Sooner or later it had to happen, and Will encountered Johan Toblescu in the city mall on Mikhelstrasse two days after Afran arrived back in Strelzen. It was a Saturday and the mall was thronged with kids. Jo-jo was browsing round a tee-shirt shop, the very picture of idleness. Will contemplated ignoring him, but their eyes met, and he nodded at the boy.
‘Will! Hey!’ he said, his eyes anxious for acknowledgement as it seemed to Will.
‘Hi, Jo-jo. How’re things?’ Will responded.
‘Oh, y’know,’ Johan said non-committally. ‘Just back from Glottenberh where I was staying with the grandparents. Are you … er … still with your prince?’
‘I am. I’m here to buy him a couple of tee-shirts. The duffus turned up for his first day as a university student in a suit and tie. What are you doing these days?’
‘Nothing much. The AllmyFans bubble burst. Well, you know about that, since it was your dad who burst it. My dad said he might be able to get me intern work with Skipper Associates if I can keep my nose clean.’
‘That sounds promising, more promising than being ripped off by that little git, Kral. That’s a boy who has not learned his lesson. And you do have real tech skills you can offer an employer, as I learned in my brief career as a porn star.’
Jo-jo offered Will a shy grin, and seemed pleased by the attention Will was offering. Will felt generous enough to give him his phone number and hint at a possible future social meeting. He wandered off into the mall feeling that perhaps generosity had been the right strategy here.
***
‘Tea, Afran?’ Will asked.
‘Yes, Will,’ his boyfriend smiled. ‘Remember I take milk in mine, can you?’
The pair were slowly getting used to living with each other. Most Rothenians took hot black tea poured into glasses without the addition of milk, but not Kurds apparently. Will was not thinking about copying Afran in his tastes.
The flat was looking a bit crammed despite Grossmutta Wyzhinski’s best efforts. A clothes rail on which hung Afran’s military and official wardrobe, or the part of it he had to bring to Rothenia, took up most of the spare space in their bedroom, beween the bed and the window. Will had crashed into it twice now when he had navigated his way from bed to toilet before dawn. They slept naked and some days they never dressed. They had freedom to slake all their desires and they were both sensual and imaginative boys.
But it was a school day, so today was a day requiring clothes. Afran was still working on student style. He seemed to think he had to wear some part of a suit even if it was not with a tie. He had hit on combining black waistcoats with shirts, which worked for Will. But Afran remained unadventurous compared to his boyfriend, for Will’s entry into the Bohemian AllmyFans world as a teen had left a legacy of daring choices in his wardrobe, and a willingness to bare his flesh that drew eyes and attention. He liked to flaunt the subtle curves of his tanned abs in a number of crop tops, though he knew they’d soon have to be retired as autumn drew on.
It had not got round their courses that the King of Rum was in the first year cadre of Science-Po at the Technische. It was one of the university’s more attractive courses to foreign students, especially from the new accession states to the Oecumene, many of whom were recipients of Rothenian government educational grants. So Afran’s brown face did not stand out in his year. Indeed he fell in with a Kurdish and Armenian crowd, who to Will’s surprise proved to be a hard-drinking set. So despite Will’s fears, Afran fit in well to Strelzen student life. For his part, Will was finding the law course all he had hoped for, with the attraction of his father’s module on Courtroom Practice to look forward to in the second semester.
In the meantime, Will found his friendship with his cousin Gino developing fast. ‘You sometimes look more like brothers,’ Afran remarked, to Will’s pleasure. Gino had brought Will to the Neueplaz to introduce him to Strelzen’s famous gay club, the White Tree. They got drinks from the Brazilian barman, who Gino introduced to Will as Ernesto. Will looked around. Apart from some prominent rainbow flags, the place looked like any Strelzen drinking hole, with scattered tables and some booths along the opposite wall. The clientele looked older than that of the bars Will usually patronised. ‘So is this a private club, Gino?’
‘Nah, Will. They used to post a sign Privaat Club outside to discourage the foreign queers and stag parties, but it’s gone now. Old Alfons the owner is not one for turning away money. But the White Tree has a lot of history. There’s been a queer club on this site since Queen Flavia’s days. Middle-aged and middle-class gays have made it their own, and young party gays have plenty of other places to go to on the Wejg. So the clientele is self-selecting.’
‘Do you work here, Gino?’
Evgeny chuckled. ‘I did once. Our grossmutta used to be a cleaner here for Alfons. She persuaded him to take me on as a relief for Ernesto when I was only 17. A bit illegal but Alfons used that as an excuse to pay me under the minimum wage.’
‘He sounds like a git,’ Will remarked, with a scowl.
Evgeny shook his head. ‘It’s not unusual on the Wejg. And he allowed me all the tips I got in full, of which there were quite a lot since I was a hot-looking kid as a teen and fairly lustworthy, even if everyone knew I was a straight. I think Alfons wanted me for my looks, so that the customers would hang around the bar ’
‘You still are handsome, Gino,’ smiled Will.
‘Well, thank you, cuz. You’re quite something yourself. Your Afran’s a lucky guy, and I think he knows it.’
Will surveyed Evgeny. ‘Could I just follow up what you said about Jules Kral and his new scam?’
His cousin gave him a long, considering look. ‘Sure, Will. To be honest, I only told you to get your perspective on what that shit might be up to. You know what he is. There’s still too many people who think he’s a little saint in whose mouth butter would not melt. But you know better.’
‘Understood, Gino. I know you don’t have many details, but why do you think he picked on you, since he has to realise you wouldn’t trust him to have your best interests at heart? Just tell me again how he phrased it.’
Evgeny quirked a smile and sighed. ‘I think from my familiarity with the Wejg he assumed that I was well in with gay life there. So he wanted to know about Club Liberation and who ran it and what sort of lewdness happened there.’ He laughed. ‘No much point asking me, I’ve never been there. Then he wanted to know about the porno studio … what’s its name?’
Will thought back. ‘Er … Falkefilm?
Gino sniggered. ‘The little creep seems to have wanked himself into a stupor over their back catalogue. He knew all their names. Who was the one he was fixated on? Oh yeah, Marc Bennett. He got so heated up when he talked about him, I went on line to find images. And my God, what a body and cock. Probably lost it by now. He’d be in his forties.’
Will’s memory rang a bell at that point. He’d talked about Falkefilm before with … who was it? Johan Toblescu, the day he’d met Afran for the first time. Marc Bennett, whom Johan had worked out was an earlier incarnation of Oskar von Tarlenheim, now Duke of Husbrau, the chief of staff of King Maxim. Jules Kral was digging for information about the duke’s earlier life. Will was pretty sure it could not be for any good purpose. He felt a chilly sense that something was wrong, and that he might have been partly responsible for it.
He came round as a grinning, short figure stopped by their table. ‘Will baby! What you doing in this old place? Can’t be the historical resonances. And who’s this?’
‘Hi, Herr At-vood! This is a surprise. Can I introduce my cousin, Evgeny Wyzhinski?’
‘I answer to Gino, sir,’ said Evgeny. ‘An honour to meet someone so famous in the Rothenian media. Just to let you know, I did vote for you in the last election.’
Henry laughed. ‘Getting the Wyzhinski vote is no small achievement. You guys and the Ignacij clan more or less run the Third District.’
Gino laughed. ‘Only the crappier bits, sir,’ he joked. ‘Would you join us? I ask as a constituent with some concerns.’
Henry grinned. ‘An evening out with two handsome young men? Could I say no? I’ll just get me a drink. I’m supposed to be meeting Felip Ignacij, but he’s never been one for punctuality.’
When he arrived Herr Ignacij was introduced as the partner of Baron Vincent, the owner of Strelsener Media and Eastnet. He favoured the two cousins with what appeared to Will to be a professional eye, not just the casual interest of a gay man. The evening went well. Felip had many outrageous stories of sneaking into the White Tree as a teenager and picking up men before, he said, working out the better commercial potential of the Wejg. He was capped by Henry Atwood’s hilarious tales of being a student barman in a gay pub in England.
Will was unable to drink his hrodvast shots, he was laughing so much. In a break, while Gino was getting in drinks, and Henry was in the loo, Felip grinned and looked in Will’s eyes. ‘I know you, son,’ he said.
‘Er … really sir? We’ve only just met.’
‘You auditioned for Falkefilm Model Agency last year. You took a good set.’
‘Thank you, sir. But you guys never got back to me. Why was that?’
‘Sorry if you were offended, Will. Point is I was brought up (badly) on the Wejg and I am cautious about tangling with the Wyzhinskis. Heredity, you understand. And your dad is Bolo, right?’
‘Yes, sir. He wouldn’t have minded any. He’s cool about anything that would wind up my mum.’
‘Er … won’t go there. Tell you what, Will. Knowing that, I’ll put you on our active list. Strictly legit of course, no porn.’ He grinned at Henry as he resumed his seat. ‘Just telling Will that legit modelling can make serious money.’
Henry convulsed. When he regained control he said. ‘It paid off my student fees for sure.’
‘What, sir?’ said Will, ‘You were a Falkefilm model?’
‘Not quite. But their principal cameraman, Bolslaw Meric, took a fancy to me the year the King came back. He shot a set with me and my boyfriend, and one of them became a poster sensation. The royalties made university less of a financial trial. Me and Ed still get payments even now.’
Felip nodded. ‘Achilles and Patroclus. We sell it still in our online shop. Henry is an honorary Falkefilm model as far as we’re concerned.’
‘I must look it up. Sounds like something Afran might approve of. We don’t have any posters in our flat at the moment, we’re failing as students.’
‘How’s Afran coping, Will?’
‘He’s a natural, sir. Meticulous in everything he does. He sits in the front row in lectures and prepares for seminars for hours.’
Henry laughed. ‘A man after my own heart. On a more serious note, how’s his security being handled?’
‘Well, the Rothenian Sichertsdeinst inspected the block in Tildemanplaz where we’re renting and said it’s secure enough. They installed new locks and CCTV and then washed their hands of us. When Rum sets up its embassy in Strelzen we expect a further visit from Rumish operatives. But we don’t know when that will happen.’
Henry sat quietly for a few moments before resuming, with a sharp look at Will. ‘I don’t want to worry you boys unnecessarily but the Imperium has uncovered some disturbing intelligence about the attempted assassination of Afran in the Rodolferplaz. It’s as well you should know about it, though I don’t think you two are under any direct threat because of it. It seems that the Turks who were behind it were helped by Russian operatives, who activated assets they had in the Balkans to provide potential assassins.’
‘Russians? What have they got to do with us?’
‘Quite a lot, I’m afraid. They do not like the Oecumene, which is proving to be the bulwark of the west and western values that they thought they had eliminated with their subversion of the United States. Now Canada has risen to restore sanity and democracy to North America, and Kurdistan and Armenia are contesting Russian ambitions in the Caucasus. But most disturbing for them is the new ascendancy of Rothenia in the Slavic world. It’s the new power in Europe to which the Balkan states are looking for leadership, rather than Moscow.’
‘Oh. That’s all very sinister.’
‘The present Russian government is dominated by a faction called the Imperial Movement, who want just that, the restoration of a Russian empire with all its old claims of controlling Eastern Europe and the Caucasus and its old ambition to absorb the former Ottoman lands, they’d even like a Czar, in theory. Its leader, who calls himself the Regent, was very much in favour of the Horde and supplied Malik-Rammu with a lot of his heavy armaments in return for loot and slaves. His theory was that with the collapse of the West, Russia would be at liberty to pick up the pieces it wanted since his assessment was that Malik-Rammu’s empire was so unstable it would implode soon after his victory.’
‘What can we do, sir? These seem to be horrible people.’
Henry nodded. ‘They are one emerging threat to the Oecumene. Its leaders are no more than thugs and gangsters, but Emperor Rudolf has their measure. The favoured strategy of the Russian state is hybrid warfare, disruption abroad through terrorist acts and through the sponsorship of violent dissident movements within their enemies’ borders. That was the way they brought down the United States, by fostering Christian Nationalism and White Supremacists. But the Russian state is corrupt and its government is riven with internal rivalries. It is itself unstable and would likely collapse under the strain of outright warfare with any serious adversary. Our Imperium is beginning to identify its bad actors in the Balkans and Eastern Europe, and prepare some counter-measures to its crude ambitions.’
‘I’ll discuss this with my Afran, sir. I know his mum keeps him briefed on Kurdish concerns.’
‘Good idea. She is Emperor Rudolf’s chief agent in pacifying the Black Sea, which is going to become an Oecumenical lake. The Imperial Navy is now patrolling the coasts and becoming active around Crimea, the base of the Russian-sponsored pirates. My husband is co-ordinating a strategy which will not shrink from direct military confrontation with Russia, in which Kurdish troops will play their part.’
‘Oh sir! But that raises the stakes. The Russian Regent is always saying that powers who threaten his realm are risking nuclear annihilation!’
Strangely to Will, that ominous observation called up no more than an impish grin on Henry’s face. Will could not let it go. ‘What do you know that nobody is being told, sir?’
An outright laugh was his answer. ‘Far more than you could possibly believe, baby. Just remember that the Oecumene has not appeared from nowhere, and very great powers of history and prophecy have awoken and stand behind the thrones of Rudolf Elphberg and his son, King Maxim II.’
***
Leopold Elphberg, duke of Radelngrad, was a bit unhappy that he was assigned to Lang House, not Temple, where his brother was. But apparently it was a new policy in Medwardine School, though it had pissed off his mom, the Queen Regent, who liked to get value out of things, like recycling Maxxie’s old ties and rugby kit for Leo, which were in house colours. Leo wasn’t reconciled to it either by the head’s comment that his great-great-grandfather, Lord Burlesdon, had been a Lang prefect in his day. Families could have too much history, he grumpily told Maxxie, who laughed and hugged him.
He was in a dormitory with other Year 7 boys, not all of whom were English. In fact he had made particular friends with a Russian boy called Nicky. Leo found himself in the unfamiliar role of instructor in what was one of Nicky’s great anxieties, the sport of cricket. Unlike other Russians in the school, Nicky had not come to Medwardine via several years in a select prep school, so cricket was an intimidating mystery to him. That Saturday, Leo took his new friend down to the nets behind the old pavilion.
It was Michaelmas Term so the seasonal sports were rugby and hockey, not cricket. The cricket oval was fenced off by solicitous groundsmen till Trinity Term. But with Maxxie’s help Leo liberated pads, helmets, bats and balls from the pavilion, and initiated Nicky into the mysteries.
‘And don’t forget the box,’ he said, holding up a whitish object with dangling straps.
‘What is this “box”?’ Nicky replied.
Leo giggled and dropped his trousers and pants, baring his groin. ‘That ball is hard and bowlers can send it at you like a missile. And some of them deliberately aim at your body, not the wicket. Imagine it bouncing up and hitting you here. You fit the box over your bits like this, and so preserve the family line for posterity.’
That observation set the two boys off in hysterical giggles for a good twenty minutes. Nicky eventually fitted a box over his genitals remarking that for boys like them it was particularly important. ‘Why like us?’ Leo asked.
‘Well Ginge, my friend, you are Elphberg, L. in our class register and I am Romanov, N. Those are names that must not disappear from history.’
Leo laughed. ‘But I have my big brother, Elphberg, M., on whom all the dynastic expectations lie. I’m just the spare.’
Nicky caught Leo’s green eyes with his blue. ‘Not true for me, for I am the last of my family since …’ The boy dried up and tears stood in his eyes.
Leo took him round the shoulder. ‘You okay, Nicky?’
Nicky sniffled and blew his nose into a handkerchief. ‘Sorry, Leo. But my father disappeared into a gulag when he was lured back to St Petersburg last year by that evil Regent, and no one knows what has become of him. So I may be the last of the Romanovs, and I am here because Medwardine’s security is supposed to be tighter than any other English public school, seeing how it houses your brother, the King of Rothenia.’
Leo hugged Nicky hard. ‘And you’ve got me and Maxxie looking out for you too.’
***
Afran and Will were nestling together in their bed and not in any hurry to get out of it. The open window framed a blue autumn sky and let in early morning birdsong. It was however autumn and it also let in a light but cold breeze, but it was cozy and warm under their duvet.
‘I could just stay here all day,’ sighed Will.
‘I won’t let you,’ said Afran. ‘But I will while we talk over what Henry Atwood had to say last night.’
‘Not all of it was a surprise to you I think, Franzi.’
His boyfriend squeezed Will round the ribcage. ‘It’s true. My mum gives me regular briefings. Your mum and her team have now recruited, equipped and are training four regiments of a Rumish army, including a royal guard regiment. So Rum is slowly becoming a regional power. Mum expects me to lend her one of them, because — and this is really super secret, Will — she and General Cornish have in mind the seizure of Sebastopol and other Crimean ports.’
‘Oh, won’t that antagonise the Russians?’
‘I should think so. But the Crimean peninsula has been left to become a pirate kingdom for years, so they cannot claim that it’s current Russian territory. There’s space there for the first strike of the Oecumene at the Russian empire.’
‘First strike?’ queried Will.
‘His Imperial Majesty, the Red Elphberg, is a remarkable man, Will. He sees problems and his mind solves them, and solves them with integrity. He needs to extend the Oecumene around the Mediterranean and down into Arabia, but he cannot do that until he first neuters the remorseless threat and enmity which is Russia. So he has a plan. I don’t know all of it, but I can see what his first steps will be since they involve my Kingdom of Rum, the creation of which was I believe a preliminary to where we are now.’
‘Wow. That’s deep, Franzi. If I was you I would be scared to have to deal with a man of such intellect.’
Afran kissed Will’s cheek. ‘If you think the Red Elphberg is scary, you have not yet got to grips with the idea of the Golden Elphberg.’
‘What? Maxxie’s just a kid, Franzi. I’ve met him, and he’s as funny and as clever as any adolescent boy I’ve met, but that’s it.’
‘Hmm. That’s not the point, Will. It’s not his intellect that makes Maxxie so intimidating, it’s the rest. He has uncanny gifts the nature of which I’m only just getting to understand. But you’re a Rothenian, you must understand that Maxxie is a creature of prophecy, a saint, a king and a healer with quite astounding powers. His gifts with language are supernatural. He talks to everyone in their own language, with complete fluency. But that’s just the surface.’
Will reared up in the bed, and looked down at Afran. ‘What are you saying, Franzi?’
‘It’s obvious to me and Queen Rhozin that the Creator has moved to take a hand in human affairs, and he has brought forward His instruments to bring the world into balance and to cast down those who would have things otherwise. Malik-Rammu was the first of his enemies to fall. We cannot really comprehend the majesty of what He is accomplishing before our eyes, it is too great. Yet we can observe the effects. Were I the Regent of Russia I would be in a state of terror, for the All Highest has girded on his mighty sword and it is raised above nations, and its name is Maxim Elphberg.’
Will stared. ‘Wow, Franzi. That was poetic. You sounded like a bishop. Are you becoming a Christian on me?’
Afran rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be a nitwit, lover. There is nothing I just said that is not to be found within the tents of the People of the House of Islam. Your God is my God, the God of Abraham and Isaac. The Oecumene is not hostile to the faith of my people, the revelation of our Prophet. Were you listening to the sermon of the Chelebi of Konya when I was inaugurated at Nikaea?’
‘It was in Turkish. Too fast for me.’
‘Then comfort yourself with this, my child. Great days have come, the like of which the world has never seen.’
Copyright © 2025 Michael Arram
Posted 24 September 2025