Page 40 of The Broken Dawn

"And Freddie," Gustav continued, "I need you to review our coastal defenses. If—" Another cough interrupted him, this one lasting longer. When it subsided, his face was ashen.

"Father, please," Freddie said, concern evident in his voice. "Let me call for the doctor."

Gustav waved weakly. "In a moment. First, I need to speak with your brother alone."

Freddie hesitated, then nodded stiffly. "I'll wait outside." He squeezed his father's shoulder before leaving, a rare display of physical affection that made Hal's chest tighten.

When the door closed, Gustav turned to Hal, his golden eyes—so like Hal's own—suddenly intense despite his exhaustion.

"You see patterns where your brother sees only force," he said quietly. "It's a rare gift, and one Sweden will need in the coming years."

Hal blinked, unsure how to respond. "Freddie is a fine soldier⁠—"

"Freddie is exactly what he was trained to be," Gustav agreed. "But these times require more than soldiers. They require thinkers." He tapped the report on Poland. "The world is changing, Harald. Old certainties are crumbling. Freddie will need men who can adapt, who can see beyond doctrine and tradition when he is King."

"I'm not sure I'm that man, Father," Hal said honestly.

Gustav's smile was tired but genuine. "That's precisely why you are." He closed his eyes briefly. "Now, tell me more about this cadet who has you so concerned."

Hal hesitated. "Jakob — Cadet Eliasberg — is brilliant. Tactically innovative, hardworking. But he's... vulnerable at the academy. Especially with Christian there."

"Because he's Jewish?"

"Partly. And because he's the son of the school laundress. And because..." Hal trailed off, not sure how to explain the complex dynamics without revealing too much about his own feelings.

"Because he's your friend," Gustav finished simply. "And Christian has always resented anything that diverts attention from him." He sighed. "Your cousin has many fine qualities but generosity of spirit is not among them."

Hal nodded, surprised by his father's perception. "Christian's been worse lately. More... openly contemptuous of anyone he considers beneath him."

"Like many young men, he's looking for certainty in uncertain times." Gustav's expression darkened. "Unfortunately, he seems to be finding it in troubling places."

Before Hal could ask what he meant, another coughing fit seized the king, this one violent enough to double him over. Hal rushed to his side, supporting his father's shoulders until the spasm passed.

"I'm calling the doctor," Hal said firmly, no longer a request.

Gustav nodded weakly, too exhausted to protest. As Hal moved toward the door, his father caught his wrist.

"Harald," he said, voice raspy but urgent. "Watch over your friend. And watch Christian. There are currents moving beneath the surface of this war that few can see."

"I will, Father."

As Hal stepped into the corridor to summon help, he found Freddie waiting, his posture betraying tension only in the tight set of his jaw.

"How is he?" Freddie asked.

"Tired. But still sharp." Hal hesitated. "He's worried about Christian."

Freddie's expression closed. "Christian knows his place."

"He knows his place," Hal said quietly, "and everyone else's."

Their eyes met, a rare moment of understanding between the brothers. Then Freddie nodded once, a soldier acknowledging a valid tactical concern. It wasn't much, but it was something. Tomorrow he would return to the academy, to Jakob, armed with new knowledge and a clearer sense of the gathering storm.

September 8, 1939

The Shabbat candles were already laid out on the table when Jakob arrived home from his Friday lecture. He paused at the gate, taking in the familiar sight—the small farmhouse with its weathered siding, the carefully tended garden, the thin curl of smoke from the chimney. After a week of war news and Christian's veiled threats, home should have felt like sanctuary.

Instead, he found himself scanning the tree line, noting how exposed the house was from the main road.