[center][h1]1960, Spain - Malaga[/h1][/center]

[hider=OOC]Collab between me and [@The Wyrm] [/hider]
The sun rose slowly over the Eastern Mediterranean Sea, shooting brilliant rays of sunlight over the Malaga Mountains, and their namesake city that nestled tight between ttheir stoney face the azure blue waters of the sea. Perhaps the least apprecaited of all of Spains citieis, Malage boatsed all the charms of Barcelona or Madrid without the huge crowds of toursists. Narrow cobblestone streets, wide shopping districts, any number of cathedrals and churches, and amongst it all, looming over them, the magnificent Castillo de Gibralfaro. Built in ancient times to combat the Moors, it now housed the Royal residence and played host to guests from around the world. 

On this morning it played host to a unique visitor, a Nobleman of Afrika. That man in question was Duke of West Afrika itself. Namely the man fancied himself something of a fencer. Despite his age not being what it used to be, bordering on sixty - Duke Hurst still maintained a regimented enough diet and exercise schedule to be compented enough. Dueling had once been part of a nobleman' position after all.

While he lacked the speed and endurance of a younger fencer - the man made it up for his long reach and good eyes. Not to mention posture and positioning - he was always known to make-up what he couldn't fight physically with his mind. The man had been training especially hard this year at that. Namely - the Olympics were coming and he planned on going there. Especially with the chance of representing Germany - as this year, the Kaiser had officially re-incorporated the Duchy into the German Empire.

The Duke had chosen Spain for two reasons. One, it was as warm as his homeland. Two, few people in the world could fence as well as the Spanish to whom it was still a national pastime. His letter to the Spanish King, a man no older than his own son, had been warmly receievd and he had been honoure when the King offered him not only one of the finest swordsmen in the Spanish Army, Colonel Francisco Del La Cal Delgado, but also the exclusive use of Castillo de Gibralfaro for his training. 

While the Duke was certain he wouldn't be winning against any battles, with his age - he at least hope it was decent enough to get a medal position in the upcoming Olymipics in America. As soon enough he crossed blades Del La Cal Delgado, before pulling away. For an old man, he had some swing behind his hand and could strike very quickly - if given the option. 

"Fair enough for now. How do you think?" asked Jaeger, as he soon pulled off the head-gear. While he wouldn't be winning in the light category - he hoped that he made enough progress in Épée. 

Delgado pulled off his own head gear. He looked frustratingly health and not even the sligest bit fatigued, though the Duke could not blame him, the man was twenty years his junior and a full time military officer. 

"No badly your Grace." He spoke fluent German. "You have excellent form and are strong in the wrist but you must be faster." Delagdo had made no qualms about his assignment. He spoke to the Duke as he would any soldier under his command. "When we return after breakfast, we will train with weighted steels I think." He gestured to a sword rack near the wall where heavier weapons sat.

"Bring it on. I haven't been able to stab at anything decent for over ten years now," replied the Duke, in good humor - as the two men, soon headed to get some breakfast. The only people he could practice in Afrika - was with other noblemen. Nobody whom practiced fencing on a daily basis. While he did have some private tutors from Britain and the United States - they weren't long-term.

Plus for once, he was glad on taking on something - that didn't involve him, thinking about the future of a nation. As much as Hurst once thought he could make the Empire better with his grand ideas - he on some nights cursed for ever wanting such a wish. Juggling the Duchy was like trying to sleep in a room filled with gunpowder and soaked in oil.

[hr]

Many miles away, in the province of Grenada - another member of the German nobility was slowly being shown the local hospitality of Andalusia.

Namely his name was Graf Wilhelm Hurst or simply Count Hurst. Unlike his father, he was less politically active and wasn't as much known in the public eye, as compared to the other members of the Duchy. If one looked at him - they wouldn't know to understand, that the man whom appeared more like a young rector was in fact the future heir of the large Duchy of West-Afrika.

The only thing, that would give away his identity at all - was the red ruby ring that he wore. Contasting his brown leather and gold embroided uniform. While his father was enjoying his hobby - Wilhelm had been given leave to 'enjoy' his visit to Spain. Namely to mingle with the old blood of other families. This had included a "request" to attend the Alhambra, the summer Palace of the King. 

His Royal Majesty, King Juan Carlos I, the youngest King in Europe in twenty years, and certainly the least engaged in ruling. The various poltical forces that had battered at him since he was crowned at the age of ten had been to much. He had retreated into a world of luxury and excess which his advisors had been happy to encourage as long as he signed the papers put in front of him.

Even at this hour he was awake. He had drank heavily the evening before but gotten up at dawn as he always did for a run. He thrown up everything in his system and then some, his bodygaurd stoically looking the other way he did so. Then he had challenged them to a race along the walls of the Alhambra. They had beat him, as they always did, but it forced him to push himself. 

Now, his hair sopping wet from an impomrptu dive into one of the many fountains, he walked back into the Royal residence. Several of his guests were already awake and he waved to them as he stepped into his own suite to shower quickly and change into a whte collared shirt, tennis shorts, and white shoes. He combed his black hair carefully, waving away an attendant, and then stepped out onto the veranda to join his guests. 

One of those (un)lucky guests were Wihelm and his own entourage. When he had been asked to attend the Palace of the Spanish King - he had expected...something different. With how Catholic and iron-hard in their convinction throughout history, Wilhelm had expected the King to be somebody more...traditional as one might say. Or that might have been his own bias - or the hand of his father, whom had raised him as such.

Nevertheless, he kept his etiquette and posture as formal and polite as possible - it was hard not to do so. He had never mingled among European nobility in such a way before - so he fell back on what he knew. Albeit, that made him stick out even more - as some of the more open ones jokingly called him the Sour Kraut. As he was the only one of German heritage among the guests there - and he hadn't cracked a smile since he had gotten there, at least one that they hadn't seen.

The King pulled up a chair and lowered himself into it, studying his German guest over the rim of his coffee mug. The man was a stoic one indeed and either had something shoved up his ass, or he hadn't been allowed to cut loose a day in his life. He had seen it before in other German visitors. Not that he gave a shit. If the man wanted to be a stuck up prick his whole life, that didn't bother the King at all. It just seemed a shame to waste all those good looks and money on being a stick in the mud.

"Well Wilhelm, did you at least have a good nights sleep?" Juan asked casually as he put the cup down on the table. 

"It was well enough, Your Majesty," replied Wilhelm - drinking his own coffee. Black as whatever German proverb, he'd likely utter. While he didn't seem overly hostile to anybody, the notion was that many didn't openly approach him either.

Despite his German heritage, he was 'born' in Afrika. To white parents, of noble blood indeed - but still in Afrikan soil. That made interaction with the current guests a bit...tricky at best. It was the sad nature - Wilhelm seemed to lack any desire in interacting or perhaps any skill in such matters. While the others didn't want to 'appear lesser' - since courtship was always a hit-and-miss political game itself.

"Good, good." The King glanced at this other guests. Both young men like themselves, the sons of Nobles from families in Andalusia. They were little better than common lords but, in the scheme of things, they still ranked higher on the social scale than an Afrikan Colonial. Still, couldn't hurt to be friendly. Juan had always wanted to see more of Africa.

"Wilhlem," He started after a moment. "I have a young lady coming to visit us today I would like you to meet. You have no objection I am sure." He did not wait for a reply.

"In fact, that is her car down there." He gestured toward a sleek red car that had just appeared at the crest of the hill as it finished the long climb from the valley below. "She is most excited to meet an Afrikan German."

"If you wish so, then I'd be glad to meet her," said Wilhelm, although his body language told a different tale. Nevertheless he followed the King to the window to see - catching the statement about 'meeting an Afrikan German'. 

He wasn't sure if it was merely a jest, or did the woman actually take some gratification of meeting somebody so foreign yet so familar from away. Nevertheless, he went with the King of Spain to meet this young noblewoman. It was only proper and it wasn't like he had any choice of directly leaving. Not until his father decided to return to the Duchy. Until then, he was stuck mingling here like the rest of them.

The car slid almost soundlessly into the driveaway. It was the latest Spanish luxury car, polihed chrome and steel gleaming along the spotless red paint. It drew to a half in the stone drive a footman stepped forward to open the rear door. 

The woman who exited was perhaps chest height on the King, who was perhaps an inch shorter than Wilhelm. Long black hair fell to her waist, held back from her face by a red hair band. She wore a dress of pure black that showed the soft curve of her neck, the tightness of the cloth pressed against her breasts and their considerable cleavage. It continued down, clinging tightly to her body, narrow at the waist and widening again at the waist and clinging to her firmly enough both men could be forgiven for thinking she wore no undergarments.  

Such an outfit would be utterly unthinkable in Germany but here, in Spain where the summers were hot and the women even more so, no one would dare correct her. She glanced up and saw the two looking down. She offered a white dazzling smile and then, as if to perfect her look, bent at the waist and plucked a flower to stick behind one ear. Juan could almost imagine the hard on the two footmen standing behind her might have now.

"Wilhelm." He muttered. "I give you the Marquessa of Morella."

"Graf Wilhelm Hurst von Deutsche Westafrika. My Lady, a pleasure to meet you," he replied, almost formally that it sounded like he was trying to overdo it. Well, it seemed the King had managed to make his German guest blink to something.

Since he only ever got overly formal, was when he wanted to impress something or someone - and the times he had done that, could be counted on one hand. Wihelm already was drawn to her black dress and dark hair. If anything - he was wondering, if she dressed completely black on purpose to get to him - or if she looked like this all the time.

It was one of those few moments, that he cursed his father for granting him a more higher title. As painful as it was, at the current moment she was socially higher than he was - but once he was old enough and his father retired. Then he could be a step above her - for now, he tried his best to look the part of the rich and proper German.

"Maria." She said with a laugh. "So formal! Are all Germans such intense gentlemen?" She teased Wilhelm as they followed the King back up the winding stone steps neigher man remembered coming down.

"Only the best ones," he replied, cracking a joke - likely the first one, since his arrival here. It seemed that even the Count was all steel and coal. The man did have some sense of desire behind him - and it seemed to have glued onto Maria almost like a fly to honey. As he followed the King close-by back to the Palace.

The three returned to the table and sat, Maria not hesitating to take a cup of coffee from a servant who stepped forward the moment she arrived. She offered small nods to the other two Nobles who sat at the table.

"Charles, Paco, how lovely to see you again." They both smiled and toasted her with their own coffee. It was clear that she was part of the Kings circle of friends though she turned back to Wilhlem, her lips forming a perfect "o" as she blew on the steaming liquid. "How long will you be visiting with us Wilhelm?"

"As long as my father the Duke, decides on staying in Spain. Although, how long I plan on staying is up for debate on that. What about you?" he asked, interested in knowing how long such a beauty planned on staying here herself.

It wasn't everyday, he got knocked off his feet - by such a surprise.

She brushed a strand of dark hair from her face, tucking it carefully behind one ear. "I live not far from here." She gestured out toward the Andalusian plain as it strecthed west. "My father is the Duke of Sevilla." The put her into one of the top five most powerful families in the Kingdom.

"I usually stay for the weekend. Or as long as his Majesty will have me." She offered the King a coy smile and he winked at her. It was clear the two had known each other for some time.

Wilhelm also gave the King of Spain a look - the look that said 'did you plan this'. Since when in doubt, it always worked to simply go the direct route - and have some pretty ladies join the party. No man could resist that - unless they swung the opposite direction.

"Well then. I hope to see more of you, for the duration of your stay, Lady Maria..." said Wilhelm, keeping his emotions in check only by the skin of his teeth. He was literally biting the inside of his cheek - to prevent himself from blushing at that comment.

She threw back her head to laugh again. Her white skin was flawless, a white stone flashing in a black choker about her neck. The sound was intoxicating. "Maria will do just fine Wilhelm." 

The King meanwhile returned his look with a raised eyebrow and a small smile. "As I told you Wilhelm, we are casual here, insulated from our inferiors. Please, try to enjoy yourself."

"Hmm. If your planning on bringing in such friends...then how could I say no," said Wilhelm, cracking a small smile of his own. Although with his features, it looked like he was planning something devious.

Although, the King would had likely known the Count for about a week here already - knew that it was likely the most smile, they could get out of him at this moment. Which was progress itself - not unless, somebody planned on falling off naked from the roof of the Palace. That would surely make anybody crack their head in laughter.

The King, clearly amused by Wilhelm's flirtation, stood at that moment. "Forgive me. I will be back in a moment. I feel the need for a drive, and the Countess Orillia has asked me to swing by and pick her up while I am out and about." 

He gave Maria's hand a kiss, threw Wilhelm a wave, and then vanished down the stairs. A moment later the roar of a powerful engine sounded and the King was gone. 

[hr]

"May I then ask - what does the young Lady wish to do? Now that the King has left us to our own devices?" asked Wilhelm, trying to brush off this likely attempt at hitting on her - with simply asking what she liked to do.

They all couldn't be eager to talk about their wineyards, while eating strawberries in the pool.

"Wish to do?" She mulled the words over for a moment, leaning her head back to toss her long mane of hair about, pushing her chest out. "Hmmm... Well normally at this time of day I like to go for a walk in the Kings Garden. It's lovely, though not terribly private." She gestured to a pair of guardsmen who stood just out of earshot. "My chaperones."

"I haven't been there myself. I would love to be shown around that place," he replied to her - with as much eagerness as she had. Perhaps a bit less. Then he pointed at his own entourage - or namely Guardsmen, that looked like they had been stolen directly from a War Academy. Or some Imperial Army parade was missing a couple of their lead conductors.

"Well why don't we make our way down then?" She said, standing and waiting for him to do the same. She instantly tucked her arm through his when he was clear of his chair in the intiment Spanish fashion, guiding him toward a second set of stairs that led toward the long gardens below.

Wilhelm soon enough followed after Maria - having to increase his pace. to not trip over his shoes, at her rather eager and cheerful attitude. "Yes, of course," he replied - soon enough, walking next to her as they headed for the Garden.

The Royal Gardens were actually the original Moorish Gardens, built under the Islamic Caliphate several hundred years before. The Moors had belived that one must build a house around a garden, not a garden around a house, and the result had been stunning. Countless beauitful trees were flowering and flowing water could be heard anywhere. It had the unique experience of making one feel as though they were alone even with four bodyguards trailing behind.

"Tell me about your home." Maria said, tilting her head up to smile at Wilhelm, her lips partially parted as she did so.

"It is not that exciting, compared to your home," he replied, as they walked along the Gardens. As he explained or tried to explain in detail how the Duchy looked like - without it sounding too...primitive. 

"There are the rural areas. Then there are the cities - a bit similar to American ones, not much taste in them beyond concrete and steel," he explained.

"I am from the coastal regions. The most unique part of the Duchy. Cultural and amazing, like the Palace here. Only in the style of Neo-Baroque. My father wanted to place look extravagant enough to match Berlin or Paris..." he explained - or namely, the German wanted to look at his greatness and not the wide empty plains of Afrika.

"You should come and see the the Palace there. It is a rather fine piece of work..."

"Come to Africa. Father would hardly allow it." She said with a soft sigh. "He is a bit more stuck on the social convention side of things, if you understand what I mean." There was no doubt he delicately touching upon their difference in social rank.

At that very moment they were interrupted by the drone of engines that slowly built into a massive roar as four military aircaft swept over head. They were single seat, single engine fighter aircraft and were flying low enough that the two could read the identifying numbers on their bellies. 

Maria clapped her hands with excitement as they passed by, heading East into the mountains, before turning back to Wilhelm, a joy shining in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"I would so love to be a pilot! Can you imagine?!"

"So simply because I don't have a fancy title to my name - he thinks I might be unworthy?" replied Wihelm, acting it up a bit. To namely appease her mood. "I will have you know I am rather open-minded. But there must be a point, where rank gives way to reality."

"Since as you know, despite my title it is worth more in its weight - then perhaps say in Russian," he added. Although, before he could continue - several planes flew over his head. He had to admit with Maria, they did look rather fancy and awe-inspiring. 

He would need to talk with father afterwards about establishing their own air-force. "Hmm. Maybe. I was just thinking of asking my father to buy some planes for our country. Perhaps you could help mediate such a deal?"

"Me? Hardly Wilhelm." She giggled and patted his hand. "I don't know the first thing about planes or negotiations. I am afraid I have much to learn yet. Father has suggested I attend University next year. I only just turned eighteen you know."

"Just? You look far older than that. More mature even than most women I have seen," he replied, adjusting his tone to appear a bit more respectful - as he soon found out how old she was. Clearly the Spanish had bred some rather fine women - if they looked this mature at a young age.

"Well thank you. You do say the nicest things Wilhelm." She looked as if she might have had more to say but a serveant appeared as if from nowhere and bowed shortly to the two of them.

"Your pardon, my lady, my lord. The King has returned and requests your precense immediatly. 

Maria sighed, smiled at Wilhelm and then turned back toward the Palace. "We shall have to finish our chat another time it seems."

"If you say so. I hope to meet you again," replied Wilhelm, watching Maria leave and then realizing how he had acted - for the first time in his life, he felt...confused and he was calm with that idea.