The King Beyond the Gate

The Year 2006 — Vaduz Palace, the Constitutional Monarchy of Liechtenstein The scent of beeswax, old teak wood, and thick, still-warm blood filled the King’s private study. That night, torrential rain poured down upon Liechtenstein, drowning out the screams and the roar of the storm raging beyond the tall, classically styled glass windows. Behind the heavy, draping velvet curtains, little Karl, who had just turned nine, hid, his body shaking violently. His tiny hands pressed against his mouth to stifle his sobs so that the perpetrator could not hear him. His blue eyes stared straight into the centre of the room through a narrow slit in the velvet. There, upon a Persian carpet embroidered with the royal crest, his father. King Alexander III lay helpless. The King’s breath came in ragged gasps; his chest, adorned with the emblems of his majesty, was drenched in fresh blood. Standing over the King’s dying body was Prince Edward, his own father’s half brother. Edward’s face looked cold, filled with the dark ambition that had for years been hidden behind the prince’s friendly smile. In Edward’s right hand, a blood stained, engraved dagger glinted in the flash of lightning from outside. “You are far too weak, Alexander,” whispered Edward in a terrifyingly hoarse voice. “The world is moving fast, and yet you are shackling Liechtenstein with your loyalty to the old laws.” Casually and without a shred of guilt, Edward knelt and reached into a pocket in the King’s robe. He pulled out a medium-sized, golden-glinting object a key with an intricate, antique design, adorned with engravings of secret symbols never before revealed to the public. A key that had, until now, been passed down from generation to generation to the rulers of the throne. “This… is not yours, Edward…” whispered King Alexander with his remaining strength, spitting blood from the corner of his mouth. “From this night onwards, it is mine. This throne is mine,” replied Edward coldly. Seeing his father’s heirloom snatched away and his father’s life slipping away, Karl’s paralysing fear suddenly melted into wild rage. Without a thought for his own safety, the nine-year-old boy stepped out from behind the curtain and charged forward. “Let Father go!” Karl screamed hysterically. Karl threw himself at Edward’s arm, trying to snatch the golden key from his uncle’s grasp. “Karl?!” Edward was startled for a moment, but his eyes quickly filled with hatred. “You little pest!” Prince Edward roughly shook his hand to fend Karl off. However, Karl clung tightly to the end of the golden key. A brief, fierce struggle ensued. Edward reflexively swung his dagger towards Karl’s face. *SRAK!* The sharp blade of the dagger sliced through the skin of Karl’s palm and wrist. A searing pain shot through Karl’s nerves, and fresh blood spurted out, soaking the golden key. At that very moment, the force of the physical impact and the invisible magical power of the key touched by royal blood suddenly caused it to shatter. *c***k!* The golden key snapped in two. The base of the key, bearing the engraved emblem, remained in Karl’s bloodied hand, whilst the keyhead was in Edward’s grasp. “How dare you!” Edward growled, his eyes widening at the sight of the heirloom key split in two. “You wretched boy, you’ve ruined it! You might as well join your father in hell!” Edward raised his dagger high, aiming it straight at Karl’s chest as he lay sprawled on the floor, clutching his bloodstained piece of the key. Karl closed his eyes tightly, preparing to face death. *BAM!* The loud, shattering sound of a window pane shattering preceded the s***h of the dagger. A black shadow burst into the room like a sudden storm. Before Edward could swing his blade, the armed figure, clad in an all-black tactical jacket, moved with extraordinary speed. The figure launched a roundhouse kick that struck Edward in the chest, sending the traitorous prince flying into a thick wooden bookcase. *c***k!* “Who are you?!” shouted Edward as he struggled to his feet, his eyes darting wildly. The mysterious intruder gave no reply. From the darkness, the muffled thud of a silenced weapon rang out. *THUMP! THUMP!* Two bullets pierced Prince Edward’s knee and thigh. A piercing scream of agony burst from Edward’s throat. Dark, crimson blood gushed copiously from his shattered leg. With his legs so grievously wounded and writhing in agony, Edward realised he could fight no more. Clutching the half-broken key he’d managed to take with him, he burst through a side door of the palace and fled into the darkness of the night, leaving a trail of blood along the corridor. The grand office suddenly fell silent, broken only by the intruder’s heavy breathing and the sound of the rain continuing to pour down outside. Karl, trembling and whimpering in pain, gazed at the intruder with glazed eyes. The wound on his hand was gushing blood, whilst his consciousness was slowly fading due to shock. Judging by their posture and slender build, the figure appeared to be a woman. The mysterious helper knelt beside Karl. Her hand, clad in a black glove, gently touched Karl’s cold cheek. She did not utter a single word, yet her hands moved deftly as she bandaged Karl’s palm with a pressure bandage. As the figure swiftly turned and leapt through the window to vanish into the darkness of the night, an object slipped from the pocket of her tactical jacket and fell onto the wet wooden floor, right next to Karl’s fingers. With the last of his strength before losing consciousness, Karl reached for the object. It was an ID badge made of thick mica bearing a distinctive logo. On the badge was a faint photograph of a dawn sky and a line of official text. **ELEANOR RIGBY** *Liechtenstein Republic Police* As his eyes slowly closed and the belated voices of the palace guards began to pour into the room, Karl’s nine-year-old mind noted two things that would remain etched forever in his memory. *Firstly*, his country was the *Constitutional Monarchy of Liechtenstein*, not a *Republic*. *Secondly*, the name of the woman who had saved him was *Eleanor Rigby*. One month later, the political crisis had been successfully quelled. Prince Edward was declared the nation’s most wanted fugitive, having vanished without a trace. Amidst a national atmosphere of mourning and tension, nine-year-old Karl with a tight bandage wrapped around his right hand was inaugurated at Vaduz Cathedral as the New Ruler. From that day onwards, he was known to the world as **King Charles William Alexander** **Twenty Years Later (2026) — Vaduz, the Principality of Liechtenstein** Two decades have passed. Under the leadership of King Charles William Alexander, Liechtenstein has transformed into one of Europe’s most respected modern megacities. Neoclassical skyscrapers, blending the beauty of the past with the technology of the future, stand majestically piercing the clouds. Magically-magnetic air vehicles glide silently along orderly sky routes, passing over the glistening River Rhine. On the top floor of the New Vaduz Palace, a man stands gazing at the cityscape through a giant glass wall. Karl now aged 29 looks dashing and charismatic. His shoulders are broad, his dark hair is neatly styled, and his eyes hold the sharpness of a ruler who has weathered many storms. Yet, upon closer inspection, his right hand clad in a thin leather glove always held an object within the pocket of his luxurious jacket: a fragment of a golden key that had snapped in two twenty years ago. The double doors, clad in steel and walnut, swung open slowly. Steady footsteps echoed across the marble floor. “You’ve missed your afternoon tea again, *Your Majesty*,” a voice, casual yet firm, greeted him. Karl did not turn round; he offered a faint smile, one he very rarely showed in public. “Thom, how many times have I told you not to address me so formally when it’s just the two of us?” Thomas Spawn—or Thom, as he was commonly known—stepped inside. The man was Karl’s cousin and childhood friend. Thom now served as the King’s personal assistant and head of his personal security detail. He was wearing a dark grey tactical suit with the royal crest on his chest. “I’m paid by Parliament to uphold your dignity, Karl,” Thom joked as he walked over to the desk and set down a high-security encrypted tablet. “And besides, the palace staff would faint if they heard me referring to the ruler of this country by his first name alone.” Karl turned to face his cousin. “Any updates?” The relaxed atmosphere between them suddenly vanished. Thom’s expression turned serious. He picked up the tablet and opened it. “The 241st search across the population databases of Liechtenstein, the European Union, Interpol, and international civil registries was completed this morning,” Thom stated matter-of-factly. He swiped the tablet screen towards Karl. “The results?” asked Karl, though he could already guess the answer. “Nothing,” replied Thom firmly. “No population records, no police licence, no medical data, no passport records, and no birth registration under the name *Eleanor Rigby* anywhere in this country or anywhere in the world. Not even in our police archives for the last hundred years has that name ever appeared.” Karl let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting far out of the window. He ran his thumb once more over the small, sharp-edged object in his pocket. “That name is real, Thom. The ID is in my safe. The photo and the stamp aren’t fakes,” said Karl quietly but with great emphasis. Thom looked at his cousin with a deeply concerned expression. As someone who’d grown up with Karl and witnessed that bloody night, Thom understood all too well how that childhood trauma continued to haunt the King’s life. “Karl, listen to me,” said Thom softly, stepping closer. “I trust you. I know someone saved your life that night. If it hadn’t been for that person, our bastard uncle would have killed you. But… that ID card says *‘Liechtenstein Republic Police’*. Our country has been a constitutional monarchy for hundreds of years! There has never been a ‘Republic’ on this soil.” Karl turned away and walked over to his desk. From a drawer secured with a special biometric scanner, he took out a black velvet box. Inside lay two objects: a broken piece of a golden key, and a police ID badge, its colour slightly faded by the passage of time. “That’s the key to this whole mystery, Thom,” said Karl, pointing to the badge. “He’s not from here. Or rather… he’s not from our *reality*.” Thom rubbed his face, feeling a headache coming on. “Don’t tell me you’re back to that crazy quantum physics theory you were discussing with the scientists in the secret laboratory last week?” “This key,” Karl held up the golden key fragment. “For twenty years I thought this was merely a symbol of the throne, defaced by Edward. But the energy emanating from the fracture every time it’s brought near a certain type of radiation… that’s not ordinary earthly matter. It’s a frequency regulator.” Karl looked Thom straight in the eye. “My father didn’t just hold the key to political power, Thom. My father held the key to another world. A world whose geography mirrors our own, yet which follows a different timeline and history. A world where Liechtenstein might not be a monarchy, but a republic.” Thom fell silent for a moment, processing Karl’s words. He knew his cousin was a genius who’d completed advanced studies in strategy and physics at a young age, but the idea of *parallel worlds* sounded like the stuff of pulp fiction. “And you believe this woman named Eleanor Rigby came from… that place?” asked Thom sceptically. “She appeared out of nowhere that night through the window without any of the guards detecting a perimeter breach,” explained Karl. “She was carrying a weapon with a strange serial number that isn’t registered with any manufacturer. And most importantly, the wound on Edward’s leg as he fled… the bullet lodged in the wound was made of a metal alloy that has never been patented in our world.” Karl stepped closer to Thom and patted his cousin on the shoulder. “For twenty years I have led this country, fulfilling my duties as King. But I cannot rest until I find answers regarding Father’s death, Edward’s whereabouts… and who Eleanor Rigby really is.”