Bregovic & Mihailovic Dating Service-Part I

Bregovic & Mihailovic Dating Service

November 5^th, 2012

Zurich

The early winter had forced Milan and Ratko to spend more time trapped inside the bank when they would have preferred to be outside. The fact that Goran's candidacy as new Hochmeister was gaining more and more support from the remaining associates after the schism provoked by the uprising against Georg von Lintorff, forced the Serbs to increasingly spend more time in Zurich.

The Order's steady world had turned upside down in just a few months. First, the indictment of Gertrud von Lintorff for embezzlement and tax fraud committed through the Lintorff Foundation had been a shock for most people, especially after her cousin Konrad had refused to intervene on her behalf and even sponsored the actions of the new law firm that had taken into their hands the task of writing the new legal framework for the institution. Second, against all expectations, Konrad von Lintorff had refused to return to his old position and had forced Goran Pavicevic's nomination as Hochmeister while he reserved for himself the seat of a mere councillor.

The Duke had burned down all his ships (and hopes for his return) after he had decided to publicly marry his long time lover in Sweden, turning his back to the Church he had served for years.

The Komturen were shocked to say the least, but heartedly applauded the Summus Marescalus' nomination as the next Hochmeister as long as Konrad von Lintorff was accepting to return to the Council and provide them with his financial expertise. The remaining associates had had no other option than to hope for the best and accept the new order of things.

“I think Goran is too lonely,” Ratko pondered quietly that grey afternoon, slowly rowing with a spoon inside his cup of coffee. “If he finally becomes Hochmeister, we should marry him.”

The other three men sitting at the table of the small café gaped at him until Fedérico Martiarena began to laugh full-heartedly. “That's a good one for April Fools’!” Milan and Mirko also chuckled, utterly relieved that it was nothing more than a stupid joke.

“I'm not joking,” Ratko said dead serious. “He needs a wife who can provide him with heirs.”

“Ratko, you shouldn't drink black coffee. You know it's bad for you, right?” Fedérico smirked. “That's the most stupid idea I've heard in years.”

“Why?” he asked sounding mildly offended.

“Because Goran has clearly told us on several occasions to mind our own business?” Milan reminded him. “I can imagine it. We go and tell him, ‘Brother, you need a wife and we have the perfect candidate for you.’”

“No, no. Mine is better,” chuckled Fedérico, unable to suffocate his laughter under Mirko's serious stare. “‘Goran, I've noticed you’ve been a bit stressed these past months. Getting laid regularly is good for the nerves. Why don't you get a wife?’”

“Cousin, this idea is simply rubbish,” Mirko added shaking his head.

“No, it is not!” Ratko answered almost shouting. “He's going to be our next leader, and without children or natural heirs, he is as good as dead. Look at all the troubles the Duke had because he had no heirs!”

“And then he had other kind of troubles,” Fedérico sneered. “Should I remind you of all what we went through because of Repin? Troubles are inherent to our line of work, gentlemen.”

“What is Goran going to do in, let's say, ten years, when he's in his fifties? Or in twenty?” Ratko pressed. “He needs children to secure his ruling. It would be in our best interest, too. We are on the top now, but those ninny associates are already planning how to return us ‘back to the jungle’. They will vote whatever the Duke tells them to vote on Christmas, but they're not happy with us. Some jerks even say that all this is Guntram's fault.”

“As long as the Komturen don't believe it, I couldn't care less what they think,” Milan said firmly. “Accidents do happen, and their resources are nothing compared to the ones the Komturen control.”

“Yes, that’s true, but we can't ruin all European insurance companies,” Ratko snorted. “It would be a very long list.”

“A fresh new start for the world,” Fedérico said dreamingly, “but I guess there are not enough bridges in Europe to hang all the people we would have to. All right, let's hear your wonderful idea, Ratko. I assume you already have a candidate. …Wait! Are we sure Goran likes girls? He's all the time with Guntram.”

“He likes girls,” Milan asserted tiredly. “Before the war he had a girlfriend and was going to marry her but, you know, war happened and… He broke off the engagement.”

“Are you planning to get that woman back in his life?” Fedérico asked, and Milan looked at him gloomily.

“She died during a NATO blitz. A real pity because she was exactly what he needed. Like my Mirjana,” Ratko explained Fedérico.

“He prefers women, but he refuses to have a committed relationship with any of them,” Milan added. “I've seen some of the secretaries at the bank eye him with interest, but he just ignores them. We don't even know which escort he favours.”

“Unlike you, Romeo,” Ratko snorted. “You sniff them like a battered dog and they run away. Women have taste.”

“Now you see why Mirjana never bothers to check what you have been doing. She knows no woman in her right mind would pay attention to you, Ratko,” Milan answered back. “What we are saying here is that Goran likes girls.”

“And Goran is Goran,” Mirko said. “Leave him alone and you will all come back home in one piece.”

“No, Ratko has a point. Come to think of it, he has no heirs,” Milan contemplated the idea.

“He will choose one of the Duke's children and be done with it,” Fedérico said.

“The Duke and, especially, Guntram don't want their children to be involved. If it were for Goran, the next Hochmeister would be Konrad de Lisle. He practically thinks the baby belongs to him.”

“So we need an heir of his blood. Goran is forty-five years old now. Assuming a life expectancy of seventy-five years, the child should be about thirty when he retires.”

“You all are crazy,” Mirko mumbled upset, but his comrades were not hearing him any longer, engaged in one of their crazy plans.

“We need a woman under thirty years old. Their breeding capabilities reduce with the years,” Ratko said getting his iPhone out of his pocket.

“Are you going to make a list?” Mirko asked astonished.

“Call it ‘market research’,” Ratko huffed. “What else? She must be intelligent, cultivated, a classical music dilettante, willing to have children, Catholic or Orthodox and from a good family.”

“Unfortunately, both princesses of Spain are already married,” Mirko mumbled. “There's one still free in Sweden, but she's protestant.”

“Ah, yes, she has fantastic blue eyes,” Fedérico commented absentmindedly, and Mirko’s dark chocolate eyes fulminated his lover, who went to further elaborate on how good she looked at her sister's royal wedding.

“I had no idea you liked blue eyes,” Mirko said in a dangerous tone, and Fedérico looked at him shocked for a second.

“I only said she looks great, and that's true. Look at her pictures!”

“It seems you have been doing enough looking for the both of us,” the young Serb said punctuating every word. “Your recent interest in the country makes perfect sense now.”

“What? I only wanted to spend my holidays there! Guntram told me it was very nice!”

“Sure, full of blondes. I seem to recall you were very interested in blondes in the past. Or are you still?”

“Mirko!” protested Fedérico. “That is unfair! I just made a stupid remark. Forget that I said blue eyes.”

“As you like,” Mirko answered curtly and stood up. “I'm going back to work.” He picked up his coat and walked away with long strides.

“I hate it when he gets jealous,” Fedérico mumbled as he also gathered his things. “Now, I'll have to be nice for the rest of the week to get him to calm down. Are you always like that, Serbs?”

“We have the hottest blood in all Europe, Argentinean,” Milan chortled very amused. “Be a good boy and perhaps he lets you sleep in his bed tonight.”

“The kennel at home is always free,” Ratko smirked.

The Serbs watched very amused how the Argentinean drowned the contents of his glass before hurrying away to chase his aggrieved lover.

“Well, the pups are away. What do we do now?” Milan asked in general.

“Easy, we get Guntram to convince Goran to go along with our idea,” Ratko said matter-of-factly.

* * *

The ringing sound of the bell was very importunate. Sighing in utter frustration, Guntram cleaned his hands with a rag and went to answer the door of his flat, thinking that Goran must have forgotten something.

“Hi, Goran is not here,” he said to the two Serbs standing at his door.

“We know,” Milan said with a nervous smile. “We saw him leaving.”

“With Kurt,” added Ratko.

“Are you spying on your boss?” Guntram asked as he moved aside to let his friends inside the flat.

“No, not really. We wanted to ask you something,” Milan started. “Are you busy?”

“More or less. I was working on the children's portrait. I want to have it ready before the Duke's birthday, but I'm afraid Christmas is a more feasible date.”

“Good. We wanted to speak about that and Goran.”

Guntram smiled mischievously and said, “Sorry, I can't help you with that. He gave me no clues in that sense. I was thinking to give him a recording, but I'm not sure of which one.”

“What?” blurted Ratko.

“Goran's birthday present. Is that not what you wanted to know?” Guntram asked as he sat on one of the couches in his living room and indicated the Serbs they could do the same, but they remained standing, surrounding Guntram and looming over him. 'Old habits die hard,' the young man thought, slightly amused at their ever present “Executioner Techniques”.

“You know when Goran's birthday is?” Milan asked in shock.

“It's in two weeks. Three days before the Duke's.”

“He never told us,” Ratko mumbled. “But that is not why we are here.”

“No, not really,” Milan echoed, and Guntram looked at them.

“Well, I'm listening.”

“Goran has to marry,” Ratko simply announced, and Guntram laughed good-heartedly. “I'm not joking! It's most important that he marries.”

“Does he know that?” Guntram said, doing his best to contain his chuckles.

“Not yet. That's your job, brother,” Milan answered, and Guntram felt as if he had just been transported into another dimension.

“Excuse me?”

“We have noticed that Goran likes your son very much, and maybe it's time he gets one of his own,” Milan explained him as he unbuttoned his jacket to sit in one of the opposite armchairs.

“He's forty-five years old and our future Hochmeister. He needs an heir,” Ratko said in a determined voice, taking the other seat. “Not to mention that he's turning into a spinster.”

“Now, that's unfair. A spinster is someone who refuses to marry, like our Duke before he met Guntram. No, Goran... has not found the right person yet,” Milan clarified, slightly upset at the idea that, in his friends' eyes, he might be also falling in that category.

“He's not looking for her either,” Ratko rebuked.

“Would you two stop?” Guntram raised his voice over the casual conversation the two friends were having. “Are you planning to marry Goran?” he asked very slowly to make sure that he had really understood the words he had just heard.

“In a nutshell, yes. We are looking for suitable candidates for him. He's too lonely, and a family is what he needs to have more balance in his life. Being a Hochmeister is strenuous work.”

“You have no idea how hard the Duke's life was before you showed up,” Milan said. “I was almost about to fall dead on my feet running after him all the time.”

“One slut after the other. The midlife crisis was not kind to him.”

“No, not at all. When you came, we all thought, “This is it; the man just hit rock bottom. He's robbing the cradle now. From here on it’s down to the abyss.”

Guntram looked at them and frowned. “It wasn't that bad,” he mumbled.

“You were not there,” both men answered in unison.

“We want to save Goran from that,” Milan said in a false sad voice.

“Goran is nothing like Konrad. He's not going to start having love affairs just for fun!”

“Guntram, you are just thirty years old, so you can't understand how hard it is for a man to reach the equinox of his life and find himself alone: nothing built, no children, no home, no dog,” Milan said as Ratko nodded.

“Without children, life is very hard.”

“Yes, but…”

“Goran should secure his position.”

“By getting a wife and children? What did you have for lunch today?” Guntram blurted out.

“Brother, you have to convince him. We are willing to help him in his quest.”

“Excuse me?” Guntram blurted out, and he needed to recline his back against his seat.

“Do you want a sterile life for him? Living alone and depressed all the time?”

“No! Of course not! I want the best for him, but I'm not sure if he wants to marry at all, and I don't think he even has a person in mind.”

“We only need for you to make him more receptive to the idea.”

“You two are totally nuts. Do you really think that he's going to pay attention to me on this?”

“You convinced him to accept to be the next Hochmeister,” Ratko pointed out. “Speak to him about how nice it is to be married and all that.”

“Why don't you do it?” Guntram retorted hotly.

“Because we will help with the choosing of the bride,” Milan explained to him as if he were a clueless little boy. “You have just married. Speak well about it, and maybe he opens to the idea.”

“What is exactly your plan for ‘choosing a bride’? Sign him up to ‘Bestbrides.com’?”

“No, nothing like that. My grandaunt Dragana knows several women who would be perfect for him. She introduced me and Mirjana,” Ratko replied in a casual voice.

“A matchmaker? Is that your great idea?” Guntram asked in shock, and for a second he was glad to have a defibrillator. “Does she send you a photo and I put her to sleep here so he sees her everyday?”

“Now you are thinking, Guntram,” Ratko said earnestly. “But he might get suspicious. He's very clever for such things.”

“Why don't you name her Kurt's babysitter? Perfect excuse. If he wants to take the child out, he has to take the girl out too,” Milan suggested, feeling very proud of his solution.

Guntram rose from the couch and decided to let the absurd idea go before he would have a confrontation with both Serbs. “All right, get the perfect candidate, and we will see,” he said with a smirk.

“Will you speak with him?” Milan asked anxiously, and Guntram gaped at him, not believing that his irony went unheard.

“No! Of course not! This is the most idiotic idea I've heard from you! Goran has his own reasons to want to be alone. The moment he wants to have a wife, he will look for one!”

“You're a very bad kind of friend if you don't do what's best for him,” Ratko growled very seriously. “When he's old and lonesome, I hope you remember those words.”

“I was expecting much better from you, Guntram,” Milan joined the laments and recriminations.

“Goran has you in his highest regard, and you refuse to do such a simple thing for him.”

“It's not like we are asking you to marry him.”

“Fine! I'll talk to him, but if he sends your remains back to Serbia in several boxes, don't come back whining to me!” Guntram shouted in defeat, and both men smiled sweetly.

* * *

Guntram's headache officially increased one notch the moment he heard again the bell. With very slow moves, he rose from the stool he had been sitting on in his kitchen to open the door for Goran and Kurt.

“Hello, baby,” he said taking his son in his arms to kiss him. “Was he nice to you?” he asked Goran.

“Like always. We were at the park and had something later.”

“Thank you; dinner is still four hours away. I'm driving back to the castle with the twins. They should be here any minute now.”

* * *

November 7^th, 2012

The toddler watched the object of his desire with a mix of greed and bedazzlement. Unfortunately, his father had left the watch at the top shelf of the nursery, abandoned the previous night when he had helped his nanny to bathe him.

Carefully checking that he was alone, Kurt made a small pile to use as stairs with the toys left in his playpen, and using all his strength, he was able to swing his body over the wooden rail.

With unsteady steps, he approached the tall shelf and calculated that he could reach it if only he could climb on top of the table. The rest should be easy.

Unfortunately, the table was too high for him and the chairs were too heavy for him to move. Sitting in the middle of the nursery, feeling very frustrated, he noticed the large wooden cubes with printed letters. Those were easy to carry, and if one could make a pile of blocks, one could build something better with the larger ones. With great care, he piled five of them in a single column, but they fell the minute he touched them.

“Bébé pum,” Kurt said, and once more sat to meditate on the problem ahead of him. He looked at the chairs and realised that they had a broader base than the wooden cubes. He formed a platform with four cubes and hesitantly climbed on top of them, checking they were stable enough.

But the table was still high, and there was no way his legs could reach it.

He needed more cubes.

Jumping back, he gathered another couple of cubes and carefully put them on top of the previous four, again making sure that they could hold his weight. He climbed the next tier of cubes, and, once his left leg reached the table top, he used his hands to lift the rest of his body.

A sudden noise on the corridor outside froze him in his moves, and he quickly descended from the table to sit in the middle of his fallen construction, grabbing a teddy bear to look like the perfect image of innocence.

“Don't sweat it, Kurt,” Klaus Maria smirked when he saw his little brother sitting on the middle of the carpet, vigorously shaking a plush animal like any other baby in the world would do. “It's just us.”

“What are you doing out of your playpen?” Karl asked his brother as he left his rolling backpack next to their desks. “Did you escape again?”

“Da!” Kurt shouted and pointed at the tall shelf, showing them the shiny watch in hopes that they would get it down for him.

“Don't you know it already? If it's high, it's not for you,” Klaus explained him. “Besides, that's Guntram's new watch. Papa gave it to him at their wedding. You could break it.”

“Here, take this one,” Karl said nonchalantly, handing him a toy wooden clock painted in bright colours and with two cows drawn on it.

“He looks quite furious,” commented Klaus at the incensed look the toddler gave his older brother before smashing the wooden clock against the carpet.

“He's a baby, so he should behave like one,” Karl said and began to get his books out of his backpack to start his homework before their nanny arrived.

“Come Kurt, come with me,” Klaus said clapping his hands to get his little brother's attention. “We're gonna play with the cars.”

The door opened and Birgitte entered the room. She frowned at the older brothers. “How many times do I have to tell you not to take the baby out of the playpen by yourselves? He's heavy for you and you might fall.”

“Yes, Birgitte,” both boys answered looking contrite as Kurt quickly escaped her, running towards the box containing his toys and away from the debris of wooden cubes.

“He wants Papa's watch,” Karl said, slightly upset they had once more been told off because of Kurt. 'Who is going to believe me he got out all by himself?'

“Yes, I found it this morning. I will give it back to Mr. de Lisle when he returns. Klaus, you can't play now. You have to finish your homework first, and then you can play with your brother,” the woman said as she gently coaxed the boy away from the toys while his twin smirked. “I'll get your tea ready in a few minutes,” she said and left the room.

“Were you trying to use the cubes as stairs?” Karl asked once he figured out why there were so many of them scattered around the shelf. “You could fall and be in a lot of pain.”

“He can't do that! He's too small,” Klaus defended his brother.

“Sure, he also can't draw, and yet you made him colour those pictures for school.”

“Hey! He was bored and they were fine.”

“Whatever. Nobody is going to believe me, but I tell you this: Kurt is naughtier than you and I together.”

“He's not!” Klaus defended his little brother, who ran to him with a car in his hand. “Hey, do you want to help me?” he told him. “You have to glue the stars all over this line,” he told the younger boy, marking the lines Kurt should follow on the photocopy. “I'll finish sooner, and we'll play more.”

“Great, the baby does your homework! Don't complain if you get bad grades,” mumbled Karl as he focused on his own work, while Kurt concentrated on doing what he had been asked to.

The peace was interrupted when Birgitte served the tea and wondered why the baby had his hands stained with glue and red colour—as Klaus had quickly hidden what Kurt had been doing. In the end, she just washed him and fed him his fruits purée and milk before taking him for a bath and to change him into his nightclothes.

“Where is your brother?” Konrad asked his sons. Both boys had jumped on top of him the minute he entered the room.

“Bathing. Birgitte said he was very dirty.”

“Guntram is not here now. He went to paint to his studio and left Kurt here the whole afternoon.”

“He will be back for dinner,” Konrad said, a bit puzzled that Guntram had not taken the small one with him as it was his tradition. 'Maybe he needs a bit of peace too.'

“Klaus is using Kurt to do his homework,” Karl denounced his brother, who kicked him on the shin before his father could interfere and stop his eldest.

“Please, Karl Maria!” Konrad huffed, frowning at both boys. “You should not tell such things! He's two years old!”

“It's true!” Karl shouted. “Kurt does Klaus' work. It's not fair!”

“Does he also write his spelling tests?” Konrad sneered.

“No! He colours the illustrations or solves the vowels' labyrinths! He can find the exit faster than us!”

“Well, in that case he can also manage my bank,” Konrad said very ironically, and his second son looked very hurt. “It is nonsense what you're telling, Karl. I don't want to hear anything like this ever again. Is that understood?”

“But...”

“Ever again,” Konrad growled. 'I was expecting a fit of jealousy from them, but not of this sort.'

“Yes, Papa,” Karl said contrite.

“Now, finish your homework, and you can later play till dinner time,” Konrad finished the argument and turned around to go check if the baby was ready and he could take him with him for a while.

“You're a dirty snitch,” Klaus told his brother.

“It's true! You're using him!”

“Who's gonna believe you?”

* * *

With the toddler secured in his arms, Konrad went to his studio to work until dinner, knowing that wherever he would place Kurt, he would stay quiet, playing or looking at a magazine's pages. 'You're nothing like your brothers. Figures, he can solve a labyrinth at two years! The things I have to hear.'

Once in his room, he left the grinning baby on the carpet and removed his jacket. “I have nothing for you here,” he realised as he opened the briefcase left there. “Fortune magazine is fine for you?” he chuckled and showed the copy to the baby, who extended his hands, his face glowing with a beatific expression. “No, this is too boring. I'll check if there's something else on my desk.”

The indignant howl when Kurt saw that the magazine was taken away from him seared Konrad's ears. “Fine! Keep it if you want it so much,” Konrad conceded in less than thirty seconds. “Just don't eat it.”

He sat in front of his desk and watched how the child placed the magazine in front of him and slowly passed the pages, looking at them with great interest. 'We all started like this. In two minutes more he'll be bored and I'll get it back.' His mobile beeped then, and Konrad lost track of time engulfed in his conversation. When he hung up, he looked in his child's direction and found him still how he had left him, now looking enraptured at the “Stock Markets” section while with one of his fingers he followed the lines of a chart.

“No, that's not a good one to buy,” Konrad told him and switched on his computer to read his e-mails. As he was typing his password, the memory of Karl's words assaulted him once more, and he checked his watch. The child had been busy with the magazine for more than forty-five minutes, and now he was looking at the charts with great interest.

Konrad opened the second drawer of his desk and took out his rarely used iPad. He switched it on, downloaded a children's application labelled “Age 3+” and selected the “Help the Mouse to Find the Cheese” game.

“Kurt, come over here,” he called his son softly, and the boy stood up and walked to him with a smile. “Look what I have here. It's a game,” he said showing the iPad to him, and the toddler's eyes widened in delight. “It's a very easy thing to do. You have to show the mouse how to get his food.” With his finger, Konrad traced a red line over the simple maze, and Kurt clapped his hands when the mouse followed it and reached the cheese.

“Do you think you can do the same?” Konrad asked, and before he knew it, Kurt had grabbed the tablet and was repeating his actions. The child laughed in utter delight when the animal on the screen danced in circles, happy to get his next piece of cheese.

Konrad bent his body to help the toddler pass to the next level, but Kurt's finger pressed the “Next” arrow without hesitations and continued playing, forgetting all about his father who was gaping at him.

'Either technology is designed for a two-year-old mentality, or he is very intelligent for his age,' Konrad thought bewildered as he watched his youngest go through the different mazes with astonishing ease. 'I have to offer my excuses to Karl tomorrow morning.

'And forbid Klaus to use Kurt to make his homework.'

* * *

“You are here,” Guntram said as he entered the studio and left a folder full of papers over Konrad's desk. “It's nine already, and this little gentleman should be in bed.”

“Do you know he can solve labyrinths?” Konrad asked very slowly.

“Again with that story? I'm speaking with Karl tomorrow.”

“No, he's right. I just saw it.”

“Konrad, he's two years old. If you try many times, you'll finally get it right,” Guntram shrugged.

“Just don't let Klaus use Kurt to make his homework,” said Konrad unsure.

“He just painted a little in his folder. Nothing else. Karl can be so exaggerated sometimes. What is he going to do next? Klaus’ maths homework?”

“Yes, you're right,” mumbled Konrad. “Are you taking him to bed now?”

“Sure, his brothers are already having dinner,” Guntram answered and picked the child up in his arms.

Still very disturbed by his smallest child's actions, Konrad distractedly picked up the folder at the right of his desk to read it.

His heart almost stopped when he saw that the thick folder contained photos of young, attractive women in their twenties. Blondes, brunettes and red haired girls, all with their data included: studies, hobbies, phones, e-mails addresses… and a brief introduction letter explaining why they wanted to start a “serious and committed relationship with a man who…”

“What is this?” Konrad roared when Guntram returned. “We have not yet been married for a year and you already have second thoughts?”

“What?” Guntram answered and saw the open folder. He felt the blood boil in his veins. “You were spying on my things again?” he yelled.

“You left it on my desk! Answer me!”

“It's not for me!”

“Oh, you're making a casting in search of art models and I didn't realise it. How dumb of me!” Konrad mocked him.

“Yes, I'm making a casting… Sort of. Well, I'm not doing it alone. Ferdinand is helping too,” he confessed, feeling very embarrassed.

“Explain yourself because you're not making any sense at all.”

“The whole idea makes no sense at all,” Guntram mumbled miserably as he sat on the opposite chair. “I'm supposed to choose five ‘babysitters’ or au pair girls from the twenty there. Milan, Ratko—with Mirjana's help, of course—, Ferdinand and Michael will choose another fifteen from another list of a hundred women. They believe that, if we split the files between us, we will have a fairer evaluation system.”

“What are you planning to paint?” Konrad asked in shock.

“It's not for me. It's for... Goran.”

“Goran is planning to paint all these women?”

“No, he knows nothing about it, and I would appreciate it if you say nothing to him. The boys had the crazy idea that he should marry and have children now that he’ll become Hochmeister. I'm supposed to host the chosen bride at my apartment and introduce them, as well as to speak wonders of the ‘married with children’ life to him.”

“Of course you should speak well about it, especially since we married. You have an ample number of good examples at home,” Konrad said with his typical sufficiency, and Guntram raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“Did you hear me? They want to get Goran married. He's going to kill all of them when he finds out what they're up to.”

“He should suffer all what I had to put up with before you came to my life,” Konrad said with a wicked, satisfied expression written on his face. “Have you chosen anybody yet?”

“What? Do you agree with this nonsense?”

“Of course I do. He has to settle down and form a family,” Konrad said in a very convinced tone. “He must be around my age when I met you. He was one of the worst, pressuring me all the time to get married.”

“I don't believe that! Goran is very discreet! He does not even call you by your Christian name!” Guntram protested.

“He was the worst. Ferdinand and Friederich would give me a speech every time I was looking for some entertainment, but Goran would look at me in a way that reminded me of my father on a bad day. He has a special way of looking at people.”

“I think that is called a guilty conscience,” Guntram answered hotly.

“Have you made up your mind?”

“About?” Guntram asked, feeling lost and light headed.

“The women. It seems we have Miss Serbia 2013 in here,” Konrad said, studying the profiles and photos, and making two neat piles with mathematical precision.

“I can't make any decision based on those things! Those papers look like intelligence files!”

“Fine, I'll do it for you. I know exactly what is required from the woman who is to occupy such a position,” Konrad said before he plunged into the task of finding an appropriate bride.

Tired beyond himself, Guntram sighed and turned around to go downstairs to dine alone.

* * *

The occasion was perfect. A simple dinner with friends at Goran's flat where all of them would casually introduce the touchy subject: marriage.

'Cowards,' thought Guntram as he rang the bell at his best friend's door. 'All of them vanished in less than two hours leaving me to face the bull alone.'

“Hello, little brother,” Goran greeted him. “Glad you could come. I was starting to think I have the plague with all the cancellations I got today.”

“The flu, you know,” Guntram said, keeping a straight face as he removed his coat. “Konrad had to stay in London; he phoned me half an hour ago.”

“He has been evading me since your marriage. He knows I'm most upset with him about that.”

“Goran, it was done on an impulse. Even I didn't know we were going to marry that day. We spoke about it once, but he never mentioned it again.”

“You spoke your mind once; that's enough for him.” Goran shook his head as he opened a bottle, unable to understand how Guntram could not know his own husband after ten years together. “You should know that by now, little brother.”

“We offered a reception when we returned.”

“It's not the same, and you know it.”

“You're absolutely right,” sighed Guntram as he got lost in reverie.

* * *

August 17^th, 2012

Malmö

“Hurry up, or we will be late, Guntram.”

“It's seven a.m.! These are my holidays!” whined Guntram, trying to bury himself under the covers.

“The sun is up, the children are up, I am up, and guess who is still in bed?” Konrad said with a chuckle. “Should I call the cavalry to get you out?”

“No, no need to,” Guntram mumbled, quickly sitting on the bed before his children would jump on top of him.

“Great! Get showered and dressed,” Konrad mildly ordered him before running away from the bedroom.

“Where's the fire?” he mumbled, but rose from the bed to get ready to face the day, his children, the boat in the small embankment and the rabbit kennels part of their new holiday house in Sweden.

For the first time ever, Konrad von Lintorff had broken with his lifetime tradition of vacationing in Sylt. Instead, one day in late June, he had come home from work and simply announced that the next day the whole family, plus Birgitte, would be flying to Malmö to spend their summer holidays at their new house on the seaside.

Half expecting to find a château, Guntram had been very shocked when he saw that the property was a modern minimalist house surrounded by an oak forest in front of the sea.

“Did you buy this?” he asked Konrad very surprised.

“Yes, I thought you would prefer to keep things simple.”

“But you hate modern things.”

“This is not modern, Maus. This is a Mies van der Rohe style house. I like how well integrated with the landscape it is,” Konrad answered. “Don't you like it?”

“It's wonderful,” Guntram said as he watched his boys running like savages inside the crystal house. “Is it not a bit delicate for them?”

“No, bulletproof glasses. I don't think they can break them,” shrugged Konrad as he left Kurt on the floor to let him join his brothers, busy inspecting their new house. He kissed Guntram briefly on the lips. “We’ll be staying here for a month, maybe more.”

“For so long? And your work?”

“Internet, Maus. Anything else, Ferdinand can take over. I want to have some time to ourselves,” Konrad said, happy that Guntram seemed to be already in love with the property. “Tomorrow we have to pass by the tax office to sign a few papers regarding our tax declarations.”

“Already?” Guntram asked shocked. “I had no idea the Swedish were so fast to collect taxes.”

“It's because of the house. We have to apply for temporary residence, and as I have some businesses here, there is no problem at all.”

“Fine,” agreed Guntram, and then he had proceeded to forget about the whole thing.

The summer had passed too fast for Guntram's liking, happy to be more or less living in the wilderness and in the company only of his children, Konrad and an almost invisible Birgitte. The days lazily spent under the warm sun, watching his boys play in the water or chase after each other, had been like a balm for his soul, washing all his fears away, and letting him grow more and more confident again. Konrad never mentioned his work, and he was glad for it.

He was happy to lead a simple life, almost bending with laughter at Konrad's expression of total loss when he had asked him to choose a can of tomatoes at the supermarket or to weight two melons at the greens section. He had had to keep a straight face when Konrad had tried to cook some pasta for the boys one evening and his culinary abilities had been widely criticised by them. And he was filled with joy each time Konrad would ‘steal’ his son and take him away for a walk, or simply tell him a story or sing him a song under the marvelled eyes of the baby.

“In a month and a half, he had been able to begin healing from the past three hellish years and face his present,”

Coming out of the shower, Guntram noticed that someone had laid a grey suit over the bed, and he sighed realising that reality was back in his life.

'Probably we have to have lunch with an associate at Malmö,' he thought as he dressed and fought with the knot of the light blue silk tie, having become unused to having one around his neck.

In the kitchen, he found his three boys already dressed in identical clothes: long-sleeved shirts, beige trousers instead of jeans and laced shoes. Klaus’ and Karl's hair had been thoroughly combed with gel, and both boys giggled when they saw him.

“Laugh all what you want now, but the less expected day, you'll find yourselves wearing a tie at 8 a.m.,” Guntram retorted as he prepared a tea for himself under his children’s snickers.

A few minutes later, Birgitte entered the kitchen like a whirlwind and pushed him to the car saying that they were late, that they had to drive for two hours and that she was going to take care of the boys. Guntram could only follow her, wondering why she was dressed in an elegant green tailleur and wore a row of pearls around her neck. The twins jumped inside the large van, as Konrad was already at the wheel, while Birgitte secured Kurt in his chair.

“Oh no, we are wearing the same,” Guntram said when he opened the passenger door. “Give me a minute to go change myself.”

“No time, get in,” Konrad ordered starting the engine. “Birgitte drives with the security team,” he added, and Guntram looked at him in surprise as he had never seen a bodyguard during the time they had been there.

“Are we invited for breakfast?”

“No, lunch at a small hotel,” Konrad answered keeping a straight face.

“Must be an incredible place if you're in such a hurry. Where are we going?”

“Near Göteborg. It's about three hours driving.”

“Why there?”

“Because I own two companies and a flat in that city, therefore, my residence is officially there.”

Guntram preferred to look through the window as he had already suspected he was going to land in the middle of a long, tedious meeting with associates. He soon became distracted by the landscape and noticed the children fell asleep in almost no time. 'If Papa wakes them up at dawn, it's logical they're dead now.'

“Right or left hand Guntram?” Konrad asked out of the blue.

“I don't know. I don't understand this clever GPS.”

“The ring. I would look very stupid if I ask you such a question in the middle of the ceremony. Right or left? Which one do you prefer?”

“What ring?”

“Your wedding ring. I think the left hand is the best place for it. We are getting married today.”

“Are you nuts?” Guntram almost shouted.

“No. I had no idea that planning a wedding could be so much trouble.”

“Marrying as in marriage?” Guntram asked again.

“You agreed to it on July 3^rd. We are going to the Elite Plaza Hotel where the judge is waiting for us at one o'clock. It will be a very short ceremony, and the tax office will send us the marriage certificate in a week.”

“Marriage?” Guntram repeated in shock. “But you said…”

“I consulted with my lawyers, and Sweden was the best option for us. There is no risk it will be annulled if some hot-headed politician changes his mind, and you can adopt my boys as yours. No more tutoring. You will be their rightful father, and hopefully, you will let me be the same for Kurt.”

“Yes, I will,” Guntram whispered without hesitations. “Why now and why here?”

“It's a carefully designed plan to exchange my troublesome boys for your adorable little one,” Konrad said with a nervous chuckle, but utterly relieved that Guntram had accepted to go along with his idea without a single complaint.

“Whom have you invited?” Guntram asked still unable to process that they were getting married in less than two hours.

“Your father and Friederich. They are our witnesses. Also, Alexei Antonov, in case your father is not brimming with happiness at your choice of husband.”

“Nobody else?” Guntram gaped.

“First, I thought on having a big ceremony—the full treatment—, and the guest list was over five hundred people. Too much stress for you and me. I reduced the list, but it still had three hundred people on it, and I would have to face many angry people. Therefore, I decided to return to our original plan: we run away and marry, settle all the papers, and then give a reception for some good friends in Zurich where we announce it; if you want, that is. This way nobody can get upset that they weren’t invited.”

“You didn't ask Ferdinand or Goran to be here? Not even Albert?” Guntram asked horrified.

“They are friends; they will understand.”

“I'm not so sure. Please tell me you asked your aunt Elisabetta.”

“No, I didn't, but it's just reading a few articles, then the translations, and signing some papers. Nothing very impressive. Besides, you have to contain your father when he finds out why he was summoned to Sweden.”

“You didn't warn my father?”

“Thought you would like to do it,” Konrad said innocently, and Guntram groaned. “If he gets too angry, Antonov accepted to be our second witness. It was very hard to convince the judge to perform the ceremony at the hotel instead of at the city hall or the district court.”

“Do you really want me to adopt Klaus and Karl?”

“Since the day they were born, but the law never allowed me to do so. Here we can do it. Will you let me have Kurt?”

“He already loves you like a father.”

“Then there is nothing more to say. We marry now and spend the night in the city,” Konrad said as if it were the most sensible and normal thing to do, and Guntram began to fidget in his seat.

* * *

When Guntram descended from the van, he noticed another large armoured one had parked next to theirs, and he was surprised to see four big men he didn't know come out of it to surround them before the valet parking could take the keys from Konrad's hands. He gathered the boys close to him as Konrad took the toddler in his arms and followed him as he strode into the building.

At the lobby, Guntram saw his father, wearing a dark business suit—very lawyer-like—and sitting next to Alexei Antonov. He already looked upset about something. With a smile, Guntram approached them with the older boys in tow.

“Hello, Michel. Alexei,” he said, and the Russian knelt down to ruffle the boys' hair while Michel kept his distance from them.

“Good morning, Guntram. Do you know when the Duke will be free? I have here with me the indictment papers he asked for.”

“I think it might take a while,” Guntram answered, feeling a bit bad for his father as he obviously had no idea of what was going on. “Do you want to have lunch with us?”

“No, I'll take the next flight back to Zurich,” he replied curtly.

“Ah, Dr. Lacroix, here you are,” Konrad greeted him, holding the baby tighter than before. “Do you like your rooms?”

“As I said to Mr. Elsässer, and Mr. Antonov before that, I believe that you will be able to understand the terms of this indictment in less than five hours. I have to be at the airport at five o'clock,” Michel answered in a cold voice. “May I?” he asked extending his arms towards the baby smiling at him.

“Of course,” said Konrad as he gave the child to his grandfather.

“He looks more and more like Guntram when he was his age,” Michel whispered, and Guntram looked the other way as Alexei frowned not quite understanding the meaning of the lawyer's words.

“Dr. Lacroix is Guntram's godfather,” Konrad said indifferently, and Alexei nodded. “Everything is ready at the meeting room. Should we proceed? Guntram, leave the children to Birgitte. She will take them to their rooms.”

As usual, Alexei vanished into thin air before anyone could say anything.

Guntram, feeling very nervous and uncomfortable, followed his father and Konrad towards the set of chairs located in one corner of the lobby. Trapped between two large vases containing white lilies placed at both sides of his chair, the young man felt the same sort of feeling he would experience when he was little and his father would glare at him.

“You really need my advice in this indictment, Lintorff, if you have to buy your suits at wholesale,” Michel said in a cold voice facing both men. He had smelt something was out of place after seeing his son's guilty expression.

Konrad opened his mouth to answer, but Guntram placed a hand on his biceps to calm him down. “Let me speak with my father, Konrad.”

For some reason, whenever Konrad was with his father in the same room, Guntram would lose his courage and feel once more like a little boy caught with his hand inside the candy jar. So he took a deep breath before he spoke. “Konrad and I are getting married today. Here.”

“Married?” Michel asked in a courteous voice.

“Yes, Father.”

“Very well, do as you like. I have nothing else to say,” Michel answered and stood up to leave. Guntram almost had to run to catch him by the sleeve.

“Don't go away, please, just hear me out.”

“Guntram, you are obviously not in your right senses. Do you want to marry this man? The same who…”

“Yes, I do. I love him.”

“He threw you out of his house, not once, but twice. Although you love to lie to yourself, you are perfectly aware that there was not a single falsehood written down in the grounds for that restraining order.”

“Lacroix, if you don't approve of our marriage, fine,” Konrad growled, infuriated at the lawyer's reproaches. “I’ve done my best to give you a chance to be a family again with Guntram, but this is too much. I really don't have to stand this.”

“Guntram had a family, the same you murdered. We are allies, nothing else, Lintorff.”

“Father, please, stay with us today, if not for me, for Kurt,” Guntram pleaded. “I'm marrying Konrad for many reasons you don't have to agree with, but the most important is that, in the case of my death, Kurt will not be separated from his brothers. We are adopting each others sons. His children will be mine, and my Kurt will be his.”

“Are you asking for my blessing to give my grandchild to this man?” Lacroix asked with a huff, unable to understand his son anymore.

“I'm not asking for your blessing,” Guntram retorted through gritted teeth, starting to lose his temper at his father's obtuseness. “I'm inviting you to my wedding, the most important day in my life, hoping that you could let go of your grievances like I have done for you; yet it seems you won't do the same for me or Konrad. Rejecting him is rejecting me.”

Konrad gaped at Guntram and shuddered at the cold tone employed by his love, but Guntram ignored him, engaged in a silent battle of wills with his own father.

“You can stay and share this day with us, or you can go away. We have already clarified our views on the matter, sir.”

After a long silence, Michel answered “If this is how you see your father, very well, but I will give you a piece of advice as my former customer. Have a good lawyer study the prenuptial agreement with a magnifying glass.”

“There is no prenuptial agreement,” Konrad intervened, slightly coming between father and son. “None at all. You can ask the judge when he arrives. I'm marrying him in a community of property basis. All what I have belongs to Guntram.”

“Really?” Michel sneered.

“Yes, indeed,” Konrad intoned in a very humble voice, remembering that the only way to pacify the old viscount was to acknowledge his rank and position. “I would be honoured if you would let me marry your son, Vicomte. I apologise for the way we have broken the news to you. It was most inconsiderate of us.”

“You already know I feel no love for you, Lintorff,” Michel answered, but he sounded a bit more appeased. “Guntram is my only son.”

“I understand, sir. I swear on my life I will do anything in my power to make him happy. I do not conceive my existence without him, and you have seen to what extents I am capable to go for him. I've made many mistakes in my life, but the biggest of them all would be not marrying him today.”

“Do you realise you could be excommunicated from the Church? A public civil marriage is too much for Rome,” Michel pointed out.

“So be it,” Konrad answered. “I have meditated this decision for a long time. I trust my Lord's infinite mercy.”

The heavy silence that followed their conversation forced Guntram to sit in one of the chairs as the men just continued to glare at each other.

“Who is the other witness?” Michel broke the impasse. “Because I assume I'm one of them,” he added still visibly upset at the news.

“Yes, of course you are. The Prince von Habsburg-Kassel has accepted to be my witness. He is more than a father to me.”

“Very well, I will allow you to marry my son,” Michel agreed haughtily. “But my grandchild will learn French.”

“Yes, of course. He is a French citizen,” Konrad said hurriedly before Guntram could open his mouth to protest that his father once more was deciding over his life as if it were the most sensible thing in the world to do.

“Will you change your names?”

Guntram stared at his father, not understanding the meaning of his words. He clarified them for him, sounding like a teacher in front of two troublesome little boys. “How is it going to be? ‘De Lisle-Lintorff’ or ‘Lintorff-de Lisle’?”

“I think it will not be necessary,” Konrad replied with a hint of nervousness tinting his voice as he had not foreseen that particular situation.

“Lintorff-de Lisle,” Guntram answered sounding very certain, although in truth he was dying from the nerves roaming his insides. “In alphabetical order. Only for the children, once the papers are done. We will keep our single names.”

“It's a sensible thing to do. After all, it's not a matter of playing the defiant rebel at fifty-something,” Michel answered, slightly disappointed that his challenge had gone unanswered without provoking any kind of argument between the couple. “So my grandchild's name would be…?”

“Konrad Goran Lintorff-de Lisle,” Guntram said in a slightly shaky voice, and his father fixed his eyes on him. “For short.”

“Yes, ‘Lintorff-de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen’ would be too much for anyone,” Michel agreed, chewing his displeasure.

“Von Lintorff Sachsen Löwenstein de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen,” clarified Konrad, a little upset that Lacroix had discarded his family names so easily. “Come Guntram, we have to see that everything is ready,” he added, challenging the old lawyer with his gaze, but the man held his regard with deep coldness.

“Yes, of course,” Michel said with feigned sweetness. “It will be my pleasure to receive you as my son and to be your father-in-law,” he gloated, enormously enjoying how Konrad paled as he had not thought about that either.

Guntram cleared his throat as he pulled from Konrad's sleeve to force him to follow him to the elevator. Once inside it, with Konrad partially recovered from his shock, Guntram asked him, “Who is this prince who's coming? I don't remember him.”

“You’ve known him for many, many years. You even wished for him to be your father,” Konrad answered, chuckling like a boy at Guntram's baffled face. “Friederich.”

“Friederich?”

“Friederich Augustus Elsässer Habsburg-Kassel. If we still had an emperor in Germany, Friederich would be the one to elect him.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me a thing?” Guntram almost shouted in the elevator. “I thought he—”

“Was the butler? Yes, Friederich was never so happy in his life than when you mistook him for a servant,” Konrad answered with a chuckle. “Even if he renounced to a life as a priest, he took his vows very seriously. He does not want to be known for his titles. I fear that once we bury him in our chapel, next to my father, he will come back to haunt me for writing his full name.”

Still in shock, Guntram left the elevator and stood frozen on the corridor. “But he has served me so many times…” he said dismayed.

“The moment he placed a dish in front of you, I knew that he had adopted you just as he did with me when I was four years old. Friederich is Friederich, and you will not change his ways now,” Konrad answered. “He only sets a dish in front of us, haven’t you noticed it? He's never there if there's a formal dinner or something else. When he's upset with me, I can go look for my breakfast all by myself, or beg in the kitchen, because he will bring me nothing. It's more like a father serving dinner to his children. It has always been like that, and it will not change. Our children are his grandchildren, and he treats them like that.”

“But he calls them princes…”

“Can't blame him that he was partly brought up by his grandmother, who was a confident for Sissi. Habsburg protocol, dear. Now, say nothing and let him be,” Konrad answered as he opened the large white wooden door to enter the meeting room.

Guntram took a deep breath as he saw the room’s high-vaulted ceiling decorated with painted flowers and nature scenes, an elegant desk with two armchairs in front of it and ten more chairs discreetly placed behind them. His throat dried as he recognised Friederich and Alexei, already waiting inside for them and speaking with five other people.

“Come, I'll introduce you to the translators and to Heindrik's grandfather. I invited him,” Konrad said, and Guntram looked at him feeling sorrow rush through his veins. As the old man approached them, only Konrad's firm grip on his arm prevented him from running away. Alrick Wallenberg smiled at him sadly, and without a word, embraced him.

“I'm glad you are here. I wish you all the best. Heindrik always spoke very well of you.”

“I…” stammered Guntram.

“There's nothing to say,” the old man said with a kind sadness. “He would have loved to see this, but I am here for him.”

“He was an excellent friend,” Guntram whispered.

“You have to show me your child,” Alrick said. “I have two great grandchildren who are around his age. You should bring him to Malmö so they can all play together.”

“I would be very honoured if you let me do that, sir,” Guntram replied softly.

“How about next week? If the Duke agrees, of course.”

“Would it be fine if we invade your house next Saturday?” Konrad intervened, relieved that Guntram had not collapsed and was dealing with the situation with confidence.

“Yes, you should have lunch with us and the children can play together. The older girls have a new tree house and are looking for volunteers to serve them tea,” the man said affably, and Guntram smiled truthfully this time.

* * *

Guntram felt very tired after the ceremony and the banquet, but he pretended to be interested in the conversation between his father, Konrad and Alrick Wallenberg about the Foundation's future. He looked in the direction of his boy’s table and saw that they were still devouring ice cream and wedding cake, Birgitte at their side holding a soundly asleep Kurt in her arms.

“How does it feel to be married?” Alexei asked surprising him as he softly patted his shoulder. “Should I try it?”

“Didn't you say that Frenchmen are too independent for their sakes?” Guntram answered with a smile. “I'm very glad you are here and that you were also my witness.”

“Don't tell the Duke, but we bribed the judge to let us all sign,” Alexei said with a little boy's smile.

“Really?”

“No, of course not. There is no limit to the number of witnesses as long as you don't bring forty-seven people along. Even Mr. Elsässer looks happy for a change. He didn't complain at all when Jean Jacques showed him the list of what he wanted for the cake or when he simply told him that he needed the plane to bring it here.”

“Did he bake it?”

“Of course he did! Who else? The Duke knows better than to buy one elsewhere. Otherwise, he would be afraid that Jean Jacques would make him eat Fugu for the rest of his life. Now, answer me this, should I do the same with him?”

“You have been together for over ten years,” Guntram said with a smile. “About time, I would say, but give him fair warning before you organize the wedding.”

“You're right, Guntram,” Alexei chuckled as he looked in Jean Jacques’ direction, speaking with Friederich about his next TV show. “I'll go save the Austrian before he bores him to death with his description of the hotel's kitchen. He liked it very much, and I foresee a team of construction workers in your near future, my friend.”

“Jean Jacques will have to deal with them,” Guntram answered as he rose to follow his friend to the other side of the round table.

“As the oldest one here,” Alrick said a while later in a clear voice to get everybody's attention as he rose from his chair with some difficulty, “it is my duty to make a speech and give advice to our Griffin. Something he is in permanent need of.”

“In desperate need,” chuckled Konrad, not offended at all.

“And I don't think our youngest guests could put up with a three-day feast,” Alrick added looking at the boys’ nodding heads, doing their best to avoid toppling over the table out of tiredness. “I will not wish you to be happy because I am sure you will be. I will not give you my blessing because you have been blessed since the moment you found each other. And I will not give you advice on how to live through hardships because you already have and have triumphed over many challenges. I will only ask that you share your happiness with the rest of us, and that it lasts for many, many years.”

He rose his glass of champagne, and the rest of the men followed suit as they joined in the toast.

Alexei finished his drink and smashed his glass against the wall to break it into a thousand pieces, followed by Konrad doing the same and rushing to stand next to Guntram as the others followed his example.

The noise of breaking crystal woke Kurt up, snugly asleep in his nanny's arms. With half-lidded eyes, he watched how his papa kissed his father in front of the people looking at them while his brothers chuckled at their parents’ antics, and as there was nothing interesting or new to see, he closed his eyes again, readjusting his position to sleep better.

“Congratulations,” Michel said over the table. “I wish you the best.”

“Thank you,” Guntram answered, smiling at his father.

“I won't make a speech because, after Alrick's, I would only make a fool of myself,” Konrad said good-humouredly as he disentangled his arm from around Guntram's waist to look for something in his jacket’s interior pocket.

“No more than usual, my Griffin,” Alexei said with a broad smile. “Russian tradition. Can make fun out of the groom,” he added with a naughty smile.

“Then you can start throwing money at my feet,” Konrad laughed not offended at all by his remark. “It is a welcomed tradition too.”

The rest of the men laughed.

“I only wanted to thank you for joining us in our most special day. I hope you will join us in our celebration in Zurich later, but before we part ways, I wanted to give Guntram something as a reminder of my love for him,” Konrad said as he shyly showed Guntram a jewellery box under the collective silence of the room.

“Let this be the last complication between us, Maus,” he said to Guntram as they looked into each other’s eyes, forgetting the rest of the world. “Open it,” he coaxed him like a little child.

The unexpected silence that had descended over the table woke Kurt again, and his eyes fixed on the interesting box his papa was opening. The child cast the sleepiness away as he climbed over his nanny's chest to have a better view, and he grasped with his hands when he saw the watch his father held in his palm.

“Konrad, this is too much,” Guntram said in awe when he saw the manufacturer’s name engraved on the back along with the words “Nunc scio quid sit amor”. Now I know what love is. A line from one of Konrad’s favourite poets: Virgil.

“It's the last complicated thing we have between us,” Konrad said softly as he took the Breguet Grande Complication watch from Guntram's fingers to fast it around his left wrist.

“It's very beautiful,” Guntram said having trouble to find the right words as that sentence meant so much for him. “It's just incredible,” he added as he touched Konrad's face with great affection.

Something so good should be worth seeing at short range seemed to think Kurt as he escaped from his nanny's lap to run to his papa and tried to climb his trousers.

Laughing, Konrad picked his smallest son up, and the child snatched Guntram's wrist to check the hypnotic, ever-moving small pieces of the tourbillon, becoming enraptured by its small ruby stones and its perfection. “It seems someone already knows what to ask for his graduation. For his Ph.D.,” Konrad joked as everybody looked at the baby firmly clutching his father's wrist to see the watch better, making his guests laugh.

When all their friends were leaving, Guntram took Friederich aside by the arm and said to him, “Thank you so much for being here today. It meant everything to Konrad.”

“I would have never missed it,” the old man answered kindly. “At last, he has settled down.”

“Are you not…?” Guntram asked awed.

“I'm very happy for you two. Konrad is a grown up man, finally,” Friederich said dreamingly. “Some days, I thought he would never make it or that I would not live to see it,” he added tiredly.

“Perhaps you dreamed something different for him,” Guntram said nervously, and Friederich looked at him with infinite kindness and patted his cheek as if he were his father.

“Guntram, the Lord said: ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.’”

“But Leviticus…”

“Said something else. I know. And the copyist also overlooked to list the father marrying the daughter as incest,” Friederich said affably. “Only our Lord can judge us, and He will do it when our time comes. Be happy and make your husband happy. Follow His law and have faith in His mercy. Nothing else.”

End of Part I