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Prologue I.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, countries, and organizations in this novel are existing and real, and the events that happen there to them are the product of the author’s imagination and without any intent that they may foretell their actual happenings.     Footnotes are accurate Most discoveries are suddenly-seen things that were always there. SUSANNE K. LANGER     Footnotes: - Allevard also known as Allevard-les-Bains is a commune in the Isère department in the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region of southeastern France. - Croüy-Chanel family in France who claims to descend from the kings of Hungary - dendrochronology is a scientific method that makes it possible to obtain dates of pieces of wood by counting and analyzing the morphology of the growth rings of trees. - House of Croÿ is a family of European mediatized nobility in Germany who also claim to descend from the kings of Hungary - kinesiology is the scientific study of human body movement - par
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Prologue II.

Liz de Crouy-Chanel as member of a dendrologist team, takes part in the Tour du Treuil project. The project is for dating the feeling of the wood frames and ceilings of the winch tower. Separated from the team, Liz walks alone in the tower. It is a former dungeon. She climbs the staircase located in the thickness of the walls and lit by loopholes. Liz walks from the first floor to the next. From floor to floor, halfway up the steep stairs. The rooms are of quadrangular shape, dark and cold. The upper floor has windows only. Finally some light! Although afraid of the depth, Liz leans out to see Allevard, the mountain of Brame-Farine, and the left bank of the river Bréda. Dazed a bit, Liz slumps down into the armchair by the window. What a giddy woman I am! She clings to the arms of the oak chair, still feels, the abyss takes her away. As she squeezes the armrest, like a magical journey, a lady with flowers ornamented ribbon around her head, enters the room. Her hair divide
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Amiens - Verne's prompt as ever

"Bon sang! Who the hack bully me by yanking Storitz out from my armpit?” Chiding and frowning, Liz Croy-Chanel is facing the French windows of the ground floor at Jules Verne boulevard in Amiens, France. Her fingers tighten her grip on the book under her armpit: the secret of Wilhelm Storitz. - Bon sang! I must discover it either on the ground floor or in the attic. How the hack did Verne know so much about Hungary? Liz enters the main gate and hurries up the stairs to the entrance of this Maison des Illustres. She has no time to speculate on forking or not out the 7,5 euro fee because the beak nosed Usherette with her white grin is snatching the money out of her fingers at the iron framed front door. Among the mahogany chairs, tables and wainscoting redolent with the thick smell of olio paglierino, she feels alone. As far so good Lis is getting closer to ask Jules Verne himself. Not only because the environment reduces her to speculation, much rather because Ver
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A digital ghost calls - 01

The notebook screen now flickers and jumps but not to the usual blue death. Its ratio seems to be shrinking to half, twisting like a hankie torn from left to right. Now screen pixels set themselves into blurred squares for flashing up in the middle of the monitor center. They twist and twirl and with a sudden pop they jump into Alex’ gaze: Hello. Then a short sentence appears. -  I am Maria. At these words on the screen Alex blenches, swallows and darts hasty glances seeking escape.  - How to send you away! He has no time to switch his laptop off, because as if rehearsed, long, full sentences stream the screen eager to tell. Every semicolon, every comma  in its right place, and the periods hit the screen to affirm thoughts. - You think somebody writes these. Mistaken. I am one who never existed, one w
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A digital ghost calls - 02

His Grace Rudolf, the 15th Duke of Croy, has supposed a distinction between himself and his equerry is one of treatment.  His equerry  reckons sons are like horses: they require management.  His Grace gets his effects differently.  He deploys the three of his sons rather on Britain far from Dülmen, Germany. “I'll share my screen with you,  Dad. Look how a bug nags me with our ancestry” “I do not see it yet. A bug hunting our ancestry? How?” “A virus for sure. “How? The COVID? Is it there already? I wanted just to say no horse catch and buy show is in Dülmen this season because of it. Better for you also to stay put there in your dig.” “Versity under curfew already. My notebook went to crap. Look, how it chatters…” “Sure, the home office. Behind the keyboard, just to pee and see whats up online.” “Poppycock. Margo infected the
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A digital ghost calls - 03

Although The Duke scans the screen through Alex mobile, it seems unsure how Alex would deal with viruses, if ever, due to a recondite voice emitting from the notebook. -“Who the heck speaks in this gibberish?” In Dülmen, at the other end of the phone, the cryptic speach trails off into familiar for the Duke although. -“Holy spigot! He speaks chi’timi!” -“What? Chi’timi? What is it and who is that he?” -“Ha ha! Someone from Picardy!” The Duke knows all about Picardy. What sounds asinine to Alex, seduces the Duke’s memory with the funny tch’mi, the local French dialect of Johann, the Picquigny nautical base owner he shares once and again the 1,5 hour long rafting with on the river Somme to Croy Saint Pierre, three leagues northeast of Amiens. Croy Saint Pierre is the village along the Somme river, the dynastic House of Croy adopted its name from. The Arpadian Prince Marc marrie
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Trogir - to meet Prince Andrew at long last

Liz has already realized to have only a quarter to noon. However she sets off two by two to the limestone treads. To get to the wall walk, about 30 meters high from the inner ward, she must climb more than 80 stairs, with their high rises roughly cut and loose. - Bon sang! With half meter per second velocity, I get to the top in a minute. She canters upward with feet almost unaware of treads. Seldom does the Croatian sun shine as cruelly as now just as to burn her brain dead out. When her lean figure romps around at the next flight of stairs, the white hot slabs of the stronghold wall panic her as if to knock her out for good. - Totally flawsome of you, Andrew, to have us to see your death at noon! She paces the stairs, as heedless as she is, and takes on her steely determination to see at long last how and why Prince Andrew died in the past. Here in Trogir and in 1241 when Mongols occupy Hungary. - Now me and Alex will detect and certify that Prince And
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