An Aalbanese Tale

Sigmund! Roderick! It is time for bed!

But, Tante Helgar, where is Mutter? Why isn't she the one bringing us to bed?

She... is not feeling well right now...

Großmutter has been fighting her again!

Now, Sigmund, I know you heard them having a little argument this evening...

Vater will be angry when he hears about this!

Boys, don't get upset about this. Let's get you ready for bed.

Why does Großmutter hate her so?

Let me tell you a story, and perhaps this will make it easier for you to go to sleep.

Once upon a time, there was a young Aalbanese girl named Gertrud. She had beautiful snow-white skin and luxuriant coal-black hair, just like her Alphatian mother. But most importantly, Gertrud had outstanding talent in magic, the legacy of her Alphatian heritage.

When Gertrud was very young, her mother passed away, and her father, Herr Gerhard, was forlorn for company. In his loneliness, he took a new wife, Frau Edeltraud, a highbred Hattian lady with three daughters of her own.

Frau Edeltraud was a cold and ambitious woman, and so were her daughters. All of them acted kindly towards Gertrud, particularly when Herr Gerhard was around. In truth, Frau Edeltraud wanted nothing more than to take Herr Gerhard's fortune and good name, and for her daughters to wed an Aalbanese nobleman—or even the Prinz of Aalban himself.

One tragic day, Herr Gerhard died in an accident. Frau Edeltraud came into possession of her husband's estate, and the masquerade of gentle behavior towards Gertrud ended. Frau Edeltraud cruelly mistreated her stepdaughter, and if Gertrud were not the powerful wizardess she was, Frau Edeltraud would have done more than simply lock up Gertrud in the highest tower of the manor.

Now, because of Herr Gerhard's handsome fortune and good name, Frau Edeltraud had gained considerable favor at the Aalbanese court, particularly with the mother-dowager of the Prinz of Aalban. Frau Edeltraud had arranged for one of her daughters wed to the Prinz of Aalban in the autumn. 

When the time came, the Prinz of Aalban and his mother-dowager arrived at Frau Edeltraud's door to meet the bride. But instead of bridesmaids and wedding songs, they were greeted with mourners and dirges.

Frau Edeltraud, mournful and melancholy, came to greet her royal guests.

"I am sorry, your highness, but I have dreadful news. One of my daughters has died from asthma, and my other daughters are inconsolable. I ask that you let my daughter mourn for the autumn, and that you return in the winter. Then, my daughter, Brigitte, will marry your son."

"Good Rad! You have my condolences," replied the mother-dowager "But isn't my son betrothed to your daughter Margarete?"

"I beg your pardon, your highness, but you might be mistaken. Margarete is my daughter who died of asthma. Brigitte is my daughter whom your son shall marry in the winter."

The royal train returned to the Aalbanese capital with mother-dowager and a relieved Prinz, for the Prinz did not care for Brigitte—or Margarete either, for that matter. In fact, he did not care for the proper Aalbanese maidens that his mother had been parading in front of him for him to marry. But the happiness of the Prinz blew away like the last falling leaf of autumn, for wintertime came and the mother-dowager reminded him it was time to marry.

Off the royal train headed to the manor of Frau Edeltraud for the Prinz to marry one of her daughters. And it the dead of winter, it seemed Frau Edeltraud could arrange little more than for the somber ceremonies for the dead.

At her house, a distraught Frau Edeltraud greeted her royal guests.

"I am sorry, your highness, but I have terrible news. One of my other daughters has died from a winter's chill, and my other daughter is inconsolable. I ask that you let my daughter mourn for the winter, and that you return in the spring. Then my daughter, Liesbeth, will marry your son."

"What a tragedy indeed! You have my condolences, milady," cried the Prinz. "But isn't the name of the betrothed Brigitte?" This time, even the interest of the uninterested Prinz was piqued.

"I beg your pardon, your highness, but you might be mistaken. Brigitte is my daughter who died of the winter chill. Liesbeth is my daughter whom you shall marry in the spring."

So the royal train of Aalban, with the Prinz and the mother-dowager, returned empty-handed once more. Had Frau Edeltraud not been a highborn Hattian lady with a handsome fortune and a good name, and had it not been the mother-dowager herself who arranged the match, the wedding plans would have long been over. But the mother-dowager was a stubborn woman, who once she set her mind could not be budged anymore than the Glantrian Alps.

Spring blew into Aalban, and the Prinz of Aalban and the mother-dowager had traveled once more to Frau Edeltraud's manor. Somehow, the Prinz was not surprised when the royal train was met with the black trappings of a funeral instead of the white garments of a wedding.

Frau Edeltraud, once a figure of haughtiness and Hattian pride, was a miserable mournful mess of tears and wild hair. Pitifully, she addressed her royal guests.

"I am sorry, your highness, but I have horrible news. My daughter Liesbeth has died from a terrible fall..."

And that was all she had to say. And that would have been the end of the matter, had not the Prinz of Aalban, who apparently had a growing interest in his own marriage, spoke up and asked:

"Milady, do you not have yet another daughter?"

"No, your highness, no. You must be mistaken. I only have three daughters, and the ill winds of fate have taken them all away from me."

"Milady, I refer to the daughter of your late husband Herr Gerhard, your stepdaughter."

"Oh, Gertrud. You would not want to have anything to do with her. She's an Alphatian witch, who spends her days in the highest tower of the manor, practicing her sorcery of breath-stealing winds and winter-cold gales and currents of air that can fly a person to the highest of heights and drop them from the sky like a..."

At that point, Frau Edeltraud became silent. But the Prinz of Aalban had already become intrigued by the mysterious Alphatian sorceress. And when Gertrud was summoned, and the Prinz saw her beautiful snow-white skin and luxuriant coal-black hair, as she gently floated down from her tower like an angel descending from the heavens, the Prinz of Aalban fell in love and knew he had to marry this girl.

Frau Edeltraud would not have it. But she had already broken her promise of a daughter for the Prinz to marry three times, and could not complain. The mother-dowager, who hated Alphatians as much as Frau Edeltraud, would not hear of it either. But somehow the handsome fortune and the good name that came with Gertrud appeased the old noblewoman. And her son, the Prinz of Aalban, had already decided that Gertrud was the girl that going to be his wife.