February 21, 2020
The flight across the southern Kyne to Rokkenjima was smooth and uneventful. King Michael had decided to make the journey incognito, which meant that there had been no media coverage of his departure, and that he had made the flight in an outwardly nondescript private jet. The private airstrip at which the jet landed was similarly devoid of press, and the diplomatic car the Tytorian consulate in Dunwich had provided was similarly unmarked. A brief interaction with a pair of Rokkenjiman customs officials later, and he was on his way. The final leg of the journey was equally uneventful, which suited the Tytorian monarch just fine. Michael figured that he would likely be something of a recluse if it weren't for his crown.
The aging king adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles as the driver announced their arrival at Shizukesa Palace. He'd been so deeply lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the approach, though he'd heard that the view was magnificent. The driver parked the car, and Michael murmured his thanks as he disembarked. The staff at the palace had been alerted of his impending arrival, or at least he assumed so; after all, he'd made sure to clear his trip with Pyrena Castle before setting out, so the message was likely to have made it through. Sure enough, as he strode toward the main doors, a palace aide materialized to escort him inside; in other settings, perhaps there would have been a full honor guard, suited to visiting royalty, but Michael preferred it this way, especially now. Pomp and circumstance had its place, but this was not it.
The palace itself struck Michael as rather less grand than might have been expected for a retired empress, but on reflection, he decided that really made sense too. After all the grief she had already been put through, coupled with the trouble she was likely to be called upon to endure in the near future, a quiet piece of the countryside was probably exactly what Beatrice needed right now. Michael grimaced slightly at the thought and pushed it aside. There'd be plenty of time for that nonsense later. Right now, he was here for his friend.
Michael hadn't really taken in much of the palace by the time he was ushered into the room where the now-former empress was waiting. "Your Majesty," he began almost automatically in English. He stopped himself, thought better of it, and started again in slightly rusty Rokkenjiman, "Beatrice. I came as soon as I could. When I heard of your diagnosis, I was stunned. Of the two of us, I always thought that surely I would be the one to fall ill first. I never imagined..." He broke off, momentarily overwhelmed with emotion, and held out his hand. "Oh, Beatrice," he said at last, "You're still so young. This must be so hard for you."