Chapter 2 #2
"Her Majesty suggests you memorize these points rather than appearing to read from notes.
" Astrid broke in, distracting him from this thoughts.
"The reporter, Ingrid Fransson, is known for pursuing questions about the private lives of the royal family," Ms. Lindholm continued.
"Her Majesty recommends redirecting such inquiries to these approved topics. "
She stepped back, hands folded precisely at her waist. "Shall we begin with the dispatches, Your Royal Highness?"
Hal stared at the mountain of dispatches, reports, and cables threatening to topple from his desk. Where was he even supposed to begin? The stack contained everything from military intelligence to agricultural production statistics, diplomatic cables to royal household accounts.
He picked up the first document—a dense report on herring quotas in the Baltic—and set it aside with a frown.
The next was a military assessment of Finnish defense capabilities, followed by an urgent cable about German troop movements near the Polish border, then a twelve-page analysis of this year's reindeer harvest compared to the previous decade.
Sighing, Hal pushed back from the desk and surveyed the chaos. If he tried to read everything chronologically, he'd be buried in minutiae before reaching anything critical. No, he needed a system.
He began sorting the papers into piles: urgent military and diplomatic matters here, economic reports there, internal Swedish affairs in a third stack.
A fourth pile quickly formed for what appeared to be complete trivialities—a dispute over the proper protocol for presenting foreign ambassadors' wives at court functions, a request for the Crown Prince's preference regarding the pattern for new palace dinner plates, and an alarmingly detailed report on the breeding program for the royal hunting dogs.
"I can't possibly be expected to care about dinner plates right now," he muttered, adding a fifth report on the appropriate length of military parade music to the "trivial" pile.
With the documents sorted, Hal pulled the military and diplomatic reports closer. These, at least, he understood from his training at Riddarhuset. He'd start with what he knew, then work his way toward the unfamiliar.
Feeling more confident with a plan in place, Hal worked his way through several diplomatic cables about the situation in Finland, a trade report, and a detailed analysis of iron ore production. The work was overwhelming, yes, but not impossible. He could learn this. He had time.
But at the bottom of the urgent pile, he found another document, this one bearing the royal physician's seal.
Feeling more confident, Hal worked his way through several diplomatic cables about the situation in Finland, a trade report, and a detailed analysis of iron ore production, and a cable about the situation with the succession in Great Britain that gave him a headache.
The work was overwhelming, yes, but not impossible. He could learn this. He had time.
But at the bottom of the box, he found another document, this one bearing the royal physician's seal.
CONFIDENTIAL MEMORANDUM Date: 15 November 1939 To: Members of the Privy Council and Senior Government Ministers From: Chief Physician to His Majesty the King Subject: Health Status and Prognosis – His Majesty King Gustav.
Summary of Current Medical Condition As of this date, His Majesty the King continues to suffer from a progressive case of pulmonary fibrosis, a chronic and incurable condition affecting the lung tissue.
The disease, diagnosed earlier this year, has entered a significantly advanced phase.
His Majesty’s condition has worsened notably since the summer and now imposes marked limitations on both his Majesty's physical stamina and respiratory function.
Clinical Developments Since June 1939
We advise that preparations for the transition of royal duties continue discreetly and without delay. Medical care will focus on measures to ensure His Majesty’s comfort and dignity during the remaining period.
Please consider this report strictly confidential.
The pencil snapped in Hal's grip. Three to four months. His father had three to four months.
The military report's urgency suddenly took on a different cast. This wouldn't be his father's problem to solve. By the time Sweden's ammunition stores needed replenishing, by the time the new arms production could begin...
Hal would be king.
He stared at his broken pencil, at the neat notes he'd made about questions to ask his father. Questions that would now need answers much sooner than he'd thought.
The clock on the wall chimed, reminding him of the Aftonbladet interview. His mother would be expecting him to focus on that, on maintaining the appearance of stability.
A memory surfaced - his father's hands, huge and steady, lifting him onto broad shoulders during a garden walk.
He'd been five, maybe six, and the world had seemed infinite from that height, yet perfectly safe because Papa held him.
Even now, some part of him still believed his father could fix anything, protect him from everything.
Another memory hit - last winter, watching his father when they went out to the grounds of Drottningholm to find a Christmas tree.
Red-cheeked despite the cold, demonstrating proper technique to Freddie and Christian while Hal hung back with his books.
Had the cough already started then? Had they all missed the signs, or had Gustav hidden them, determined to appear strong for his sons?
Three to four months. The words from the medical report burned in his mind.
Sometime between February and March -perhaps April, if they were very lucky- he would stand in Storkyrkan Cathedral, alone before God and country, and accept the crown his father had carried for so long.
The weight of it pressed on him now, phantom-heavy on his brow, and he couldn't breathe past the tightness in his throat.
Tears spilled hot down his cheeks. Hal scrubbed them away with his sleeve, a childish gesture his mother would have scolded him for. But mother wasn't here, and father was dying, and for just this moment, he allowed himself to be just a young man, terrified of facing the world without his father.