor back to the already-open door, Lars thought to turn back and ask Marcia how she was holding up. He hadn’t properly talked to her in a while, and he suspected she was avoiding him. But if she didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t force her. So he went to bed.

The first proper title to be introduced was “A Bill to Affirm the Marriage of Persons From Different Earths”. There had only ever been one such marriage, as the King explained in a meeting of the Herald delegation, and this bill would ratify theirs and any future marriages as legal. Baron and Baroness Gray were a couple living on Herald who had been married just four months earlier. Baroness Gray was previously señorita May Velez from Earth: Carmen, one of a rare group of people who had visited another planet, and perhaps the only person who had chosen to live on another one permanently. The two had met while sending communications on behalf of their Earths, but apparently fell in love shortly after and received special permission from the King and Control to travel to meet one another. Baron Gray had been due to serve as a delegate, but had instead chosen to stay on Earth with his new wife.

“The goal of the bill,” President-King Aenos explained, “is simply to confirm that interplanetary marriage is legitimate according to this authority. Of course, I gave my personal blessing to the couple, but they nevertheless have concerns about this unprecedented action and want as much confidence as possible that their partnership is legal and safe. This will serve as a safe, positive first bill that oughtn’t cause any controversy – I can’t see even Earth: Edo opposing something so plainly good.

“On top of which, it will give us an opportunity to put this system into practice. If there are any difficulties in passing this bill, then there is not quite as much at stake. Now, I have selected Sergeant Graves here,” he gestured to the only non-Heralder in the room, a short man in uniform who gave a slow nod, “to sign as the Ascendant Nominee, since his portfolio is Cultural Affairs. Who will sign as the Primary Nominee?”

A few hands shot up immediately. Lars slowly raised his own, a little later, because it was good to be seen to be of use. Not to mention, he thought, even he couldn’t make a mess of this.

“Scion Ariti!” the King called. “Would you do the honours?”

“Yes indeed, Your Glory,” Lars said instinctively. He hadn’t actually expected to be chosen, and judging from the faces that turned to look at him – Marcia included – he wasn’t the only one surprised.

Nevertheless, he did his duty, and following the meeting he tracked down Sergeant Graves in the corridor.

“Sergeant, I wondered if you had any ideas about who the Secondary Nominee on this bill should be.”

Graves grunted. “Doesn’t matter too much,” he said, “Since we’re from different Earths it can be anyone.”

“Well, yes, but I thought that given the bill is all about fostering co-operation between us and Carmen -“

“Between you and Carmen. Garden is going to stay out of it.”

“What, you mean you won’t vote for it?”

Graves stopped walking and looked at him. The look was familiar to Lars; it was one he was given when someone was trying to determine if he was worth their time. “Of course we’ll vote for it. I just mean, we’re not very interested in being outspoken about people moving to whichever Earth they want.”

“You don’t want people to come to yours, you mean.”

The sergeant gave a hollow laugh. “Privatti, it’s not that we don’t want you. It’s that you don’t want to come anywhere near us, if you know what’s good for you. No, our concern is just that any push towards free movement is going to make it harder to keep this place secure.”

Lars didn’t ask what the Sergeant had called him in his own tongue. He just nodded, and said “Right. Well, I’ll find someone.” He realised then that he had been following Graves without realising where they were going, and he was now in the centre of the Garden dormitories. They were much like his own, but somehow all the lights had been dimmed and there were delegates running laps in the narrow space between the walls. People were staring at him.

Graves said, “You should get going now, Scion.” Lars didn’t need to be told twice. He had never felt less welcome, which was saying something.

He wandered the corridors aimlessly, holding the draft title in his hand. He thought about trying the Carmen block, but didn’t want to be stared out of the room there too. There must be some Carmenites on neutral ground in an office somewhere. He tried doors at random, but found few faces to greet him – most of the conference rooms and study areas were not yet being used. He knew that there was supposed to be a bar around here too, but nobody had told him where it was.

Just before he crested the hill on another crisis of confidence he poked his head into a tiny room with a single terminal, occupied by a woman Lars had seen on the Carmen benches. She was about his age, with sharp green eyes and thick black hair tied in a bun. When he entered she stood guiltily, as though she had been caught doing something wrong, and Lars realised he knew her. It was Sofia Castillo, the poor woman who the King had seen fit to humiliate in the election.

“Oh – er, good morning, sir. Can I help you?”

“Yes, good morning. Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you’re from Carmen, aren’t you? I mean to say, you represent them in-“

“I do, yes. Sofia Castillo, at your service. Señorita Castillo, I should say. They like it when we use our titles.”

Lars thought it best to not mention that he already knew of her. “Who does?”

“The other delegates. They think it’s more formal, and it demonstrates expertise. For them, anyway.”

“Ah. Then, pleased to meet you, Señorita Castillo. I’m Scion Lars Ariti.”

“Very nice to meet you. Did you have this room booked, or…?” she trailed off.

“Oh! No.” Lars realised that she was almost as off-kilter as he was, so he ought to come out and say it. He waved the paper he was holding. “No, I was actually looking for a nominee on this title. I’ve been asked by the King to put this forward as the first proper bill, now that they’ve sorted out the administrative business with the Vice President and such.”

“Yes, that was certainly a decision.” Sofia said.

“Indeed. Well, now we’re doing this new bill, which is just affirming the marriage of these two people from different worlds.”

“Oh? The Carmen woman and the Herald man, right? I heard about that. I didn’t realise they’d gotten married, though.”

“Just a few months ago. And we thought it would be nice for Audacity to properly congratulate them and confirm that it’s all legal. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

“I doubt it,” she said with a smile. “I’d be happy to sign.” He extended the paper to her and after she took a moment to look it over (no Carmen resident ever seemed to skip the small print) signed and printed her name and Earth of origin under the “Secondary Nominee” header. “I think there’s probably some people in my faction,” she said, “who would rather I didn’t do anything to help the President. After the whole election business, I mean.”

“I… yes, I suppose there would be.”

“But on this, at least, we can agree – things need to start happening, and if I didn’t sign this then you would just get somebody else. So call it a sign of good faith.”

“I will. I’ll tell the King, if I see him.”

“It’s not for the King, Lars. It’s for this station. I don’t work for him.”

***

The bill was announced properly the next day, with Lars and Sofia and Sergeant Graves all standing in turn and presenting the title. The King said that debate would be open for two days, and that in the spirit of congratulating the couple he would be passing on any messages received to them personally once the bill passed. He also attached several photos and pertinent information that they had sent for identity confirmation. It was one of these photos that Sofia sent to Lars on the second day of debate, which had thus far been as uncontroversial as the King had hoped.

Lars opened the message and was greeted with the smiling faces of Baron and Baroness Gray, standing in front of a cathedral on a windy autumn day. He was clearly the older of the two, but they seemed to make a good match – smiling away and holding each other close. It was perfectly picturesque, and clearly taken by a professional, but that wasn’t a surprise – the Gray family were minor in the scheme of things, but were still at the level of Barons and so had plenty of staff at their disposal. Regardless, Sofia had attached a caption to the message:

Anything about this picture look strange? Come see me in the office.

Sofia had, by this point, claimed that tiny tucked-away office as her own, booking it out each day she could. They had met there a few times now, and Lars had to admit that he liked her, even as she kept a kind of distance from him. Not that she was unfriendly – she was just very frank about setting boundaries in their friendship. For example, she quickly made it clear that she would not sign any further bills from him, and did not expect him to sign any of hers. “It’s not a good idea to start building exclusive cliques,” she said, “even if they cross faction lines.”

Lars was tickled by the idea that anyone would consider him to be part of any exclusive cliques, but he got the sense that she didn’t know the Herald system of nobility well enough to know that a Scion was the lowest rung of the ladder. While still being on the ladder, naturally.

He arrived at the office shortly afterwards, where she waited with a few printouts. Before he could even greet her she had launched into an explanation.

“I was looking through these documents and photos and things, and something about these two photos caught my eye. Do you know where this is?”

She jabbed her finger towards the same photo she had sent him. He shook his head. “Not really, no. Somewhere in Europe, if I had to guess?”

“I’m not asking you to guess, Lars. It’s your Earth.”

“Hang on,” he said indignantly, “do you know every church on your Earth? Could you identify them all by photograph?”

“Well, we don’t exactly have churches, but yes. Not without my on-board, I admit. Okay,” she said, removing that picture and replacing it with another one, “What about this place?”

Lars was taken aback. “Yes, actually.” It was a photograph of the couple walking in the park, taken from afar with their apparent ignorance. “Where is this from?”

“It was in the media archive you supplied us with.” Lars remembered – back before they boarded Audacity, he had helped assemble a variety of papers and photos. It was some time ago, but he might well have added this photo himself. “But you know where this is?”

“Yes, that’s Orbit Park, in Volos.”

“Volos, Grecia?”

“Of course. Well, we call it Greece, but yes. I grew up near there, at least for a while. I recognise the big houses against the road, and the clocktower.”

Sofia nodded, like she was working through a maths problem in another room. “Okay, so you recognise that clocktower. Let me ask you – is it the same one as that clocktower there?” Again she brought out the first picture, the one in front of the church and jabbed her finger at a structure Lars hadn’t seen initially. It was mostly obscured from view but he could see the spire and – now that she pointed it out – part of the clock face.

“Oh, look at that. Yes, they’re very similar – they must be the same.”

“Exactly. So you see?”

“I’m sorry, I still don’t.”

She growled, clearly expecting him to have caught up. “The clocktower is here from this angle, and here from this angle,” she said, pointed at each picture in turn. He nodded, and she said “So where’s the church?”

Lars looked again at the paparazzi picture. “Well, it would be…” he spent a few seconds trying to figure out the geometry in his head, then gave up. “I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing a church near that park at all. I assume you’ve figured it out.”

“Yes and no. If I’m looking at the distances and spaces rightly, and I think I am, it should be right there.” She jabbed her finger one final time at the photo – into a blank piece of sky.

Lars looked up at her blankly. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. That’s what worries me. Can you look into it, please?”

“I… which part?”

“The church is probably a good starting point. I bet you can request information on it from your team back home. You have a team back home, don’t you?”

“I have no idea. I would imagine so.”

“So you’ll look into it?”

Lars shrugged, the decision once again made for him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

***

“Marcia, do we have a team back home?”

Lars was once again in his ex-wife’s dormitory at night while she was sitting in bed. It wouldn’t have been his first choice of meeting place, but Marcia seemed to be spending every day now in closed meetings with the King or the other ascendants, presumably doing the important work of setting out an agenda. It was hard to get time with her otherwise, and at the very least she hadn’t kicked him out straight away. That was an improvement on a year ago.

“A team for what?”

“I suppose research, or information. I know we can access the link ourselves, but it’s so slow – can we ask people to do that for us?”

“What do you want to know about?”

“Nothing,” Lars lied without intending to. It seemed easier than explaining Sofia’s conspiracy theory. “I just want to know if we have that option.”

She looked at him a while, and then said “The Service have people to help you with that. Talk to your liaison, they can get a wire back home and come back to you with a memo.”

“Okay. But what if it’s… I don’t know, what if it was something that we didn’t want everyone to know about?”

“Lars, the Service are a neutral party – they don’t get involved in that stuff, and they’ll keep something quiet if we ask. But secrets aren’t healthy for a process like this, just keep that in mind.”

“Says you,” he said. He meant it as a passing remark, but the immediate fire that filled her eyes caused him to hastily retract “I meant -“

“I was given a direct order by the KIng,” she said, punctuating each word with a violent gesticulation, “and you don’t refuse those, ever.”

“Marcia, I -“

“And if you spent a little more time with your head down and working and a little less time sneaking around with a Carmen woman then you might -“

”- How did you -“

”- then you might get some direct orders of your own, and get to do something fulfilling in the no-doubt short time you’ll be up here.”

She stopped, and the door slid open behind him. Lars took this as a cue to leave.

Back in his own room, he felt like kicking himself. The only thing he could hope now was that Marcia wouldn’t take their conversation to the King. There didn’t seem to be much chance of that.

Five years since the fateful meeting in the Flower Room, and the conversation with Marcia and Panagos a few hours later after he was reassigned to the project. Looking back, he would have hoped that that five-year period might have gained him some rank or status beyond that with which he was born. True, it had gotten him this far, a rare experience for any human being, but even so…

He had had to live with a nagging feeling for the last five years, that would never quite go away. Through all the training, the language lessons, the briefings, the many, many medical tests, and everything else, it was there. Why you?

Lars was lucky, in a way. He thought all the time about that light in the control room, and how if it hadn’t broken exactly when it did he would never have found himself in that meeting to serve coffee, and the King would never have seen whatever he saw in him. He knew that the King had plans for him, for everyone on the delegation, and that he saw value in Lars. But somehow that didn’t seem enough anymore.

He sent a short message to his Service liaison, whom he had never met. It was late in the night-cycle by now, and certainly past working hours, but he nevertheless received a near-instant reply. Lars wondered if the liaison was a machine from Carmen, but their name was not a mononym, so he presumed they were just an industrious human.

What do you need, Scion Ariti?

Lars thought. If Marcia was right, he didn’t need to be coy.

I need to know about a particular church in Orbit Park, Volos, Greece.

After a second he added another message.

Earth: Herald, that is.

The liaison responded just as quickly.

No problem. You know the name of it or anything?

I don’t, sorry. But it ought to be the only church built in that area. And also it might not be there anymore. Sorry.

Ha! Okay, I like a challenge. Is it urgent?

Lars was going to write “certainly not, get some rest first!” before remembering that the vote was scheduled for tomorrow. So, feeling as guilty as anything, he said:

Potentially. Could I get it early tomorrow?

You got it.

The liaison closed the thread, which indicated that that part of the conversation was done with. Lars stayed up for another hour feeling awful, then got bored of feeling awful and fell asleep.

***

When he woke up the next morning the thread had been reopened, and he had a message waiting for him. He tapped the glyph to bring it up – it had been sent three hours earlier, in the dead of night.

Here’s what I’ve found, Scion. Orbit Park was home to a church called the Chapel of St. Markos of the Mountain, which was ordered built by King Alsavi 2 back in 1210. It stood until 2185, when it was ordered knocked down by King Aenos 5 to expand the surrounding grounds. There was talk of building a campus there, but nothing came of that. I’ve attached a few photos, and some information about St. Markos himself – hope that helps!

Lars felt a pit open in his stomach. He opened the picture files and flipped through them. It was the same church, he was certain. It was in the same place in the park – there was even a satellite map showing its position, lining up perfectly with the paparazzi shot. Except it wasn’t there. Until now he had been able to hope that the newspaper had airbrushed it out, and he had somehow forgotten about it from his own visits (except he knew he hadn’t!), but here was the proof. He shot off a quick thanks to the liaison, and then called Sofia. This was a calling matter.

“What’s happening?” she said, by way of greeting.

“I got someone to look into it,” he said. “Something’s going on.”

“I’m in the office,” she said.

***

“Twenty years?”

They were crouched over Lars’ device, looking through the information for the third time.

“That’s what the liaison said. And these documents seem to agree.”

“It was demolished twenty years ago.”

“I don’t know, Sofia, I think… we’ve missed something, we must have done.”

“Okay, what’s the simplest possible answer?”

“Occam’s Razor?” he remembered dimly.

“Right. Maybe instead of airbrushing the church out of this photo, he airbrushed his new wife into this photo.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Let’s not worry about the why,” Sofia said. “Would it be possible? With your technology?”

Lars got that defensive feeling again. “Just because we don’t all carry our technology around inside our bodies doesn’t mean that we’re significantly less advanced that you, you know?”

“Okay, listen. We have four hours until the vote, and if we actually think there’s something wrong here than we need to have something to take to the floor, so let’s leave the posturing to the side for a little bit. Is it possible?”

“To take a woman out of one picture and into another? Yes, I suppose it would be. But look, they’re holding each other. So unless he had a twenty year-old photo where he was holding someone of exactly the same height, then I don’t see how. Besides, he would look younger, no?”

“Maybe he had plastic surgery.”

“He’s a Baron!”

“So?”

Lars thought for a moment. “Yes, I don’t know what they get up to. But still, I don’t think it’s altered.”

“Me neither. The oculus doesn’t pick up any artifacts, so unless it’s really tremendously advanced, which I doubt – kidding!” she added, after seeing Lars’ glare. “So perhaps the whole thing is faked? The couple stand in front of a solid colour, then someone adds in the background afterwards?” “I thought of that,” Lars said with a little pride. “But no – look, the wind is blowing their hair this way, and those trees are blowing the same way.”

“Wind machine, matching the direction? Not impossible.”

“A lot of effort, though. If they’re doing all that, there must be a reason. So either way…”

“They’re hiding something. Okay,” Sofia said, apparently having made a decision. “I’m taking this to someone who can help.”

“You’re not going to keep it between us?” Lars said. “I thought that was the point.”

“We’ve taken it as far as we can. We need fresh eyes on it, and soon. I know someone – you stay here.”

Sofia sped out of the office, leaving Lars waiting there. He knew he should be scared of offending the King with all this, that if he caught wind he could punish them both, but despite all that the exhilaration of the mystery kept a tight grip on him. He danced slightly in his chair and let out bursts of laughter at random intervals. Adrenaline was pushing its way through long-disused pathways in his body, and he felt alive. There was a truth here, and he would be the one to find it.

After ten minutes, she still hadn’t returned. Lars sent her a short message, acutely aware that time was ticking. Another twenty minutes passed, and he thought about going after her. But he had no way of knowing where in the station she had gone, so he just sent another message. People were beginning to move towards the chamber – the vote still wasn’t for a few hours, but there were formalities and conversations to have beforehand. Most people didn’t notice him sitting in the office, but as Marcia walked past she turned her head and spotted him there. She stepped closer to the door but thought twice about entering, instead pulling out her device and tapping a few glyphs. Without a word, she walked away and disappeared from Lars’ view. That can’t be good, he thought to himself.

He would only have to wait another five minutes to see what she had done. King Aenos 5 appeared in the doorway, surrounded as ever by delegates he had transformed into personal aides. Lars’ eyes shot to the ceiling and he stepped in, alone, closing the door behind him. Sofia had still not returned.

“Scion,” he said.

“Your Glory,” Lars replied, returning his eyes to face the King. He was towering over Lars in his ceremonial garb, seeming to take up half of the office alone.

“I understand that you and your friend Dr…” he squinted at a piece of paper in his hand – the King didn’t like to use his device. “Dr. Castillo, have been playing detective. Is that so?”

“In a manner of speaking, Your Glory.”

“Concerning some irregularity with the photographs of Baron and Baroness Gray that I supplied the Parliament with, following the announcement of the title that you yourself put forward, correct?”

“That is… yes, Your Glory.” Lars was sure the King was slowly moving closer.

“Perhaps you would see fit to show me what you and Dr. Castillo have come up with so far. Or should we wait for him to return?”

“Actually,” Lars said, “Señorita Castillo’s a woman, not a man. And not a doctor, either. I believe you met her.”

“Her, then.” The King looked irritated – more than irritated, actually – but to his surprise didn’t chastise Lars for correcting him. “She’s off collecting a friend to help you, I understand. To help you with what, exactly? What’s the plan, Scion?”

“Your Glory, I…” he was almost hoping the King would interrupt him, but he just kept staring, waiting for Lars to explain himself. “I suppose we just wanted to ensure that there wasn’t anything potentially embarrassing in the couple’s past. Anything that might cause harm to the station were it to come out.”

“The Baron is a good man, and so, I understand, is his wife. They are happy together, and that ought to be the end of it. Their private business is their own, and by meddling in it in this way it is you who risk embarrassing this station. Scion, let me ask you, did you consider in your little misadventure that the entire purpose of this title was to provide an easy and non-controversial introduction to the system of passing laws? Did you consider that if your fanciful stories come out, it could mean that the first proper bill of this Parliament will be a joke?”

“How did…how did you find out, Your Glory?”

“You must assume, Scion, that I know everything. I recommend going about your duties with that in mind, because if I ever have to have another conversation like this with you it will end with you back on a shuttle.”

The door suddenly opened and backed onto the King as Sofia burst in. “Lars, there’s all sorts of people outside, what’s -“ she stopped herself when she saw the King. “Oh. Good morning, Mr. President.”

“Sofia,” Lars trembled, “The King is here to ask us to stop looking into the photograph.”

Sofia frowned. “He knows? How?”

“It is polite, when I am in the room, to address me yourself, señorita Castillo.”

“Apologies, Mr. President. But this was a private matter we were looking into.”

“Yes, the photograph. I am aware. I did you a favour, in fact, and I looked into it myself. As it happens, the couple had it taken in a studio which digitally added the background, because the Baron had always enjoyed that old church and wished they’d been there together. The answer is as simple as that, and if you would have stopped to consider the most likely answer you would not have needed to hear it from me. Now, I hope you two will come to vote for this bill and leave it at that.” He left the room, inching around Sofia to close the door. She barely moved to let him past.

Once he was gone, she shook her head. “No.”

“Sofia, listen – you don’t say no to the King.”

“I’m not saying no to him, but I don’t believe his story. Not a word. He looked into it in the last ten minutes and got an answer back that quickly?”

Lars stood. “Let’s go and vote. It’s over, and we really don’t want to push it. He might not be your King, but he is your President. Where were you, anyway?”

“Trying to find a machine I know,” Sofia said. “I found them, and they confirmed it – the photo isn’t doctored. There’s just no way.”

“I’m going to vote.”

Lars left, and Sofia followed him out and to the chamber. There, the Parliament were all taking their seats and the Speaker was announcing the opening of the vote. As he selected the “pass” option on his device, he watched Sofia literally biting her tongue on the other side of the room. He got the sense that she didn’t want to see their hard work wasted, but he knew when he was beaten. As the results came in, he saw that apparently she did too.