Of Pride and Power - 49. Chapter 43: “Disarm and infuriate with the mirror effect”

In my timeline, the threat of nuclear war loomed over the latter half of the 20th century. I knew that atomic weapon technology would eventually emerge earlier in our world, especially with the rapid progress fueled by future beings like me. Jack’s last incarnation, Merlin, had left instructions in Avalon for such an event, which only Robert and I could access. Many geologists in my era knew that Greenland, like the rugged lands of Russia’s Kazakh vassal state, was a rich source of uranium. This was another reason the Avalon facility was established there, and neutron bombs were built on-site. By this point, I possessed the most advanced weapons in the world, even though the Russian Empire had reinvented nuclear technology. No matter what my soulmate called himself—Jack, Merlin, or Robert—I can never offer enough thanks for his sacrifices to protect our future.

Still, we couldn’t leave things as they were. The Valois-Habsburg War in Western Europe restricted any aid to Eastern Europe, which was dominated by a Polish-Lithuanian state under King Henry III of France. The Habsburg invasion of Poland-Lithuania’s southern borders caused their troops stationed on the Russian border to be redirected. Given the Russian naval defeat and counteroffensives in the Balkans and the Sinai Peninsula the prior year, the Valois administrators in Poland assumed that the Russian Empire could not launch any large-scale offensives. They were right, but Russia’s primary battlefield advantage lay in their development of invisibility screens. Just as we had adapted their material technology for use on a diesel-powered truck, they created a vehicle with a similar screen. The distance from the fortified Russian border city of Brest to the Polish-Lithuanian capital of Krakow was 500 kilometers—within the range of a Russian armored car modeled after the BA-64, a design both English and Hohenzollern spies had acquired dossiers on.

Due to their limited population compared to their territory, the Russian Empire had to carefully manage resources and military objectives. They abandoned aviation technology in favor of invisibility screens and nuclear weapons. Their delivery vehicle for an atomic strike was an armored car. It was, of course, a suicide mission to drive a nuclear weapon into another nation’s capital, but if successful, the attack would be devastating. In a single strike, King Henry III lost the entire Polish-Lithuanian Sejm, equivalent to the English Parliament, along with various noble-led ministries and military commanders. Without these men, the Valois lost control of Eastern Europe within moments, while the Habsburg would be shocked into defensive positions at the first use of atomic weapons. Local nobles with garrisons lost access to advanced munitions, equipment, and materials as supply chains collapsed since many of the dead administrators were incarnations from my future timeline. Although the Russian Empire had not fully recovered from its losses from the previous year, it now faced a disorganized enemy. As a result, they dispatched only two armies of 50,000 men each.

The first Russian army invaded Lwow (modern-day Lviv), the heart of what would become Ukraine in my timeline. Still part of Poland before the Russian and German partitions of the 18th century, Lwow was a key city in the farming region. With Kyiv already captured in a previous offensive to secure Crimea, the Russians faced little resistance after disrupting their enemies' supply and communication channels.

What happened to the conquered territory was barbaric: the Russian forces enslaved all non-Slavic peoples as agricultural serfs based on a 50% purity test. Slavic males over 16 were sent to factories and mines in the Caucasus, while those younger were forcibly removed from their families and sent to orphanages to be indoctrinated. Females of all ages, including young girls as young as two or three years of age, were allocated as “war spoils” to the Russian troops. Rape and molestation were not foreign to victorious armies, but the sheer brutality—such as gang rapes up to 15 times a day—was unprecedented in this era. While many people in my time had forgotten the atrocities committed by Russian forces, millions of Poles, Germans, Czechs, Romanians, and Bulgarians would never forget the treatment from these so-called “noble liberators”. Unfortunately, the victims of the first Russian army were beyond the reach of my influence.

Meanwhile, the second Russian army advanced from Narva toward the free city of Riga, with the support of the Danish and Russian Baltic fleets. It took about a week for Riga to fall, after which they continued toward the Polish city of Klaipeda. Over several months, it became clear that the primary goal of this military force was to secure the Baltic coastline, as they systematically captured key cities, including Gdansk. Their objective was to establish a continuous land route from Narva to the border of their Danish allies, eliminating any rival power. Naturally, the Kingdom of Sweden and especially the Duchy of Brandenburg-Prussia could not remain neutral in the face of such conquest. While technological diffusion from Valois-controlled Poland-Lithuania and the Habsburg-dominated German Empire had brought revolvers, field guns, and simple steam engines to my allies, advanced weapons such as machine guns and internal combustion engines were still decades away. As a result, they were ill-equipped to face Russia’s phalanx with industrialized weaponry and mechanized forces.

We had planned to send industrial equipment and technicians to Brandenburg and Stockholm over the next three years, anticipating a renewed Russian offensive during that time. However, Hohenzollern spies underestimated Denmark’s involvement. Denmark had formally entered the war on Russia’s side, closing the Danish Straits. While we had submarines, our shipping capacity on such vessels was limited, and so was the technical and military aid we could provide. We could launch a full-scale invasion of Denmark and Norway to reopen the straits, which would likely force Russia to halt its offensive. However, if we committed the entire realm to a northern war before reaching adequate resource and population levels, which wouldn’t occur until 1577, we risked leaving ourselves vulnerable to Habsburg forces attacking our other allies in smaller conflicts throughout Europe.

In March 1574, we reached an impasse until the arrival of Prince Hans of Denmark. My prime minister, William Cecil, had requested Denmark send an envoy to explain their involvement in Thomas Radclyffe’s financial dealings. This was a diplomatic ruse to reopen the Baltic Sea for trade with Sweden, which had remained neutral in Russia’s invasion after surrendering Narva and offering monetary concessions. Brandenburg-Prussia was an active combatant against the Russians and Denish forces on both sides of their duchy, but despite their technical disadvantages, they managed a decent defense due to astonishingly superior tactics, which were centuries ahead of their time. We had gathered evidence linking Danish merchants, the Russian Empire, and the deceased rebel leader Thomas Radclyffe. Thomas Tallis, acting as deputy intelligence director while Francis was in the field, had even planted several incriminating documents linking the merchants to Denmark’s King Fredrick II. Although Denmark did have ties to these merchants, all documented proof had been destroyed, and the merchants themselves had been assassinated. Fortunately, Francis Walsingham’s ability to extract knowledge from the dead enabled our forgers to replicate the destroyed evidence before he left with Henry Bourbon for Navarre. Our goal was to use the threat of the Royal Navy—already victorious against Russia’s Baltic fleet—to pressure Denmark into reopening Swedish ports to English trade. In turn, Sweden could supply Brandenburg-Prussia with the necessary war material against our common foes. Thus, William Cecil independently created the world’s first example of gunboat diplomacy.

Prince Hans, the nephew of the newly crowned King Magnus II and son of the late King Frederick II, arrived as Denmark’s envoy. The Danish throne had not passed to the 14-year-old Prince Hans upon his father’s death. Instead, according to Frederick II’s last will, the throne went to his brother, and the majority of Danish electors chose Magnus over his nephew as well. This was not unusual, as Scandinavian countries like Denmark and Sweden had a tradition of elective monarchy dating back to the 9th century. King Johann III of Sweden speculated that many of the electors had been bribed, though he couldn’t understand where Magnus had obtained enough gold or how he had persuaded his brother to draft such a will on his deathbed. With Francis in Navarre, I couldn’t ask him to uncover the reasons for Frederick II’s odd choice or untimely death, which had occurred 15 years earlier than it should have in my timeline.

Prince Hans was escorted to the old audience chamber at Whitehall Palace in London, rather than to my current residence in Bristol. This was a symbolic gesture, presenting the evidence against Denmark at the site of the surprise attack, but it made both Robert and me deeply uncomfortable. It was also the last place we had been with our eldest son, Henry, who had died heroically during the attack. Henry would have been 14 years old, the same age as Prince Hans, which only added to our discomfort. Robert hadn’t slept well for the past week in our old bedroom, often waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the door our sons Will and Henry had once used to play an elaborate prank. We weren’t in the right mindset for an audience in this haunted palace, but Nicholas Bacon persuaded us to proceed for the sake of our country, as we needed to reopen the Danish Straits with minimal use of our limited forces.

That day, William Cecil and Nicholas Bacon flanked the throne as advisors, while Robert sat beside me. I was in no mood to greet the 14-year-old Prince Hans.

Prince Hans was tall, with dark hair, hollow cheeks, and sunken eyes that seemed incapable of weeping. He wore a fine dark blue overcoat and a grey cotton shirt with silver buttons, but there was a darkness about him beyond his attire. In stark contrast, the two older youths with golden blond hair flanking him were dressed in gaudy purple petticoats and adorned with gold jewelry.

Prince Hans knelt on one knee, and though he had appeared apathetic moments before, his face brightened with the dignity of his position. “Your Majesty, Aelfric Elias Tudor of England, I bring greetings and warm tidings from my royal uncle, King Magnus II of Denmark and Norway. He extends his hopes for continued peace and friendship between our realms and trusts that my presence here may further strengthen the bonds we share.” He paused and bowed for emphasis before continuing, “Permit me to introduce the esteemed noblemen who accompany me on this journey—Count Fredrick Rosencrantz and Earl Knud Guildenstern, both men of unwavering devotion to the Danish crown, whose counsel is highly valued in our court.”

Though the names of Prince Hans’s companions meant little to me, Robert instantly recognized the situation, having been a book lover in a past life. He squeezed my hand to discreetly communicate a message: “H-A-M-L-E-T play.”

One of the most famous plays created during this era in my timeline was Hamlet, a tragedy about a Danish prince who avenges his father, the former king, against his usurping uncle. Two of the play’s minor villains were named Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. I had told Robert about the curious coincidence of Shakespearean names among the fair folk, and he had entertained fanciful theories about manifest reality and simulation theory, based on a famous film of my time called The Matrix. However, the truth was simpler—many fair folks had passed down their names for generations after the fall of Camelot. I knew Robert would bring up these old ideas again, but the fact remained that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were prominent noble houses in 16th-century Denmark, so it was not surprising they would be escorting the Danish prince.

I wordlessly calmed my husband, just as he does when I go into “Otaku mode,” and shifted my focus back to the living theater of politics. I had planned to threaten young Prince Hans and his companions with reprisals until they agreed to open the Danish Straits for English transport ships.

“Welcome, Prince Hans. However, I’m afraid I cannot return your warmth. Tell me, what do you know of your late father, King Frederick II’s, legacy?”

Prince Hans appeared shocked by my question, which seemed unexpected. As an envoy sent to address allegations of supporting a rebellion in a foreign nation, he should have been prepared for such inquiries. Though he was young for an envoy, it wasn’t uncommon for royal family members to be given such responsibilities—provided they had proper advisors. I turned toward his companions, expecting an explanation.

Before I could speak, Count Fredrick Rosencrantz stepped forward, holding a sealed letter and several documents.

“Your Majesty, it is with great sorrow and solemn duty that I present evidence of a grave betrayal. These documents reveal the crimes committed by our former king—Prince Hans’s father—King Frederick II, in his dealings with England. They are signed by his hand. A letter from my king, the honorable Magnus II, will explain all these actions.”

William Cecil took the letter and began reading it aloud: “To His Majesty, Aelfric Elias Tudor of England. Enclosed are letters and evidence of the treachery of the late King Frederick II of Denmark, whose dealings with enemies of England sought to destabilize your realm. His son, Prince Hans, has inherited this grievous legacy, and it is our wish that justice be swiftly delivered to preserve the sanctity of your throne and ours. The bearers of this missive, the honorable Lord Rosencrantz and Lord Guildenstern, are loyal to the Danish crown and bring with them the proof you require to prosecute Prince Hans for the sins of his father. Your faithful friend, King Magnus II of Denmark and Norway.”

As Cecil finished, Earl Knud Guildenstern added, “By the wishes of King Magnus II, the rightful penance must be paid. Prince Hans, heir to his father’s misdeeds, is hereby delivered to the mercy of the English crown for justice.”

I was stunned by these sudden developments, but Robert’s laughter broke the solemn atmosphere in the chamber.

“I knew it! It’s just like the play,” he said, unable to contain himself.

No one in the chamber understood his outburst, as it came out of nowhere, much like one of my own Otaku moments. William Cecil and Nicholas Bacon, familiar with our trans-temporal nature, sighed in exasperation. They had seen me behave similarly over the past two decades, but it was rare for my usually stoic partner to exhibit such behavior. To the Danish delegation, however, Robert’s laughter seemed like madness triggered by memories of our son Henry’s death. Their assumption wasn’t entirely wrong—Robert carried many unresolved emotions about our old home after the rebellion, and his lack of decorum was likely a manifestation of the psychological trauma he’d suffered. Ironically, in later retellings of this encounter, Robert would be cast as a “crazy bereaved spouse” though Will had more sympathy for Robert’s character than Ophelia when his popular fictionalized story was written.

Despite the current circumstances, I wasn’t a fool—I knew what a scapegoat looked like. The idea of punishing a child for their parent’s sins was absurd. Even though I was furious at the murderers of my son, I refused to take my anger out on their children. As the old saying goes, “An eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind.” Beyond that idea, I was being asked to kill a child by these bastards. When one of my son’s killers tried to use me to harm another child, I was ready to unleash the full might of England against Copenhagen. King Magnus II had struck a raw nerve.

Before I could act on my anger, Prince Hans delivered an impressive speech:

“Justice... What a hollow word it is. We speak of justice as if it were a blade—sharp, true, and capable of cutting through falsehood and treachery. Yet here I stand, condemned not for my deeds, but for the sins of another—long buried beneath the earth. And for what? Not for justice, no. But for false vengeance, disguised as justice, cloaked in fine words and royal decrees. Justice has no place here, not in this chamber, not in this world. What is justice to those who wield power, when power itself is the only law? You, my uncle, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern—all of you who sit high upon your titles and thrones, claim to act in the name of justice, but your only truth is power. Your facts, your evidence, your laws—they bend, twist, and serve your desires, not any greater good. Goodness, and virtue—what are they, compared to the strength of evil? A man may walk in the light his whole life, but a single whisper, a single lie, can cast him into darkness. What strength does goodness hold when evil rewrites history, erases truth, and twists justice into a weapon of its own making? My father—whatever his sins—cannot speak for himself. His memory, his legacy, now rests in your hands to destroy. And I, his son, stand here not as a man, but as a symbol of your hatred, your thirst for retribution. I came in peace, but peace was never sought. My uncle seeks to crush me under the weight of his power, to see me fall as my father did, and call it righteous. So be it. Let this farce play out. Let your so-called justice be done. But know this: though you may destroy me, though you may bury me beneath the lies you call facts, you cannot change the truth. The truth of my innocence. And in the end, that truth will haunt you, long after I am gone.”

I’ve made a few powerful speeches over the years, but Prince Hans’s defense against false accusations has stayed with me for a long time. Power should never be used to distort the truth. I know our legal system is far from perfect, and I’ve used my authority to secure my reign. But I had to wonder after his impassioned words—was I any better than my enemies?

While I was grappling with these moral concerns, Robert, ever the bibliophile, smirked and said, “That was a great speech. I mean, I prefer ‘To be or not to be’ or ‘What a piece of work is man?’ but that monologue was really good.”

Knowing I could be just as obnoxious, I sighed and said softly, “Babe, can we not break the fourth wall? Whatever all of this is, we need to deal with the reality in front of us.”

Robert, realizing the awkward atmosphere he’d created, calmed down. “Sorry, Eli. Your enthusiasm must’ve rubbed off on me.”

Shaking my head, I turned back to the real drama unfolding before us. “Prince Hans, I do not doubt your innocence, nor do I believe in these documents,” I said, gesturing to his two companions. “However, your comrades have slandered you and your father. Tell us everything you know.”

By now, some of my feats were known, though most assumed they were exaggerated accounts from shocked soldiers rather than reports of actual supernatural occurrences. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were visibly stunned when their hair began falling from their heads without anyone touching them. Gold buttons and jewels clattered to the ground from their gaudy petticoats, and they began pleading and screaming in terror.

By the time both men were nearly bald and down to their undergarments, they admitted that King Magnus had ordered them to provide false evidence of King Frederick II’s complicity and ensure Prince Hans’s execution. They also revealed much more, including details of Denmark’s secret dealings with the Russian Empire and the hidden deaths of countless Danish sailors and soldiers who had supported Russia’s military invasion of Polish-Lithuanian coastal territories. We didn’t know the exact toll on the Danes, but we knew they were bolstering the Russian Second Army of 50,000. Prince Hans teared up as they recounted how, in the Battle of Gdansk alone, 30,000 Danish soldiers had given their lives for the Russian Empire.

After everything had been revealed, I ordered the two men imprisoned. It was more useful to keep them alive than to kill them—I had an interesting idea for their confession. I was inspired by Hamlet from my original timeline. While it was uncertain whether Frederick II had been murdered by his brother, I was intrigued by the scandalous notion. Francis would later confirm that Frederick died of tuberculosis and thought his son was too weak to rule Denmark, but the truth wasn’t necessary as Prince Hans eloquently expressed. Just as Robert was haunted by our son’s death, I would never forgive Czar Ivan or the Russian Empire. If that means I must be a villain, then so be it.

With Rosencrantz and Guildenstern removed, I turned back to Prince Hans. “The treachery of your uncle, King Magnus, is well known to you. What you may not fully understand, though, is its depths.”

Prince Hans’s eyes flickered with confusion and anticipation. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

I leaned forward, pointing east toward Denmark. “Your uncle, Magnus... Did you truly think the betrayal ended with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? Or that it was simply an attempt to remove you from the line of succession?” I paused for emphasis. "No, Hans, the truth runs deeper. King Magnus seeks not only to destroy your future but to erase your past as well—by discrediting your father. Have you not wondered what such a man is capable of, a man willing to spill the blood of his nephew?"

Hans’s breath caught, and he clenched his fists. "My father?"

Seeing I had his attention, I pressed on. “Do you truly believe your father, King Frederick II, died naturally? Of illness? Or perhaps the strain of the crown? I tell you now, Magnus most likely killed him—poisoned him slowly, over months, until the great King Frederick could no longer fight back, and Magnus took the throne that rightfully belongs to you. Your uncle is a viper, Hans—a snake at the heart of Denmark.”

Outside my realm, forensic science in Europe was still rudimentary, with simple autopsies and basic inquiries being the norm. Ming China, with its advanced scientific practices dating back to the Song Dynasty and the work of Sung Ci, the father of forensic science, was far ahead. His groundbreaking book Cases of Injustices Rectified introduced forensic entomology, and in my timeline, it began transmitting to Europe around the 17th century. But the West, focused more on military technologies than scientific investigation, had overlooked such a critical field. In this context, merely implying assassination and using innuendo were strong enough accusations.

The young prince stepped back, reeling from the revelation. "I... I can’t believe it. My…My father was murdered by my uncle. Oh God, how deep is man’s cruelty!"

I rose from my throne and approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It is time, Hans. Time for you to claim what is rightfully yours. Denmark is on its knees under Magnus—a puppet of the Russian Empire, no longer the proud nation it once was. The people suffer. This is not what your father fought for, not what he envisioned for his realm. You cannot ignore your uncle’s treachery, his cruelty toward his kin, or the fact that his rise to power began with your father’s death.”

Hans lowered his head, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders. "What would you have me do?"

I tightened my grip on his shoulder. "Magnus has sold Denmark to the Russian Empire, attempted to kill you, and murdered your father. He is not a king—he’s a usurper! Denmark deserves better. Your people deserve better. You are of royal blood, Hans—the son of a true king. Magnus’s betrayal must be answered, not just for your sake, but for Denmark’s future. I’m asking you to rise and claim what is rightfully yours.”

“But rebellion...” Hans muttered, still uncertain. "I can’t become like him. I don’t have the heart of a king to send my people into battle, even for a just cause."

I smiled, trying to offer some comfort. “This isn’t about rebellion, Hans. It’s about justice. Your father’s spirit cries out for it, and so does your homeland. Denmark deserves to be free from Russia’s chains. Under Magnus, it is becoming weaker, and if he stays in power, it will crumble further. You can restore Denmark’s honor.”

Hans stared at the ceiling, murmuring, “My beloved Holberg, what should I do?”

Robert glanced at me. “You’re going through with this?”

We didn’t need words to communicate. Robert knew me well enough to understand what I was doing. He knew that we had no concrete proof that King Magnus had usurped the throne, nor did we fully understand what Denmark might gain from its alliance with the Russian Empire. Magnus might very well be securing territorial concessions in warmer German farmlands, military support, and industrial equipment that could advance Denmark centuries ahead of its neighbors. Yes, Magnus was paying for it with Danish blood, but we weren’t naïve enough to believe in bloodless progress. In our original timeline, powerful nations had fought bloody conflicts to secure their borders and resources. I was manipulating a troubled young man, exploiting his insecurities and idealism for my own goals. Robert understood I was doing something deeply wrong.

Though a pang of guilt ran through me at Robert’s awareness, the memory of Henry gave me resolve.

As I made up my mind, Hans turned to me, his voice filled with doubt. “But how?” he asked quietly, his voice strained. “If Magnus has already made Denmark a vassal of Russia, how can I, with so few allies, ever hope to challenge him? Your Majesty, I do not have a great and mighty host at my command as you do. And I do not wish for Denmark to trade one master for another.”

Prince Hans may have been weak in some ways, but he wasn’t foolish about the prospect of accepting English aid. I had expected this hesitation.

I smirked. “You won’t be alone, Hans. You have more support than you realize. Denmark itself hungers for change. And more importantly, England will stand with you in this fight. We are not like the Russian Empire—we do not seek land. We will back you with our superior fleets to blockade Copenhagen from Magnus’s forces. In return, all we ask for is the freedom to trade and navigate the Baltic Sea.”

Hans’s eyes widened at my offer. “All you desire is trade? Not land, not arms, not blood?” he gasped, as new possibilities dawned on him. “Will Denmark accept me as king? If I expose my uncle’s crimes, can Denmark truly be free?”

I gently tilted his chin so that his eyes met mine. “Rise, Hans. For Denmark. For your people. For your father. Stand tall and lead your country into the future it deserves. Dethrone Magnus. Take your rightful place as king.”

Hans lifted his head, the doubt gradually fading from his expression. "For Denmark," he whispered, his resolve hardening. "For my father."

At this moment, a new chapter in the Livonian War was set in motion—one not recorded in my original timeline. It began in Copenhagen, the Danish capital, and would end in Moscow, the heart of Russia. With the Habsburgs stretched thin across countless wars in the Far East, France, Navarre, the Low Countries, Poland, and the recently captured city of Porto under Duke Alfonso de Aviz, we had a window of opportunity to make a major move on the European continent. Though we were three years away from an open conflict, I wanted to deal with one major foe immediately. The unthinkable destruction of a major faction, with thousands of territories and millions of subjects, armed with advanced technology, would shake this world to its core.