They came at 2.00am. There was a loud knocking on the front door. Samuel lay in bed and listened as his father shuffled groggily down the hall, a mumble as he shooed away one of the domestic staff who had been on night duty, opening the door himself.

Samuel lay unmoving. He hadn’t slept. Returning from the party the previous evening he’d locked himself in his room, not wanting to face his father or have to explain what had happened. He’d heard his father come into the house, pause at his closed door, and then move on without even attempting a knock. Since then he had simply stared at the ceiling, a million thoughts swimming in his head.

Now he listened to sharp words outside the door, and quiet footsteps moving into Councilman Martin’s private office. Why were they walking so quietly? Jackboots should make more noise, and that’s what Samuel had been expecting.

Finally, a desperate uncertainty drew him out of bed. In bare feet he padded out the door and down the hall. Creeping forward, he peered into his father’s office through the door that had been left ajar. 

There were half a dozen people in the room and none of them, apart from his father, belonged to the City. The other five comprised of: what he assumed from the functional cut of their clothing and military headgear, two bodyguards; there was some sort of senior advisor with his balding head; and the Older and Younger Princes of Aerska en Cantaer.

Martin and the Princes were leaned over the large desk, deep in conversation. Everyone in the room looked on edge, but Samuel couldn’t hear what they were saying. He strained his ears and leaned as far forward as he possibly could. He had been expecting the secret police, but was this worse?

“We’ve just received the news… it isn’t safe… thought you should know.” Aargh, the fragments of whispers were driving Samuel mad, he leaned, and leaned, and then the door gave way. He fell unceremoniously into the room, landing in a heap. His knee skidded on the carpet, hard, and he wondered if he’d grazed it along with the heels of his hands.

Flicking his head in a scowl he looked up to see one of the guards with the door handle in hand. He hadn’t fallen by accident. Instead Samuel had taken his eyes off the guards, and fixated on the princes and his father, he hadn't realised that a guard had caught sight of him and decided to do something about it.

“Samuel!” The sharp edge of Martin’s voice caught his son unawares. Looking up he found himself caught in his father’s glare, the steely gaze of the Older Prince, and something that might have been amusement or surprise from Nikolaus. 

Sheepish, but unwilling to give up even one inch of pride more than he already had, Samuel pulled himself to his feet. He stared at his father from out of a wooden face, pointedly ignoring the searching look of the younger prince, who seemed to be examining Samuel in fine detail. Nikolaus looked Samuel up and down, from the top of his tousled, bed-head hair, down to his bare feet and everything in between. Samuel wished he’d gotten dressed, instead of having to stand there in an old threadbare t-shirt and sweatpants. He hoped there weren’t any holes in his pyjamas, even as he knew there were.

“I was just being informed of your movements earlier yesterday. A certain altercation with Councilman Tain’s son, and then an excursion to a private dwelling that brought you into very close contact with His Highness here, all of which culminated in something of an unfortunate display at the ball.” It felt as though Martin was making a catalogue of his son’s faults. Samuel was annoyed that his father didn’t seem to be levelling any of the blame for this on the other party standing in the room. He also didn’t understand what this all had to do with why a private council was taking place in his father's office at 2.00am.

“I cannot apologise more Councillor. My activities with your son should never have occurred. They were an unfortunate oversight on my part; but they have now brought your family to the attention of the authorities. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this.” The last line out of Prince Nikolaus’ mouth was the most human thing Samuel had seen from him over the last 12 hours, narrowly beating out the fraction of a second he had faltered in the dance.

Martin waved the Prince down, offering a comforting word that made Samuel all the more irritated. He seemed prepared to overlook the edge-landers part in it all, but not that of his own son. 

Nikolaus' father took that moment as his cue to step back into the conversation. “What’s done is done, unfortunately it changes everything. What they don’t know already, they’ll figure out in a matter of hours. Martin, it’s over.” The Older Prince’s voice was firm and final, and Samuel watched his father’s head sink under the weight of his words. But why?

“What is going on? What’s over? Please, someone tell me what this is all about?” Samuel couldn’t make sense of it. 

“The place I took you this afternoon,” Nikolaus began.

“Level 27a, Apartment 2296, East Concourse of the MacMillan Residential Tower,” Samuel supplied.

The look of shock on the prince’s face was priceless, “You knew? You remembered?” He exclaimed.

“I actually live in this city. I know it better than the back of my hand. Did you think I would get lost if you walked me around long enough?”

The prince had the decency to look almost abashed (or perhaps impressed) before clearing his throat and continuing. “Those people, they’re part of a Christian Community here within the city. They don’t have priests here and I was bringing the sacrament, smuggled in through the city borders.”

Samuel didn’t know what a sacrament was, but he practically hissed at the word christian. There weren’t mean’t to be any christians in the city. Christianity belonged to the Edge, pushed out beyond the borders and into the fringes of the world, where it was hoped it would die out. The idea that there were whole groups practising here in the city seemed unimaginable. Christianity was a principal sign of someone who belonged to the Edge.

“It was illegal then. They’re not citizens, and it was illegal.” Samuel’s brain was doing somersaults. 

“When a society decides to legislate against God, then it is not long for this world.” The bald-headed advisor intoned. Samuel wanted to laugh, by that logic the cities should have crumbled centuries ago, but no, Christianity had been banned so long ago that even the history books could barely keep track of when it happened.

“We got word from them this evening. Someone managed to sneak out. There was a raid. Some were taken into custody, some got away, we don’t know how many.” Nikolaus concluded, his eyes boring into Samuel's, trying to convey something.

It took a second for Samuel’s brain to do the arithmetic, but eventually he put the pieces together. “Vince,” he said quietly.

“The Tain boy told his father who must have organised an investigation,” the older prince took over, turning back to speak directly to Martin. “They must have used CCTV to track your son and mine from the viewing platform into the MacMillan building. With the raid, and subsequent interrogations, they’ll have enough to make arrests and probably trace the network further. This delegation, my Principality, are in danger from this getting out. My son is in danger. But so’s yours,” he went on, his tone gentling as he spoke about Samuel, as though sorry for what had happened, as though taking a modicum of responsibility.

“My son shouldn’t have danced with yours.” The older prince cast a withering glare upon his heir. “It’s put a target on your backs; and Martin, they got Florence, she’s been taken.”

“Then my involvement, all our hopes and plans, they’ve been compromised.” Samuel’s father sounded so dejected. “There will be no détente, no treaty, no trade, no movement, no compromise. The border will be closed, illegals will be rounded up. We’ve come no further than twenty years ago, instead we’ve just gone full-circle. It’ll all happen again, it’ll all happen again.” Tears fell from Martin’s eyes and made gentle splashes on the desk. Samuel didn’t understand how his father was mixed up in all this, but he understood that whatever was really going on in that room, Martin had lost. A life’s work had disappeared in a moment, and the statesman who had given his life over to the ideal of a better world stood bowed and dejected and wracked with grief.

Samuel moved without thinking. Not fast, he moved with leaden steps that brought him around the desk. He laid a clumsy hand on his father’s shoulder and patted him awkwardly. He didn’t know how comfort worked, Martin had never been an overly demonstrative parent. Nonetheless, Samuel did what he could.

While the room stood in silence, Martin pulled himself together, stood up, squared his shoulders, and with Samuel’s hand still resting on him, he faced his guests.

“We don’t have much time. You’ll have to leave immediately. They’ll have already put the border on alert, but they can’t close it straightaway, and you’re still here as diplomatic guests of the state. I’ll write you a passport to get you out, and once I know you’re at the customs line I’ll inform the council that you had to leave early due to unexpected news from home. Some of them will buy it, some of them won’t, but the proper forms will have been observed and they won’t be able to accuse you, technically, of running.”

Taking a quick look at his wristwatch and running some calculations through his head, Martin concluded, “Can you be at the gates of the city by 10.30 this morning, that should give you time to get out. Even if they want to follow you, once you’re out of the city they’ll have to jump through hoops to get it approved, and I’ve still got enough friends to stall them until you can get safe.”

“Thank you my friend,” said the Prince genuinely, reaching out to clasp Martin’s arm in recognition of a friendship that Samuel hadn’t known existed until that moment.

“But what about you?” The Prince continued.

A grimace passed over Martin’s features. “I’ll do what I can, what I must. For Florence, for myself. I’ll keep the dream alive for as long as I can.” The two older men looked at each other sadly.

With a nod, the older Prince went to turn and leave, his son and retainers drawing themselves up to follow.

“You’ll take my son though.” Martin’s interrupting jab pulled them all up short. The Princes turned back with uncertain, questioning looks. Samuel, was flabbergasted.

“He isn’t safe, he can’t stay.”

“What are you talking about Dad? What do you mean I’m not safe? I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but I can plead ignorance, I knew nothing and everyone knows that. How can they take me with them, how can I leave the city? I’m a citizen!” Samuel couldn’t understand his father. Even if Martin had broken the law, what possible thing had Samuel done to warrant running away. The two princes just looked on, uncertain, but with a look of belief in what Martin was saying. They trusted him that there was a legitimate reason, they just needed to understand.

“My son is on camera entering an illegal christian assembly alongside the Very Christian Prince Nikolaus from beyond the border. He then danced with the prince at a ball, something no one else would have done, which suggests a close relationship; actions speak louder than words and are harder to refute.” Martin began listing facts, before pausing for a moment, turning to Samuel, looking into his eyes with something like an apology. “And if they dig much further, which they will, they’ll find evidence that he was baptised. Samuel is a Christian.”

The gasp of shock came from Samuel himself. This made no sense, not to him, and seemingly not to the others in the room either, who looked on quizzically. 

“I wanted to say no, but I could never deny her anything. She wanted it for you so much, and she loved you so much. So I let it happen. Your mother, she begged me to let you be baptised, and so, I did.” The confession would almost have fallen upon deaf ears; except that once again the ghost of his mother had been conjured up, and that always held Samuel’s attention.

“My mother,” Samuel breathed.

“His mother?” the old prince queried.

Turning back to his desk Martin opened a small compartment and fished inside. Drawing his hand out he held it out to the older prince, and into the man's outstretched palm he dropped a small ring. The Prince picked it up and examined it closely before handing it to his son. Nikolaus, likewise, examined the small object, before both princes came to look at Martin knowingly in the eye.

“Her name was Marina, she was a Christian, and she was born beyond the Edge.”

Samuel’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor. What did this mean, his mother was an Edge-lander, he was a Christian. None of it made sense.

The princes looked from Martin to each other. They seemed to have a whole conversation just with their eyes. Looking around they both stared assessingly for a moment at one of the guards. He was the slightly shorter of the two. They stared, and the guard stared. There were nods and grim determination.

“The boy can come.”