Just one week?

The Grand-duke sits alone in the back room of La Bete Noir, a glass of Calvadros at his elbow, he has escaped from the city, northwards, over the old Roman Bridge and for the first time in a week he is alone.
Is it just a week since he acceded to the throne, a week of meetings, with the Council to discuss his plans for the future, with the Royal college, to set the Archivists and Cartographers to work, Can it really be possible that no map exists of these realms?
Of course everyone knows that the breakaway province of Els, lies across the river of the same name to the East. It was the Grand-duchy of Noverre -Els for goodness sake.
They know that the great lake lies to the south, indeed some refer to it as La Grand Mer, and that the forest La Bois du Noir borders the North East. But how far is it from Soupcon to Doyenne? For what distance is the River Midden navigable?
As for the people, No not the peasantry, all we need to know there, is how many there are, and how much we can raise in taxes, but the Nobility.
Any man in the street could tell me that the Lady Sarah de Bechemel is the dowager Countess of St Pierre, but could they name her 15 children ( or even their fathers)?
Then there were the meetings with the costumiers, Messrs Funcken to decide on which particular shade of Grey the army should be wearing, What army? The palace Guard and a handful of trained bands in each province. Even the promised Cadres had failed to muster.
History may well talk of The Grand old duke, with his ten thousand men, manouevering up hill and down dale, that seems only a dream at present.
And then the sutlers, that hideous man Le clerc with his samples of mottled green cloth for the Coureurs duBois , Camoflage he called it, I`m prepared to agree with General le, "A man wouldn`t be seen dead in it."
The treasurer was no better, demanding money for a new handbag and shoes, whilst my army goes without soldiers. What is a man to do? Is Noverre to remain a Realm of split infinitives, mixed metaphors and massacred franglais?
At least we have managed to avoid an interview with the editor of that dreadful newsletter Le Soleil, he will no doubt have some ideas that the old Arch- Duke did not ,as the populace believe, trip and impale himself on his own Boar spear. But that it is the hand of the Dastardly James Comte de Els, my cousin and ruler of what once was and will be again part of my duchy.
The only light relief has come from the Midsommer celebrations, although the participants from outside our Realm were few, I think all enjoyed the contests of Riding, swordplay and shooting. Personally I feel that the exhibition of William le Kidde with his pistol and five playing cards was brash in the extreme, but the crowd loved it.
The interior pursuits of cardplay was well received, But the Cruet manouvre and Monologue was spoilt somewhat when the present champion Major Toutpourune, whilst halfway through the seventeenth word perfect repitition, picked up the walnut, that represents" Young Farquarson Don`t ye know" Crushed it between his fingers, mumbled "Half a League" and rushed from the room. Most ungentlemanly to blame Comtess Lucy, who was merely leaning over the table to admire his dexterity.
The highlight as ever was on the Tarte de Creme Anglais range, where points are awarded for the combination of Range, accuracy and burst pattern.
For now the Grand duke will enjoy his wine, tomorrow, well tomorrow is another day.