The crack of sporadic rifle fire mingles with the sound of ropes and tackle.The day of the shoot approaches. Competitors sit in the long sommer nights ,sipping ale and discussing the merits and demerits of air-rifle and the blackpowder variety.
In the pavillions of rose and sky blue the Duke and his family celebrate amidst fine silverware and the peacock uniforms of the high echleons of society.
The duke's eldest son-prince bishop of Roskilde and ambassador to the holy See has returned to try his hand at the boar targets. Alisona ,daughter of the duke, glides through the assembled throng, her mind full of princes and future happiness. Georg ,heir apparent,sits amongst cronies at the pavillion's awning. He is a stranger to duty and his father muses upon what will happen to the duchy under him. Years of foreign service in the army have left him dissolute and impatient with his lot. He too will try his skill at arms over the coming days.
The Duke's mind returns ever to the announcements he will make,the hope he will offer and the ever running sore that is the Ducal family. Liv,Duchess ,his one consolation,approaches and leads him out into the falling twilight. Karl Frederick surrenders to the welcome distractions and an oasis of silver drenched calm.
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