Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 100. Confrontation

This is when I'm anxious.  I post and hope it's well received.  These are my offspring.  I want them out there when I'm gone.  I know everyone has an opinion and they won't agree.  Now, I'm Papa Bear.  Be good to my kid.  I worry if I get no replies.  Last chapter had a lot.
Oh!  I've rekindled my love of The Tick!  Discovered in the nineties by me.  The writers and creator are twisted.  Like me!!!  You go Arthur!!    Love you, Daniel!

Confrontation

I turned to see Peter looking at me strangely. I don't know how long he had been looking, but now I was aware of his stare. “What?” I asked.

Peter nodded, “You just seemed to be…” he thought carefully and said, “somewhere else. How do I say this? You were physically here, but your eyes said no one home.”

I grinned, “Did they?” I shrugged a single nod, “That’s right, but...it was more than just a where, but a where and when.”

Peter’s face scrunched a little, “Okay. Are you telling or am I going to have to ask?”

I walked us back to the couch and pulled him down with me. “I’ll tell you. Don’t worry about that.” I said maneuvering us so I was looking down at him. “But, before you do,” I grinned. “I’ll tell you again.” I leaned in kissing him tenderly, “But first.” I looked into the light gray-green eyes. “I thought I did love others before,” I chuckled. “What did I know?” I grinned brighter. “I know what I didn’t know then…” I kissed him again, “was you. I didn’t know love this intense even existed. I love you, Peter.”

His usual smile was there, but with something else. “I know.”

“Do you?” I sincerely asked.

“It’s written,” Peter nodded, “right here, plain as day.” He said in English and I swear I even heard a slight Alabama accent.

“Plain as day,” I repeated, smirking a grin. “I reckon you’ve been hanging out with the correct sort of people.” Sighing with contentment. “I was back almost ten years ago,” I explained and chuckled at some memories. “One important person was taken from me before we could really put a label on us.” I nodded. “Daniel.” I said feeling the weight of the memory, but not with as much pain. “At that time, I loved him more than any other. And Chuck,” I saw Peter’s eyes narrow. “Wait, let me finish.” I went on. “The problem was, he was only a little gay.” I said. “He had a choice between worlds and made a choice. Did he love me?” I shrugged. “I’m sure he did, but not enough. Would it have worked out between us?” I asked. “If he really wanted it, sure.” I shrugged again, “I am so in love with you and speculation is pointless. I’m never giving you up, Peter.”

Peter needlessly pulled me tighter, “Good, I don’t want you to.”

After a good evening, a meal consumed in our rooms. I had to chuckle when I noticed a familiar icon on the computer monitor. Just like Boris had put on the computer in Boston. Peter and I could stay in our rooms and get our coffees, a snack, or even a meal.

Yes, I will admit it. These are just a couple of little things, but those little things can lead a person in the direction of false entitlement causing people to think it was because of who they were. Those two concepts were not because of the other. I wondered how Olek and Peter were taught this concept. How would my niece or nephew learn this? By the time (I’ll say Sigi. Why? Because it’s short in German for Sieglinde for a girl and Siegfried for a boy. The child will be Makarovian, but the mother is German. Mostly, because I said so. Okay?) By the time of the future birth Makarovia will be a prosperous, well-known country. The Ivanov family will be better known. Famous!

The world knew and loved Prince William when he was born and a little boy. And don’t forget Harry! From cute little boys, to teenagers, and young adults; people followed their every move! William became a heart-throb. So did Harry! If their mother hadn’t stepped in demanded her sons to be left alone, God only knew what would happen. She was another Mama Bear. We saw the boys on television and they were well behaved and, though not shy, not the “come at you” with the media. The cameras had always been there and always would be.

The truth came out about them. They were “handfuls” when they were little. That sounds harmless and cute, but I understood the need for nannies and a fresh one of two every eight hours. Fresh, well rested blood was needed. I keep going back to them because they are from the largest empire the West. The royal family had jobs. The difference was Peter, myself, Sigi would have jobs...with Makarovia’s government. All Makarovian citizens worked for Makarovia at one time in their life.

Helga could be just a queen. But she was an Engineer. Could she do both? We’d see.

Peter and I came to get Breakfast...and coffees. Peter and I sat at the table as Helga, Mom, and Grandma weren’t exactly conversing quietly, but rapidly going from Makarovian to English, to German, to Russian...how did anyone keep track? Sigi will be speaking all of them and more. There was no other choice. It was amusing that children taught several languages often confuse which one to speak when without them even knowing. Like I had done on the Duchess switching from English to Makarovian! I also told Peter what Grandma and Carla (Ms. No-noise Landlord) had used an almost secret language together after a decade apart and went right back into it. They had moved their chairs close together for a purpose, which I think we’re seeing now.

“Good morning!” Peter said to Olek and jutted his head slightly in the ladies’ direction, “Can we know what that’s about?”

Olek had smiled and nodded when we came in. He was busy with his Makarovian Hash! Sausages, the cutup links, ground pork patties, and meat throughout it. Based loosely on Ukrainian Breakfast Hash which was really sort of potluck, but had some Romainian and Hungarian spices to give it a unique taste. Grandma, who was raised in Kiev loved it more than Ukranian Hash. It was Boris’ Creation. Those three hadn’t even looked up yet. Delicious.

Olek sighed and finished chewing...whatever. We had good manners attached to us surgically. He nodded and swallowed, waving at them with the fork still in his hand. “The Proposal.” He answered simply.

I was puzzled, “Okay. You told everyone you were doing it, so…?”

Olek nodded, “Right.” He put another bite in and began chewing again, but slower as he thought. “Helga and I are married now.”

“So, you aren’t proposing?” Peter asked carefully. If only to be sure he got it right, “because it’s already happened.”

“Between Helga and me? Yes.” Olek nodded instantly, “With Helga and Makarovia? No.” He shrugged. “I suggested I Propose her to become Queen.” He waved again at them with his empty fork. “Then this began.”

“How long ago?” Peter chuckled.

Olek glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes?”

Helga wasn’t hiding what the other ladies were saying and turned directly to us. “History tells of one couple that were married on the Makarovian Throne, but not accepted as Queen. I am not going to be the second one not Queen while married to the King!” The others nodded at what she said.

“How do they do that!?” Olek asked no one and anyone with a possible answer, “They were engrossed in a conversation, yet heard us clearly.”

I chuckled. “Evolution,” I answered simply taking Peter’s and my plate to the silver-covered serving containers. I wasn’t serving Peter. I was going for food and knew what he liked. He went for the coffees and wasn’t serving me. We were both going somewhere the other would want some of, so why not bring whatever back?

Peter turned as he fixed his own coffee as he spoke to one of the serving staff. That staff remembered assuring Peter they all knew what I would like. A cold vanilla latte would never just happen to be around. He finished his own coffee and took the one for me, thanking the server. “Of course, you have an explanation for that and will no doubt share.”

I put a steaming plate down for him. “I don’t have to and you can live on in ignorance…”

Peter lowered his head, but kept his eyes on me. “Eric.”

I shrugged, “It’s a theory mostly, but makes sense. Evidence gathered from what’s around…”

“Eric.” Peter said harder, but still patient. “Less science and just tell us.”

“They can segment their minds,” I sat thanking Peter for my latte. “Back with the Hunter/gatherer thing for Humans and even before that. The male hunted, the female gathered…” I waved my hand, “whatever. The male can see more detail and track prey. The female had to learn to segment their minds. While she gathered needed items to consume like plants of whatever, she would secure her child or take the child with her. Plants to eat, for medicinal purposes or anything needed gathering. Now, women do it while doing laundry, cooking dinner, watching what child and what they are watching on television, and talking on the phone.” I held my hands up. “That’s a stay-at-home parent.” I chuckled again. “We had a lot of family back then, but no one knows. It’s just a theory.” I looked at Grandma, “Women make better pilots because of it.”

Grandma turned, “If you’re going to say what I said.” She insisted, “We make better passenger plane pilots, men are better at combat flying. Women see the dangers more quickly, it’s in our natures. Men find targets.”

I waved my hand at her, “See?” I sat back in the chair. “It’s just a theory.”

Mom smiled, “You said you plan to honor the traditions.”

Olek’s smile was a little chagrin, “Yes.”

“And you are!” Mom said and physically waved what she said next away. “Every couple is different…” she smiled at Helga patting her hand, “Not you, Dear, but you’re not a young man, Olek.”

Olek’s left eyebrow rose at that, but he was amused.

Helga’s head went as she laughed sardonically, “I’m not young.” She looked at Olek. “I even mentioned before it happened,” she touched her abdomen, “I’d rather have a child while still young enough to keep up.” It wasn’t even something as she was aware of perhaps. She knew her child was there. “My mother had to have a hysterectomy at fifty-three, but had her menses until that time. Her mother went through menopause at fifty-two.” She shrugged, “It will be easier to have a baby sooner.”

I was nodding as she spoke.

“You know that, too.” Peter confirmed what he knew.

I looked back at him, “Yes. Why does this always surprise you?” I shook my head, “I have book knowledge, Peter. Knowledge from experience is practically nonexistent.” I waved at Helga. “She’s healthy and, unless she says otherwise, in good shape.” I shook my head. “Modern science has made it possible for women to have children the first time safely in their fifties.”

Helga chuckled with a nod, “I’d rather that not be me.”

Mom chuckled with her, “It helps to have energy to keep up with some.” She said smiling but looked at Peter.

Of course, Peter’s face was totally innocent as he mouthed, “Vooz? Ya?” In Makarovian, that meant, Who? Me? Pressing his hand to his own chest. I would have to guess, but Makarovia might have had a handful of their own. Just as Wills and Harry had been in England. In fact, I’ll wager that coronet I was to wear that Peter did cause trouble. He was a boy who dropped mice down blouses of potential girlfriends for Olek. He was an angel! (Okay, just a minute. I could barely keep a straight face with that.)

“We’re going to broadcast this Proposal on the Makarovian News Network,” Helga said, “We’ve had the first Proposal to a Commoner on file, who is also the first same gender Proposal. All of the other countries will be told, but this will be the first Makarovian broadcast spoken in Makarovian by Makarovians!”

I smiled hearing that. “The other countries?”

“They are free to come or go,” Mom stated simply. “They can cover it, but it will be in Makarovian.”

“Not everyone can translate Makarovian yet,” Peter pointed out. “Even if they can speak and translate Ukrianian it would be difficult.”

“I would think so,” I nodded. “Live broadcasts of events like games are simply closed captioned for the deaf,” I shrugged slightly, “It takes a few seconds to type the message spoken even by computer.” I agreed. “Even if what’s spoken and read is the same language!”

Peter agreed, “Translating what you hear in language and written in another, keeping with rules of the other language’s noun, verb, adjectives, or adverb agreement for the sentence to make sense…” He shrugged, “That would be a challenge!”

I was nodding harder, “For Human Being!” I looked at Olek. “Isn’t there a non-Human translator the United Nations uses?”

Olek nodded and said, “eLUNa.” He chuckled at our faces and spelled it, in English. “Little E, capital L, U, and N, and the small A.” He shook his head and looked at Peter, “And no, I don’t know what they stand for. It’s part of an interface program anyone can get and use. It’s a Computer-Assisted Translation.”

I nodded, “And that works better with use.”

Olek nodded, “Right.”

I shrugged, “Then we’d better get busy.”

Olek chuckled, “Yuri’s already working on it.”

“Right,” I said the same way Olek had.

“I left President Turcan a message to contact me Monday morning,” Olek explained. “I also sent word for Ludovic Ionhannis to be on that call and that it was more of an internal matter.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It might just be Lou.”

“You only hope,” I chuckled.

Grandmother got a look of confusion and said, “I missed something here.” She pointed at us.

Olek said, no. Peter, Helga and I said, yes.

Mario came in a little swifter than he usually does. It was amusing as the many voices here greeted him and the many ways he greeted back. I wasn’t totally devoid of Italian growing up as you know. Daniel and his family taught me some, so I was familiar with it. Buongiono was good morning. How many people say exactly that to friends or family in English? He knew us! “Giorno!” He greeted using just the word morning, or “Ciao.” “Mornin’” or “Hi!” were the direct translations.

Mario greeted Mom kissing her quickly and sat at a place he left earlier.

“Mario.” Peter growled out in English. “I love you. You know that, right?” He kept his dark look fixed on Mario.

“Yes.” Mario answered cautiously knowing there was more. He looked at Peter uncertainly.

“Right now,” Peter continued, “I hate you.”

Two gasps were heard by me and a surprised look on Mom. Peter was getting good at playing innocent, but not that good.

“Peter?” Helga began trying to understand.

Peter held his hand out in Mario’s direction. “Well, look at him!” He looked at his watch, “it’s still morning! Clearly he’s been down before Eric and I were and yet...” He used the word “yet” with emphasis, “looks like a million Euros!? How?”

Mario’s face brightened as he chuckled as he nodded for the compliment. “Thank you.” He did look like millions of whatever currency used. Neat, well-groomed, and even in his casual clothes were pressed and neat. I couldn’t see him in jeans or t-shirt. He wore nice dark colored slacks and polo-type shirt of a color I wouldn’t have chosen. It wasn’t orange or pink, but both? How? What do you call it? It did bother me enough to look it up later, but got no name. I’m not that gay! Maybe Jori knew. Mom said something which had Mario nodding who smiled at us. “My sister Maria and Alexi are coming at the end of the week.”

I knew my head shot up and I couldn’t help it, “Really!?” I blurted. “We can meet Aunt Maria and Uncle Alexi!?”

Mario nodded, “And hopefully my two children and their spouses.”

“Cousins!” Peter grinned. “I can hardly wait!”

Olek nodded, “We have the room.”

Mom and Mario were getting married. We all knew that. However, Mom and Mario weren’t doing a formal Proposal. Mario would still be welcome to come and go from Makarovia at any time. If he wanted to be Makarovian, we certainly would let him. Mom would remain what she was, a Queen. If any country were to question her about what country she was from, Makarovia would be the loudest stating she belonged here. As obscure as most saw Makarovia in the past, Peter, myself, Olek, Helga...all of us were known today by sight! Mom was stepping down, gently away from royal life in Makarovia. You saw this written before. She wasn’t abandoning the people. She was just stepping back. She had been a Queen in one form or another for about thirty plus years! She deserved the time off. Mom and Mario were marrying when they told us when and where. A destination wedding. For us, Mario was family now.

Things were hardly anywhere near finished. Yet, I was sensing a conclusion approaching this year. Adding Mario’s family sounded good, but we didn’t know them. Did they want to be included? I felt Maria would fit well. Her husband? I don’t know. Mario had a son and daughter by his wife. How were they raised? Mario was raised hidden from the real world, or rather, the real world was hidden from Mario. For safety. Maria was about to become a nun! She was sheltered her whole life! That was certainly hiding something. Again, safety was most important. I felt the Ivanovs and the Bassos were rare.

I wouldn’t run from seeing my old high school friends again. Hearing what they thought then and now would be eye opening. I wasn’t afraid of them. Not one of them could hurt me. One person said I was gay. Me. I said it. Telling the world would be pointless because they knew! I couldn’t be embarrassed. I didn’t know about Ashton and Chuck. Were they still together? I hoped so. If Chuck was running for office somewhere and if Jackie wanted to hurt him, the news could be harmful. The one statement Ashton made to Jackie was “I know all of it.” I didn’t believe Ashton or Chuck would let themselves be bullied. Chuck could look extremely menacing on the field. Ashton had proved she could be equally, if not more menacing one on one.

Am I done? You must be joking. We wanted to see if that Jon Flemming guy who worked for the Military Intelligence General Hammond said wasn’t MI6 could get more from the prisoners. Yuri was flying to Athens to get Cosmo and Mikell to bring home. Olek needed to talk to his friend Ludovic Ionhannis who was Prime Minister of Romania and confront Klaus Ordan. It was going to be a busy week! This was Saturday and there were many things to do. Everyone pretty much agreed to do our own thing. Yuri and Boris were going to be going back to Boston in a week, which Boris was excited and worrying about. Olek and Helga were doing the Proposal the next Saturday so Yuri and Boris agreed to stay until after that.

Later that evening, Peter and I were planning to go to The Grotto. We had Mercea, Alec, Stepan and Vesil going with us. Rolph was coming Monday to greet Cosmo and Mikell when they arrived. I’m not new to the palace, but I have never heard this before. They were not wearing the dark suits, but were armed. Just in case.

“Olek!!” A male voice cried as the sound of feet thundered in the hall. “Olek!” Our door slammed shut on it’s own and a loud “clunk” was heard.

I looked at Peter, “What just happened?”

All four of our security agents touched an ear on their heads to hear whatever was being said. Whatever it was had all the signs of an alert. Just, no flashing red lights or klaxons going off.

Alec nodded at what he heard, “There’s been a security breach.” He pulled his gun from it’s holster as he reported going to our door and just stood there. “The two of you are safe and will remain that way. Remain put.”

“A breach? Up here!?” Peter balked questioning. “That was right out there!” Peter waved at the corridor, which we couldn’t get to now.

“Who?” I asked equally as loud. “We’ve got so many after us now.”

Peter nodded, “Again, up here!? How!?”

Stepan had gotten closer to me, Vesil had gotten closer to Peter. Mercea was ready to backup Alec. All their guns out and ready.

Someone had turned “secure” on somewhere. The palace was now in “Safe Mode.” Like the house in Boston, every room was a safe room. The walls were stone and hard to breech. The wooden doors were thick. This was the palace! This was also the residence floor. Getting up here I would have said was impossible, but someone or something had done it. Even the best guarded residences got breached. I’m doing it again, I know, but who else do I compare this to? A man broke into Buckingham Palace woke the Queen at 2am and had a chat with her about the problems he was having. Honestly! Look it up!

The person here was looking for Olek.

“How will we know?” I asked, waving at the door. “There was a large clunking noise, was that…” I did my hands to show something sliding into place.

“That’s right,” Alec nodded. “Some heavy metal braces slid to add security.”

I thought that was a bit much, but they wanted to be sure.

“Are they telling you anything?” Peter asked my hand. For his own sense of security.

Alec nodded as he listened, “Yes, they got him. Now they’re doing a more thorough search of the palace to be sure.”

“Him,” I said to confirm. “Everyone else is safe?”

Alec grinned, “They’re fine. He was here yesterday and saw His Majesty.”

“Yester…” Peter started. “Klaus Ordan?”

Alec nodded, “I think so. He got as far as he did because of yesterday. He just ran up here.”

That made more sense. “Fine,” I said, “Can we get out? I may have caused him to do this.”

“There is a way out if needed,” Peter stated with no question asked. There had to be.

I noticed on our dark computer monitor screen that a red light blinked and I never noticed it before. The monitor was at rest, nothing should have been on it. But, in the lower right corner a red light blinked.

I walked over and hit the spacebar making the screen return to full brightness. Across the screen was written: Зловмисник. Залиштеся спокійним. Intruder. Remain calm. I gathered that on my own. The message was in Makarovian. Yuri knew Peter and me, knew what we would do. I clicked on the bottom where I saw Yuri’s eye. Nothing else, just his one very small eye. How to override the secured lockouts came up. I did it and read the “clunk” again.

I turned to Peter, “Okay,” I growled slightly, “New rule.” I saw Peter’s eyebrow rise slightly amused. “No one adds anything to our system without telling us what it’s for.”

Peter nodded a shrug, “That seems reasonable to me.”

Alec, Mercea, Stepan and Vesil assumed positions around us. Two before us and two behind us as we went through the deserted corridor. The look wasn’t real? You know the look as many law enforcement officers approached stealthily on television and guns raised by the head and held. Cool and all that. No holding one hand with the other, but their guns were out and ready to use. Guns. I like guns. The way I feel when I hold one. That’s why I refused to do it. It was too tempting.

I saw Mercea hold his ear again and nod, “They’ve taken him down to the holding cell.” He reported, “That’s downstairs…”

“We’ve been there once,” Peter said. “Unless they’ve moved it, we know.”

We walked down and heard a different sort of man now. The soft spoken man was replaced by someone clearly very upset and spoke in near panic. “...my home. I tried to ignore the phone, but they’ve sent rocks through the windows while chanting this...whole get out garbage at me, my wife, kids...why did he do it?” He asked the people holding him in the cell now. “He put our conversation on that website! Why?”

“Why not?” Peter asked, coming behind the men who were both guards and security agents. “Was anything added or taken out of the conversation?” He maneuvered his hand in the air, “or altered in any way? That was the conversation with Olek.”

“And for the record,” I added looking at the guard in the uniform that said he was guard with this holding area. “This is being recorded, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the man said with a bow. “It’s standard procedure.” He pointed at cameras at two places in this cell. “Any time someone’s brought in here, they record it.”

I nodded smiling, “Standard procedure.”

“Impartial witnessing,” the man explained further. “If a prisoner says we did something, we had it on record to confirm or deny it.”

“Nice planning!” I said. “You keep this how long on file?”

He shrugged, “Six months if nothing happened, a year until it’s seen by the courts and forever if something did happen.”

I looked back at Klaus, “And yours was the only recording?”

“No,” Klaus replied. “Three others were there, I was told.”

“No,” I smiled. “There were five others. King Olek knew about the recordings, but posting it on the Website was my idea.” I got a little closer to the bars. “I also know only King Olek’s name was written, not yours. Just the date and time of the meeting.”

“Everyone knew I came here yesterday to see Olek,” Klaus argued. “I even told people what time it would be!”

“I see,” I nodded again, “but that’s still not anyone’s fault but your own.”

“What were you planning to do?” Peter asked and thumbed in the upstairs direction. “You were caught in the corridor.”

“Get him to take it down!” Klaus was near panic again.

“Why?” I asked. “It happened. Ignoring the truth it is no longer an option.”

“What happened to cause you to come again?” Peter asked.

“It started with a neighbor,” Klaus said. “He has one of those new computers, heard the recording and came over and hit me!” However we were to react, we didn’t, so he added, “Several times!”

Peter shrugged, “And?”

“My ex wife hated me anyway, but now is refusing to let my children talk to me!” Klaus said. “Rocks thrown through the window! Lining the sidewalk as I go down the street telling me to move…”

“And it doesn’t make sense to you they might feel this way?” I asked. “Don’t you understand they don’t agree with you?” I said plainly. “You insulted a king! Their king.” I waved behind us. “I hoped something like this would happen, I just didn’t expect it so quickly.”

“For the assault on you personally,” Peter said. “I am willing to apologize. On behalf of those in Makarovia who did this, I’m sorry. If you can prove who, when and how: prosecute them!”

“I might lose more than a house, but my job and family!” Klaus wailed.

“Well,” I said. “Olek’s speaking with the Romanian Prime Minister Ludovic Ionhannis on Monday morning.” I smiled. “We can’t just leave you with no country; we’re asking PM Ionhannis to take you as a citizen.” I chuckled with a bounce. “You won’t be Makarovian anymore. You’ll be Romanian.”

Klaus’ eyes widened, “You’re kicking me out!?”

Peter shook his head, “Not at all! We’re setting you free. You and your family have lived in Tysa for generations! We can’t take that away from you.”

I nodded, “The house tax will not have to be paid this year.” I chuckled, “Not to us, at least. We’ll have the numbers for Romania coming this week.”

“The house is yours,” Peter nodded. “You will now be a remote property for Romania.”

I saw Klaus’ wide eyes widen even more.

“Services provided by Tysa or Makarovia will stop, though.” I added. “You will no longer be allowed to vote on any Makarovian matter.” I shrugged. “You will no longer be Makarovian and no longer is King Olek Ivanov available for you.” Seeing his mouth drop open and remain open was what I hoped for. This was the Confrontation.