IS: Interlude: Meanwhile, on New Avalon

Hanse Davion, First Prince of the Federated Suns, was struggling. What had initially been thought to just be a minor neural issue from the attempt to replace him by his enemies hadn't stayed that way. He had been advised to rest and allow his brain to heal, but he couldn't do that. As First Prince of the Federated Suns, Hanse Davion could not afford to simply lie back and recuperate. There was simply too much work to be done, and Hanse had thrown himself back into his duties. Unfortunately, he was beginning to pay for doing so. Hanse had begun having semi-frequent headaches that caused his head to ache with a dull throb and his vision to swim for up to fifteen minutes at a time. It was annoying, but Hanse had shrugged it off. Unfortunately, yesterday he had wound up having a longer headache episode and scheduled an appointment with his personal Physician.

Hanse now sat in the Office of the Physician to the First Prince. His personal doctor, Doctor Harold Cunningham, was a distant cousin of the Duke of Kestrel and an old friend of Hanse's. Harry and Hanse had been school friends growing up, though naturally, Hanse had taken different classes than Harry had later on. The bearded, chubby Man fiddled with dials on the scanner as Hanse sat there, allowing Harry to scan him with the New Ålborg scanners. Hanse could only grimace as Harry finished his scans and let out a sigh. Hanse knew that meant his friend was frustrated with something. He also knew that likely meant bad news for him. As Hanse wondered what exactly he was about to contend with, Harry spoke up, drawing Hanse out of his thoughts.

"I have good news and bad news." Informed Harry after a moment.

"Give me the good first, Harry." Insisted Hanse.

"You should be able to repair the degenerated neurons with a surgery, though you'll need to find Doctors in either New Ålborg or the Magistracy of Canopus to perform it. It's beyond the limits of my technical skill, I'm afraid." Answered Harry.

"All right, what's the bad news?" Questioned Hanse.

"The bad news is that constitutionally, you could be declared unfit to lead by the simple act of undertaking this surgery. It falls under the same constitutional clause as brain damage. Technically, you're at that point already, but the nature of the injury to your brain meant we missed the degenerative aspect of your diagnosis at first. That's covering your ass on that." Explained Harry.

"What are you trying to tell me, Harry?" Queried Hanse.

"Just that if I were you, Hanse. I would begin looking at preparing a successor. There's no way that the Duke of New Syrtis doesn't use the Constitutional Clause to remove you from power in a semi-legal coup if word gets out that you're planning to undergo brain surgery." Intoned Harry.

"Of course. And because of the Six Liberties, we can only delay the press from finding out for so long." Muttered Hanse.

"You're going to want to get your affairs in order on that front before then." Advised Harry.

"How long can I put off this surgery before my brain reaches the point of no return?" Asked Hanse.

"A year, maybe two. I wouldn't recommend taking too long, Hanse. The longer you wait, the more painful things will get for you and the greater the risk of complications arising during the surgery." Frowned Harry.

"Then we wait a year before making preparations for the Surgery. I'll need it to prepare my heir." Nodded Hanse.

"What are you thinking, Hanse?" Questioned Harry.

"On Ancient Terra, during the Roman Empire, it was common practice for Emperors to raise their heirs up alongside them to act as a sort of Co-Ruler. They called the position Caesar, as opposed to the Emperor's title of Augustus. I will be doing the same here." Responded Hanse.

"Who did you have in mind to rule after you?" Queried Harry.

"My nephew, Morgan." Informed Hanse.

"You're not worried that Michael might try to rule through his son?" Asked Harry.

"Not in the least. I've been a father figure to Morgan for years, I trust him as if he were my own son." Answered Hanse.

"You used an Ancient Rome analogy earlier, but you forgot, I was in the same History Classes that you were in school. Let me remind you that Julius Caesar thought the same about Brutus before the end." Warned Harry.

"Afraid I'll be stabbed to death in the Palace, Harry?" Questioned Hanse with a grin.

"It is something to think about, Hanse." Shrugged Harry.

"I'll keep that in mind. Is there anything else I should keep in mind?" Queried Hanse.

Harry strode over to a locker that was secured with a keypad locking mechanism, punching in a code with his thick, sausage-like fingers. The lock flashed green, and Harry reached inside, pulling out a bottle of pills before letting out a sigh as he rubbed his bearded face with a meaty hand. He shut the locker and returned to Hanse's side, handing him the pill bottle. Hanse took the pills with a look and a single, cocked, questioning eyebrow. Harry shook his head at the First Prince, causing Hanse to frown slightly, before he spoke up.

"Those aren't cures or anything, they're treatments. They're a sort of anti-inflammatory, synthetic neurotransmitter, and painkiller all in one. They will help mitigate any episodes you might have over the course of the next year, but I have to stress that they are a stall, not a fix. You need to undergo the surgery for that." Explained Harry.

"Will there be many episodes? And if so, what can I expect?" Asked Hanse.

"It will start with more frequent headaches, getting progressively more painful over time. Then you may start passing out, suffering nosebleeds, and progressing toward incapacitation for extended periods as you get closer to the point of no return. If you ever find yourself incapacitated for more than a few hours at a time, you need to call me and we'll schedule the surgery, plan be damned." Informed Harry.

"The plans are important, Harry." Protested Hanse.

"More important than your life?" Questioned Harry.

"It's not just me I have to worry about. As First Prince, I have responsibilities." Intoned Hanse.

"Perhaps, but what good will it do the Federated Suns to have a First Prince who can't rule thanks to passing out for hours at a time?" Queried Harry.

"So I just throw in the towel and let Michael have his victory?" Asked Hanse, with a scoff.

"I don't think it will come to that. You shouldn't have those symptoms before the year is out. Still, if that changes, then yes. The game will effectively be over then." Sighed Harry.

"I don't like it." Grumbled Hanse.

"It is my professional assessment as a Doctor, Hanse. You come to me for that, not to bullshit you." Shrugged Harry.

"You're right. Very well, we'll follow your treatment plan." Nodded Hanse.

And with that, the First Prince of the Federated Suns slipped his uniform jacket back on and headed out of Harry's Office. Hanse Davion had a lot to think on, but most importantly, he had a lot of preparing to do. Morgan needed to be prepared for his role as First Prince sooner than Hanse had anticipated. A good first step might be to see how he handled the Military Situation. Hanse knew that the Transportation and Resupply Department had been negotiating the sale of a large amount of military equipment from New Ålborg and Rasalhague, which had access to the same designs as New Ålborg thanks to sharing a ruler. If Morgan could oversee training on and deployment of the new equipment for the AFFS, that would go a long way toward proving his organizational bona fides. If not, then Hanse would have to take a more direct approach.

And of course, there was the Marriage Issue. Morgan had received interest from several eligible bachelorettes, including Melissa Steiner, the Archon-Designate of the Lyran Commonwealth. Of course, Melissa also had a number of other Irons in the fire, so to speak. Hanse had heard rumors of possible matches with Jozef Poniatowski of Rasalhague and New Ålborg, Edward Calderon, the Heir to the Protector of the Taurian Concordat, and even Sean O'Reilly of the Marian Hegemony, though honestly, Hanse was fairly certain that last one was just a rumor, though. Sean O'Reilly was only twelve years old, and the Marian Hegemony was a barbaric slave state to boot. The Archon never would have allowed Melissa to entertain an offer from that quarter.

Still, the fact that such an outlandish rumor could even gain enough traction to spread meant that the Archon was intent on playing the field of suitors to get the best offer possible for Melissa's hand in marriage. While Hanse would be a front runner on that account, so too would others. No, Hanse would have to look elsewhere for a bride for Morgan. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea for Hanse to look to the Periphery himself in that regard? The Magestrix of Canopus had an unwed heiress, after all. If Melissa Steiner could court the Calderons, then surely, Morgan Hasek-Davion could do the same with the Centrellas? It was certainly something to think about, and that would also bring vast amounts of medical knowledge to the Federated Suns. If Hanse played his cards right, NAIS could have a medical program on par with any on New Ålborg or Canopus.

That cinched it for him. Of course, the matriarchal society of Canopus was a hurdle, but not too great of one, in Hanse's Estimation. After all, personal unions were so much easier to manage when your Princess, or in this case, Magestrix, could rule her own territory in her own right. It would take some negotiating, of course, but that was why he had the diplomatic service in the first place. Besides, any Periphery state, even a major one like the Magistracy of Canopus, would be lucky to have such a personal union working for them politically. Hanse doubted that Kyalla Centrella would object to having that sort of diplomatic power to call upon. Hanse would likely get quite a bit of any stipulations he proposed for the betrothal.

Yes, it seemed like things were looking up for the Federated Suns. Despite Hanse having just been given the worst news he had been given in his time as First Prince, the AFFS is modernizing, he is preparing to secure an alliance with a powerful Periphery State, and he even had a plan for cutting off any attempt by Michael Hasek-Davion to declare him unfit to rule due to brain damage by carefully planning out his succession before even scheduling his brain surgery. If he could just hang on for long enough to see it all through, then the Federated Suns would come out in a stronger position for it, despite having been largely disappointed by the Peace Treaty signed at the Terra Conference. Hanse just had to hold out with these headaches for another year, and everything would be in order.

Speaking of which, as Hanse climbed into his Groundcar, his bodyguard piling into the seat next to him, his head began to pound with an entire symphony's worth of drums. The headaches flared up with a vengeance once more, Hanse wincing as they did so. This time, however, he had a secret weapon. Opening the pill bottle that Harry had given him, Hanse took two of the capsules out and popped them into his mouth, swallowing. The headache began to subside as Hanse leaned back in the plush leather seat of his Luxury Groundcar. His driver, Lawrence, looked back at him, a concerned look on his face that Hanse saw mirrored in the faces of his bodyguards.

"I'm fine. It's just a headache. The Palace, if you would, Lawrence." Intoned Hanse.

"Yes, Highness." Affirmed Lawrence.

The Groundcar pulled away from Harry's Office, and Hanse's mind turned back to the checklist of things he had to do. He would have to speak with Morgan first of all. Secondly, he needed to speak with the Foreign Minister to get the ball rolling on negotiations with the Centrellas for Morgan's Betrothal. That also wasn't even mentioning the Meeting he already had scheduled with the Chancellor of the Exchequer over extra funds that needed to be earmarked for rebuilding captured territories from the last war. There was quite a lot to do and not enough hours in the day to do it. Hanse could only sigh as he realized that he may be literally working himself to death here, thanks to his brain injury. Unfortunately, he had no other options until Morgan was sufficiently trained.

It really was true what they said about heavy heads wearing crowns. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here we have the Interlude showing the FedSuns. It turns out that Hanse Davion is not long for his position as First Prince. In keeping with his nature, he worked constantly in the aftermath of his attempted kidnapping and replacement by a Doppelganger. That only worsened the brain injury he got from that affair. Now, Hanse has to prepare Morgan Hasek-Davion to be his heir a lot earlier than in Canon. Of course, this is Hanse we're talking about, so he obviously has a plan to move forward in the best way possible. Still, though.

As to how things with Morgan's Marriage are shaking out, Hanse going for Emma Centrella to betroth to Morgan is something of a curveball, but it's part of an ongoing trend. With the Lyrans courting the Taurians, the Tristars involving themselves with the Coup in the Aurigan Civil War, and Jozef trying to get a bunch of independents together to form a new state, the Rimward Periphery is going to become a powder keg. The next war may very well start over some damn fool thing in the Rimward Periphery. I just felt the parallels between the situation and Pre-WWI Europe were too good to pass up.

At any rate, the next chapter will have us back with Jozef's POV as the start of Katrina Watson's visit takes place.

Stay tuned. . .