A.D. 2169 - S.E. 87.
The death of Field Marshal Otto von Escheinsein was no mere loss to a family, but a tremor that shook the very foundations of the Republic of New Hope. At more than ninety years of age, his name had become synonymous with the army, with stability, with an authority unyielding as iron. Yet the instant he fell, the House of Escheinsein drifted into turmoil, a great vessel stripped of its helm.
Even before the funeral rites had concluded—while incense still hung heavy in the air and the mournful strains of violin yet lingered in the great hall—the struggle for dominion had already begun in earnest.
Three pillars of power arose within the family:
Dr. Sebastian von Escheinsein, Otto's eldest son—once a scholar of military science, now a figure in politics. His prestige was secured by the promise of his son, Rudolf, whose star was rising swiftly in the ranks of the army.
Air Commodore Friedrich von Escheinsein, Otto's fourth son, aged thirty-seven, a seasoned officer and father of Aelaera. He held firm that the leadership of the house belonged to one who served the army directly, not to an academic who had abandoned the sword for the pen.
Madame Luna von Escheinsein, Otto's second daughter—the sole woman bold enough to contend for power. Resolute and sharp-willed, she struck against the current of tradition, only to meet the immovable wall of patriarchal custom, entrenched through generations.
The debate raged in the council chamber, voices clashing like steel, while the Marshal's body still lay in vigil—a spectacle of haste, as though ambition could not wait for death to grow cold.
In the end, the tide of elders bent toward Sebastian. The reasoning was brutally simple: he had Rudolf, a son and heir, and to their eyes a man with a male successor was the firmest guarantee of continuity. Thus, the mantle of patriarch passed to Sebastian with scant resistance.
The Daughters' Silence
For Aelyzabeth and Aelaera, the news drew no storm within. The girls merely inclined their heads, voicing no opinion. They knew too well the order of their world: a house where men held every right, and women were but shadows. Even Madame Luna, who dared to challenge, was swept aside with scarcely a thought.
Aelyzabeth neither rejoiced nor lamented. Her gaze turned instead to realms untouched by the family's quarrels—the sciences of experiment, the expressions of art. She lingered in the libraries more than in the halls of her kin. To her, the thunder of argument was but noise to be walled out.
A New Capital – Bistak
Two months after Otto's passing, the government of the Republic of New Hope—under the Left-Liberal Republican Party—proclaimed a monumental shift: the seat of power would be moved.
Thus rose the plan for Bistak, a new capital, far distant from Berlyn. A city of glass towers piercing the sky, of clean energy coursing through its veins, of the swiftest communications mankind had ever known. Yet such grandeur demanded a terrible price: immense expenditure and a cost of living far beyond the reach of common folk.
The houses of Escheinsein and Thors refused to depart Berlyn. The old city still pulsed with life, its costs more bearable, and above all, it remained their home.
Memories and Bonds
In Aelyzabeth's private world, the memory of her grandfather was bound not to his authority, but to a simpler ritual: his favorite drink. A glass of fine milk, blended with honey and sugar, was shared with his grandchildren at a small, hidden shop in the old quarter of Berlyn—Kradas.
Each time Aelyzabeth raised a glass of milk to her lips, the sweet fragrance carried her back to childhood, to the warmth of days when Otto still lived.
But such warmth was ever shattered by the cold tongue of Colonel Rudolf, unwavering in his arrogance:
"Now that Grandfather is dead… There is no one left to protect you."
Aelaera clenched her fists in rage, yet Aelyzabeth only fixed him with an unyielding stare. Her eyes, cold and without fear, betrayed neither anger nor sorrow—eyes transformed by memory and by death.
End of Chapter A-IV