It was the sudden, unexpected death of Wilhelm that gave Hans' his unprecipitated turn of luck.

It happened at a state dinner.

The king was turning sixty-nine, and it was an even larger celebration than when he was sixty-eight, or any of the preceding years. On this day, they celebrated a rule of forty years: the king had been coronated on his twenty-ninth birthday, in one fell stroke ensuring the succession through his then three year old son and pregnant wife, setting the expectation for many more boys.

The celebration was to last for forty days. Fuurstenberg had already started celebrating by eliminating taxes on edible and wearable goods for two months. Festivity was in the air.

Hans himself stood to profit from the tax break. In the past year and a half, he had been put in control of the more unsavory aspect of patrolling of the high seas. He had commanded, in cognito, the pirate ships of the Southern Isles.

There was a certain amount of pirateering that was encouraged by the Crown, and the Southern Isles was so exception. It increased profits to the Crown, which only stood to gain by legitimizing such sport. Patrol of territory was carried out in absentia. And disavowing the unsavory aspects of pirating meant the Crown was held unaccountable for their actions up to a certain point.

And if Hans could not command a battalion of troops in the normal scheme of things, he would take what he could get on the high seas, by illegal means.

Under Hans' direction, the pirates of the Southern Isles was more organized, stealthy, and loot had increased twentyfold.

Needless to say, the king was very pleased.

King Walter didn't reward Hans, per se, but he diverted funds from the Navy straight into Hans' control for use in the "promotion of the country's economy and boundaries," as he saw fit.

Hans' brother, Georg, had been beside himself. Without additional funding in the coming year, his fleet of naval ships would be gutted when it came time for re-outfitting.

It certainly made Hans feel a little better for the time when he had been passed over for the Captain of the Guard, or the Chief of the Purse, or the General Steward of the Castle, or any of the many various positions for which he had vied over the years in order to prove himself to the king.

The position of the commander of the unofficial royal pirate ships was possibly the most unsavory of the official court positions, which was why it had fallen to him. It was a position completely off the books and free of public accolades. The navy was in general a motley of the scum of the country, and pirates even more contemptible than that. But Hans was willing to take anything after the debacle of the two years before.

And the king had indeed been pleased. He straightened in his throne when Hans and his men trooped in after a triumphant looting in disputed waters off the eastern coast of Nurmstadt. Hans had brought back riches untold: of silks and satins and lace worth their weight in gold, of pearls and jade and graphite, which was gradually making their way across the country, and the most precious, the jewel of the kellars plant-sheafs and sheafs of the fibers, which could be used for anything from armor to infrastructure construction. Best of all, Hans managed to bring back the plant itself, which the Royal Chemists had noted could be locally cultivated and the fruit and leaves used for additional application.

And for his father, Hans returned with several gifts of the king's favorite variety-women. Specifically, exotic women.

Hans had hand-picked the women himself. It would be no bad thing to be on good terms with the king's next concubine. Raki, Tula, and Bris were varying degrees of honey- and teak-skinned beauties. One was long and leggy, one was buxom and bounteous, and one was just the right mixture of youth and innocence to tempt a jaded womanizer like his father.

Hans left nothing to chance. He had them thoroughly examined by several physicians and he personally saw to their training. He didn't think the king would have anything to complain about.

Indeed, the king was incredibly pleased with all the new treasures.

"I know what you're doing," Georg said from a dark alcove outside the Receiving Hall when Hans was excused from the royal presence.

"Retiring to my chambers?" Hans replied with a lofty lift of his brow.

Georg stepped out, a sneer marking his handsome face. "You're trying to bribe the king. How low. You'll kill him as tempt him with those women."

"And since when were gifts illegal?" Hans replied.

"Isn't three-excessive?" Georg sneered.

Hans almost laughed. Georg was more of a fool than even he realized. Far from being displeased that the king was being bribed by his youngest brother, he was jealous that he had received none of the spoils.

"Hadn't you better abstain from such-proclivities?" Hans asked mildly, noting now the slight tremor in Georg's hands. If his brother were not more careful, he would be felled by the pox long before his father.

"So you did bring back extras," Georg said, stepping closer to Hans.

"I may have."

"And you'll give them up for a price," Georg guessed.

Hans didn't bother to reply. He simply waited.

"Give them to me and you can have whatever you want," Georg said impulsively.

Hans expelled a short laugh. "What, anything for a night of pleasure?"

"Within reason," Georg replied, worrying his lips.

"Sign over the HMS Bellerophon, Cerberus, and Colossus to me," Hans said. "And I'll give you two."

"The Bellerophon is the flagship for the second battle squadron!" Georg said, looking incensed.

"And you can't afford to outfit her this year. I can. Why not concentrate your finances on the first battle squadron fleet?"

Georg squinted at Hans. "And you'll return them to me?"

"Eventually," Hans replied.

"When?" Georg demanded.

"You came to me with a demand," Hans replied, straightening his cuffs. "If you don't wish to bargain, then let me pass."

"Three women. One per ship. And not just for one night. Completely."

"Fine," Hans said, having figured out his brother's appetite long ago and having anticipated this counteroffer. "But make the women last, won't you? No beating them this time."

"That girl was asking for it," Georg sulked.

"I doubt it," Hans drawled. "In any case, if they run away from you, I no longer have any part of it."

"I can do my part," Georg said with a leer. "But I never thought I'd see the day when my little virginal brother became a brothel-keeper." He laughed long and hard, as he had that day when Hans had been caught with his pants down. Literally.

Although Hans hadn't been caught so much as set up to be a public laughingstock.

Now in the dark hallway lit by sconces, Hans didn't give his brother the reaction he was looking for.

"When?" Georg said as Hans walked past him, catching ahold of his sleeve.

"As soon as I have your papers deeding them to my command, of course."

"But what about tonight?"

Hans had already walked halfway down the hall. He didn't bother to tell Georg what his brother would find out in an hour, that some things had to be taken care of on one's own.

X.x.X

There was a private dinner before the capital was opened up for a month-long spate of games. Only family members were expected, so naturally, there were around a hundred people present. A small gathering of the closest courtiers to the crown was to dine in state in the Great Hall.

"My prince," Bris said when she passed Hans in the saloons before the bell would ring to signal for them to sit down to dine.

Hans nodded at her and made to pass.

She made a gesture and Hans halted. "My king is pleased with my prince. He is thinking of bestowing on him the title of the General of the Seas."

Hans idly looked around the room, but no one paid them heed. He bowed to her and handed a glass of champagne with a courtly flourish.

"I look forward to the ceremony," she said, giving him a glance from her dark eyes before curtseying and turning on light feet to leave him.

It was not news to him. The loss of the three ships had been instrumental to Georg's demotion. Not that his brother knew that. The Bellerophon had thrown him off, but it was the Colossus that Hans had wanted. It was inside news, told him by one of his father's paramours who had also been his mother's lady-in-waiting long ago. She had babied him as though she were her own and nurtured his ambition as though it were hers.

The Colossus was a small frigate, hardly worth the money to outfit, but it represented something to the superstitious king, who considered it the luck of the naval commander. To lose it, in any capacity, would be to render the current commander ill-suited for his role.

When it had gone to Hans half a year ago, the king suddenly had an epiphany. Ironic, from the man who decried witchcraft.

Contrary to the misperception of most foreigners, the Southern Isles was comprised of more than the outward archipelago and included continental territory as well.

When Hans first came into age, he had the mistaken impression that the other positions in the capital were more powerful. Certainly they were more prized. The Steward of the Castle was not unnaturally the next king. Wilhelm held the current role and did a credible, if uninspired job at managing the finances of the country. The Chief of the Purse was the elder twin, Herbert, though he was held in check by the High Magistrates, who audited and held the account books. The Captain of the Guard, ironically, was an elite position given to Friedrich the Lame, whose donning of the uniform day and night rather made him a mockery. Of Hans' full brothers, Peter was Keeper of the King's Forests and Georg was the Commander of the High Seas, which position he started to lose tenure when the king named Hans Admiral of Disputed Waters. Now, Georg was in danger of not being demoted, per se, but made Hans' underling. The king was not so impolitic as to blatantly remove office from his sons, and rather, created new offices as he was wont.

Being a Prince was at times less lucrative than being unrelated to the Crown except by ties of fealty. There was no land to be parceled to any of them, unlike those granted to various dukes and earls and barons for their feats of loyalty. For Hans, it was winner take all.

It was rather like putting all his eggs into one basket, but Hans was betting on being the one who wanted it most and who was willing to invest the most into the endeavor.

Hans had already managed to become very friendly with the High Magistrates. The Great Freeze from two years ago had managed to carve out a great hole in their coffers. Many of the items sent out for trade to surrounding countries had been decimated on the seas following the Thaw, with no way to recoup the losses. Taxation was problematic. The country had seen an influx of refugees from Pellandia following the Great Rebellion that took place there, one that the Court Philosophers laid at the door of high taxation.

Thus the current forty-day tax break for all Southerners.

What Hans did essentially was beat the system by thievery in the open waters. The High Magistrates publicly condemned him for it and loved him secretly for solving their economical problems. The Crown absorbed everything he confiscated from other ships under the guise of piracy.

When the bell resounded, everyone but the king moved into his or her seat in readiness to eat. In the interest of space, there was the high table, and then three tables that abutted down the length of the great hall. It was a very crowded affair, and it was with some acrobatics that prevented many a servant from an accident involving a boar's head dish or other delicacy.

Hans was seated in the middle abutment, near the head table, along with the members of the General Council.

He listened with half an ear to the conversation around him, always keeping an eye out for the high table. It was probably how he was the first to jump into action.

The eldest Prince, Wilhelm, was coughing while his wife continued to pick at her treacle tart and play with her pearls. In recent years, Wilhelm had grown exceedingly large. He had always been a barrel-chested man, but now there were additional chins under his face. Georg liked to snicker about how his poor wife, as thin as a beanpole, managed not to break under the weight of the eldest prince during their copulation.

Wilhelm was choking.

The king was speaking at some length on one of his early and pivotal battles, his favorite tale. A few sidelong glances at Prince Wilhelm displayed his annoyance at his son's inability to cough at a lower volume.

When Wilhelm lurched to his feet, his pudgy beringed hand at his throat, Hans acted.

Hans leapt clear over the high table, grasped Wilhelm around the middle and pounded his back for all he was worth.

Wilhelm continued to choke.

"Water!" the king cried, looking alarmed now. "Bring the prince water!"

In a thrice, water was brought by the pitcher. Hans had barely spoken the words, "no, he cannot breathe!" before a few of the footmen grabbed Wilhelm's frantic arms and poured water down his hatch.

Hans, standing behind Wilhelm, was splashed across the lapel with water as Wilhelm struggled under the inexpert care forced on him.

By the time the minstrels had finished plying their instruments, the First Prince, Wilhelm Westergaard the Fifth, was no more.

And the heir to the throne was once more an open position.