Chapter 1

Europe has always had its microstates. Some had been in existence since the fall of the Roman Empire; others had only existed for a short period of time, such as the Free Cities that existed between the two World Wars.

One of the more enduring European microstates was the Duchy of Ferrostahl, a small country located at the junction of France, Italy and Switzerland, which came into being after the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire. The official language of the Duchy was Romansch, a language descended from Vulgar Latin. In actuality, the majority of Ferrons (as citizens of the Duchy were known) spoke French, Italian, German and/or English; most of the official business of the Duchy was conducted in either French or Italian.

Like a number of European microstates, the Duchy's economy derived from its status as a tax haven, tourist destination and duty free market. With the strengthening and evolution of the European Common Market, the duty free market status of Ferrostahl had gone by the wayside. Its status as tax haven, though, has strengthened with a series of treaties between Ferrostahl and Switzerland, which allowed the ministries of finance of the two countries to act in unison. There was even some speculation that Ferrostahl might eventually become the twenty-seventh canton of Switzerland, though that was still a matter for the politicians and diplomats to hash out. For now, though, the forty-thousand citizens of the Duchy enjoyed the benefits of a small, neutral country with a strong banking system and a fifteen year old ruler who happened to be a super-genius.

The Duke of Ferrostahl was one Wesley Fields, who until eight years ago was a normal, small town American boy. As it happened, Wesley's mother was the only child of the Duke of Ferrostahl, and had run away with an American sailor whom she had met while on a trip to Naples. When Wesley's parents died in a car accident, Wesley discovered that he was the grandson and heir of the Duke of Ferrostahl. Within a week of his parents being killed, Wesley became Lord Wesley, heir to the Duke of Ferrostahl and newest resident of the small city of Ferrostahl.

Within a month of moving to Ferrostahl, Wesley's mathematical genius came to light. With the help of teachers from Switzerland, Germany, Italy, France and America, Wesley was revealed to be a mathematical prodigy, a fact that was a source of pride (and later revenues) to the people of Ferrostahl

When Wesley's grandfather died, Wesley was installed on the throne of Ferrostahl, under the regency of the Duchy's prime minister. Although the Duke of Ferrostahl's powers were proscribed by the Duchy's modern constitution, the people of Ferrostahl still greatly benefited from Wesley's rule. Wesley used his genius to create algorithms used in internet search engines, international financial modeling, encryption devices, and the like. When Wesley turned fifteen, he had become the primary stimulus of Ferrostahl's thriving modern economy.

For the most part, this went unnoticed by most of the world's population. Wesley was listed in Forbes as one of the wealthiest individuals in the world, but he wasn't Prince Williams. Wesley was a good looking kid, and stayed fit by playing soccer, skiing, hiking, and the other sports available in an alpine country. But he was the nominal leader of a country whose entire population was the size of a small American town. In addition, he was something of a geek, even if he was a geek who was revered by the Duchy who considered Wesley the source of their country's revitalization.

So Wesley found himself pretty much secluded. Most of the people who visited him were either interested in his mathematical abilities, or who wanted him to use his influence and position with the democratically elected Duchy Council to change the banking laws of the Duchy to the visitor's benefit.

Wesley had friends on the town's youth soccer teams, but his genius and position kept him separated from them as well. So at fifteen, Wesley found himself alone in the world. A boy whose wealth, position and intelligence should have afforded him any sort of companionship he wanted was denied this by his own sense of noblesse oblige. But it did not mean he didn't desire human contact. And Wesley was a teenager whose hormones were as active as any non-royal adolescent.

Wesley was about to put his time of seclusion to and end. He had a plan wherein the American intelligence community would hand him over the woman of his dreams, to do with as he would.

"You can't be serious. You want us to kidnap an American citizen to turn over to a fifteen year old boy to be used as his sexual plaything?"

The objection was voiced by a woman who could have easily been mistaken for Miss Hathaway from the classic American comedy, The Beverly Hillbillies. In reality, her name was Rita Wilkshire, an analyst for the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. The table she and five other individuals were sitting around was nondescript, as was the room the table was in. The room's only noteworthy feature was that it was not the type of room that drew attention to itself.

A thin man with thick black rimmed glassed pushed the glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "We don't have any choice. I suppose we could send in a team to kidnap the Duke, but we are talking about the head of a technically friendly country."

Ms. Wilkshire huffed. "A friendly leader that is blackmailing us."

An urbane gentleman, one Adam Ritter III, cleared his throat, drawing the eyes of the rest of the room to him. He adjusted his tie before he started talking.

"While technically this country had kidnapped the heads of countries that were acting contrary to our interests, it wouldn't do any good in this case. For one, the young Duke has taken steps to ensure that certain electronic 'time bombs' will come to light if anything happens to him. For another thing, although the American public might not recognize his name, the young Duke does enjoy a certain amount of celebrity in academic and financial circles. And he is offering something of equal value in exchange."

The thick glasses man interrupted "A huge leap forward in encryption technology!"

"As Mr. Booth, our colleague from the NSA just plainly stated, the Duke is offering us a unique opportunity, one that none of our code departments is willing to pass up. And in return, all the Duke is asking for the company of a--"

Ms. Wilkshire interrupted. "An abducted American citizen!"

"A minor starlet. A soap opera actress who has been unable to successfully break free of her genre. The Duke is a wealthy man--"

"A perverted little boy!"

"Ms. Wilkshire, we need what the Duke has to offer us. We need to make sure that somebody else doesn't get it. And you know as well as everyone else in this room that from the sample the Duke has given us, that he can definitely deliver.what he's promised."

Everyone around the table nodded at this last pronouncement. Even Ms. Wilkshire grudgingly granted this point.

"Granted, we could use the Duke's product. But how do we deliver what he wants?"

Mr. Ritter produced a folder containing photos, giving an identical folder to everyone around the table.

"The government in Iran, in a diplomatic gesture toward the new administration, has released a number of political prisoners who have relatives living in America. Of course, these prisoners are being interrogated by the agencies represented at this table, on the assumption that the Iranians will try to slip a few intelligence operatives in the batch. As it happens, two of the prisoners were friends of the actress's mother, and one is an uncle thought dead. We're contacting the mother now."

Ms. Wilkshire shook her head. "I'd expect this kind of manipulation from the CIA, but I guess I was expecting better from the State Department."

Mr. Ritter shrugged. "You'd be surprised by the number of us over at State who have always embraced the concept of realpolitik. We're in contact with the Duke now. I doubt we'll be able to secure the services of Ms. Nadia Bjorlin as the Duke's eternal sex slave, but for the return of her mother's uncle and friends, I'm sure we'll be able to work out something that the Duke will find agreeable. If there is no further discussion, I will begin negotiations, and keep you all informed."

No one in the room objected. With that, Mr. Ritter and the others quietly filed out of the room.

Nadia Bjorlin looked out the window of her new home for the next twelve months. Below her laid the bustling town of Ferrostahl, equal parts medieval town and Silicon Valley. In truth, the description wasn't that far off base. When Nadia had been picked up at the airport in Sion, Switzerland, she had been met by two people: Tomas, who would be her personal driver for the next twelve months, and Sara, who was to be her personal assistant for the duration. As Tomas led the three of them to a Touareg with the Duchy's emblem on its side, Sara began telling Nadia all about Ferrostahl and its young Duke. The Duke's genius had changed the Duchy from a sort of Swiss banking protectorate to a bastion of Information Technology, on par with Austin, Texas or Bangalore, India. Nadia could believe it when they crossed the border into Ferrostahl proper. The town of Ferrostahl was bustling with construction activity, although Sara was quick to point out that the Duchy Council (which Sara had explained was the elected legislative body of Ferrostahl) had taken the necessary steps to preserve the historical aspect of Ferrostahl.

Over the town of Ferrostahl loomed the Ferrostahl castle, a structure that looked as if it would be at home either in Disney World or Bavaria. The castle was going under reconstructive surgery as well, making it more technologically and ecologically compatible with the world around it.

The most surprising site to Nadia in the Duchy of Ferrostahl was the Duke himself. Duke Wesley Fields looked as if he could have been a typical American teenager (which Nadia learned he could have very well become, if his parents hadn't died in a car accident).

Nadia was presented to the Duke in one of his official offices. He was about her height, green eyes, light brown hair that looked unruly, even though the Duke's stylist had worked on it for half an hour before his meeting with Nadia. Even though the Duke's suit was tailored to perfection, including the official emblem of the Duchy on its left breast pocket, something about the Duke's gangly appearance (he was obviously in the middle of a growth spurt) made it seem tight and uncomfortable on the young man.

And then there was the Duke himself. Nadia hadn't been sure what to expect. When the man from the State department had approached her, he confirmed what her mother had told her. The State department was in a position to secure the freedom of three of her mother's friends from Iran, including Nadia's own granduncle. However, the State department needed a favor from Nadia. They needed Nadia to go visit an obscure European aristocrat, a young man who had become enamored with her. If Nadia would stay with the young man for a period of one year, and be especially nice to him during that time period, the United States State Department would secure the release of her mother's friends and family members. The official had been rather vague what constituted nice, but left it to the discretion of Nadia herself.

Nadia had half expected that once she arrived, she would be attacked by a slavering teenager driven made by hormonal desires. Instead, she was met by a polite young man who had nervously asked her to dinner at the castle's dining room the next night, noting that Nadia would understandably be tired from the long flight. Nadia thanked 'His Grace' (as both Sara and the State Department's protocol people had informed her was the proper address for the Duke), and was quickly escorted to her suite of rooms, where Sara showed her Nadia's new wardrobe. Again, Nadia wasn't sure what kind of clothes to expect: leather and lingerie, most likely. Instead, she found a walk-in closet filled with an assortment of clothes for any occasion, from an alpine picnic to dining at a Swiss chalet.