Alexander & Isabelle Till Death Do Us Part

It is the year 3369, thirteen centuries after the great dike breach. The old Hanseatic city of Groningen is the capital of the empire of Loveringen. The city is now much larger than in the twenty-first century and has half a million inhabitants. Emperor Gregorius II rules the realm. On the great market stands the Mirror Palace, the seat of his power. At the main station south of the great market all trains arrive from every region of the country. They are magical trains. It is a peculiar blending of technology and magic. You see it everywhere. You see it in the magical clippers that dock in the seaport to the north of the city and you see it in all sorts of technical products such as smartphones and smartwatches and similar devices. The hallmark of all those products is their great durability. A smartphone a century old is not exceptional but rather the rule. Usually you inherit such a phone from a deceased relative and thereby share in all his or her experiences and memories. The city is open and has much greenery. In its many large parks Mother Nature pays a visit but there are always also expressions of sculpture that make a park worth visiting. Along the many canals with their crystal-clear water stand the generation-houses where ordinary people live together: young families with children, older couples whose children have just flown the nest, and the elderly who live on the ground floor. They live together in the large house and support one another. All constructions in the city are built for eternity but also for beauty.

In the student quarter of the city stand the academies and universities. There you have the Academy for Applied Magic with its three faculties: Medicine, Engineering, and War. You have the technical university that cooperates with the magical counterpart. You have Academy Minerva for the fine arts in all their expressions. In Groningen of 3369 not everything needs to be useful and functional. In the empire of Loveringen money has been abolished and people attach little importance to riches or their display. People value beautiful durable things much more. Even when they apparently have no function or purpose.

Peter van Harkelen is court jester at the court of Emperor Gregorius II. Besides being a joker he is also a spy. He is a magician and studied at the Academy for Applied Magic — the subfaculty of espionage of the faculty of war.

Emperor Gregorius has summoned him.

“En Greg, how may I be of service to you?”

“Ah, Peter, welcome. It concerns my son Alexander. I want to know what he is up to. I want you to watch him unobtrusively. In three months he will turn eighteen and thus become a man. I do not want anything to happen that would be harmful to the empire.

“Okay, and how often shall I report?”

“Every week, Peter. Just come into my rooms whenever; you have unlimited access to my apartments.”

“At your orders, Majesty. Anything else?”

“No, that is all. You may go.”

Alexander is a serious young man. You will not find him in the imperial brothel enjoying the pleasures the prostitutes can give you. Nor do you see him in the taverns of the cozy inner city of the imperial capital, getting drunk on too much beer and liquor. More likely you will find him in a literary café where he holds long philosophical conversations with the other guests. Or you see him in one of the large parks of the imperial city, sitting on a bench reading a book.

Here he meets Isabelle, the daughter of Lodewijk van Herwegen, Professor at the Academy for Applied Magic. A first-class magician with by far the greatest magical powers.

Isabelle studies at the Academy for Applied Magic in the faculty of medicine. She wants to become a first-class physician.

She sits down beside Alexander and they begin to talk.

“What book are you reading?” she asks.

Alexander looks up and sees her. He sees a young woman, clear, bright blue eyes, restrained but unmistakably not shy. A narrow face that radiates intelligence. Beautiful long blonde hair.

“On the Beauty of Things by Francesco Filippo,” he says.

She looks him straight in the eyes.

He feels himself go weak inside.

Their conversation ranges over painting, sculpture, literature, music and architecture and about all that makes life worth living. What is life worth if it is only about efficiency and profit. If everything turns grey and drab from functional concrete. If all beauty disappears from life and only the numbers count.

A month later they meet almost daily. And their love blossoms.

One day Alexander gives her a red rose. It is a red Ingrid Bergman — a rose she knows grows only in the rosarium. A red rose for his great love. A red rose that stands for love, fidelity, respect and friendship. But picking a rose in the rosarium is not permitted. There is, however, an exception. You may pick a red rose for your great love but there is a ceremony. You may only pluck such a rose if you prick yourself on one of its thorns and give the plant a drop of your blood.

Isabelle is clearly moved and gives him a stolen kiss on his cheek. This really cannot be, an ordinary woman like her does not kiss a prince of the empire. Alexander’s cheeks flush red and he stammers, “Isabelle, I…”

And so their love grows.

Peter van Harkelingen sees all this but also hears everything they say. Those are the skills of a magical spy. He can see from afar and hear from afar.

One day Alexander comes to his Isabelle and gives her a ring. It is a gold ring with an inscription. When she reads what it says she must cry bitterly.

“Oh Isabelle my girl, why are you crying then?”

“Oh Alexander, in two weeks you will be eighteen, then you will become a man.”

Love makes one blind.

When he realizes it he turns white.

“Alexander…”

She lays her hand on his knee.

“Farewell.”

Peter van Harkelingen watches everything and is shocked. This must not and cannot be.

It is the twenty-third of August, Alexander is eighteen years old. Today he becomes a man. In the morning to the smithy for his sword, in the afternoon to the imperial stables for his horse, and in the evening to the ball where he chooses his wife.

Three times, a bond for life.

Early on the morning of the twenty-third of August Isabelle is summoned to the emperor.

She finds Gregorius and his wife Roxanne together.

"Hello Isabelle, I'll be brief, we know that you love my son and we also know that he loves you. We know that you are meant for each other. It is of great importance that a future emperor has the right woman at his side. Therefore I give you an invitation to tonight's ball."

"But Sire…"

"Oh Isabelle, I know, you think, I don't have the right clothes, what should I wear. But that's just it—you do have them. Just come as yourself."

"Thank you, Sire."

"Isabelle."

"Yes, Sire?"

"Until tonight, Isabelle."

That morning Alexander is fetched by the weaponsmith, together with two first-degree mages.

"Are you coming, Alexander? Today we make your sword."

The smith stokes the fire and the metal of the hilt begins to glow red.

"Put on that glove," asks the smith.

"Why?" asks Alexander.

"It ensures you won't get burns as soon as you grab the hilt and squeeze the metal together to form the grip. I'll do the crossguard."

"But doesn't that hurt?"

"You're becoming a man today, aren't you?" The smith avoids the question.

Alexander puts on the glove and grasps the red-hot steel and squeezes the metal together, forming the sword's grip.

Meanwhile the two first-degree mages murmur their spells, producing a powerful magical sword.

It hurts like hell but he doesn't flinch.

"Well then, a real fellow," says the smith.

"You're done, we'll manage now. The sword will be ready next week and you can come pick it up."

That afternoon in the imperial stables he chooses an Andalusian. It is a friendly horse, fast, agile and clever.

But that evening he goes to the ball with lead in his shoes.

After all, Alexander has already chosen, only she will not be there.

Nothing, however, is greater than his astonishment when he sees her standing there.

There she stands in her simple egg-yellow long, form-fitting dress. No makeup, no jewelry, only her long blond hair and on her left ring finger the ring, the direct path to her partner's heart.

Alexander is as happy as a child to see her. He runs up to her, takes her in his arms and kisses her passionately. Their bond is sealed. Forever hers and forever his.