The Gates Would Never Open

Ranke looked around the sitting room. It contained only ordinary furniture, without a single ornament. The floorboards, bare of carpets, had been worn smooth by countless footsteps. The curtains were long pieces of blue linen that seemed to smell a little musty.

"Count Yulmand, thank you for receiving me." Count Ranke maintained a diplomat's poise. "I have come at the command of His Majesty Rudolf, King of the Rhine Alliance, in the hope that we might speak frankly."

Count Yulmand gave a slight nod. He said nothing about the reason for Ranke's visit, and spoke only of the weather.

Ranke felt as if he had been someone from the Kingdom of Angland in a previous life, capable of talking about the weather nonstop from noon until dusk. He could barely steer the conversation back on track.

A servant came to take down the curtains. Not long afterward, he returned to report that dinner was ready.

Only then did Yulmand stop talking about the weather and invite Ranke to dine with him.

The banquet was held in a smaller room. As Ranke entered, that familiar musty smell crept into his nostrils. The curtains had just finished their shift in the sitting room and were already at work in the dining room.

A number of officers sat on either side of the table. Their clothes were decent enough, and their expressions stern, as though they were about to attend a military council rather than a banquet.

Ranke understood why Yulmand had spent so long talking about the weather. He wanted to discuss the negotiations in front of the officers. That was a little troublesome.

Host and guest took their seats. Ranke steadied a chair that seemed even less sturdy than his own old back, and the servants began bringing out the food.