NationStates Jolt Archive

DAUPHIN OF COTENSHIRE MURDERED IN CAEN BY ARCHIBALDIST INSURGENT

As the title says, so has it happened. Yesterday, while entering his helicopter after having hunted in the forest with some associates of the King, the Dauphin, Prince Peter, was assassinated. According to eyewitness accounts, the villain responsible had thrown a grenade, bomb, or stick of dynamite into the helicopter just as its door had closed. It exploded immediately, killing the Dauphin, his wife, and his two sons.

The traitor, one Sir William Fitzhenry, was apprehended immediately. He is scheduled to be hanged, drawn, and quartered later today. Despite the perpetrator having been captured, numerous riots have sprung up throughout the Dominion once news leaked of the assassination. These mobs have gone on a killing spree through several towns, slaying anyone who they suspect to have been the assassin.

After over twenty-four hours of torture, the assassin revealed, among other things, that he was an Archibaldist (also known as a Doncasterian). Members of this faction have been outlawed since Archibald escaped from prison over a year ago.

None of Peter’s children have survived him, with his last two sons having died in the attack as well. With the death of Dauphin Peter, his brother Leopold is expected to be named the new Dauphin. Several prominent tenants of the realm have expressed lament at Peter’s death, since Leopold is not seen as being as competent as Peter in manners of realm administration.

No official of the Royal Family, the King’s Privy Council, or the Butlers of the Royal Residences have yet made any official statements about the incident or even any public appearances since word of the assassination reached them. Sir Robert Ripthorpe, however, who is currently Reeve-in-Chief and Lord Constable of the realm, is expected to hold a meeting later today with concerned tenants about security issues.

I send my deepest sympathies to the people of Cotenshire following the unfortunate and unecesary death of the Dauphin. Death is a cruel thing and must be avoided always. It is for this reason that we also ask you to prevent the excecution of the savage murderer, Sir William Fitzhenry. We must state clearly and firmly that we appose to the hanging, drawing and quartering of this man and suggest that rather than enact this vile ritual upon him you imprison him for life. It is bad enough that the Dauphin has died, Parilisa does not want to witness any more deaths in this unfortunate case. If you do not feel that it is safe to keep Sir William in Cotenshire we would be happy to keep him in Parilisa's finest prison permanently.
Once again, my sympathys are with you at this awful time,
Sincerely,
Nathaniel Klein, President of Parilisa

The day dawned like most others in the peaceful Monavian countryside. The rays of the sun, rising higher with every passing moment began to illuminate the cities in the east, moving westward with uncompromising grace. This serene setting, however, was soon to be broken by the news of the tragedy which had transpired thousands of miles away.

While it took some time, perhaps a few hours, but no more than a day, for news in the Salisbrigic Dominion to come to the attention of the populace, this was altogether another story. The crisis, which began with the escape of Archibald, an escape which threatened to undermine the stability of the government of a forthcoming ally, was a great enough emergency to prompt the Monavians to ratify a treaty.

The next chapter in the litany of horrors committed by insurgents had just begun.

That morning, as the people of Monavia began to awake, going about their business, the news of the day was being distributed. Newspapers were being delivered as usual, televisions were turned on, and the people who were in no hurry to go about any work were beginning to receive information about the goings on of the day. The members of both houses of Parliament, the members of the Royal Cabinet, the judges, mayor of the capital, and so many others were preparing to carry out their duties.

The palace was beginning to see more activity, as the staff there changed shifts and the royals awoke. As the family was eating their breakfast, the daily happenings around the world were being compiled and printed out in an office, so that Their Imperial Majesies could read about the state of affairs in the world.

Indeed, the day was normal like any other...that is, until the news of death in a friendly nation began to trickle in. Many people around the nation were utterly surprised, some only staring at the television screens in disbelief as the reports of a family being so senselessly slain were being sent around. The nation was in a state of shock.

A while later, after things had quieted down, and the day's business was finished, the sun began to set over Monavia. As the cooks prepared dinner, and the palace shifted back to night attendants, those personally aggrieved were preparing instead to retire earlier in the evening. An exception was the fair Elizabeth, the august Queen of Monavia, who set herself to work in her study.

Her Imperial Majesty was apalled by the carnage that had unfolded, the slaying of children, and the destruction of public property in Cotenshire. She took up fountain pen, some stationery, and a platinum stamp to seal the document she was to compose.

Taking up her pen, her face twisted in disgust, she wrote a personal letter to Chancellor Sebastien.

PRIVATE

Your Excellency:

The tidings of grief and misfortune befall not one country, but two. The Monavian government had committed itself in the past to finding the traitor Archibald, and all of his operatives so that they may be delivered up and given over for trial and the execution of justice. Despite our best efforts, the presence of these individuals is most difficult to discern.

The news of the death of the Crown Prince, and those of his wife, two sons, and any others in the vicinity of the device which detonated in their helicopter has only to sow seeds of sorrow among my people.

Due to the nature of this tragedy, I must make clear the gravity of this situation in Monavia. Every citizen I had spoken with on my way to the parliament Buliding to meet with several of its members has been taken aback by the latest horrific deed committed in the name of perfidy and anarchy. Such things must never take place again.

I, on behalf of my royal house and the Monavian people as a whole, express my sincerest condolences toward His Majesty King William and his family over these deaths.

Sincerely,

Her Holy Imperial Majesty Elizabeth VI, Queen of Monavia and Defender of the Faith

She sent a second letter, to be sent directly to King William.

PRIVATE

Your Majesty:

The treachery of Sir William Fitzhenry, which disturbs myself and many others, warrants a declaration to those who work iniquity in your realm. All of those in league with Archibald and his supporters are to be declared enemies of the state by myself and the king.

A Monavian representative is being sent out shortly to witness the execution.

Sincerely,

Her Holy Imperial Majesty Elizabeth VI, Queen of Monavia and Defender of the Faith

To President Nathaniel Klein of Parilisa,

Your comments are blatantly contradictory. You lament the loss of our dear Dauphin, but you then wish that he be denied justice. We cannot and will not allow the loathsome murderer Fitzhenry live. Death is terrible, but we shall not also suffer the death of virtue.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor



To the Right Honourable Frank Carter of Monavia,

The response of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth VI, has greatly eased the heaviness of His Majesty’s heart. To me, it also brings great personal warmth that at least one of the original signatories of the LEX SALISBURGIUS REGNUM XXVII is still concerned about the threat to our royal succession. It is extraordinarily noble of you to continue to pursue Archibald’s henchmen in your own land. I can assure you that, in the Dominion, we are also working to stamp out this heinous threat.

Unfortunately, we do not know much about this assassination yet. I will share with you pertinent information as I receive it, but we have made almost no advancements in our investigation of the Doncasterian organizations in the past year. Also, I am sorry that your most noble Queen cannot get a proper response to her letters. You must understand, however, that the King is not in an agreeable state at this moment and I did not want him to write to her yet.

May the light of Christ lead us through these darkest of waters.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

http://img522.imageshack.us/img522/323/dauphincd8.png
Prince Leopold will become the next Dauphin of Cotenshire, and his coronation as such will take place in the coming week.



Meanwhile, Sir Ripthorpe has ordered that all the presses in the Dominion shall not print any more news about the assassination, and any publisher found to be printing rumors about the assassination will face serious punishment, not excluding imprisonment or death. An edict such as this would normally not be tolerated in the Dominion, but the present state of panic will most likely be enough impetus for it to be enforced.

Sir Ripthorpe has also stated in his meetings with the lord tenants of the realm that there is no evidence of Archibald being personally involved in the assassination or in the planning of it, and there is not even any evidence that Archibald is still alive. He also stated that Sir Fitzhenry more than likely acted alone, and had pro-Archibaldist sentiments, but was most likely not linked with any Archibaldist organization. Sir Fitzhenry’s family is under investigation, and his parents and several other family members have been imprisoned.

Security around members of the Royal Family has greatly increased. Guards now must search and secure locations within twenty minutes of a member of the Royal Family entering the area. In addition, all events to be attended by a Royal Family member have been cancelled until otherwise noted.

Upon receiving the letter from Lord Chancellor Sebastien, Mr. Carter sent it to Queen Elizabeth. She was quite gratified at the thought that Monavia still held favor with an ally, and thus she sought to wield a sharper sword in order to prove that her people had kept their word.

The previous declaration against Archibald, written over six months ago, was later rejected by Parliament on the simple grounds that "One escaped prisoner in another country was not a sufficient reason to issue such a statement." This led to a straining of relations with Parliament, though it was later ended when both statements were voided as an act of mutual forgiveness.

Taking up her pen yet again, the queen began to write.

OOC:

I will have a brief statement from the queen coming shortly.

ROYAL DECLERATION TO THE COTENSHIRICK GOVERNMENT

By order of Her Holy Imperial Majesty Elizabeth VI, Queen of Monavia and Defender of the Faith, the following decrees are enacted:

That Archibald Salisbury, a claimant to the Cotenshirick throne, and all of his lieutenants, operatives, and followers, are guilty of treason against the Monavian Empire and its allies,

That no Monavian citizen is to harbor these individuals, or give them aid and comfort,

That Archibald and the Doncasterian organization as a whole is declared a terrorist entity,

That all these suspect individuals, if captured, shall be detained and extradited to their home nation for trial,

And, that Archibald’s claim to the Cotenshirick throne is hereby declared illegitimate.

So it has been written, so it shall be done.

(OOC: The following is strictly between Sebastien and Carter, no other country can know of this for the time.)

To the Right Honourable Frank Carter,

The support shown by your most noble Queen’s government is valiant, but I am afraid we have a weightier problem now than we had before. I have been told by several sources of an incident that has occurred with potentially fatal results. The accounts of this incident that I have received conflict in some respects, but I shall try to piece together from it what I may. It is important that what follows is kept in strict confidence, and the fewer officials in our respective governments that hear of it, the better.

All accounts have their similar strains. For one, they all say that Prince Leopold is at least in critical condition, some say he is already dead. The King is also either temporarily incapacitated or dead. You can now see why it is important that none of this be leaked to anyone until we can formulate a strategy that would result in political stability.

Right now, I am writing this letter to you with my left hand, another letter with my right, and dictating a third. His Majesty’s cabinet is working furiously to determine the severity of the situation. I have already contacted potential candidates for a Regency Council, and they will be meeting with me as soon as possible.

At this moment, I am not sure if the incident was perpetrated by an Archibaldist, and indeed one account says that what has transpired was in fact an accident. Nevertheless, this is a grave issue, and I shall remain in contact with you and your government.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

OOC:

This is a confidential letter sent to Lord Chancellor Sebastien about the aforesaid incident. Again, this is SIC.

IN CHARACTER:

CONFIDENTIAL

Lord Chancellor Sebastien:

The secrecy of this information will remain uncompromised for the time being, but such news cannot remain hidden forever. Nevertheless, this will not be permitted to leak out to any public sources.

The gravity of the matter has prompted me to contact the noble queen and king, and Chancellor Hanover as well. As of late, these are the only people who know of your previous communication with me. The latter has been informed that Parliament cannot be notified of such a matter, lest it jeopardize any plans to assist the Cotenshirick government. If such information was to be allowed out, any supporters of Archibald that may be present in Monavia would be able to know about any public measures taken to stem this crisis.

At the current time, I am unaware of what occurred in this incident, indeed I am greatly disturbed by the thought of a disaster, accident or not, befalling the royal line in your country. As of this time, I would recommend some measures are put in place to prevent this crisis from widening further.

I shall need to know of the nature of King William's incapacitation and that of Prince Leopold as well. From that, I can determine a suitable course of action.

First, I will recommend that another heir be found, preferrably one that is a descendant of of King William and has some capacity to rule, otherwise, another close blood relative that has proven himself trustworthy may have to take over.

Due to the unfortunate nature of Lex Salica, which prohibits female accession to the Salisbrugic throne, I see no way in which the Queen Consort, able as she may potentially be, to take over in this time of crisis.

Secondly, I would also recommend declaring martial law in trouble spots that could develop at this time. Parliament should also stand firm in holding back the tide of evil that advances ever more quickly over the land.

Yet, in this time of darkness, if there need be anymore drastic action, I urge you to inform me of all knowledge that you have about this latest incident in order to prevent it from happening again.

My prayers are with His Majesty and his son.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Message to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth VI of Monavia, Most Exalted Ally of the House of Salisbury

Holy salutations, fair Queen, Your Imperial Majesty. I, one Enguerrand de Wallenheim, Grand Duke of the Lotharns, now bring revelations of the new order that unfortunately must mount the throne. While we still weep over the late King Salisbury and his slain son, stability must be swiftly brought to the Dominion. Indeed, during the late King’s life, his most intense drive was to preserve the integrity of the realm. Our time of mourning can be postponed until after the throne is secure and all opposition is cast into the fire.

I bother you due to your continued diplomatic relations with the late Salisbury's government. As I understand, you have had a special interest in the preservation of the late Salisbury’s will. Unfortunately, the tragic events that have transpired are incompatible with his vision. I want to assure you, however, that Monavia still has a place in the new order that I shall forge, having secured for myself the position at the head of the Royal Regency Council. All diplomatic and governmental initiatives in relation to Cotenshirick succession shall hitherto be forwarded to me, and all correspondence from foreign embassies to Lord Sebastien will be confiscated for my offices instead.

I understand that you have interests in the proper succession to the throne of the Dominion. This goal will be difficult to achieve without some semblance of decentralization due to the many titles the late Salisbury held. I am no litigian, however, and the aching state of the realm is enough grounds on which to set another monarch on the throne without sifting through all the titles and salics. Therefore, in two days, Anne daughter of Leopold shall be coronated as the Dominion’s Queen. All titles of the late Salisbury shall be passed to her, as is all of his property and all of his offices. Such idiosyncratic matters of state as reviewing and confirming the royal offices and titles can wait until stability is achieved.

It is doubtful, however, that complete peace shall be attained by the placement of Anne on the throne. She is a sixteen year old girl, and many in the realm will take offense at her age and sex. Therefore, to placate them, she shall simultaneously be married to Richard of Doncaster, son of Juliana daughter of Archibald. Such a manoeuvre will also serve to settle those moderate Doncasterians of the realm, enabling us to exterminate the radical individuals, thus isolated. Henceforth by this we shall content and not come to anarchy through lament.

Signed,
Duke Enguerrand de Wallenheim
Lord Chamberlain of the Regency Council, Grand Duke of the Lothars, Defender of the Faith

PRIVATE

To His Highness Engurrand de Wallenheim, Grand Duke of the Lothars,

Your Highness:

I am deeply troubled by the happenings that have resulted in the deaths of the fair King William and Prince Leopold. Such events have turned the old order forged by King William upside down, and as such, this will become a point of contention among the signatories of LEX SALISBRUGIS REGNUM XXVII.

A matter of great concern is that such benefits as enumerated in that treaty can be considered voided to some degree, due to the fact that there is no longer any Crown Prince to be coronated, thus there are no monetary obligations existing between the Dominion and Monavia. Furthermore, as the treaty bound all signatories to support no claimant to the throne than the two named therein, it is effectively annulled.

I mention the treaty for the reason that other nations who have signed it may not be reasonable and see things this way, and this will as I have stated earlier become a point of contention.

The continued relations with the government of the late King William are a matter of retaining and maintaining diplomatic regularity. All correspondence with members of that said government are confidential to one degree or another, and as such, their confidentiality must remain. The correspondence with Lord Chancellor Sebastien were a matter of national security in the Monavian Empire, and a gesture of both good faith and support to the Salisbrugic Dominion.

Of all of the measures taken to preserve the integrity of the realm, the measure of confiscating the correspondence between Lord Chancellor Sebastien and the Monavian Minister of Foreign Affairs is the only one that strikes me as being questionable. I do not find any fault with your attempts to preserve peace in Cotenshire, but the happenings of late have served little to warm my conscience.

Sincerely,

Her Holy Imperial Majesty Elizabeth VI, Queen of Monavia and Defender of the Faith

Wallenheim had granted permission to his officials that word may now be spread about the death of the King, although unjustified rumours were still a punishable offence. A great sadness erupted throughout the Dominion as the news travelled. In the city of Caen, where the funeral ceremony was to take place, the King’s coffin was laid out with its lid closed tight. Hundreds of thousands came to weep upon it, and many loud wails and cries were heard from throughout the Dominion.



Message to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth VI, Most Exalted Ally of the House of Salisbury

Your continued cooperation is appreciated and is making the transition less painful through our quick normalization of governmental procedures. My clerks have been interrogating the officers of the late Salisbury’s bureaucracy and are extracting a veritable mountain of documents that they must trudge through. We are now in the process of categorizing all of the late Salisbury’s titles, properties, et cetera, and will be able to lawfully transfer those that are applicable to the new Queen Anne in a few weeks. For the sake of realm stability, however, the coronation ceremony will be held tomorrow. I have completely omitted any mention of Leopold from any conversation or document concerning the throne. After all, the more people that are conscious of the graveness of the situation, the more panic and trouble we will have on our hands.

As to the terms of the LEX SALISBURGIUS REGNUM XXVII that you have mentioned, I must say that it is scrupulous of you to call it to my attention. Unfortunately, however, neither your Majesty nor any other signatories will receive any pecuniary rewards for the reasons you have mentioned. I thank you for understanding the situation, and know that I too was supposed to be among the benefactors as outlined in that charter. It is better now that it is never again brought up, however, for it shall make people conscious of the fact that we formerly had two heirs and a healthy King, and now have none.

On the subject of your objection to my policy regarding the seizure of Lord Sebastien’s post, be not worried. It is a necessary task in this time of difficult communications, and all pieces of vital correspondence must be gathered into a central authority (this central authority, in this case, is my own offices). I understand that Lord Sebastien was the architect of the old regime’s diplomacy with Monavia, and as such you might be more comfortable with his style, but reasons of state support my policy.

I must again reiterate how your compliance has aided my task.

Signed,
http://img205.imageshack.us/img205/1933/wallenheimsigtb1.png
Duke Enguerrand de Wallenheim
Lord Chamberlain of the Regency Council, Grand Duke of the Lothars, Defender of the Faith



(SIC: )

To the Right Honourable Frank Carter of Monavia,

I bring news of great sorrow and delight. While my accounts have confirmed that Prince Leopold is indeed dead, they also agree that His Majesty is alive, albeit in a most dreadfully ill state. I have not received any correspondence from you since I sealed my last letter to you. This may be because I am not in my usual office in Caen to-day, where my diplomacy-related post is delivered. Instead, I have journeyed by helicopter out to hills of western Lotharnshire, where the incidents involving the King and his son have taken place. In any case, I am sure you are occupied with your own troubles. Communication difficulties still wrack me, however, and I have been unable to maintain stable contacts.

Due to the King’s condition, I will try to arrange a Regency Council that will take over primary administrative duties until the King can resume them. This council shall abide by the principles laid out in the LEX SALISBURGIUS REGNUM XXIV. Namely, that one representative shall be chosen each from the Normans, the Ajaels, and the Lothars to form a Regency Triumvirate. I suspect that for the Ajaels this will be Grand Duke Gustav Adolf, and for the Lothars Grand Duke Enguerrand de Wallenheim. These two men are logical selections due to their undisputed leadership over the nations of the Ajaels and Lothars, but the leadership over the Normans is typically relegated to the King of Cotenshire, which is William V. Therefore, the third member of the Triumvirate is yet to be determined.

As to the matter of the next Dauphin, this shall be the most contentious issue of the coming months. The closest blood relative to the King is Leopold’s daughter Anne, but she is barred from inheriting the majority of salics under our succession law. If she were to become our monarch, the Dominion will no doubt be in its most fractured state since the 1925 Interregnum. She is also a poor choice for Dauphin due to the Dauphin’s military duties. There is, unfortunately, no obvious choice for this position.

The past days have been trying on my nerves and my prayers, and I look forward to your words of wisdom.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

PRIVATE

To His Highness Engurrand de Wallenheim, Grand Duke of the Lothars,

Your Highness:

I am indeed quite thankful for the courtesy that you have shown me in this trying time. The death of King William has been a tragedy to blacken this chapter in the history of the Dominion, and thus, it is only meet that a period of mourning be instituted in the Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire for a three day period, beginning witht he conclusion of the funeral. All Cotenshirick and Monavian flags in Monavian territory are to be flown at half-mast during this time.

It is quite regrettable that no percunary rewards will be given to any signatory of the treaty, however, this shall not hinder any further relations with the Salisbrugic Dominion or do harm to the mutual relationship that binds our respective nations together. I am assuming that the execution of Fitzhenry has taken place, if not, then our representative shall remain to witness it. Once that has been done, he will be recalled back to Monavia with a piece of proof that the malefactor has been brought to justice. Such a trophy of victory shall be displayed to honor the justice of a neighboring realm.

I apologize for my objection to the seizure of Sebastien's office if it was a cause of any offence to your honorable personage or any other officer of the realm. My reasons for that objection were a matter of suspicion, mainly, that the seizure of that particular post seemed to be a sign of future trouble of one form or another.

Your reassuring words have brought warmth back into the halls of my palace, and hope to the subjects of Monavia.

Sincerely,

Her Holy Imperial majesty Elizabeth VI, Queen of Monavia and Defender of the Faith

SECRET IN CHARACTER:

CONFIDENTIAL

To the Right Honorable Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor,

FORWARDED

To His Highness Engurrand de Wallenheim, Grand Duke of the Lothars,

It is with much sadness that I write these words to you. After being temporarily forbidden by Her Imperial majesty the Queen to correspond with you for the last day or so, I have again been allowed to send this message. The Queen is obligated to act judiciously when dealing with the noble personage of Wallenheim, who has requested of me and the Queen that all correspondence be sent directly to him.

While matters of state cited by Duke Wallenheim warranted this measure being temporarily implemented, it shall not prevent me from communicating over legitimate matters of state of my own. The Duke has so far been honest with the Queen about a number of things, and Her Imperial Majesty has been so kind as to reciprocate.

The Queen shall of course bring to attention any other issues that require the attention of the Duke.

A copy of this letter is being sent to Sebastien.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

The letter was sent to Wallenheim, however, the copy sent to Sebastein contained some added text. It was placed in a parchment envelope, which was sealed with a hard, inflexible wax which could not be resealed should the said seal be broken, and placed in yet another envelope. It was also sealed likewise, and was addressed in the following manner:

To the Rt. Hon. Jan Sebastien

From Duke Enguerrand de Wallenheim
Lord Chamberlain of the Regency Council, Grand Duke of the Lothars, Defender of the Faith

This letter was placed into a third envelope, addressed and sealed in a similar manner.

The added text of the copy sent to Sebastien read thus:

It will possibly dismay you to learn that Wallenheim now styles himself as the Lord Chamberlain of the Regency Council, so there may be suspicions afoot in the Dominion. The inability of Anne to effectively rule, if I am correct, shall result in such a situation as that which occurred in 1925, namely, the succession crisis which resulted in an interregum.

My knowledge of Cotenshirick history that has been garnered by the books I bought on my visit here several months ago is, to be honestly, not perfect. I have had little time to read much lately, although I have been ordered to study it so as to learn more about the fundamentals of Cotenshirick government. Such knowledge shall prove beneficial to assisting the realm in recovering from the disaster in the forest.

If there is anything you need to aid yourself in these times, especially against the vile schemes of the Doncasterians, please with all urgency send a reply.

(OOC: I don't know whether or not it affected your post, but I just want to clarify that SIC in my previous post actually meant SIC to everyone except Monavia. Sebastien's mail is not being seized when it is sent out, only when it comes in. Again, I don't know if this has any bearing on your previous post, but I just wanted to clarify. I don't have time to write an IC post right now, so one will be coming tomorrow. Also, just FYI the history section in my factbook, as well as a large part of the rest of it, has either been retconned or obsolete. I have been meaning to remove it but haven't gotten around to it.)

SIC:

Acknowledged by the current situation, John Stuz knew it was time for his deadliest, underground assault for Leocardia. He was 57 years old and has been part just about everything in insurgent warfare, a known expert. What happened in Cotenshire was just mere accident, and wasn't expected, but John was ready. His private, 'secret army' of 20 had just arrived the nation to visit the place, and was never sent on a mission for a insurgent assault. Well-represented by the Leocardian Lions Network of 40 million, the supported, state-sponsored terrorist network was ready to threaten anybody, and Cotenshire was just about to be one of them.

Upon meeting his friends and close buddies of the Lions Network, he was pressed with a small clip, known to all as the mission briefings and objectives. He quickly moved his hand to his pockets all while talking friendly with the new visitors, while escorting them to their new hotel rooms and leaving off to see them in an hour or two.

Walking away into a taxi, he took out the small clip and it was a paper written in Chinese. He looked and read off it and was shocked that he was ordered to attack Cotenshire, but it was a must. As the taxi went farther, he motioned to the driver that it was time to get off, he can't have a taxi driver know where he lives if he is going to do something like this, he tipped his driver with a slash of cash and walked out, leaving with the note and burning it in his small lighter.

He walked to his house, just an hour away, but it was worth it. Inside his house, there was a slash of weapons and ammunitions. He went and gather 5 AK-47s, one for him and the other 4 for his friends. He also prepared the grenades and kelvar vests and pistols, incase of heavy involvement with the police. And most importantly, he made sure no one can find out who did it, but the Lions trademark, LLN stitched on his vest and pants. All the munitions were carried in his black backpack, as he took some sunglasses and walked out from his house...

(OOC: I don't know whether or not it affected your post, but I just want to clarify that SIC in my previous post actually meant SIC to everyone except Monavia. Sebastien's mail is not being seized when it is sent out, only when it comes in. Again, I don't know if this has any bearing on your previous post, but I just wanted to clarify. I don't have time to write an IC post right now, so one will be coming tomorrow. Also, just FYI the history section in my factbook, as well as a large part of the rest of it, has either been retconned or obsolete. I have been meaning to remove it but haven't gotten around to it.)

OOC:

On the matter of Sebastien's mail, there is no issue. Because Duke Wallenheim ordered all correspondence to Sebastien sent to him, the letter from Mr. Carter was first addressed to Sebastien, then marked "FORWARDED" to Wallenheim. The letter sent to Sebastien directly with the "added text" was placed into an envelope with a false address from Wallenheim to Sebastien. This would trick any person who carries the Duke's mail into taking it to Sebastien, since they will think that it was from Wallenheim, and not from Frank Carter.

The "history" I'm referring to is all IC history, that is, it was from what I got in the passage:

As to the matter of the next Dauphin, this shall be the most contentious issue of the coming months. The closest blood relative to the King is Leopold’s daughter Anne, but she is barred from inheriting the majority of salics under our succession law. If she were to become our monarch, the Dominion will no doubt be in its most fractured state since the 1925 Interregnum. She is also a poor choice for Dauphin due to the Dauphin’s military duties. There is, unfortunately, no obvious choice for this position.

The information highlighted in the passage below used the stuff from above marked in red.

The inability of Anne to effectively rule, if I am correct, shall result in such a situation as that which occurred in 1925, namely, the succession crisis which resulted in an interregum.

My knowledge of Cotenshirick history that has been garnered by the books I bought on my visit here several months ago is, to be honestly, not perfect. I have had little time to read much lately, although I have been ordered to study it so as to learn more about the fundamentals of Cotenshirick government.

Finally, the books that Mr. Carter bought were purchased during the diplomatic visit to Cotenshire several months ago, when we had the LEX SALISBRUGIS REGNUM XXVII issue.

TO LEOCARDIA:

Are you talking about your agent being in Cotenshire or in Leocardia right now?

Wallenheim was oblivious to the stunt Mr Carter was trying to pull with regards to the mail, and he also believed Lord Sebastien to be an honourable man. Therefore, he was not strict about controlling what Sebastien knew, although he did not necessarily place a high priority on ensuring that the Lord Chancellor was knowledgeable on recent happenings. Mr Carter’s letter reached Lord Sebastien and the following reply was sent:


(SIC to all but Monavia: )

To the Right Honourable Mr Frank Carter,

It is quite glorious to hear back from you, sir. I do not know if the current situation has paralyzed our collective postal systems, but I have scarcely received any news from anyone as of late.

I see you have been in contact with Wallenheim, Duke of the Lothars, over issues of the regency council. As to the Duke’s proclaiming of himself as the Lord Chamberlain of the Regency Council, I must admit it is rather presumptive of him. I do not believe that the third member of the council is even evident yet, although Wallenheim might believe it to be. In any case, Wallenheim is not well versed in dealing with foreign diplomats or media outlets, and his correspondence may therefore seem rather austere. At least, that is my experience that I have from my work with him.

As to the realm’s succession, you seem to believe that Anne will be our next Queen. I do not believe we can draw any conclusions yet, and we will most likely not coronate anyone for several months. We must, after all, see if the King recovers from his incapacitated state.

I hope that I have cleared up some vague areas of your knowledge, but I myself am not getting much news at all.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor



Meanwhile, Wallenheim was quite busy. The issues he faced included the management of King William V’s ongoing funeral, as well as the arrangements and invitations that needed to be made for Anne’s coronation as Queen which will occur tomorrow. [And because I keep forgetting about it] Fitzhenry's execution is also scheduled to be carried out tonight.

(OOC: Leocardia, although I do not necessarily want to know what you want to do, be mindful of the fact that the Dominion is vastly different than other modern Western countries (for example, there are no taxis and you would draw a lot of unwanted attention if you were to wear sunglasses). If you have a few questions, TG me, or if you have a lot we can IM.)

The next day there was a meeting of the Cabinet in the morning, after the respective departments that the Ministers controlled had made their usual decisions. After the meeting had finished, Mr. Carter went back to his office in the Foreign Ministry Building, and sifted through his usual correspondence.

He took up his pen to write, and soon had a response to the warming words of Lord Sebastien. Preforming his stunt of addressing the original letter to Duke Wallenheim and then sending a modified copy to Sebastien in a letter with a forged address from the Duke was difficult at best, but nonetheless possible.

PRIVATE

To the Right Honorable Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor,

FORWARDED

To His Highness Engurrand de Wallenheim, Grand Duke of the Lothars,

I have been troubled by the dreadful state of the postal system. I have had much difficulty corresponding with you, and indeed it has become a matter of great concern that I have been unable to communicate on the matters of state which require my attention.

The death of King William is being taken hard in some parts of the Dominion, as evidenced by our representative who has attended the funeral. He has noticed the massive outpouring of grief and the sadness that envelopes the countryside. I send my sincerest condolences to to the family, especially to the Duke and to all members of the King's personal retinue.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

The modified text included the following additions:

The Duke has informed the Her Imperial Majesty that Anne will be crowned Queen of the Dominion, thus I am left with that information to decipher. If indeed she is not to be crowned tomorrow as the Duke claims, there may be some semblence of concealment or deception on his part.

I also must concur that Wallenheim's claim to the position of Lord Chamberlain is presumptive, and as such, his activities should be watched closely. If you can provide me with even the slightest amount of detail on the state of the King's health, I may be able to procure some assistance for you.

After sending both letters off, Mr. Carter was delivered a brief letter from the representative stationed to observe the execution of Fitzhenry.

His letter read:

Mr. Carter:

You will be pleased to note that I send to you a bloody lock of Fitzhenry's hair, shorn from his own head, for display in the Ministry of Justice. You will find it enclosed in another envelope I have sent with this one.

Sincerely,

The Honorable Frederick Locke

Locke was a man of great stature, and was not to be trifled with. He stood an impressive seventy-nine inches tall, and could fight any man who stood in his way. He had cut the hair from Fitzhenry's head with his own dagger, which he wore conspicuously on his belt to the execution.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

Bump for interest.

(OOC: Sorry about the late response.)

To the Right Honourable Frank Carter of Monavia,

Events are progressing swiftly, and once you read this, the information that I confer to you might already be outdated. Since I had last written to you, I had discovered that Wallenheim had scheduled for Anne to be coronated today, although the coronation was postponed for a few days to a few weeks for some reason yet unknown to me. This is odd, for I have communicated with Lord Spiritual Argent, and he has said that Lord Stone has agreed with Wallenheim to coronate Anne as soon as possible. I will try to let you know when (or indeed if) Anne will be coronated. Unfortunately, it does seem that the King is dead. I write this with resignation for I have suspected it all along, although I have had unreliable sources report to me to the contrary.

On the subject of Anne’s coronation itself, I hold great worries about it. Before I became Lord Chancellor, I was a lawyer by trade, and I therefore understand all of the problems that come with Anne’s succession better than Wallenheim would. I am sure Wallenheim considers his advisors trustworthy, but Eastern Lothars, from my experience, are not naturally suited to understand the laws of more civilized peoples. The fact of the matter is that much of Anne’s inheritance will either not be accepted as legal, or fiercely contested between those who do accept it as legal and those who do not.

Wallenheim’s supposed solution to this problem is marrying Anne to Henry of Doncaster. According to the LEX SALISBURGIUS REGNUM XIV, all of the property of the monarch’s consort is transferred to the monarch. Technically speaking, Henry is now the closest male blood relative to King William V, if one traces William V’s line through his father and then down through Archibald. Wallenheim believes that this plan would legally transfer into Anne’s possession all of the salics that would otherwise be lost.

The main problem with this plan, however, is that there are several loopholes that such a legal arrangement creates. In every previous case in which the rule of the L.S.R. XIV was applied, the monarch was male and the consort female. Some of the properties that Anne is to inherit also contain within their legal precedents clauses that prohibit females form obtaining the piece of property. Therefore, in each of these cases, the courts will have to sort through hundreds of years of legal precedents to determine which one takes precedence. This will be a costly endeavour, and I fear that even after a ruling has been made, there will still be plenty of contention.

Despite these problems, I can see no other viable candidate for the throne than Anne. I will therefore support her for succession to the throne. My communications seem to have improved, although I do not believe that we have begun to recover from these tremors and there may soon be a terrible aftershock in these unpredictable times.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

After the letter from Lord Chancellor Sebastien arrived in Mr. Carter's office, a second one arrived from Locke. Locke was requesting his next set of instructions for dealing with the succession issue.

Locke was more than a simple representative of the Monavian justice system in other countries. While his duties included observing trials in allied states and attending executions, he was also given a degree of training in espionage. He was sent in place of the usual representative, mostly over the level of violence and social unrest that had manifested itself in the Dominion.

Mr. Carter sent the following message to Locke, carefully disguising it as to appear from another Monavian official.

To the Honorable Frederick Locke,

Dear Mr. Locke:

I have received word from Sebastien that King William is indeed deceased. It is only prudent that we move quickly. You are dispatched to meet with Sebastien, and are to protect him if necessary.

I will be sending a letter to Sebastien, postmarked from Wallenheim to Sebastien. I shall send it by courier to his offices, where you shall pick it up and deliver it to Sebastien.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

While Mr. Carter's schemes to send letters through Wallenheim's office to distract him from the copies sent to Sebasrien were still working, it would only be a matter of time before Wallenheim would wisen up to this and attempt to interfere with the Lord Chancellor's communications. Mr. Carter decided to avoid this altogether, by completely circumventing Wallenheim's person and his secretaries, and instead having them hand delivered to Locke.

He then wrote to Sebastien.

CONFIDENTIAL

To The Right Honorable Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor,

Sir:

If indeed the King is truly dead, then all hope of him enforcing the terms of L.S.R. XXVII may well be lost. This series of deaths has done nothing to help either of us, and it is beyond lamentable that there is no immediate heir to take control and quell the brewing storm. I do, however, bear news of hope for the kingdom.

As you have mentioned previously, Henry of Doncaster was being betrothed to Princess Anne. Henry, by blood, is a grand nephew of the late King, and thus, entitled by that relation to hold some legal clout in this dispute. Wallenheim, in a letter from a few days ago, confessed to Her Imperial Majesty that he was "no litigian", so it can be assumed that he would be unable to settle this interregnum alone.

Both Henry and Anne are equally removed in number of generations, and the only distinguishing difference between the two is that one is a direct descendent of King William V and one is a direct descendent of Archibald.

The matter of gender is therefore simple (at least from what I know so far) to sort out. If Henry is crowned King, he will fulfill all the gender requirements for the military duties of the King and for inheriting property. Since the consort is usually female, Anne can marry Henry and become consort. This reversal of roles appears almost ideal, yet there is one remaining barrier between the smooth road and the rough.

Anne and Henry are cousins, both of whom are very young and have not been groomed to rule. A marriage between them would not be the most perfect, to say the least. This is compounded by the fact that the Regency Council would best appoint a regent to rule until such time as is fit, but has not even, to my own knowledge, taken this into consideration.

Finally, it would be to our mutual benefit if I were given copies of LEX SALISBRUGIS REGNUM XIV and any other documents that could serve me in sorting out this mess.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

To the Right Honourable Frank Carter,

I thank you for your concern and your continued efforts to improve the situation. After I write this, I shall make my way back to Caen, where Wallenheim, Adolf, and possibly the third regent have supposedly assembled. From there will I be able to more accurately observe the present happenings, and hopefully some gaps in my knowledge will be amended.

Wallenheim is indeed no “litigian,” as he put it. His strategy seems to involve trying to see what he can get away with while others are grieving. It is a rather unscrupulous tactic, yes, but it may be for the better. I have heard that he is using the King’s armed forces to bomb into submission several rebellious tenants of the realm who otherwise would have gone unchecked. I will hope that any mistakes he has made, such as presumptively declaring himself to be the most senior among the regents, will be rectified later.

About the succession to the throne, there is one detail that prevents Henry from obtaining the crown. When Edward I was coronated as king in 1358, he received the crown only on the condition that his nephew, Erik, an Ajael, could not inherit the throne. To ensure that this never occurred, a exception was instituted in the succession law in which, if a line of succession is traced up through a father and then down through one of his brothers, the succession cannot be traced through any female. For this reason, a daughter or granddaughter of the king can succeed to the throne, but the son of the king’s niece cannot. So that you may better understand the situation, I have quickly drawn up the immediate genealogy of the Royal Family (http://img205.imageshack.us/img205/8959/successiontree1rs4.png) and placed it in the envelope with this letter (note that not all wives or children are included, but instead only the most notable ones).

As to the L.S.R. XIV and the other documents that you requested, I have none here with me at the moment, but I shall use the Royal Fax Machine when I return to Caen to deliver the copies into your hands.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

CONFIDENTIAL

To the Right Honorable Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor,

Sir:

If it is indeed true that eligibility rests only with Anne, then the Regency Council has itself in a difficult and awkward position. I therefore shall reserve myself to your judgment on who would be the most suitable candidate for the throne.

"Unscrupulous" is a term that hardly begins to describe the tactics of Duke Wallenheim. The seizure of your post, and his presumptive declaration of seniority are only the beginning of a possible grand design that he may be planning. While I admit that this is mostly my own personal speculation, I cannot rule out malevolent intent on Walenheim's part.

Nonetheless, until some show of malicious intent or usurpation of power takes place, it cannot be said for certain whether there are dark forces at work in the Salisbrugic Dominion.

I shall await your next message. Time is pressing me like a vise and I still have not yet seen an immediate solution to the succession crisis.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

I will bump this up.

(OOC: I'm going to abandon it.)

OOC:

Any particular reason?

Is this thread still alive?

(OOC: I'm sorry, I have been busy for the past week and erratic internet problems have prevented me from responding in the free time that I do have. For these reasons, I will probably not be able to respond very often for the next week or so.)

To the Right Honourable Frank Carter,

I too have my concerns about Wallenheim, although I am inclined to believe that his actions thusfar have been due to his overreaction to the situation and his inexperience in managing all the constituent nations of the Dominion. I have briefly corresponded with him, and he believes that power must be secured quickly and forcefully if order is to be maintained.

His beliefs may seem ruthless, and indeed they are I suppose, but they do have some grounding in the Dominion’s history. Whenever a monarch has died and there has been even spotty issues of contention over succession, everyone in the Dominion who has any kind of complaint seeks to take advantage of the new monarch’s bid for authority. The various tenants seeking redress will barter with the new monarch for new rights in exchange for recognition of the monarch’s succession to the throne. Such an arrangement is ultimately harmful to the government of the Dominion.

Wallenheim’s plan seeks to avoid this problem by both seizing power for the new monarch and crushing opposition through quick action. His philosophy is that, if he can replace the vacuum of the King quickly enough, he can preserve the King’s former government intact. Therefore the pool of dissidents will be smaller and isolated, and he can destroy them with military action. In fact, I have already heard from a General that Wallenheim is using the King’s bomber fleets to conduct “purges” of rebellious areas in the Dominion.

Despite just defending his plan, I do not believe it will work out as well as he foresees. For one, he is almost certainly going to replace all members of William V’s privy council with his own ministers (although I will most likely be spared due to my prestigious position). He may then even go so far as to dissolve Parliament and hold new elections. This will, of course, destroy the old government, and with the new government will come those complaints about the legitimacy of his actions. Revolts will naturally follow, and we will have the regular succession strife, albeit somewhat belated.

That being said, I still do not know Wallenheim well enough to know his intentions like I did King William’s. A cynic would posit that he would try to use his position to aggrandise his own demesne. I do know, however, that the waters ahead will be turbulent. They always are whenever a monarch dies without a clear heir. One may believe that the system will work out in theory, but something will inevitably turn up that will disrupt the attempts to create political unity.

As a final gesture, I know that Wallenheim would not think to invite you to the next monarch’s coronation, so I shall do so myself. It is not that Wallenheim is hostile towards you, but rather that the thought of inviting foreigners to a coronation would never cross his mind. I would understand if you did not come, since there is the possibility of more trouble, and Wallenheim might suddenly schedule the coronation to occur before you can even arrive. However, it might be an opportunity for you to establish yourself with the new government.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

OOC:

Any particular reason?

OOC: Just pure randomness.

PRIVATE

To the Right Honorable Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor,

Sir:

Wallenheim may be seeking any number of ends. If these ends include the maintaining of stability and control in the Dominion, and to prevent the normal strife and panic from setting in, then I would agree that he has some justification for what he has done. The issue of the tenants and their continued attempts to pursue the same object, namely, the bartering of priveleges and wealth with the new monarch in order to provide their support to him is only going to be detremental to any attempt to repair the damaged government of the Dominion.

The use of military force to destroy opposition is alarming in some respects; these all being signs of Wallenheim's inability to unite the tenants without causing chaos and disorder in the process. The fact that Wallenheim has brought about this chaos by using the forces of the late King only serves to infuriate those who stand in his way, and domestic insurrections shall follow if he does not resolve the problem quickly.

I must complain about his policy of replacing the Privy Council's members. This, as well as a dissolution of Parliament shall not be, in my own mind, a wise move for bringin about peace. If his aim is to preserve the late King's government, destroying what he intends to build up shall only become directly counterproductive.

If Wallenheim were to cooperate more directly with the other members of the Regency Council, and consolidate his efforts with those of which will support the rightful rulers of the Dominion, he can ensure a safe and relatively placid transition to the new government.

While I am no expert in the ways of the Dominion, or a very learned person on the subject of its laws, I can assure you that I shall continue my efforts in earnest to protect an allied state from domestic perils.

I take your gesture of invitation to the coronation of the new monarch as a mighty gift, one of value that cannot, insofar as I know, be measured in terms of money or power. It is a gift that only friends and trustworthy associates can give, and I shall certainly requite your grand offer.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

As usual, Mr. Carter's letter was passed by a Monavian courier to Mr. Locke, who delivered it directly to Sebastien's office.

To the Right Honourable Frank Carter of Monavia,

I have finally had a chance to meet Wallenheim in person for the first time since I have learned of the King’s death. As I had expected, he was quite busy. He receives over five hundred visitors per day, although he had set aside twenty minutes for me. He has told me that he will coronate the new Queen within the next two weeks. The only obstacle that is preventing him from coronating her now is the need for all the Lord Ecclesiasts to arrive. Therefore, I would advise you to leave for here as quickly as possible if you want to insure your attendance at the coronation.

Wallenheim also told me that he intends on dissolving Parliament after the coronation. I attempted to sway his opinion against such an action, but he was adamant. You were concerned with Wallenheim’s seeming lack of cooperation with the other regents in your last correspondence with me, although it is rather difficult to admonish him for this. The customs regarding how responsibilities are allocated and how decisions are to be made in the Regency Council are unclear and often lie in conflicting precedents.

I will be meeting with him more in the coming days, and these conversations will hopefully extract more information.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

PRIVATE

To the Right Honorable Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor,

Sir:

My attendance at the coronation of the new Queen shall indeed take place, and you will be delighted to know that I will be departing from Monavia tomorrow. It will take roughly two days to arrive in the Dominion, seeing as the time required to transport my attendants and all other needed personnel is often twice that which is needed to deliver my correspondence to you.

The monarchs shall also attend, and as I write these words, they are preparing their aircraft for a departure to Cotenshire. They will arrive a few hours in advance of myself, and will bring gifts for the new Queen.

Due to the adamancy of Duke Wallenheim over the issue of dissolving Parliament, it is only fitting that he is advised to declare the dissolution after the new Queen has established herself in power. He ultimately has the final decision, as you have pointed out earlier, and this shall therefore serve to improve upon his decision rather than to contradict it.

I offer my sincerest regards to yourself and to the Duke.

Sincerely,

The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Once the letter had been sent, another letter from King Charles arrived on Mr. Carter's desk. He was to send it in advance of the departing royals, so that Duke Wallenheim may be notified of their arrival.

To His Highness Engurrand de Wallenheim, Grand Duke of the Lothars,

Your Highness:

It pleases me greatly to announce my departure for the Salisbrugic Dominion of Cotenshire in order to attend the coronation of Her Royal Highness, Anne of Conately, as Queen of the Dominion. I shall arrive in two days with the Queen and several other major personages.

Sincerely,

His Holy Imperial Majesty Charles IX, King of Monavia and Defender of the Faith

Lord Sebastien had lobbied Wallenheim for the use of one of the Royal Airports for several hours to accommodate the arrival of the Monavian delegation. Although Wallenheim eventually gave his consent, the Duke had been so busy that he was not sure if Wallenheim was conscious of this agreement or if he had just approved Sebastien’s use of the airport so that he could move on to other tasks. Sebastien therefore decided not to rely on the airport that Wallenheim had assigned to him but instead chose to use his own private airport outside of Caen to serve as the point at which he would meet with the Monavians.

Intense rain and snow had beset the area around Caen for the past couple weeks, and Sebastien hoped that the runway was constructed well enough that it would not turn into mush and quicksand under the weight of the Monavian planes. Sebastien ordered the runway to be reinforced, although there was a shortage of labourers and he doubted that they would complete the job in time.

Meanwhile, Wallenheim skimmed the notice he had received from the Monavians, handed it to one of his advisors, and promptly forgot about it.

The skies above Caen were swarming with jet fighters when the first of the Monavian planes arrived. Charged with the task of managing the many incoming visitors that needed to meet with Wallenheim or had some stake in the government, these warplanes were piloted by the various chivalric orders formerly under the employ of William V and now answering to Wallenheim. Many of the visiting aircraft were let through, but many were told to leave or were shot down outright with a fiery spray of missiles and autocannon fire.

“Who goes there?” inquired one of the fighter pilots by radio as the Monavian plane approached.

About five minutes out from Caen, a stewerdess walked back through the plane to inform Mr. Carter of the impending arrival of the plane. After about five minutes of searching, she was empty-handed and panicked into a frenzy.

The pilot of the Monavian plane spoke in reply to the fighter pilot. "This is the plane of the Right Honorable Frank Carter of Monavia, Most Exalted Ally of the Dominion--"

"PILOT!" cried one of the stewerdesses. "MR. CARTER IS GONE! HE ISN'T HERE! HE'S--"

"WHAT?" the astonished pilot exclaimed in response.

The stewerdess, now in a terrible fright, collapsed onto the floor of the cockpit. She struggled against her own weight, as if her body was made from lead, and barely standing, she fell onto the seat of the copilot. The three were so stunned by what had transpired that they were oblivious to the further hails of the fighter pilot.

Little did they know of their earlier mistake...

During the initial departure from the mainland, the royal craft experienced unnaturally bad turbulence in flight, and, compounded by a flock of birds flying headlong into one of the engines, and the airsickness of several passengers, the plane had to be grounded. It landed on an airstrip in the Queen Theodora Islands, and soon, plagued by similar problems, Mr. Carter's plane had to land there as well shortly afterward.

Mr. Carter's plane had fewer problems than the royal craft, and the mess left behind by the birds, in addition to the sickness of the passengers, warranted a longer grounding period and and time to complete energency maintainence and repairs.

Shortly before Mr. Carter was to board his plane and depart for Caen, he decided to retrieve a briefcase containing important information about the Dominion which he wanted to show to the monarchs. He boarded the plane, entered his office on board, and took the case through a side door, which by misfortune, allowed him to exit unnoticed through one of the rear exits.

The crew, believing erroneously that Mr. Carter was on board, sealed the doors and took off, never noticing their mistake until this time.

Mr. Carter on the other hand was still with the monarchs when his aircraft left, and was busy briefing the King and Queen on the matters that affected the agenda of the attendees at the coronation. Indeed, information of all kinds, including historical data and protocol, was being shared, and for several hours, Mr. Carter and the monarchs were unaware of what was transpiring.

By the time they found themselves inconviently alone, they chose to take off with some fresh crew members and medicines for the airsick. They were now two hours out from the Dominion's sovereign boundries.

“You must turn back now if Mr Carter is not onboard,” radioed back the fighter pilot. “I am sorry if there is some trouble on your plane, but you will not be permitted to enter Caen. There is too much traffic as it is to warrant idle planes. If you need fuel, I am sure you will be able to find an airport somewhere else that can sell it to you.”

The planes continued to swarm above Caen. Their presence was not unnoticed by the town’s population. Thick rain and blizzard clouds obscured the townspeople’s view of the skies, but the loud jet engines still resonated below. William V had never sent so many planes into the air, and indeed he rarely called upon the pilots at all. There were obvious contrasts between Wallenheim’s direct approach to administration and the late King’s more hands-off approach.

Meanwhile, Sebastien awaited the arrival of the Monavian delegation at his airport, and the fighter planes continued to monitor the busy skies. They would again confront any aircraft that came before them and guide them to the proper landing zone if they were deemed worthy or, if not, would be dealt with appropriately.

The plane that was supposed to be transporting Mr. Carter to Caen was now low on fuel, but it had not yet run out. It still had about half an hour's worth left, enough to permit its travel to a nearby airport. It made its way toward a nearby landing strip, where it soon was able to land without incident. Though the runway was fragile and not sufficiently reenforced for such an arrival, such was only to occur once as of the present time.

The plane then took on more fuel, enough for a trip to Caen when it was needed. While the pilot, escorted by security officers and Royal Guardsmen, negotiated with fuel sellers to obtain what they needed, the royal craft approached the Dominion.

After passing within fifty miles of the coastline, the pilot of the royal plane radioed a message to the air traffic controllers in Caen.

"This is the pilot of the royal Monavian plane IMA-1 (Imperial Monavian Aircraft), approaching the Salisbrugic Dominion. Please clear us for landing in one hour."

La Gente is willing to harbor those of the House of Salisbury from prosecution, and if needed will be giving them weapons for the use of self defence or to attack those that are known to be planning to attack them.

“You have been cleared to land,” radioed back a fighter pilot to the royal plane. “I have you designated to land at the Eastern Royal Airport. It has new hangar facilities that should be able to accommodate your planes, which tend to be larger than ours if I recall correctly.”

He continued, “In exchange for clearing you to land, I want £10,000 paid to me upon landing. I will be coming in behind you.”

When the Monavian plane entered Caen airspace, one fighter positioned itself in front of the Monavian plane and the other fighter, which would land next to it, came in from behind.



To the Appropriate Official of the “Gente,”

While I thank you for your most generous offer, I must reluctantly decline it. Given the current situation, I would not want to create a greater military presence here than there is already. Duke Enguerrand de Wallenheim, one of the regents in charge of the provisional government, has already created an atmosphere of stability that uses the military to destroy rebellious activity. His forces, however, are using very destructive methods to crush the insurgents and I would not want to hand him another sword.

However, I will remember your generosity and our two states shall maintain favorable relations.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

We here in the African-Akhad Union send our utmost condoencies, and hope that the people can get through this tough time alright. We offer our help in any way needed.

The Monavian plane, accompanied by its fighter escort and various military planes provided for security, soon passed within miles of the airport. The "convoy" of planes began to land, with half of the escort craft arriving first. IMA-1 soon descended to its landing altitude, and eventually landed without incident, mechanical or otherwise. The wheels underneath the plane groaned, scheeching as they came down upon the wet landing strip.

As the cloud of spray left in the wake of the plane began to settl, more planes landed, and within fifteen minutes, the whole mass had arrived on the ground. They all taxied into approporate positions, and security officers, Royal Guardsmen, and several armored vehicles were deployed around the landed planes.

A staircase, rolled out of a transport plane, was soon wheeled up to the royal craft, allowing the occupants to exit. A security officer ascended the staircase and took a check from King Charles, who had chosen to pay all expenses incurred for the use of airport facilities. He handed it to the fighter pilot which gave the landing clearance, and then assembled himself with the others in formation for the ceremonial exit of the monarchs.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

I will RP the procession from the plane in my next post.

Several retinues of various important people from Caen and the Dominion awaited the arrival of the Monavian Royal Family. They had been waiting in the driving snow and sleet of a blinding whiteout on the sleek runway of the Eastern Royal Airport. A military band was positioned to play a rousing fanfare, but the buglers' mouthpieces were stuck to their lips due to the cold and they could not play. While there were several feet of snow piled up around the runway, the runway itself was well cleared and was even rather well dried due to the hundreds of labourers that constantly went over the strip with giant blowtorches mounted upon them like leaf blowers. It was a stark contrast to the muddy, icy, snowy quicksand pit that was the unpaved runway of Sebastien’s airport.

Meanwhile, waiting in vain for the Monavians to arrive at his airport was the Lord Chancellor himself, who, in his idleness, responded to the message from the African-Akhad Union:

To the Appropriate Official of the Government of the African-Akhad Union,

You condolences have warmed many hearts here, and hope is indeed a commodity in short supply. We are torn between our need for mourning and our obligation to retain social stability through these troubles. I do not request this of you, but the best way that you can help us at this time is to give monetary aid. We are suffering a taxing crisis, as you can imagine, since a large portion of the realm’s tenants are taking advantage of the interim government’s questionable legitimacy and refusing to pay taxes. I will not give you an amount that we need, but should you give anything at all, it will be appreciated no matter how great.

Signed,
The Rt Hon. Jan Sebastien, Lord Chancellor

Due to the instructions given by Wallenheim, and the swarms of jet fighters that had been dispatched to patrol the skies by the man, the royal plane was unable to land in the private airport of Sebastien. Knowing that Sebastien was expecting the Momnavian guests to come his way, the Queen sent a messenger with a short note to Sebastien to inform him of their arrival.

Meanwhile, as the messenger departed, the monarchs began to exit the plane. Proceeded by four burly guards, carrying rifles and a pair of personal attendants, the monarchs soon stepped off the plane, descended the staircase, and were soon on the ground. They were followed in turn by several other important people, including Mr. Carter, who was toward the middle of the line, and many others, including personal staff and crew.

The royals and Mr. Carter were attired in diplomatic, or white tie dress, though less formal dress was worn by the guards and staff. The Royal Guardsmen and other security forces had by now formed two lines on either side of their intended path, and were given the order to present their arms. Once the whole mass of people had exited the plane and reached the end of the line, it was time for the Cotenshirick welcoming parties to play their part.

As this all happend, roughly in the space of ten minutes or so, the messenger had gotten quite far from the airport. The messenger drove away to the airport where Sebastien was, and upon arriving, he bowed and handed him the note before he departed.

Lord Chancellor:

Due to the abominable weather conditions and the interference with our travel plans by Wallenheim's security forces, we will not be arriving at the previously scheduled time. I personally regret to inform you that we will be delayed for some time, perhaps as much as two hours.

You can expect our arrival by ground transport.

Sincerely,

Her Holy Imperial Majesty Elizabeth VI

All of the figures that stood outside the Monavian plane were difficult to distinguish in the intense snow, and their voices were frequently rendered inaudible by the high winds and frequent thunder. Each of the many parties had not only the distinguished men among them, but also heraldsmen, guards, and several servants. Many from the latter groups had been standing out on the runway all day and were developing severe frostbite. One well dressed man approached the monarchs as they stepped out.

“Greetings, my Lord King,” said he to the King. “I am Sir Jarvis Glandery, Lord Butler of the Eastern Palace. Unless you have any objections, we shall proceed inside to the warmth of the Golden Banquet Hall.” There were sighs of relief throughout the many retinues on the runway. A long train of coaches had been summoned to take everyone to the palace proper.

While all the parties were entering the coaches, Sir Glandery proceeded to inform the King of those who sought and audience with him. “These, Your Imperial Majesty, are those who wish to seek an audience with you. You may decline for any reason or for no reason at all.”

He read from the list:

“There is here Lord Dauphin Warding Monaumour. There is here Lord Geoffrey Lusignan, Royal Governor of Caen and Burgrave of all its Districts. There is Lord Patriarch Anthony Stone. There is Lord Simon Fitzbreton. There is Lord Dom Henriques, Consul of the Galicians. There is Lord Pálffy János, Chancellor to Lord Archbishop István Kõszegi. There is Lord Regent Humphrey Armighus, Plenipotentiary of the Normans. Those men are the only ones in attendance right now, although we shall soon expect Lord Esbern Malthesson, Chancellor to Lord Regent Gustav Adolf, Archduke and Plenipotentiary of the Ajaels—“ A servant came up to Sir Glandery and handed him a slip of paper—“and Lord Chancellor Jan Sebastien.”

"Sir Glandery," King Charles began, "I am heartened much by the news which you have brought to me. Once we have proceeded to the hall, I will sort out how these audiences are to be held. For now, I must have everything else cleared up first." With that last remark, the King motioned to several servants and lackeys to begin carrying necessary luggage and equipment out of the aircraft. The majority of the the things being carried out were sealed against the cold weather, although this situation would prove to be an excellant test of their construction.

The Monavians, which had by now all exited the plane with a portion of their personal effects and baggage, had assembled to the side of the two parallel rows of guards. The pilot and flight crew remained on board to assist in emptying the plane and preparing it for storage in a hanger. The aforementioned gurads on the tarmac, numbering about thirty, now broke formation, sheathing their long swords and taking up their rifles, and began to march toward the building. They paused about twenty yards away.

Another fifty guards, comprised of twenty security officers and thirty Royal Guardsmen, had by now secured the flight area. In total, three platoons of the Royal Guard had been sent over. The two transport planes, crewed by Air Force personnel and Army units, working in tandem, now unloaded more of their cargo. The transport planes would be parked outside of the hanger which would later hold the royal craft, but for now, they would remain in their current positions. The fighter jets which escorted the group were already approaching their hangers and would be stored there within the hour.

The remainder of the Monavians, numbering appoximately twenty, was composed of four secretaries, twelve attendents, two butlers, and two messengers. This figure, however, does not take into account the dozen or so servants and lackeys that were brought along for the visit. This group soon had unloaded all of the items that needed to be carried into the building. They caught up witht he waiting guards, and the group then filed into the building.

As the previously mentioned action played out, the dialogue between King Charles and Sir Glandery continued. "Sir, I have come to a decision." King Charles said, before continuing. He and his wife were now making their way toward the building, followed closely by Mr. Carter. "I will meet with Lord Chancellor Sebastien after I have had all of those seeking audiences with me who are already present stand before me and stste any immediately pressing concerns they may have. Should they have no concerns that require my immediate attention, I will like to meet with Sebastien. I have matters of state and security to discuss with him."

The Golden Banquet Hall was true to its name, with ornate golden designs on almost everything in the room, including the rugs. It was designed to exude a bright, almost fiery atmosphere, as red was the predominant colour among all the gold. Many large candlesticks and candelabras lined the floors and tables. The most striking features of the room, however, were the enormous tapestries that covered the walls. There was a golden grand piano in the center of the room, but there was little floor space around it, for the hall had been crowded with desks.

“As you might have seen coming in,” explained Sir Glandery, “Most wings of this palace are still under construction. We do not have all the office areas ready yet, and Wallenheim needed all the space he could get for his army of lawyers and clerks.”

The Monavian Monarchs and Mr Carter were now alone with Sir Glandery in the room. “Well, I hate to rush you, but we must start the business. I will make sure of it that you have plenty of time for relaxation later, but Wallenheim has impressed on me the need for this room so that some of his men can continue their work.” Sir Glandery neared the main doors of the room. “Who would you like to see first? Oh, and since I am sure you are hungry, I will have plenty of food and drink brought your way.”

"I understand your unfortunate dilemma, Sir Glandery." King Charles was not pleased with the idea of being rushed so soon, but business was business. "Due to my pressing need to deal with Sebastien, I will speak with him first, but only briefly. Personages of superior rank and standing are in attendance here, and I would not wish to anger them over such important matters."

"Charles, if I may," the Queen interjected. "Sir, the people here request an audience of a formal nature. If I am not mistaken, they would normally require authorization from the future Queen Anne. This has been my experience in dealing with most other governments, which usually require the sitting sovereign to permit audiences with foreign heads of state.

"Whether my assumption is correct or not, I merely wish to raise this point to avoid any breaches of diplomatic protocol."

“I honestly know nothing of diplomatic protocol,” confessed Sir Glandery. “If, however, I you are violating it, I am sure Her Majesty would forgive you. She is after all a very temperate young maiden. That being said, I shall venture and see if Lord Sebastien has arrived yet.”

But the one who next came through the door was not Sebastien and Glandery, but instead the Royal Spymaster, Sir Vasilii Grunovich. He walked deftly into the room and sat down at one of the desks. His grizzled, disfigured face was barely revealed due to his cloak casting a shadow over it. One of his eyes (or, most likely, an eye hole) was covered by a patch, but the uncovered one was darting around the room as if to search for any means of potential route of escape in case of an attack.

“Yer Majesties,” he began, “I believe we have met be—“

He stopped his speech abruptly, holding up his hand to indicate silence. His rapidly dilating nostrils indicated that he was sniffing the air. Suddenly, he implored in a booming voice, “Out, ye bloody fiend!”

From the various tapestries surrounding the room, many of Wallenheim’s spies emerged. They scurried to the door with Sir Grunovich growling, “Not a word of this, ye hear, or I’ll cull ye throats!”

When the last spy had scampered out and the doors had been shut, Sir Grunovich continued speaking as if nothing had happened. “I believe we have met before during previous diplomatic endeavours. I do not want to divulge everything I know to ye here right now, for I hear Wallenheim’s steps approaching, and he shall be upon us in a few minutes.”

Grunovich rose and looked inside the piano, and also examined several writing utensils on the various desks. “When Sebastien arrives, we shall flee to a more secure place.” Grunovich lit his pipe while listening to anything the Monavians had to say. After a few minutes, the doors flew open.

In swaggered a royally rotund man that could only be Wallenheim. Several halberdiers followed in the wake of his cape. Along the floor clanged a scabbarded long sword slung around his baldric. He wore a blue velvet hat with a wide brim, and out of this burst a crimson plume several feet long. A short beard covered his entire chin, which he stroked as he gave orders to his Halberdiers, which exited the room. A royal blue doublet attempted to wrap its way around his girth, and the silver jerkin under it even succeeded (albeit with strained buttons). His strong poise was particularly striking when one considered the extremely high heels he wore. The most central feature of his accessories, however, was clearly the enormous golden codpiece that protruded from under his skirt. Its large rubies twinkled in the light of the room’s hundreds of candles as he rotated his pelvis to face the Monavians and Sir Grunovich.

“What villainy is this?” barked he.

He stopped his speech abruptly, holding up his hand to indicate silence. His rapidly dilating nostrils indicated that he was sniffing the air. Suddenly, he implored in a booming voice, “Out, ye bloody fiend!”

From the various tapestries surrounding the room, many of Wallenheim’s spies emerged. They scurried to the door with Sir Grunovich growling, “Not a word of this, ye hear, or I’ll cull ye throats!”

When the last spy had scampered out and the doors had been shut, Sir Grunovich continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

The discovery of Wallenheim's spies made Mr. Carter lose his normal feeling of calm. He was now irritated greatly, and saw that these acts of distrust would not bode well. He therefore left the room and walked back out into the hallway to the side, where he summoned four of the strongest and most skillful guardsmen to hide behind the taphestries. As he accompanied then in to the room, he informed then of the methods by which Wallenheim's spies had concealed themselves.

The guardsmen employed these methods well, and thanks to the information provided by Mr. Carter, they avoided the pitfalls that had permitted Sir Grunovich to espy Wallenheim's agents. Meanwhile, as Wallenheim made his way toward the banquet hall, Mr. Carter sat down and listened to the conversation between Sir Grunovich and the King.

Grunovich rose and looked inside the piano, and also examined several writing utensils on the various desks. “When Sebastien arrives, we shall flee to a more secure place.” Grunovich lit his pipe while listening to anything the Monavians had to say. After a few minutes, the doors flew open.

"Sir Grunovich, it has been a long time since we have previously met," the King began. "As always, your countenence is bright and filled with vigor, and your reputation as a servant of the late King William have brought me much at which to marvel. Before we commence our business, I would like to thank you for ensuring our privacy. The spies that have been stationed here have only shown that some people have their suspicions of us.

"I am curious as to the nature of your presence here. Sir Glandery told us that Sebastien would arrive, and the fact that he has failed to show up has become a slight...disappointment. I would have normally expected him to have come in sooner, especially since he gave me the surprise of announcing his arrival.

Before Wallenheim enters, I would simply like to know if he desired an audience with me as well. I would relish the idea of a visit with him. Though my last encounter with the man was not as pleasant as I would have hoped, I would prefer to put that aside."

“What villainy is this?” barked he.

"Villany!" King Charles cried. "Is that what you call a private meeting over affairs of state?" King Charles' firey stare now met that of Wallenheim. He was not amused or pleased in the least bit, and his seventy-four inch frame (6'2") drew itself up to full height. In the simplest terms, he had been roused to the point of agitation.

"Upon my arrival, I was informed that a number of personages from various portions of the Dominion wished to hold an audience with me. Due to the foresight of my dear wife, Her Imperial Majesty Elizabeth, the question of legitimacy was raised, since I place much importance on observing diplomatic protocol. I bear no quarrel against you or your government, but an invitation by one of its highest members is nothing to be disrespected. Sir Glandery, who had the courtesy to respect us as guests, only informed us of two things: first, that you had urgent need for this room, and second, that the future Queen Anne was, in his own mind, someone who exercised the temperateness to forgive any errors committed through simple ignorance.

"My presence here, if you wished to inquire, was due to invitation by Sebastien to attend the coronation of Anne. I would mean no disrespect to her, and to be absent from the ceremony in which the affairs of the Dominion are laid to rest would only serve as an act of ill faith. Now, if you will excuse me momentarily, I must rest briefly."

OOC:

Bump, so the thread doesn't get lost.

The discovery of Wallenheim's spies made Mr. Carter lose his normal feeling of calm. He was now irritated greatly, and saw that these acts of distrust would not bode well. He therefore left the room and walked back out into the hallway to the side, where he summoned four of the strongest and most skillful guardsmen to hide behind the taphestries. As he accompanied then intot he room, he informed then of the methods by which Wallenheim's spies had concealed themselves.

The guardsmen employed these methods well, and thanks to the information provided by Mr. Carter, they avoided the pitfalls that had permitted Sir Grunovich to espy Wallenheim's agents. Meanwhile, as Wallenheim made his way toward the banquet hall, Mr. Carter sat down and listened to the conversation between Sir Grunovich and the King.
Sir Grunovich chuckled at Mr Carter’s plan to hide spies behind the tapestries. “That is an interesting idea, although I would not recommend it. If they are found they will surely be arrested and likely condemned to death. Fortunately, Wallenheim has not my sense of smell.”

"Villany!" King Charles cried. "Is that what you call a private meeting over affairs of state?" King Charles' firey stare now met that of Wallenheim. He was not amused or pleased in the least bit, and his seventy-four inch frame (6'2") drew itself up to full height. In the simplest terms, he had been roused to the point of agitation.

"Upon my arrival, I was informed that a number of personages from various portions of the Dominion wished to hold an audience with me. Due to the foresight of my dear wife, Her Imperial Majesty Elizabeth, the question of legitimacy was raised, since I place much importance on observing diplomatic protocol. I bear no quarrel against you or your government, but an invitation by one of its highest members is nothing to be disrespected. Sir Glandery, who had the courtesy to respect us as guests, only informed us of two things: first, that you had urgent need for this room, and second, that the future Queen Anne was, in his own mind, someone who exercised the temperateness to forgive any errors committed through simple ignorance.

"My presence here, if you wished to inquire, was due to invitation by Sebastien to attend the coronation of Anne. I would mean no disrespect to her, and to be absent from the ceremony in which the affairs of the Dominion are laid to rest would only serve as an act of ill faith. Now, if you will excuse me momentarily, I must rest briefly."
Wallenheim strutted through the desks to the center of the room where the Monavians and Sir Grunovich had gathered. After the King had finished his invective, Wallenheim delivered his response with great gusto, and there were many times in which saliva accidently burst from his mouth as he spoke. Indeed, he seemed quite flustered at the circumstances. “Glandery was correct when he said that I had urgent need for this room, and I did not expect that guests would be so arrogant to me as to occupy the room for as long as you have. If you have business here with others, be efficient and brief!”

Wallenheim gasped for air before continuing his tirade. “I have also found out that you have forced my spies from the room. You may be King in Monavian, Sir Insolence, but you lack that authority here. And Grunovich, why are you here? Were you not on duty elsewhere?”

“M’lud,” replied Sir Grunovich, “I have many assignments that are being undergone now. I must prioritize them.”

Sir Grunovich chuckled at Mr Carter’s plan to hide spies behind the tapestries. “That is an interesting idea, although I would not recommend it. If they are found they will surely be arrested and likely condemned to death. Fortunately, Wallenheim has not my sense of smell.”

"I would not risk any such trouble, but I shall not permit the violation of any Monavian citizen who has come here."

Wallenheim strutted through the desks to the center of the room where the Monavians and Sir Grunovich had gathered. After the King had finished his invective, Wallenheim delivered his response with great gusto, and there were many times in which saliva accidently burst from his mouth as he spoke. Indeed, he seemed quite flustered at the circumstances. “Glandery was correct when he said that I had urgent need for this room, and I did not expect that guests would be so arrogant to me as to occupy the room for as long as you have. If you have business here with others, be efficient and brief!”

Wallenheim gasped for air before continuing his tirade. “I have also found out that you have forced my spies from the room. You may be King in Monavian, Sir Insolence, but you lack that authority here. And Grunovich, why are you here? Were you not on duty elsewhere?”

“M’lud,” replied Sir Grunovich, “I have many assignments that are being undergone now. I must prioritize them.”

King Charles was not, however, going to permit any further trouble from Wallenheim. Speaking with rising fury, which turned his face ever redder as he rebuffed the tirade which the Duke had now undergone. "Before you are so hasty to judge the business of others, consider that they are your guests! I have witnessed many a lord who speaks widely, yet cannot hold back on speaking about what he knows not. Your speech stings me like venom, and I shall not suffer it!" The fury King Charles had now manifested began to soften, but it was still unabated. He was determined to answer the charges that Wallenheim had laid upon him.

"My business here was not arranged by myself, or for that matter, by any Monavian! The audiences that have been requested are not of my doing, and in addition, your charge of arrogance is, to say the least, completely fallicious. I have occupied this room only briefly, and no visitors have even entered as of yet. Finally, the spies that have concealed themselves in this room have been expelled by those beyond my command!"

King Charles had now almost attained a face of fucia color, so dark was it that he finally could no longer sustain his anger. He then had one more thing to say before he nearly collapsed in his seat, only to regain his footing seconds later.

In a weakened voice, he then said, "I seek no authority here, only the trust of the Dominion. Duke Wallenheim, if you still retain your honor...", almost choking from his fit, he began to grow quieter as the color of his face began to fade back to normal, "allow us to depart in peace once the business of the coronation is concluded."

Wallenheim had not the time to reply to King Charles, for Sebastien had entered through the door. He was followed by Glandery, who carried a tray of wine glasses, and offered one to each person in the room.

“My Lord Duke,” said Lord Sebastien, “I am sorry for what has happened here, but as King Charles has said, this is no fault of his. I have been prolonging the meeting here, and it was I who dismissed the spies.”

“Then would you please extricate yourself from my duties and focus on your own,” replied Wallenheim. “I am being extremely gracious in allowing you to keep your former post. For your part, you must remember that the Lord Chancellor is to serve the Monarch. You seem to believe the opposite.”

“I am aware of that, my lord, but I did not want to risk the accusation of poor performance. Therefore I took advantage of every available resource to ensure this diplomatic meeting was satisfactory.”

While this conversation was going on, Sir Grunovich motioned to the Monavians to get up and follow him. They travelled on a few feet, however, before Grunovich settled down in a chair at one of the desks. “This area of the room is acoustically designed so that no one outside it will be able to hear what we say as long as we keep our voices low,” whispered Grunovich.

Grunovich opened one of the desk drawers and removed a hidden microphone. “Don’t worry,” said he. “This was planted here by one of my men.” He crushed it under his boot. “In about ten seconds, Wallenheim will hastily depart the room to meet with some of the recently arriving Lord Ecclesiasts. We will then leave outside the doors on the opposite of the hall.”

The doors opened and a messenger came in, and Wallenheim excused himself without explanation to Sebastien or the others.

“With Wallenheim’s exit just now, our security in here is compromised. We must be off. Do not worry, the walk is not far.”

They went out a separate door into an empty hallway, with Sebastien trailing them. “I am sorry that you did not get to speak with Wallenheim for very long,” said Grunovich, “but I believe Kings should only talk to Kings.”

They had not walked down the hall for long before Grunovich stopped and rapped on a door. It was opened to reveal King William V inside eating dinner surrounded by many attendants.

(OOC: I realise that alot happened in this post, so feel free to have your characters interject or do something they would've done at moments in time throughout the post.)

Wallenheim had not the time to reply to King Charles, for Sebastien had entered through the door. He was followed by Glandery, who carried a tray of wine glasses, and offered one to each person in the room.

The Monavians each took a glass of the wine, but they didn't drink it yet. Mr. Carter asked Sir Grunovich to examine it for poisons before daring to consume it.

Grunovich opened one of the desk drawers and removed a hidden microphone. “Don’t worry,” said he. “This was planted here by one of my men.” He crushed it under his boot. “In about ten seconds, Wallenheim will hastily depart the room to meet with some of the recently arriving Lord Ecclesiasts. We will then leave outside the doors on the opposite of the hall.”

The doors opened and a messenger came in, and Wallenheim excused himself without explanation to Sebastien or the others.

“With Wallenheim’s exit just now, our security in here is compromised. We must be off. Do not worry, the walk is not far.”

"I see no need for alarm. After all, Wallenheim has only to botch this whole affair and the security of multiple countries shall be jeopardized." Motioning to the guards, who has quietly began to exit from behind the taphestries, he ordered them to follow the group.

Meanwhile, as the rancorous Wallenheim was outside, the other platoon of twenty guards followed quickly in single file toward the door. Carrying their rifles and keeping watchful eyes uopn the doors, they were soon out of sight.

They went out a separate door into an empty hallway, with Sebastien trailing them. “I am sorry that you did not get to speak with Wallenheim for very long,” said Grunovich, “but I believe Kings should only talk to Kings.”

"Sir Grounvich, I don't understand what you mean about this premise of yours. Do you not desire that I proceed with my other 'audiences'?" King Charles said in reply. "As for yourself, Lord Sebastien, why does Wallenheim so much as think to usurp royal authority over your post. I would do well to remind him of his station."

They had not walked down the hall for long before Grunovich stopped and rapped on a door.

By now the Monavians had all hidden themselves in the hall and awaited their entry.

It was opened to reveal King William V inside eating dinner surrounded by many attendants.

At the sight of the Cotenshirick King in such state of life, the Queen dropped almost into a faint from shock. King Charles could barely support himself, let alone his wife, who had barely escaped a swoon, and poor Mr. Carter merely stood aghast, obstruction passage through the doorway. The three had to be assisted into the room by the guards. They lined the wall as the three were seated, and the commander bolted the door shut.

(OOC: I realise that alot happened in this post, so feel free to have your characters interject or do something they would've done at moments in time throughout the post.)

OOC:

Already taken care of. Also, the end was a great twist!

The Monavians each took a glass of the wine, but they didn't drink it yet. Mr. Carter asked Sir Grunovich to examine it for poisons before daring to consume it.

“Poisons, eh? I’ll see about it.”

The Spymaster touched the wine to the tip of his tongue, which he used to smear some of the wine on his lips. He then took a swig from the glass and swished it around in his mouth. He then smacked his lips a few times and swallowed. A few moments after it had gone down into his stomach, he pronounced “Do not worry, no poisons are present. It is safe to drink.”

"Sir Grounvich, I don't understand what you mean about this premise of yours. Do you not desire that I proceed with my other 'audiences'?" King Charles said in reply. "As for yourself, Lord Sebastien, why does Wallenheim so much as think to usurp royal authority over your post. I would do well to remind him of his station."

Sebastien answered the King’s query, but Grunovich seemed aloof and concentrating elsewhere. “Wallenheim’s motives are rather difficult to discern. Some will say that he is devoted to preserving the Salisbury dynasty. Others say that he wants only to aggrandize his own holdings in Lotharingia. I believe that it is actually a mixture of the two. Wallenheim has a genuine interest in preserving the previous order, but, like anyone in his position, he will naturally have a preference for the Lothars because that is the nation from which he hails.

“He is not as touched by gentility as you and I, and it is difficult for a man of his race to comprehend the complicated government devices inherent in our system. His seemingly unilateral style, that is, the way he does not consult the other regents, most likely stems from the brutish simplicity he inherited from his Lotharn society. While far above paganism and tribalism, the East Lothars are still not well imbued with civilization.”

At the sight of the Cotenshirick King in such state of life, the Queen dropped almost into a faint from shock. King Charles could barely support himself, let alone his wife, who had barely escaped a swoon, and poor Mr. Carter merely stood aghast, obstruction passage through the doorway. The three had to be assisted into the room by the guards. They lined the wall as the three were seated, and the commander bolted the door shut.

The King stood at the sight of the Monavians. “My fellow monarchs, what a joy it is to see you here! You seem rather ill. Are you ill? Pray tell.”

“My liege,” said Grunovich to the King. “They thought you were dead, too. As I said to you before, a majority of the country believes you to be dead.”

“Well I am not dead,” retorted the King. “I am alive and well.”

“But you still cannot remember what happened?” asked Grunovich.

The King had gone to order some wine and was not listening to Grunovich.

“The King is experiencing some amnesia,” informed Grunovich to the Monavians. “Five days ago, we found his only remaining son, Leopold, dead in the bath room of a hunting lodge several hundred miles northeast of here. He appeared to have been struck on the head several times with a hammer or some other kind of bludgeon. The King also disappeared around that time, and cannot recall any of his experiences on that night or the next night. I just found him three days ago at the country estate of one of his cousins.”

Grunovich could not continue further for the King had come back over to him. “Sir Grunovich, why do you keep me hostage?”

“It is for your protection, my liege. There have been major security breaches recently, and I cannot afford to release you until appropriate measures have been taken and I capture the last of the cultist leaders that I know of.”

“I shall suffer none of this,” said King William. “The lake is frozen over and, according to that astrologer, the snows shall subside tonight. I shall be enjoying breakfast on my land yacht tomorrow whether you have captured that robber or not.” He turned to the Monavians. “Will you join me? It is most exhilarating to enjoy the pristine beauty of the freshly powdered landscape on my land yacht.”

“Poisons, eh? I’ll see about it.”

The Spymaster touched the wine to the tip of his tongue, which he used to smear some of the wine on his lips. He then took a swig from the glass and swished it around in his mouth. He then smacked his lips a few times and swallowed. A few moments after it had gone down into his stomach, he pronounced “Do not worry, no poisons are present. It is safe to drink.”

Upon being assured of the safety of the beverage, the group proceeded to empty their glasses.

Sebastien answered the King’s query, but Grunovich seemed aloof and concentrating elsewhere. “Wallenheim’s motives are rather difficult to discern. Some will say that he is devoted to preserving the Salisbury dynasty. Others say that he wants only to aggrandize his own holdings in Lotharingia. I believe that it is actually a mixture of the two. Wallenheim has a genuine interest in preserving the previous order, but, like anyone in his position, he will naturally have a preference for the Lothars because that is the nation from which he hails.

“He is not as touched by gentility as you and I, and it is difficult for a man of his race to comprehend the complicated government devices inherent in our system. His seemingly unilateral style, that is, the way he does not consult the other regents, most likely stems from the brutish simplicity he inherited from his Lotharn society. While far above paganism and tribalism, the East Lothars are still not well imbued with civilization.”

"It is then best that his ambitions remain contained by the other regents and by the other officials of the Dominion. This would prevent him from disturbing the delicate balance that still exists here.

"Clearly Lotharn society has not raised itself to levels that would aid its affairs with other portions of the country."

The King stood at the sight of the Monavians. “My fellow monarchs, what a joy it is to see you here! You seem rather ill. Are you ill? Pray tell.”

“My liege,” said Grunovich to the King. “They thought you were dead, too. As I said to you before, a majority of the country believes you to be dead.”

“Well I am not dead,” retorted the King. “I am alive and well.”

“But you still cannot remember what happened?” asked Grunovich.

The King had gone to order some wine and was not listening to Grunovich.

“The King is experiencing some amnesia,” informed Grunovich to the Monavians. “Five days ago, we found his only remaining son, Leopold, dead in the bath room of a hunting lodge several hundred miles northeast of here. He appeared to have been struck on the head several times with a hammer or some other kind of bludgeon. The King also disappeared around that time, and cannot recall any of his experiences on that night or the next night. I just found him three days ago at the country estate of one of his cousins.”

By now, the Monavians had reagined their senses and took their seats in the room. The guards stood against the wall, listening for potential intruders and threats. The death of Leopold, however, did little to comfort the spirits of the Monavians when it came to the safety of a royal line they had obligated themselves to protect.

Grunovich could not continue further for the King had come back over to him. “Sir Grunovich, why do you keep me hostage?”

“It is for your protection, my liege. There have been major security breaches recently, and I cannot afford to release you until appropriate measures have been taken and I capture the last of the cultist leaders that I know of.”

“I shall suffer none of this,” said King William. “The lake is frozen over and, according to that astrologer, the snows shall subside tonight. I shall be enjoying breakfast on my land yacht tomorrow whether you have captured that robber or not.” He turned to the Monavians. “Will you join me? It is most exhilarating to enjoy the pristine beauty of the freshly powdered landscape on my land yacht.”

"Your Majesty, perhaps it would be best that you rested yourself before you go about your travels. I would also suggest that some food is bourght to us shortly." siad the Queen. She then continued, after pausing briefly to examine the room. "It is best that we fortify our strengths, since the day has done little toe ase our travels."

King Charles then added his thoughts. "I would be quite delighted to join you on our land yacht, though I have never been acquainted with such a craft. I would advise, however, that we bring along some form of security escort. If Wallenheim is planning to alter the operation of government here, your presence would cause a civil panic of a nature unknown in a while."

He then turned to Sir Grunovich and Lord Chancellor Sebastien. "It has been said that a "funeral" was held for King William, which 100,000 people attended. I would relish the knowledge of what was really behind that affair."

“Rest? That is a very sincere suggestion from you,” remarked the King, “but I am quite well rested. Sir Grunovich here has made me do nothing but for the past three days. And I shall have food for you right away.”

William pointed to one of the servants. “You sir, get Sir Glandery to bring in here sixteen chickens, four turkeys, two roasted cows, fifty loaves of bread, eight gallons of vinegar, twenty pounds of fried mushrooms, ten eels, twenty-five flounders, forty herrings, five gallons of honey, and eighteen kegs of wine.”

When King Charles brought up his concerns over safety of tomorrow's excursion, King William said: “Security is a good idea, especially considering the tragic events that have transpired in the past few days. I shall bring along with us a halberdier or two.”

King William then walked off to select a new wig to try on. Sir Grunovich responded to King Charles’s question. “Yes, the funeral was quite large. According to the governor, at least 800,000 turned out to mourn the King’s death, and many estimates say millions did. I have heard from some spies serving under others that Leopold was actually the one that was buried in the catacombs of the Beate Maria Cathedral. I have not confirmed this explanation, however, and I am not sure how Leopold's corpse would have been acquired.

“Of course, I did not propagate the rumour that the King died. That started on its own somehow and spread quickly like rumours of that magnitude often do. Unfortunately, the only way I can disprove that rumour is to reveal the King to the public, and I cannot do that right now.”

Grunovich then added, “The King does not remember the night that Leopold died due to his amnesia. He also seems to have forgotten that Leopold even existed. As disturbing as some of his memory problems are, I believe it is best right now that we do not mention Leopold within his earshot.”

He hushed himself quickly, for the King had returned. He was holding a cover over his face as his wig was powdered, but asked anyway, “What think you of this wig?” The wig itself was a light pink colour, very different from the other wigs which were mostly white.

“It looks splendid, my liege,” said Grunovich. “Of course, I must see your face under it to know how much it truly complements your beauty.”

“Rest? That is a very sincere suggestion from you,” remarked the King, “but I am quite well rested. Sir Grunovich here has made me do nothing but for the past three days. And I shall have food for you right away.”

William pointed to one of the servants. “You sir, get Sir Glandery to bring in here sixteen chickens, four turkeys, two roasted cows, fifty loaves of bread, eight gallons of vinegar, twenty pounds of fried mushrooms, ten eels, twenty-five flounders, forty herrings, five gallons of honey, and eighteen kegs of wine.”

When King Charles brought up his concerns over safety of tomorrow's excursion, King William said: “Security is a good idea, especially considering the tragic events that have transpired in the past few days. I shall bring along with us a halberdier or two.”

As the meal was being prepared, the Monavians settled in. Some of the sevants of the King and Queen, together with some other staff members, began to serach for them to inform them of the completion of their work. One of them wandered near the hall and soon found an entrance to the hallway leading to the chamber housing the Monavians and King William.

He overheard the voices of some of the people within conversing, and recognizing the voice of King Charles, he knocked on the door. He only announced his name, and the guard commander opened the door to permit his entry. He then requested that he be allowed to bring in the other attendants and so forth, and was ordered to use the alternate doorway to avoid drawing the attention of Wallenheim.

He soon returned with about ten of the royal servants and several lackeys and attendants, as well as one of the royal secretaries. They also settled in.

King Charles also said a thing or two about the security. "When we join with you on your cruise upon the land, I will bring a few of my own security forces to offer additional protection. If one King is able to draw the attention of some peeping Toms, then having two Kings together would only multiply the risks. Besides, our privacy has been inadequate as of late."

King William then walked off to select a new wig to try on. Sir Grunovich responded to King Charles’s question. “Yes, the funeral was quite large. According to the governor, at least 800,000 turned out to mourn the King’s death, and many estimates say millions did. I have heard from some spies serving under others that Leopold was actually the one that was buried in the catacombs of the Beate Maria Cathedral. I have not confirmed this explanation, however, and I am not sure how Leopold's corpse would have been acquired.

“Of course, I did not propagate the rumour that the King died. That started on its own somehow and spread quickly like rumours of that magnitude often do. Unfortunately, the only way I can disprove that rumour is to reveal the King to the public, and I cannot do that right now.”

Grunovich then added, “The King does not remember the night that Leopold died due to his amnesia. He also seems to have forgotten that Leopold even existed. As disturbing as some of his memory problems are, I believe it is best right now that we do not mention Leopold within his earshot.”

"As you wish, Sir Grunovich. I shall not bring any trouble upon this place. Yet, even with this whole affair unfolding, I still see more changes ahead in the Dominion."

Upon seeing the wig that King William had powdered, he only stood to smile. The next moment, he walked toward the secretary. He then asked him to assist the ailing King William in his troubles. The secretary, who had originally indended to become a psychiatrist, has been unable to afford the tuition for final year of his medical school, but his training was sufficient for dealing with cases of amnesia. He nonetheless elected to take a look at the King's condition later that evening. For now, they would enjoy the feast.

“Your offer to provide extra security measures is quite grateful, King Charles. The only problem I could see with it is potential space problems on the land yacht. If there is not enough room for them, then I must unfortunately decline their services, but we shall see tomorrow.”

The Monavians and the King had been eating for a few minutes when Grunovich announced, “Wallenheim is upon us.” The King continued to eat unperturbed, and Wallenheim did indeed throw open the door about a minute later.

“Grunovich, you fiend, why did you bring those Monavians in here?” said he, but upon seeing the King his temper quickly faded. He prostrated himself before his lord. King William held out his hand, which was then kissed several times by Wallenheim.

“Wallenheim, what brings you here?” asked the King.

“My lord sovereign, I came to uphold your righteous rule and cut down the uprisings of those thieves in the provinces.”

“Well that is quite heroic of you,” said the King. He held out his hand again and said “Please, kiss that emerald.” Wallenheim delicately placed his lips on the indicated ring. King William tore off the leg of one of the turkeys that had been brought in and offered it to Wallenheim, who gladly accepted.

“Oh, how magnificient you are, my King,” said the Duke.

Meanwhile, Sebastien questioned Grunovich. “Sir, how long have you known that King William has been alive?”

“I never knew him to be dead, m’lud.”

“Well why did you not pass your knowledge to me?”

“Your mail was being seized by Wallenheim, m’lud. As soon as I had found that out, I knew that the security of your mail was compromised. Wallenheim would’ve never thought to take your mail for himself. No, mail seizing is a well known tactic of the Silverhelms. They most likely suggested it to him, and Wallenheim let them carry out the mission. Now, I have been suspecting for a long time that some Shepherds had infiltrated the ranks of the Silverhelms, and therefore anything that was transmitted to you by mail might fall into enemy hands. I hope you will excuse me for my transgression.”

“Shepherds?” exclaimed Sebastien incredulously. “I thought someone of your position would know better than to believe in the legends of the Pastoralic Order.”

“No, m’lud, quite to the contrary,” countered Grunovich. “Only one with the information I have would be able to know of the operations of the Order. Fitzhenry was no Archibaldist. He had simply made that claim in an attempt to stop the torture. He was actually a Shepherd.”

“You are mad!”

“You could find evidence to my sanity in the findings of my spies today. Just as I had expected, there was an agent within the Silverhelms that had found out about the Monavians journey to the Dominion. Once I found out about their impending arrival, I gave orders to the traffic controllers to land them at this airport, instead of at yours. My spies less than an hour later found several assassins camped out in the woods outside your runway. I do not know for sure if they were after the Monavians, and I could not get a confession out of them because they swallowed cyanide pills as soon as they were apprehended. On their persons, however, I found this.”

Grunovich procured from his cloak what appeared to be another cloak made out of red and black silk. He unfolded the cloak to reveal on its back an emblem of a shepherd’s staff piercing through a circle. Sebastien gasped.

“In Fitzhenry’s bags, I found fibers made out of the exact same sheet of material out of which this cloak was cut. But more importantly, I have recently uncovered evidence of the infiltration of the King’s Privy Council by a member of the Order.”

“Who do you suspect, sir?” asked Sebastien.

“I cannot reveal that to you now.”

“Sir! You must! How can I continue my operations if I know not this person’s identity?”

“You will not continue your operations. You need a few months of rest anyway.”

“Fiend! You treacherous barbarian. You are an unsightly brute!”

“M’lud, you must understand why—“

“I am one of the highest members of this government. I demand to know. Who is more trustworthy than I?”

“Many are more trustworthy than you. How can you be trusted? You betrayed your own people.”

“You are insane!”

“You betrayed your own nation, m’lud.”

Grunovich chuckled while sweat rolled down Sebastien’s brow. The spymaster seemed to revel in the delight of rattling Sebastien, while the Lord Chancellor found it difficult to maintain his gentlemanly composure.

Grunovich continued his attack: “You walk through the halls of Caen in your trousers, smoking your tobacco, and worshiping in the Church of Salisbury. A true figure of courage you are. Why, is there no one in hell braver than my good lord Jan?”

“Sir you are an abomination!” sputtered Sebastien. Grunovich laughed heartily before continuing:

“You, who have divorced yourself from your kin, dawn another man’s garb and profit from another man’s woe. Why, all you have yet to do is shave your jaw!”

Grunovich could not continue by this point, overcome with cachinnation, and he turned away to get a glass of wine.

“Curses upon that troglodyte!” cried Sebastien to the Monavians.

“Your offer to provide extra security measures is quite grateful, King Charles. The only problem I could see with it is potential space problems on the land yacht. If there is not enough room for them, then I must unfortunately decline their services, but we shall see tomorrow.”

"If they cannot be carried on the land yacht," King Charles said, "then they can be moved by some other means. I do indeed possess the needed transportation."

The Monavians and the King had been eating for a few minutes when Grunovich announced, “Wallenheim is upon us.” The King continued to eat unperturbed, and Wallenheim did indeed throw open the door about a minute later.

“Grunovich, you fiend, why did you bring those Monavians in here?” said he, but upon seeing the King his temper quickly faded. He prostrated himself before his lord. King William held out his hand, which was then kissed several times by Wallenheim.

“Wallenheim, what brings you here?” asked the King.

“My lord sovereign, I came to uphold your righteous rule and cut down the uprisings of those thieves in the provinces.”

“Well that is quite heroic of you,” said the King. He held out his hand again and said “Please, kiss that emerald.” Wallenheim delicately placed his lips on the indicated ring. King William tore off the leg of one of the turkeys that had been brought in and offered it to Wallenheim, who gladly accepted.

“Oh, how magnificient you are, my King,” said the Duke.

The drama unfolding in the room soon began to quiet down. The Monavians were not all that surprised at the degree of Wallenheim's prostrate behavior, but his entry which proceeded the exchange was still unexpected.

Meanwhile, Sebastien questioned Grunovich. “Sir, how long have you known that King William has been alive?”

“I never knew him to be dead, m’lud.”

“Well why did you not pass your knowledge to me?”

“Your mail was being seized by Wallenheim, m’lud. As soon as I had found that out, I knew that the security of your mail was compromised. Wallenheim would’ve never thought to take your mail for himself. No, mail seizing is a well known tactic of the Silverhelms. They most likely suggested it to him, and Wallenheim let them carry out the mission. Now, I have been suspecting for a long time that some Shepherds had infiltrated the ranks of the Silverhelms, and therefore anything that was transmitted to you by mail might fall into enemy hands. I hope you will excuse me for my transgression.”

“Shepherds?” exclaimed Sebastien incredulously. “I thought someone of your position would know better than to believe in the legends of the Pastoralic Order.”

By now, Mr. Carter had turned his head slightly, and advanced toward Lord Sebastien. He only heard some portions of the conversation, but he was able to identify that Sebastien was growing distressed over something.

“No, m’lud, quite to the contrary,” countered Grunovich. “Only one with the information I have would be able to know of the operations of the Order. Fitzhenry was no Archibaldist. He had simply made that claim in an attempt to stop the torture. He was actually a Shepherd.”

“You are mad!”

Mr. Carter nearly gasped at the thought, but he held back his astonishment. Such information warranted the immediate notification of the Monarchs, yet he knew that this may also risk placing them all at a disadvantage.

“You could find evidence to my sanity in the findings of my spies today. Just as I had expected, there was an agent within the Silverhelms that had found out about the Monavians journey to the Dominion. Once I found out about their impending arrival, I gave orders to the traffic controllers to land them at this airport, instead of at yours. My spies less than an hour later found several assassins camped out in the woods outside your runway. I do not know for sure if they were after the Monavians, and I could not get a confession out of them because they swallowed cyanide pills as soon as they were apprehended. On their persons, however, I found this.”

Grunovich procured from his cloak what appeared to be another cloak made out of red and black silk. He unfolded the cloak to reveal on its back an emblem of a shepherd’s staff piercing through a circle. Sebastien gasped.

The distressed Mr. Carter had now taken a few silent paces backward, now almost as if to retreat from the place. He then turned toward a nearby chair, where he sat to listen to the remainder of the conversation. He was by now listening with the greatest intent, and yet he grew only more wary of what may soon happen if things did not go well.

“In Fitzhenry’s bags, I found fibers made out of the exact same sheet of material out of which this cloak was cut. But more importantly, I have recently uncovered evidence of the infiltration of the King’s Privy Council by a member of the Order.”

“Who do you suspect, sir?” asked Sebastien.

The distress of Mr. Carter was now almost evident, and was caught up by one of the guards. He noticed as the color of Mr. Carter's face began to grow paler, and soon was almost ivory. Mr. Carter also began to sway in his seat, his eyes beginning to lose focus and his body twitching nervously.

“I cannot reveal that to you now.”

“Sir! You must! How can I continue my operations if I know not this person’s identity?”

“You will not continue your operations. You need a few months of rest anyway.”

“Fiend! You treacherous barbarian. You are an unsightly brute!”

“M’lud, you must understand why—“

“I am one of the highest members of this government. I demand to know. Who is more trustworthy than I?”

“Many are more trustworthy than you. How can you be trusted? You betrayed your own people.”

All Mr. Carter could now do was fight to maintain his composure. At least his face was to the back of Sir Grunovich, whose gaze he only narrowly avoided. His lip began to quoiver, as if he wished to speak to Sebastien as soon as he had finished.

“You are insane!”

“You betrayed your own nation, m’lud.”

Grunovich chuckled while sweat rolled down Sebastien’s brow. The spymaster seemed to revel in the delight of rattling Sebastien, while the Lord Chancellor found it difficult to maintain his gentlemanly composure.

Grunovich continued his attack: “You walk through the halls of Caen in your trousers, smoking your tobacco, and worshiping in the Church of Salisbury. A true figure of courage you are. Why, is there no one in hell braver than my good lord Jan?”

“Sir you are an abomination!” sputtered Sebastien. Grunovich laughed heartily before continuing:

“You, who have divorced yourself from your kin, dawn another man’s garb and profit from another man’s woe. Why, all you have yet to do is shave your jaw!”


Carter had about lost his mind. The cold draft which had now began to blow through the room only served to make him uneasy in his seat, and his face was just about drained of blood. "What is wrong, Mr. Carter?" asked the guard next to him. He was only too shocked to reply.

Grunovich could not continue by this point, overcome with cachinnation, and he turned away to get a glass of wine.

“Curses upon that troglodyte!” cried Sebastien to the Monavians.

Now being overcome with the events of the last minute or so, Mr. Carter was barely able to speak to Sebastien. He was not in any condition to speak plainly, but he was able to call Sebastien over.

"Lord Sebastien," he said weakly, "come closer. I must speak with you." With that last statement, he slowly began to regain his strength.

"Lord Sebastien," he said weakly, "come closer. I must speak with you." With that last statement, he slowly began to regain his strength.

Lord Sebastien complied with Mr Carter's request, although he picked up a glass of win for himself first. "Yes, Mr Carter, what is it?"

"Lord Sebastien, I would like to speak with you later about some other happenings in the Dominion. As of late, I am troubled." His face grew more vibrant, and he felt his limbs grew supple. He then was able to lift himself from his seat, albeit with some difficulty.

He then motioned for Sebastein to follow him toward the other end of the room, where he posed a question to the man. "Lord Sebastien, do you know of any secure locations in this part of the building where we may converse?" he softly whispered.

He then motioned to one of the guards next to him, busy helping himself to a plate of turkey and beef. "Sir," he said, barely audible. "can you follow us? Bring the man next to you." The two simply stayed, awaiting Sebastien's response.

Sebastien glanced back at Grunovich, who was talking with King William. "We can go. I shall not be missed."

Sebastien led the group out of the room and down the hall. They shortly came upon a staircase, which they ascended, and then went through a door that was to their right. They came out on a balcony-like area overlooking the entrance hall between the kitchen and the arcades. There were some tables and chairs set up, which the group sat in.

Meanwhile, back in the room Sebastien, Carter, and the guards had just left, the King sat down at the piano to practice for his guests. He first played "Hot Cross Buns," although he missed several notes and played with inconsistent tempo. Groaning at the King's idleness, Grunovich slipped out of the room.

Sebastien glanced back at Grunovich, who was talking with King William. "We can go. I shall not be missed."

Sebastien led the group out of the room and down the hall. They shortly came upon a staircase, which they ascended, and then went through a door that was to their right. They came out on a balcony-like area overlooking the entrance hall between the kitchen and the arcades. There were some tables and chairs set up, which the group sat in.

Mr. Carter was exhausted somewhat by the ascent, but upohn taking a moment to relax and compose himself, he was able to speak more plainly to Sebastien.

"Lord Chancellor, I am troubled. The state of affairs in the Dominion have only served to worry me and some others in the Monavian government. The fair Queen, as you may know, has knowledge of the whole crisis develpoing, at least to the extent as revealed in your letters to me.

"Because of Wallenheim's seizure of your mail," he said, lowering his voice further, "I chose to send 'copies' to him. These contained the 'messages' that I intended for you, but the duplicates sent to you contained extra text and were addressed to you in Wallenheim's hand, which one of my secretaries was able to forge. Neither he nor any of his subordinates have any knowledge of this.

"You were correct in describing his writing as austere, however, it also brought grim thoughts upon me about the state of the monarchy. In one of his letters, he stated that no percunary rewards were to be meted out to signatory nations for the observance of the treaty, yet he was cautioned by Queen Elizabeth to tread carefully in delaing with other signatories. I may not know what courses that they may take, but I can assure you that the Monavians are more forgiving then some of their neighbors..."

He took a deep breath, then exhaled, before taking up a moment to breathe in the fresh air. "Despite my best efforts, I have some doubts about security here, as one of the few newly won allies in this world is now in jeopardy. I am at least rattled somewhat, if not fearful, for the state of affairs here.

"If the signatories of the LEX SALISBRUGIS REGNUM XXVII are informed that they shall receive nothing for their attempts to preserve the monarchy, that is, if they have even made any such efforts at all, they may become angered with your government and seek revenge. The Dominion cannot possibly risk an open war.

"Now, I know little about the other signatories, but other than ourselves, has anyone else done anything on behalf of the Salisbrugic Throne to protect it. Furthermore, I an also troubled by your...conversation with Sir Grunovich," he whispered. By now his voice decrescendoed in volume and he was barely audible to any hidden microphones in the room, let alone Lord Sebastien.

“I have not received any word from the other signatories of the treaty, and, while we have no reason to believe right now that there will be serious conflicts over this issue, I cannot count out any possibility. I am confident, however, that a little diplomatic manoeuvering will secure the realm.

“Concerning Wallenheim, I believe what we saw when he realised that the King was still alive were his sincere feelings. That being said, he will surely be coerced by others into seeking some kind of concessions from the King.

“And about Grunovich, I am sorry you had to witness that. He gets to me sometimes, and his arguments are petty. I believe his feelings toward me are part of the residual anger he holds against my office. During the reign of William IV, he was clearly the King’s most trusted minister, the “prime” minister if you will. When William V ascended to the throne, however, he favoured Lord Rockingham. When Rockingham resigned, Sir Grunovich believed that he would regain his former status. But the King took to me soon after I was appointed. He continues to be bitter, as he believes he is the most competent of the King’s Privy Council. While I will admit that he is extremely skilled at what he does, his outlook does not accurately reflect our system.”

"It sorrows me to hear that. Nonetheless, it perhaps would be best if His Majesty was merciful to Wallenheim over his errors. The apparent rumor of the death of King William only led to chaos and disunion between the tenants of the realm. Furthermore, if he were to spare Wallenheim from any shame, the other tenants might decline to exctract any concessions from him. This political chess game has only served to weaken the realm.

"The story of Sir Grunovich is quite regrettable, and his list of accusations were grievous enough to shake my faith in this place. Never before was I so alarmed by the thought of treachery in this government. Among all of his wild statements in that quarrelsome encounter, the most disturbing were all of these mysterious things he said about "Silverhelms" and "Shepards"...I know not what to think of them.

"He also spoke of "infiltrations", "assassins at the airport", and even the state of FitzHenry's loyalties. I..." he began to falter, "believe that there are sinister forces at work in this nation. Forces at work that cannot be fathomed or understood, for they are shrouded by some secret, yet they are right under our noses."

With this, he stopped to listen for the sounds of any spies that may be present. He heard nothing, save the faint sounds of the party downstairs, and thus he was assured, in his own mind, that they could continue to converse without any outside interference. The two guards went downstairs, and asked two others to take their places, so that they may finish their dinner and enjoy the pleasure of the fair company assembled in the hall.

“I would not worry yourself,” said Sebastien. “The security issues shall not persist. With the King alive, no rogue would dare enter here, and the antics of the spies that we have seen shall disappear as discipline is again instilled in them. I will make sure that he King summons to his throne the magnates of the realm, who shall then again swear fealty to him. I indeed see nothing sinister going on.”



“Where’s Archibald?” asked the King suddenly back in the small dining room where by now several members of his Privy Council had arrived and kissed their newly living King. The room at once fell silent.

“Excuse me, my liege?” said Sir Robert Ripthorpe, the Reeve in Chief, in a tentative and cautious tone. “We have not found any evidence of Archibald’s activities since he escaped from prison.”

“Nonsense,” said the King. “Why, just two days before I remember Grunovich having found me, I received a letter from Archibald.” He had their attention now, but the room grew tense as it became clear that the King had not intended on elaborating further.

“Well, man, where is it?” asked Lord Garith Bridlington.

“It is congregated with some vapours somewhere,” informed the King. “I had barely read through the end of the letter having opened it when it erupted in a show of spontaneous combustion.”

“What did it say?”

“It did not say anything of consequence to us. It was merely trifling ‘how are you doings’ and commentary on the news of the day.”

“Please, my liege, tell us more of its contents.”

“Sir,” said the King, “its contents are the private matters between a King and his brother.”

“My King, any detail, seemingly significant or not, can inadvertently reveal a great deal of useful information.”

“Well, I certainly remember nothing particular of it,” said the King defiantly.



Meanwhile, on the balcony overlooking the kitchen entrance hall, a man walked through the balcony doors and intruded upon where Sebastien and Carter were sitting. From his manner of dress, he was clearly a Jew.

“Greetings Lord Sebastien,” said the Jew.

“Greetings. Who might you be?”

“I am a messenger of the Archrabbi of the Synagogue of Gibeath-haaraloth. I have been dispatched to you because of a disturbing incident—”

“Just one moment, please, sir. How did you know where to find us?”

“Sir Grunovich told me where I would be able to find you.”

“I see. Well, tell us what you came to say.”

In reference to Carter, he asked, “Is it appropriate that this man hear?” At Sebastien’s nod, he continued: “Well then, I know you have been acquainted with the Archrabbi and have successfully cooperated with him in quelling the uprising of those Jewish youth gangs a few years ago. The Archrabbi also presides over the Gibeath-haaraloth Rabbinical Academy. A few months ago, he met with a young man who wanted to gain admittance to the Academy. The man was not admitted, as the Archrabbi later told me that he did not seem to hold the traditional duties of a rabbi in very high regard.

“Indeed, in my later observations of this man, he would be what we might call a mystic. He has since gained somewhat of a following among other misguided Jews, and has preached many messages of violence towards our Synagogues, Churches, and the King himself. His actions as of late, however, have become much more terrifying. He has spoken curses and hexes against the King, which, as we both know, cannot be taken seriously. However, I am concerned that this man may invoke the wrath of the Lord, and his followers are growing in number.”

“Well, sir, thank you for delivering this message,” said Sebastien. “You have spoken with Lord Grunovich?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What did he say of this man?”

“I do not believe that he will take him seriously. He seemed quite unconcerned.”

“Well, thank you anyway, and I will try to remember to tell the King about this. You are dismissed.”

The messenger left their presence. Lord Sebastien broke out into some laughter, but quickly manage to gain control of himself. “What a mad specimen of Jewry reside in Gibeath-haaraloth. That is a funny tale indeed, but why do they take it so seriously?”

“I would not worry yourself,” said Sebastien. “The security issues shall not persist. With the King alive, no rogue would dare enter here, and the antics of the spies that we have seen shall disappear as discipline is again instilled in them. I will make sure that he King summons to his throne the magnates of the realm, who shall then again swear fealty to him. I indeed see nothing sinister going on.”

"If that is indeed true, then we are fortunate."

“Where’s Archibald?” asked the King suddenly back in the small dining room where by now several members of his Privy Council had arrived and kissed their newly living King. The room at once fell silent.

“Excuse me, my liege?” said Sir Robert Ripthorpe, the Reeve in Chief, in a tentative and cautious tone. “We have not found any evidence of Archibald’s activities since he escaped from prison.”

“Nonsense,” said the King. “Why, just two days before I remember Grunovich having found me, I received a letter from Archibald.” He had their attention now, but the room grew tense as it became clear that the King had not intended on elaborating further.

“Well, man, where is it?” asked Lord Garith Bridlington.

“It is congregated with some vapours somewhere,” informed the King. “I had barely read through the end of the letter having opened it when it erupted in a show of spontaneous combustion.”

“What did it say?”

“It did not say anything of consequence to us. It was merely trifling ‘how are you doings’ and commentary on the news of the day.”

“Please, my liege, tell us more of its contents.”

“Sir,” said the King, “its contents are the private matters between a King and his brother.”

“My King, any detail, seemingly significant or not, can inadvertently reveal a great deal of useful information.”

“Well, I certainly remember nothing particular of it,” said the King defiantly.

"Archibald?" asked the secretary. "I thought that he had fled the country or something like that. Perhaps he is still here."

Meanwhile, on the balcony overlooking the kitchen entrance hall, a man walked through the balcony doors and intruded upon where Sebastien and Carter were sitting. From his manner of dress, he was clearly a Jew.

“Greetings Lord Sebastien,” said the Jew.

“Greetings. Who might you be?”

“I am a messenger of the Archrabbi of the Synagogue of Gibeath-haaraloth. I have been dispatched to you because of a disturbing incident—”

“Just one moment, please, sir. How did you know where to find us?”

“Sir Grunovich told me where I would be able to find you.”

“I see. Well, tell us what you came to say.”

In reference to Carter, he asked, “Is it appropriate that this man hear?” At Sebastien’s nod, he continued: “Well then, I know you have been acquainted with the Archrabbi and have successfully cooperated with him in quelling the uprising of those Jewish youth gangs a few years ago. The Archrabbi also presides over the Gibeath-haaraloth Rabbinical Academy. A few months ago, he met with a young man who wanted to gain admittance to the Academy. The man was not admitted, as the Archrabbi later told me that he did not seem to hold the traditional duties of a rabbi in very high regard.

“Indeed, in my later observations of this man, he would be what we might call a mystic. He has since gained somewhat of a following among other misguided Jews, and has preached many messages of violence towards our Synagogues, Churches, and the King himself. His actions as of late, however, have become much more terrifying. He has spoken curses and hexes against the King, which, as we both know, cannot be taken seriously. However, I am concerned that this man may invoke the wrath of the Lord, and his followers are growing in number.”

“Well, sir, thank you for delivering this message,” said Sebastien. “You have spoken with Lord Grunovich?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What did he say of this man?”

“I do not believe that he will take him seriously. He seemed quite unconcerned.”

“Well, thank you anyway, and I will try to remember to tell the King about this. You are dismissed.”

The messenger left their presence. Lord Sebastien broke out into some laughter, but quickly manage to gain control of himself. “What a mad specimen of Jewry reside in Gibeath-haaraloth. That is a funny tale indeed, but why do they take it so seriously?”

"I know nothing of the sects that exist here, only that they are of a certain faith. Many Jews live in Monavia, and some even wield a substantial amount of power in Parliament. This has never been to the detriment of the politics there, nor has it brought about any real trouble, save when some arrogant personage chooses to lay blame on them for some unfortunate act.

"This uprising which he spoke of is clearly of importance, but since it is a matter of domestic affairs, and possible personal, I shall not trouble you about it."

"Archibald?" asked the secretary. "I thought that he had fled the country or something like that. Perhaps he is still here."

Sir Ripthorpe corrected the secretary: “We know nothing at all about his whereabouts, nor do we have any clues to anything. For all we know, he may be in the Dominion, out of the Dominion, or dead and in hell.”

“But I received a letter from him as I just told you!” stammered the King. “He is here in the Dominion. I remember that much!”

“My liege,” said Bridlington, “I am sorry for being so contrary, but are you sure that the letter was indeed written by Archibald?”

“I know my brother’s handwriting and his mannerisms quite well. It was indeed him.”

“But you say that the letter burst into flames after you had finished reading it. Do you not understand how this is difficult for us to believe?”

“Sir, I said it how I saw it. You shall quit this insubordination.”

“I am truly sorry my liege. I must be concerned, however, because your lack of memory brings into question your manner of recalling events.”

“My memory may be shady, but my analytical faculties are as sharp as ever. I can guarantee you, sir, that I am telling the truth.”



That night, the Monavian secretary came to the King’s bedchamber to examine potential psychological reasons behind the King’s amnesia. Sir Grunovich and Lord Penbolt joined him.

“Since we must be sure,” started Lord Penbolt, “Can you remember anything that happened in the two days before Grunovich met with you three days ago?”

“Sir, I cannot,” responded the King. He had reluctantly agreed to undergo this examination, and Penbolt could tell that testing anything would be like pulling teeth.

“What is the last thing you remember before that?” asked Penbolt.

“I was hunting fox in the woods of the Lotharinigian Taiga. That is the last thing I can remember,” said the King.

Lord Penbolt turned to the secretary. “Well,” said he, “Do you have any ideas?”

Sir Ripthorpe corrected the secretary: “We know nothing at all about his whereabouts, nor do we have any clues to anything. For all we know, he may be in the Dominion, out of the Dominion, or dead and in hell.”

“But I received a letter from him as I just told you!” stammered the King. “He is here in the Dominion. I remember that much!”

“My liege,” said Bridlington, “I am sorry for being so contrary, but are you sure that the letter was indeed written by Archibald?”

“I know my brother’s handwriting and his mannerisms quite well. It was indeed him.”

“But you say that the letter burst into flames after you had finished reading it. Do you not understand how this is difficult for us to believe?”

“Sir, I said it how I saw it. You shall quit this insubordination.”

“I am truly sorry my liege. I must be concerned, however, because your lack of memory brings into question your manner of recalling events.”

“My memory may be shady, but my analytical faculties are as sharp as ever. I can guarantee you, sir, that I am telling the truth.”

"Sir Ripthorpe, I know of such devices. What King William speaks of is called "flash paper", that is, a paper that is treated with mateirals that burn when exposed to sufficient amounts of light. Such paper is used if the sender wishes that only the receiver, being the only one wise enough to read it in darker conditions, is the only one to read its message.

"If you wish, I will attempt to demonstrate how this works." The secretary went over to the other side of the room, where he opened up a briefcase containing some blank papers for typing and printing. Within the same briefcase, there was a slender glass vial, about an inch or so in diameter and several inches long. It was kept in a padded pinewood box, inlaid with cedar, and secured with a brass lock. He tok a key and unlocked the box, being careful to keep the vial from being exposed to the light in the room, and went down the hallway, where he observed Mr. Carter departing.

Inside the hallway, in the darkness where there was no excess illumination, he unsealed the vial and poured out a thin stream of the liquid onto the papers. He also took a small sponge, which he used to spread it around, sot hat it soon covered the whole surface of the paper. The noxious fumes from the process began to waft their way out of the paper as it dried, and in five minutes, the secretary had three completed sheets.

He resealed the vial, placed it in his pocket, and washed out the sponge. He then returned all of them to their proper places in his briefcase, and then took the three sheets of paper to the hall. They were kept in a folder, where they could not be overexposed. He withdrew them quickly with a set of steel kitchen tongs, which he had asked one of the butlers to retrieve earlier as he treated the paper. Taking up the tongs, he snatched a sheet quickly out of the folder, shutting it back up so that its contents may not burn.

Within five seconds in the bright lights of the hall, the paper smoldered, and then burst into falmes, which roared until the paper was fully consumed and the fire began to burn out. He repeated the demonstartion, and then took the remaining sheet into the hall to write something on it. It was no more than a jumble of scribbles, but it would suffice.

He then carried out the demonstratuion as before, showing King William how this was done. When he had finished, he said, "Now, Your Majesty, this is what I believe has happened. How Archibald could conceive of this cannot be known yet, but the fact that he has knowledge of this is a great disturbance. Again, this way of treating paper to make it burn is a security measure that permanently destroys the message so that any unintended receiver cannot obtain the information contained therein."

That night, the Monavian secretary came to the King’s bedchamber to examine potential psychological reasons behind the King’s amnesia. Sir Grunovich and Lord Penbolt joined him.

“Since we must be sure,” started Lord Penbolt, “Can you remember anything that happened in the two days before Grunovich met with you three days ago?”

“Sir, I cannot,” responded the King. He had reluctantly agreed to undergo this examination, and Penbolt could tell that testing anything would be like pulling teeth.

“What is the last thing you remember before that?” asked Penbolt.

“I was hunting fox in the woods of the Lotharinigian Taiga. That is the last thing I can remember,” said the King.

Lord Penbolt turned to the secretary. “Well,” said he, “Do you have any ideas?”

"I should first ask about the circumstances of this fox hunt." Turning to the King, he then said, "How many people accompanied you on your fox hunt, and who were they? If you were alone, then who did you see before you went out hunting?"

[snip, first bit]

Everyone in the room was amazed at the secretary’s demonstration. Indeed, several “oohs” and “ahhs” accompanied it, as if it was a fireworks show. Sir Ripthorpe was the first to speak:

“My liege, this revelation makes it that much more important that you find in yourself the vigour to remember some more details. If Archibald would go to such lengths to treat the paper with this chemical, then it must have contained some sensitive details. Even if it seemed like a friendly letter, there must have been something in it that Archibald did not want us to know.”

But the King shook his head. “I still cannot recall any details.”

"I should first ask about the circumstances of this fox hunt." Turning to the King, he then said, "How many people accompanied you on your fox hunt, and who were they? If you were alone, then who did you see before you went out hunting?"

The King began. “I was hunting with some courtiers of Lord Wallenheim. There were three of them: Sir Manassès de Carcassonne, Sir Henri Fonteau, and Lord Aldéric de Armagnac. And there were the usual retinue of servants and footmen, but I of course never bother to learn any of their names.”

Sir Grunovich groaned “Hmmm…” in contemplation. Finally, he said, “I do not see anything suspicious about Carcassonne or Armagnac, but I’ll admit I have never met Sir Fonteau.”

“Hold on!” said the King suddenly. “I believe remembering the hunt has also unloosened some other memories of mine. I remember after reading the letter, I came into possession of a sketchbook and some charcoal somehow. In the sketchbook, I drew some pictures.”

“My Lord?” said Lord Penbolt incredulously, “I never knew you to draw, especially with such a base medium as charcoal.”

“Yes, that is odd to me too. But it seemed like a good distraction at the time. Anyway, I brought the sketchbook back here with me, and I put it in a drawer in my wardrobe.” He pointed to his wardrobe.

“My liege,” began Grunovich, “I inspected all of what you had with you when I found you. I never found any sketchbook.”

“Well, I hid it from you. I am not sure why. But it is in there. Check the wardrobe.”

Grunovich did as he was told, and indeed there was a sketchbook. “My Lord, how ever did you hide—“ He stopped suddenly, as he had opened the sketchbook and looked at the first page. “My liege?...”

The picture was as photorealistic as a charcoal drawing could be. It showed the King dead, hanging in the stocks. Grunovich flipped through the sketchbook, but all fifty pages of the sketchbook were the exact same image. Each one was exactly like the other, as if photocopied, but all were obviously drawn separately.

All the colour went out of Bridlington’s face as he gazed upon the image. Grunovich mumbled something, but the King looked unperturbed, as if he had seen these images millions of times.

“Did you sincerely draw these yourself, my Liege?”

“Yes, I am afraid I did.”

“But sir,” said Grunovich, “In all honesty and in no malice do I say that I did not know you possessed such talent for creating realistic images.”

“I don’t know how or why I drew them, but I did.”

Grunovich then started analysing the first sketch. He procured from his cloak a magnifying glass and looked over it. “Yes, it does indeed appear that you did draw them. The smudges appear new, quite probably four days old. Your fingerprints are also smudged all over the sketch. But wait—“

He put the magnifying glass back in his cloak and procured another one, this one larger and more powerful.

“Bridlington, what do you make of this. The noose looks odd.”

Bridlington and the rest huddled around the magnifying glass. Indeed, something was amiss about the noose. Then Bridlington spoke. “I have seen these before. This noose is not a rope at all, but a thing called a shel yad. This particular one looks like a leather cord that certain sects of Jews would wear around their arms when performing some ritual of theirs. And look, written here along the cord is some Hebrew text.”

Grunovich interrupted. “My Liege, I did not know that you knew Hebrew.”

“I don’t know Hebrew,” said the King.

“And yet you drew these images?”

“Yes, I remember drawing them.”

“Bridlington, do not you know Hebrew?”

“I do, sir, but this seems like some ancient lost dialect of Hebrew. Either that or it might be a code. But whatever it is, I can tell that it is Hebrew but I cannot decipher any of it.”



Meanwhile, Sebastien and Carter had since left the balcony, but had not found where the King had disappeared to before Wallenheim stopped them.

“My Lord Duke,” said Sebastien, “What is it that you want from me?”

“I have held the realm together while the King had disappeared. It is only fitting that I get something in return.”

The King began. “I was hunting with some courtiers of Lord Wallenheim. There were three of them: Sir Manassès de Carcassonne, Sir Henri Fonteau, and Lord Aldéric de Armagnac. And there were the usual retinue of servants and footmen, but I of course never bother to learn any of their names.”

Sir Grunovich groaned “Hmmm…” in contemplation. Finally, he said, “I do not see anything suspicious about Carcassonne or Armagnac, but I’ll admit I have never met Sir Fonteau.”

“Hold on!” said the King suddenly. “I believe remembering the hunt has also unloosened some other memories of mine. I remember after reading the letter, I came into possession of a sketchbook and some charcoal somehow. In the sketchbook, I drew some pictures.”

“My Lord?” said Lord Penbolt incredulously, “I never knew you to draw, especially with such a base medium as charcoal.”

“Yes, that is odd to me too. But it seemed like a good distraction at the time. Anyway, I brought the sketchbook back here with me, and I put it in a drawer in my wardrobe.” He pointed to his wardrobe.

“My liege,” began Grunovich, “I inspected all of what you had with you when I found you. I never found any sketchbook.”

“Well, I hid it from you. I am not sure why. But it is in there. Check the wardrobe.”

Grunovich did as he was told, and indeed there was a sketchbook. “My Lord, how ever did you hide—“ He stopped suddenly, as he had opened the sketchbook and looked at the first page. “My liege?...”

The picture was as photorealistic as a charcoal drawing could be. It showed the King dead, hanging in the stocks. Grunovich flipped through the sketchbook, but all fifty pages of the sketchbook were the exact same image. Each one was exactly like the other, as if photocopied, but all were obviously drawn separately.

All the colour went out of Bridlington’s face as he gazed upon the image. Grunovich mumbled something, but the King looked unperturbed, as if he had seen these images millions of times.

“Did you sincerely draw these yourself, my Liege?”

“Yes, I am afraid I did.”

“But sir,” said Grunovich, “In all honesty and in no malice do I say that I did not know you possessed such talent for creating realistic images.”

“I don’t know how or why I drew them, but I did.”

Grunovich then started analysing the first sketch. He procured from his cloak a magnifying glass and looked over it. “Yes, it does indeed appear that you did draw them. The smudges appear new, quite probably four days old. Your fingerprints are also smudged all over the sketch. But wait—“

He put the magnifying glass back in his cloak and procured another one, this one larger and more powerful.

“Bridlington, what do you make of this. The noose looks odd.”

Bridlington and the rest huddled around the magnifying glass. Indeed, something was amiss about the noose. Then Bridlington spoke. “I have seen these before. This noose is not a rope at all, but a thing called a shel yad. This particular one looks like a leather cord that certain sects of Jews would wear around their arms when performing some ritual of theirs. And look, written here along the cord is some Hebrew text.”

Grunovich interrupted. “My Liege, I did not know that you knew Hebrew.”

“I don’t know Hebrew,” said the King.

“And yet you drew these images?”

“Yes, I remember drawing them.”

“Bridlington, do not you know Hebrew?”

“I do, sir, but this seems like some ancient lost dialect of Hebrew. Either that or it might be a code. But whatever it is, I can tell that it is Hebrew but I cannot decipher any of it.”

"Your Majesty, can you tell me who Sir Henri Fonteau is, especially for the sake of Sir Grunovich?" Turning to the latter, he then said, "Can you tell me anything about Lord Aldéric de Armagnac and Sir Manassès de Carcassonne?"

Upon viewing the charcoal drawings, the secretary grew distressed. He knew little about how a man could create the same image so amny times and make them all identical. He then asked to examine the Hebrew text, but he too was baffled by it. He could clearly recognize the letters and their forms, but he could not read the language.

Because of this problem, he withdrew a translation book out of his briefcase, which he subsequently used to translate the Hebrew letters into their Latin equivalents. He then wrote the new text, in the Latin alphabet, upon a piece of paper, and gave it to Bridlington to try translating further.

Meanwhile, Sebastien and Carter had since left the balcony, but had not found where the King had disappeared to before Wallenheim stopped them.

“My Lord Duke,” said Sebastien, “What is it that you want from me?”

“I have held the realm together while the King had disappeared. It is only fitting that I get something in return.”

As the pair was stopped in the hallway, Mr. Carter spoke to Sebastien. "I will be leaving for the banquet. I should be retiring in an hour or two after that." He then turned to Wallenheim. "Before I take my leave for the company of my superiors, I will make the point that Lord Sebastien has went through efforts of his own to accomplish your goals. Remember that."

Mr. Carter was not a man to give any cheek to those with whom his superiors had recently quarrelled, but he was not about to permit any more trouble toward Sebastien on Wallenheim's part . Between the seizure of Sebastien's mail, the delays caused in his arrival, and many other hinderances, both great and small, he had suffered more injuries than he had ever expected.

First Part

The King began, “Lord Armagnac is the Marquess of Armagnac and one of the Lord Field Marshalls of Duke Wallenheim’s Condottas. He is a very noble man, and I beseech you not to suspect anything vile of him.”

“And Sir Carcassonne is one of Lord Wallenheim’s majordormos,” noted Sir Grunovich.

“He is quite a noble man too, please do not speak poorly of him,” added the King. “And so is Sir Henri Fonteau. He is a pilot that does various tasks for Wallenheim that demand aviation, including fighting if he must.”

Second Part

“My Lord Duke,” said Sebastien, “It is a late hour, and I would think that your arguments would best be heard before the King himself tomorrow when you go with us on the land yacht.”

“Please pardon my contrariness, Lord Sebastien,” said Wallenheim, “but you are quite the greater statesman than the King. I do not at all mean to profane His Majesty, but he has such power at his fingertips that I have only begun to explore as a Lord Regent. He has carracks plated by steel and powered by the atom. He has bombs that can be propelled thousands of miles away and then destroy an entire city. He has all these prodigious weapons at his command, and yet he uses none. I doubt he even knows that he has them.”

“Well, Lord Duke, we can discuss it tomorrow. I will be with the King if you want my input.”

“Lord Chancellor, I simply wanted to meet with you privately tonight before the King latched on to you again.”

“There is no need for privacy, especially when you want me to sign the King’s rights away to you. I bid you good evening.”

Sebastien then went along with Carter.

(OOC: I'm not sure how much left you have to say. When you are ready, we can advance to the next day and the land yacht ride.)

The King began, “Lord Armagnac is the Marquess of Armagnac and one of the Lord Field Marshalls of Duke Wallenheim’s Condottas. He is a very noble man, and I beseech you not to suspect anything vile of him.”

“And Sir Carcassonne is one of Lord Wallenheim’s majordormos,” noted Sir Grunovich.

“He is quite a noble man too, please do not speak poorly of him,” added the King. “And so is Sir Henri Fonteau. He is a pilot that does various tasks for Wallenheim that demand aviation, including fighting if he must.”

"What are your relations with these men, Your Majesty? I am sure that their honorable positions make them unlikely to betray you or anyone else, but then again, I have never been able to estimate with much accuracy the capacity of people to involve themselves in political intrigue."

"Could one of the servants be involved." he said, turning to Sir Grunovich.

“My Lord Duke,” said Sebastien, “It is a late hour, and I would think that your arguments would best be heard before the King himself tomorrow when you go with us on the land yacht.”

“Please pardon my contrariness, Lord Sebastien,” said Wallenheim, “but you are quite the greater statesman than the King. I do not at all mean to profane His Majesty, but he has such power at his fingertips that I have only begun to explore as a Lord Regent. He has carracks plated by steel and powered by the atom. He has bombs that can be propelled thousands of miles away and then destroy an entire city. He has all these prodigious weapons at his command, and yet he uses none. I doubt he even knows that he has them.”

“Well, Lord Duke, we can discuss it tomorrow. I will be with the King if you want my input.”

“Lord Chancellor, I simply wanted to meet with you privately tonight before the King latched on to you again.”

“There is no need for privacy, especially when you want me to sign the King’s rights away to you. I bid you good evening.”

Sebastien then went along with Carter.

Mr. Carter had by then made his way to the end of the hall, having heard the conversation thus far. He turned to face Duke Wallenheim, and said, "Duke, I bid you a good night. I will see you in the morning."

“My relation to them? Well, it was nothing terribly complicated. Sir Carcassonne and Sir Fonteau were merely acquaintances of mine. We never had any relationship of consequence to anyone. Lord Armagnac is one of my most trusted magnates, although he has become angry with me recently over his perceived view that I support a royal small arms monopoly.”

As to whether or not the servants could be involved, Grunovich answered: “Well, I suppose it is possible. It would be difficult to track and find every servant who was there on that day. This situation is getting more urgent, however, so I may have to consider that course of action.”



The next morning, the blizzard had indeed subsided as the King’s astrologer had predicted. The skies were mostly clear, except for a few defiant clouds. The scene was the very coinage of winter: the vast lake, frozen over, so flat and vast that the curvature of the Earth was distinctly visible to the naked eye, nothing but powder-covered ice for miles and miles until towering crags pierced through the landscape at the lake's edges. Huddled around the mountains’ bases were millions of frosty evergreen pines, and in the distance, crashing against the mountaintops, were the snowy tempests, whose fury and power was yet no match for the stoic solidarity of those towers of snowcapped stone.

The group, which numbered well over one hundred when one included all the important persons invited and their retinues, made their way along the Royal Docks until they reached a monolithic wooden structure nestled in a forest alcove. They entered through the massive wooden doors that were overlooked by gargoyles and various Romanesque statues of deceased monarchs. In groups of about twelve to fifteen, they boarded an elevator that took them up to what appeared to be the aftcastle of some caravel from days of yore. When one looked forward, however, there was no forecastle but instead what appeared to be an enormous bowsprit.

When all had boarded, the captain warned everyone to hold on to some rail or other fixture while the land yacht was lowered on to the ice. He then pulled a lever, and down rolled the Ingvar Sversson off an incline and on its journey.

“Raise ye flags and hoist ye sails!” commanded the captain. The massive sails, beautifully decorated, were lowered and the flags raised. There were four banners: the largest a triangular one with the multicoloured stripes of the Dominion and the Cotenshirick eagle on display. The three flags that trailed it were each for the Houses Salisbury, Sversson, and Wallenheim.

As the Ingvar Sversson’s inertia rolled it out of its storage house and into the elements, the winds began to gather in its massive sails and soon the land yacht was being swept along at quite a fast pace. The aftcastle was some forty feet above the ice, but the flatness of the surface made the ride smooth.

The Monavian guests were given special status on this voyage, with their official seats planted next to King William’s. They were by no means restricted to just that area, however, and could mingle freely as they wished.

“My relation to them? Well, it was nothing terribly complicated. Sir Carcassonne and Sir Fonteau were merely acquaintances of mine. We never had any relationship of consequence to anyone. Lord Armagnac is one of my most trusted magnates, although he has become angry with me recently over his perceived view that I support a royal small arms monopoly.”

As to whether or not the servants could be involved, Grunovich answered: “Well, I suppose it is possible. It would be difficult to track and find every servant who was there on that day. This situation is getting more urgent, however, so I may have to consider that course of action.”

"I see," muttered the secretary. He was lost in thought for a while, before he began to think of how this could be placed together. A motive, perhaps over the "monopoly", but still not enough. That sketchbook has something to do with it.

As he prepared to inquire about the details surrounding the actual hunt, a man knocked on the doors. He recognized the voice on the other side, beckoning him to the doorway. He thus rose from his seat and briskly approached the doors, slightly annoyed at his disturbance. He opened the door to reveal one of the royal couriers.

"Mr. Jackson, this arrived for you. I received it from Mr. Carter just minutes ago." With those words, he hastily departed, so as to avoid missing any time he could spend sleeping that night.

Jackson, the royal secretary, took the small note handed to him by the courier, and placed it in his pocket after reading it.

Mr. Jackson:

Be sure to report to me after assessing the King's condition. I would like for you to retrieve anything you need to improve his condition until a proper physician can be found.

Frank Carter

Jackson now resumed his questioning. "So, after Your Majesty had gathered with these men and their servants, and rode into the woods, how was the hunt initially conducted?"

Later that night, after Jackson had retired, he took the note and poured a small amount of oil on it. He then lit it with a candle and dropped it onto the stone floor, where it silently burned to ashes, which he gathered up and threw out the window.

Snip, second bit.

The sight of the winter weather, so graceful and placid as to strike many people speechless and silent with amazement, awed all who looked upon it. The journey to the mountains was slow and uneventful, though it was not without any amusing sights. Rabbits, deer, and other creatures of the forests that occasionally flitted in and out of sight were spotted, and the slow but constant swaying of the conifers in the gentle wind proved to be as impressive an attraction as any countryside.

When the Monavians reached the place where the land yacht was moored, they took some time to marvel at the ship. They soon boarded it and took their seats by King William.

“Alas,” said the King, “My memories barely take me to when we entered the forest. I remember there was a thick mist, although that is not unusual as that region experiences fog and mist every day during the early hours in the morning. We had breakfast at a local abbey, and we passed a few sights before and after entering the forest.

“There was a peasant roasting his slaughtered swine. I remember he shared some of it with the servants, although of course I did not want any of it. Then we passed a Jewish hermitage, inhabited by some mad old hag. When we came up to the hermitage, out she came from her hut. She cackled a horrible cackle at us while pulling up her rags to reveal her unkempt clitoris. She was arrested and, I presume, later executed.

“Unfortunately, I remember not much of what happened afterwards.”



Wallenheim had been waiting for a time when Sebastien had wandered off away from the King and to some other part of the land yacht. About an hour into the voyage, this time came, and he approached the King and kneeled.

“What is it you want, my good Duke?”

“My liege, I have served so faithfully as a regent in your absence. During this time, I have discovered many ways in which your government could be strengthened and refined. The improvement of the bureaucratic efficiency of the realm would be a great asset to you. For my services throughout my regency endeavours, however, I am legally entitled to some gifts from you, my Lord Sovereign.

“First, I would like the title of Dauphin separated from that of Prince Heir to the Cotenshirick Crown. The title of Dauphin shall be granted to Lord Monaumour, while the latter title shall be granted to whoever it is that Your Majesty chooses. The reason for this request is simple: in the likely event that you choose Anne as your successor, her effeminate nature will make her unable to appropriately consider the more martial aspects of the Dauphin’s duties.

“Second, I would like the title of Senior Lord Regent to be linked indivisibly with that of the title of Duke of the Lothars. This shall give the Lothars faithful and equal power with the Normans and the Ajaels. As the Normans preside over the Parliament and the Ajaels over the Electorate, so shall the Lothars preside over the Regency.

“Lastly, I shall be granted a seat among the Lord Admirals of the realm, and this seat shall be passed down through my male primogeny. I ask this of you because I have discovered several weapons under the control of your forces that I would like to use to crush the rebellious insurgents, such as nerve gas and aircraft carriers.”

The King contemplated these demands for a moment. Finally he said: “I shall grant you your first and third demand. The second, however, is outrageous. One cannot be made a senior regent unless he is actually the senior of the other regents.”

The King then unsheathed his sword and tapped the shoulders of the kneeling Wallenheim. “You now have bestowed upon you the rank of Lord Admiral of the Dominion of King William V Salisbury. Your position, however, shall not be of greater rank than the other Lord Admirals, but instead shall you be equal to them and their advice shall be given the same gravity as yours.”

“Your Majesty, you are most just,” said Wallenheim. “I gratefully accept the burden placed upon me.”

After Wallenheim had departed, Sir Grunovich came up to the King and whispered something into his ear. The King then called King Charles over to him. “I am sorry that I have to tell you this, my friend, but there have been some complaints, and I am afraid your guards will have to disembark. I am sorry, but there is insufficient space on the ship to accommodate them to the comfort of others.”

Sir Ripthorpe was waiting near the edge of the Ingvar Sversson to show the guards how to disembark.

“Alas,” said the King, “My memories barely take me to when we entered the forest. I remember there was a thick mist, although that is not unusual as that region experiences fog and mist every day during the early hours in the morning. We had breakfast at a local abbey, and we passed a few sights before and after entering the forest.

“There was a peasant roasting his slaughtered swine. I remember he shared some of it with the servants, although of course I did not want any of it. Then we passed a Jewish hermitage, inhabited by some mad old hag. When we came up to the hermitage, out she came from her hut. She cackled a horrible cackle at us while pulling up her rags to reveal her unkempt clitoris. She was arrested and, I presume, later executed.

“Unfortunately, I remember not much of what happened afterwards.”

"It disappoints me that you do not possess this information, as it may yet determine how your memory was so badly impaired. I can only assume that whatever happened to you occurred in the forest during the course of the hunt. Still, I entreat you to tell me anything else that you know that may be of signifigance."

He turned to Sir Grunovich. "As soon as it is possible, I would like to have that Hewbrew text translated. This may have something to do with the Jewish hermitage."

Wallenheim had been waiting for a time when Sebastien had wandered off away from the King and to some other part of the land yacht. About an hour into the voyage, this time came, and he approached the King and kneeled.

“What is it you want, my good Duke?”

“My liege, I have served so faithfully as a regent in your absence. During this time, I have discovered many ways in which your government could be strengthened and refined. The improvement of the bureaucratic efficiency of the realm would be a great asset to you. For my services throughout my regency endeavours, however, I am legally entitled to some gifts from you, my Lord Sovereign.

“First, I would like the title of Dauphin separated from that of Prince Heir to the Cotenshirick Crown. The title of Dauphin shall be granted to Lord Monaumour, while the latter title shall be granted to whoever it is that Your Majesty chooses. The reason for this request is simple: in the likely event that you choose Anne as your successor, her effeminate nature will make her unable to appropriately consider the more martial aspects of the Dauphin’s duties.

“Second, I would like the title of Senior Lord Regent to be linked indivisibly with that of the title of Duke of the Lothars. This shall give the Lothars faithful and equal power with the Normans and the Ajaels. As the Normans preside over the Parliament and the Ajaels over the Electorate, so shall the Lothars preside over the Regency.

“Lastly, I shall be granted a seat among the Lord Admirals of the realm, and this seat shall be passed down through my male primogeny. I ask this of you because I have discovered several weapons under the control of your forces that I would like to use to crush the rebellious insurgents, such as nerve gas and aircraft carriers.”

The King contemplated these demands for a moment. Finally he said: “I shall grant you your first and third demand. The second, however, is outrageous. One cannot be made a senior regent unless he is actually the senior of the other regents.”

The King then unsheathed his sword and tapped the shoulders of the kneeling Wallenheim. “You now have bestowed upon you the rank of Lord Admiral of the Dominion of King William V Salisbury. Your position, however, shall not be of greater rank than the other Lord Admirals, but instead shall you be equal to them and their advice shall be given the same gravity as yours.”

“Your Majesty, you are most just,” said Wallenheim. “I gratefully accept the burden placed upon me.”

Mr. Carter heard some parts of the conversation from his nearby seat, but noticing the relative need for privacy presented by the meeting, he largely ignored anything he would rather not be caught hearing. He had enough sound flooding his ears as is, having entered into a number of conversations with the other passengers.

The concluding words of Duke Wallenheim were louder than those of earlier, at least from what Mr. Carter could tell. He was somewhat civil and cavalier about the announcement, if not genuinely appreciative of Wallenheim's new titles. He faced the man and congratulated him.

"Your Highness, Grand Duke Wallenheim, I salute your latest achievements. Let your offices pass through a golden age." With that, he raised his glass and drank a swig of wine to the health of the Duke.

After Wallenheim had departed, Sir Grunovich came up to the King and whispered something into his ear. The King then called King Charles over to him. “I am sorry that I have to tell you this, my friend, but there have been some complaints, and I am afraid your guards will have to disembark. I am sorry, but there is insufficient space on the ship to accommodate them to the comfort of others.”

Sir Ripthorpe was waiting near the edge of the Ingvar Sversson to show the guards how to disembark.

King Charles approached the venerable monarch. "Before I dismiss them from their current posts, I would, if you would not mind my inquiry, like to know of these complaints so that I may smooth over any of these ruffled feathers. I can assure you and all on board that I knew of no previous nuisances that they could possibly pose, but if they cause anything that is bothersome to the others, I will remedy that."

Meanwhile, the guards began to move about the land yacht, gathering near Sir Ripthorpe. One of them stopped briefly to finish his glass of rum before disembarking. "Sir Ripthorpe, before my unit departs, I would like to know more about where this land yacht is heading, so that we can meet up there and accompany the royals back to the palace."

One of the guards, disguised as a servant of the royals, sat near the main body of people. He was largely unnoticed since he was armed with only a small caliber pistol in the pocket of his vest. He took a device much like a cell phone, although it looked much older, and casaully talked with some of his friends in the service that were stationed at the airport.

He sent a coded message.

Guards being dismissed from land yacht. Moniter position closely. Prepare to pick up disembarking guards at these coordinates:[...]. Be wary of subterfuge.

The message itself was sent on an ultra high frequency that could not be detected by conventional monitering systems, and was automatically encrypted by a 256-bit encryption system.

"It disappoints me that you do not possess this information, as it may yet determine how your memory was so badly impaired. I can only assume that whatever happened to you occurred in the forest during the course of the hunt. Still, I entreat you to tell me anything else that you know that may be of signifigance."

He turned to Sir Grunovich. "As soon as it is possible, I would like to have that Hewbrew text translated. This may have something to do with the Jewish hermitage."

The King paused for a moment before saying: “Unfortunately, I remember nothing more.”

Grunovich then said to Jackson, “My agents have completed a preliminary search of the area this morning, but they have found no evidence of a hermitage ever having existed there, nor have they found any other relevant evidence.”

Lord Bridlington had translated the Hebrew. “Unfortunately, I can still make nothing of it,” said he. “They are all consonants, however much of older Hebrew literature lacks consonants, so I am not sure if this is at all significant.”

King Charles approached the venerable monarch. "Before I dismiss them from their current posts, I would, if you would not mind my inquiry, like to know of these complaints so that I may smooth over any of these ruffled feathers. I can assure you and all on board that I knew of no previous nuisances that they could possibly pose, but if they cause anything that is bothersome to the others, I will remedy that."

King William said in response, “Well, I know not the details. It was Grunovich who told me that many of the guests had been gossiping behind our backs that they were severely distracted by your guards.” He turned to Grunovich. “Sir, kindly explain to King Charles the specific complaints against his unsightly guards.”

“I will in a moment, Your Majesty, if you please. I would like to talk to his guards first before they disembark.”

“Very well.”

The sails had been raised and the Ingvar Sversson had come to a halt. Grunovich hobbled over to where the guards and Sir Ripthorpe had gathered. “Sir Ripthorpe, I shall brief these men. You get the equipment in the large bag of that chest I brought on board.” While Ripthorpe was running this errand, Grunovich took hold of one of the servants and brought him to the group of guards.

“Listen carefully,” said Grunovich to the group, “You will be lowered down to the surface of the lake. There you shall burrow in the snow until morning.” He pointed to the nearest shore that was slightly over half a mile away at this point. “I have fears that those who conspire against us will take up positions around this area, most likely positions in those trees over there. My men will not be able to secure the area until after midnight.”

Ripthorpe had come back with the bag and handed it to Grunovich, who handed it to the servant. “This man is one of my operatives who has been travelling with us. He will help you burrow in the snow and will show you how to survive the night. Once the light of morning comes, use this flag—“ he procured from the bag an extendable flag that would be about 8 meters tall “—to signal your location. My men will pick you up and bring you back to the palace that we left earlier this morning. That is where you will meet back up with us.”

He then spoke with an emphasis on each word, as if these were the most important portions of the directions. “Do Not Draw Any Attention To Your Position Until Daylight Tomorrow. That is tantamount to signing your own death warrant. Your safe return is critical to the implementation of proper security. You must survive the night.”

Grunovich was oblivious to any discomfort or anxiety the guards might have felt about being told to burrow under freezing snow for the night. “You must do what you must do if you want to guarantee your monarch’s survival. I am not saying that they are in immediate danger, but they might be.”

The group was then lowered down into the snow, which was several feet high at this point. The sails were once again lowered, and the Ingvar Sversson resumed its voyage. Grunovich then made his way back to the monarchs. Before speaking to King Charles, however, he notified King William about a change of plans.

“Your Majesty, there are few clouds in the sky at the moment, but I am afraid that the blizzards shall breach through the mountains soon. For security purposes, we should best take shelter at Inverness.”

“Inverness?” asked the King.

“Yes, my liege. Is there any reason why you object?”

“Well, I do not like it there. It is not as grand as my other palaces, and its décor is too antique.”

“My liege, it is for your safety. And, King Charles, I am sorry that you happen to be with us while this has occurred, but my intuition tells me that there has been some kind of security breach in or around Caen. There is certainly seditious activity afoot, but we will certainly be safe at Inverness.

“About your guards,” continued the spymaster, “There were not any complaints. I had to take them off the ship because the servant that I made go with them was a cultist spy. Your guards would have been poisoned or otherwise targeted by him had they stayed here, but now they all will survive because I put them in a situation in which their cooperation is needed for survival.

"I hope you understand, but I had to get rid of him in some way that would insure that he would not kill himself. He will not take a cyanide pill if he is with your guards, nor will he try to kill them because he knows it will be futile. He believes that he will be rescued by his own forces, but, in fact, the opposite is true.

“I also had to tell them that we were going back to the palace so that the spy would not know where we would be going, and that your guards would not be able to tell the enemy if somehow they are captured. Be assured, however, that there are no remaining spies onboard.”

The King paused for a moment before saying: “Unfortunately, I remember nothing more.”

Grunovich then said to Jackson, “My agents have completed a preliminary search of the area this morning, but they have found no evidence of a hermitage ever having existed there, nor have they found any other relevant evidence.”

Lord Bridlington had translated the Hebrew. “Unfortunately, I can still make nothing of it,” said he. “They are all consonants, however much of older Hebrew literature lacks consonants, so I am not sure if this is at all significant.”

"Most ancient Hebrew writing contains no vowels, thus it is up to the reader to make out what the writing says. The vowels have to be filled in before a clear body of text can be read.

"As for the area where the hunt took place, the area needs further searching, particularly the route taken by the hunting party. The place where the party was last observed should then be examined further afterward."

Snip, second bit.

As soon as the guards had left the ship, they located a suitable place about three-eighths from the shore. There, in a high snow drift, they began to excavate an entrance into what would now become a shelter. The drift was only five feet high, but its height, coupled with the depth of the snow on the surface of the lake, made it possible to hide very easily.

The group labored for three hours, by which time they had created an opening six feet tall, about half as wide, and going nearly ten feet under the surface. The excavated snow was heaped on top of the drift to make it larger, and as new snow continued to fall lightly upon the landscape, it only helped to conceal the location of the guards' hiding place.

The group had between itself one pack with extra food, enough for a light dinner for everyone, consisting of some bread, cheese, and water. They also had an insulated container with beef and turkey from the party the night before. The food had been much to their liking, and a few leftovers, albeit cold, would make a fine, if not very fanciful, evening meal.

By nightfall, all of the work had been done. A pile of snow three feet high was built in front of the entrance, where a lookout could see signs of any potential enemies. The guards were armed with only with their elaborately decorated rifles and swords, which they took much time and pleasure at showing off while on board, and several pistols. Thus, a prolonged siege, should they find themselves surrounded, would not serve them well.

Dinner was a slow and somewhat quiet affair, but conditions improved as one of the men took a out a deck of cards and played bridge with some of his comrades. The lookout was changed every half hour, since the cold was able to cause much trouble, but generally things proceeded smoothly.

Meanwhile, the guard disguised as a servant on board the ship sent another message to the airport.

Do not send a team to thie previously mentioned position. Sir Grunovich and his men will execute their extraction in the morning. Watch the lake shore about a half-mile from their position instead.

“Yes. I shall gather a team of prominent Jewish scholars to help me make sense of this at once.”



On the ship, Sir Glandery had overheard that they were going to Inverness. “Inverness, my liege? Do you not wish that your Monavian guests get to see your greatest palaces, not your worst?”

“Well, Inverness is not too bad. It may not have the most spacious rooms, but it does have that kind of historical quality, that pure Norman-ness to it in this age in which my great palaces have all been designed by Geats or Lothars.”

“But my lord,” said Glandery, “the Monolitus Occidentus is your most glorious palace, and indeed the most glorious palace in the world.”

“Not for long,” said the King. “Construction has recently begun on my 144th palace, the Nova Rexella. It shall truly be the pinnacle of human achievement. Construction is proceeding quickly on it, and all of the necessary components of the palace shall be in a presentable state by late next year. Chief among these is the Globus Carolus Antiochus, a grand opera hall over three hundred feet tall. Next to it shall be an enormous statue modeled after the Colossus of Rhodes, except it will be the Christ, and it will be twice the size as the original. Like its inspiration, it will be made out of solid gold. These are just two of its many awesome features.”

Sir Glandery looked like someone whose soul had just been crushed. The Ingvar Sversson soon arrived at what most certainly was Inverness, palace number 1 of 143. The land around this portion of the coast was uncharacteristically flat for an area of about twenty-four square miles. In the middle of the flatness, however, rose the imposing castle of Inverness.

The castle was perched upon a hill several hundred feet tall, and the highest tower of the castle was at least two hundred feet taller than that. For a medieval structure, it was architecturally exceptional. When compared to the other palaces that the Monavians had seen, however, it’s medieval roots were quite evident. While the other palaces were pleasant and full of pomp, Inverness was dark and intended to create an environment of fear among the Salisburys’ enemies. While the other palaces were balanced and rational, Inverness was convoluted and asymmetrical.

After everyone had disembarked from the land yacht, Grunovich had placed several wax dummies of all of the guests on the aftcastle of the ship. These dummies looked completely lifelike unless viewed from up close. “I am not sure if this will fool anyone,” said Grunovich after he came back down, “but it would be foolish of me not to try.”

The sails were then lowered again and the Ingvar Sversson resumed its voyage unmanned.

“Yes. I shall gather a team of prominent Jewish scholars to help me make sense of this at once.”

"Lord Bridlington, please notify me as soon as you can obtain the translation."

Snip, second bit.

The sight of the palace of Inverness impressed, if only slightly, the Monavians. They had expected that King William was to have many residences, but the fact that such an old building was still kept in working order was somewhat of a surprise.

King Charles, who had read much about medieval architecture as a youth, was eager to view the stately ediface and admire the quality of its workmanship. After the Monavians had disembarked, they stopped to take a look into the distance to view the imposing structure.

The disguised guard also followed them to the palace, making sure to watch for spies and dissenters along the way.

Sir Grunovich approached King William and the Monavian delegation. “M’liege, I must interrogate some of our other guests and I do not want them to enter Inverness before I do so. I’ll let Glandery and the Monavians go into castle before you, and there should be plenty of servants there to serve you.”

“Very well,” said the King, “Just do not keep them for too long. It is cold out here.”

The King and those Grunovich allowed to go with him approached Inverness, and indeed several servants came out to greet them. A horse was brought out for the King to ride the rest of the way, but unfortunately everyone else had to walk. Glandery had taken it upon himself to explain the history of Inverness to the Monavians as they strolled to the castle.

“..you see, those portions you see over there were part of Inverness when it was originally constructed in 1384. All of what you see here had been added by 1550. The earlier architecture represents—oh, my…”

Glandery had become pale, for they had approached the gates to Inverness. Hung between the bars of the portcullis was a bloody head, mutilated beyond recognition, with several other body parts hanging below it on a rope. On the stone wall between the drawbridge and the portcullis was a cryptic Hebrew phrase that had been inscribed messily in the blood of the victim.

The King trotted closer to the wall to see what sight had startled Glandery and the others. When he saw bloody phrase, he gasped. “Oh my God,” exclaimed the King, “this is disgusting! You—“ he pointed to a servant “clean this up immediately. I cannot have my guests come in to see that.”

Meanwhile, a messenger had come from the castle. “Are these the Monavian King and Queen?” asked he. When he found that they actually were, he said, “We have had a guest arrive here on his way to Caen. He would like to meet with you in privacy.”

“Excuse me, kind sir,” said King William, “Who is this man that requests an audience with them and why may I not listen in?”

“He is one of the lower chancellors of Lord Archbishop Kõszegi, and as to the reasons why he wanted the meeting to be private, I do not know. Should I ask him?”

“No. I cannot be bothered by one of Kõszegi’s buffoons, but our Monavian guests might want to see him.” He turned to King Charles and Queen Elizabeth. “Is it your desire to meet with this man?”

Sir Grunovich approached King William and the Monavian delegation. “M’liege, I must interrogate some of our other guests and I do not want them to enter Inverness before I do so. I’ll let Glandery and the Monavians go into castle before you, and there should be plenty of servants there to serve you.”

“Very well,” said the King, “Just do not keep them for too long. It is cold out here.”

The King and those Grunovich allowed to go with him approached Inverness, and indeed several servants came out to greet them. A horse was brought out for the King to ride the rest of the way, but unfortunately everyone else had to walk. Glandery had taken it upon himself to explain the history of Inverness to the Monavians as they strolled to the castle.

“..you see, those portions you see over there were part of Inverness when it was originally constructed in 1384. All of what you see here had been added by 1550. The earlier architecture represents—oh, my…”

Glandery had become pale, for they had approached the gates to Inverness. Hung between the bars of the portcullis was a bloody head, mutilated beyond recognition, with several other body parts hanging below it on a rope. On the stone wall between the drawbridge and the portcullis was a cryptic Hebrew phrase that had been inscribed messily in the blood of the victim.

The discovery of the bloody work undertaken at Inverness was little comfort in the cold weather to the Monavians. While they had expected to observe the pleasures of viewing Norman architecture and the art and culture of the medieval period, to name a few things, they had not expected a sight of such disgusting carnage.

Queen Elizabeth became slightly distressed at the sight, although she remained on her feet and retained her wits about herself. She had witnessed such an example of gore before, when she saw a lion escape from a zoo cage with badly rusted iron bars and viciously devour a zookeeper. The creature was later dispatched, although she fled with other visitors as the lion busied itself with eating its last meal.

The Hebrew scrawl deepened the mystrey, adding greater darkness to the whole affair. King Charles stopped, standing motionless as he stared at the details of the macabre display. He could not recognize how such a thing could be constructed, seeing as the cold woulf have quickly frozen the blood before it could be used much. He reasoned that the task was completed imediately after the victim was killed.

The King trotted closer to the wall to see what sight had startled Glandery and the others. When he saw bloody phrase, he gasped. “Oh my God,” exclaimed the King, “this is disgusting! You—“ he pointed to a servant “clean this up immediately. I cannot have my guests come in to see that.”

"The servant will need hot water to clean it up and melt away the mess." Mr. Carter added.

Meanwhile, a messenger had come from the castle. “Are these the Monavian King and Queen?” asked he. When he found that they actually were, he said, “We have had a guest arrive here on his way to Caen. He would like to meet with you in privacy.”

“Excuse me, kind sir,” said King William, “Who is this man that requests an audience with them and why may I not listen in?”

“He is one of the lower chancellors of Lord Archbishop Kõszegi, and as to the reasons why he wanted the meeting to be private, I do not know. Should I ask him?”

“No. I cannot be bothered by one of Kõszegi’s buffoons, but our Monavian guests might want to see him.” He turned to King Charles and Queen Elizabeth. “Is it your desire to meet with this man?”

"Since we were denied the ability to speak with the people at the palace, I believe that this archbiship will give us information we need. I have no knowledge of who he is, but obvioulsy there is some need for him to visit us." He looked at King William, and whispered, "I will wait for Sir Grunovich to meet us before we see this Chancellor."

"The servant will need hot water to clean it up and melt away the mess." Mr. Carter added.

“Yes, get plenty of hot water,” said King William. “That will certainly make it easier to clean. And let not a soul hear about this, will you?”

The servant nodded and continued on his way.

"Since we were denied the ability to speak with the people at the palace, I believe that this archbiship will give us information we need. I have no knowledge of who he is, but obvioulsy there is some need for him to visit us." He looked at King William, and whispered, "I will wait for Sir Grunovich to meet us before we see this Chancellor."

Grunovich took about half an hour to complete his interrogation. He had come back and was told of the meeting. “This must be Lorenzo of Dojutyar that has come to see you. I am not sure why he sought us out here, but I do not believe that there will be any security risks in you meeting with him. If you are concerned, however, I can bug you and listen in on your conversation.”

Grunovich quickly added: "One more thing. I would like to tell you that he is a leper, just so that it does not startle you. Do not worry, he will keep himself covered and there will not be the risk of contagions."

Grunovich took about half an hour to complete his interrogation. He had come back and was told of the meeting. “This must be Lorenzo of Dojutyar that has come to see you. I am not sure why he sought us out here, but I do not believe that there will be any security risks in you meeting with him. If you are concerned, however, I can bug you and listen in on your conversation.”

Grunovich quickly added: "One more thing. I would like to tell you that he is a leper, just so that it does not startle you. Do not worry, he will keep himself covered and there will not be the risk of contagions."

"It is not disease that causes me so much concern, as does the presence of spies and foreign agents. I have already been watched by spies of Wallenheim, and now another agent has been expelled from the land yacht. For all I know, there may be one at Inverness. I will recommend that you first enter briefly, so as to detect any form of surveillance, and then depart once you are finished.

"I will also add that lepers do not firghten me, since I have seen them in hospitals. My nation's physicians have medicines that can reduce its effects, and in some cases, even cure milder formes of the disease. Still, they are hard to make and expensive."

“That is a prudent request of you,” said Sir Grunovich. “I shall go inspect the room and briefly question Dojutyar.”

Sir Grunovich made his way to the room in which the meeting would take place. He did not have to go far. The inner courtyard of Inverness was comparable in size to a tennis court. It had gathered around it all the structures and towers of the castle. The various buildings were not nicely laid out, but had the haphazard and random quality of being added on by whim and had to be made small enough to fit. That being said, Inverness was by no means a small castle. It was simply compact and crowded.

After a few minutes, Grunovich could be seen coming down the stairs that led to the residential area of the castle. “Everything seems to be safe,” said he. “If you are still concerned, however, I can hide a bug on you and I will be in there at the first sign of trouble.”

"Thank you, kind sir." said the King. "I doubt that there will be any more happenings like the bloody display that was left for us." They all proceeded into the residential section of the castle, where they woulfd meet with Lorenzo of Dojutyar.

OOC:

Bump. I am deleting the other two.

(OOC: I am sorry for my inconsistency, I have been having technical difficulties.)

The group climbed a set of wooden stairs in the courtyard and made their way along the brattice to the entrance of the residential area of the palace. The castle’s medieval architecture was made very clear in the interior. The rooms always seemed just slightly too small and the doors between rooms were often uneven with the floor below them.

Grunovich led them through the twists and turns of the area. There were no hallways, but instead rooms were connected directly to other rooms. The unevenness of the doors and the general haphazard and asymmetrical design that had resulted from hundreds of years of adding on to the structure created quite a confusing path. Indeed, it would be easy to get lost in this complex, despite it being several times smaller than the other palaces that the Monavians had seen.

Finally they made their way to the room that Lorenzo of Dojutyar was staying in. Grunovich knocked, and the door was opened by a serving man. After looking in to make sure everything was alright and to check out Dojutyar, the spymaster left the Monavians to their privacy.

Dojutyar was dressed in the red garments of a church official, but his most distinguishing feature was his silver mask that covered his leprosy disfigured face. The mask itself had a look of unfathomable sadness about it, as if to forever express the pains of Dojutyar’s disease.

Dojutyar rose. “Please, be seated,” said he with a thick Magyar accent, but otherwise flawless English. He motioned to two small, old chairs placed before his. When he had risen, Dojutyar suddenly seemed more imposing, as he was nearly six and a half feet tall. The muscular definitions of his figure could be discerned through his silk clothes. He was truly much more vigorous in demeanor than one would expect of a leper.

He then sat down once the Monavians had taken their seats. “Do not be frightened by my horrifying condition. I have treated myself to the extent that it will not be contagious—” he procured from a pocket a spray bottle, which he squirted into the air between the two of them. “This bottle contains holy water and neutralizes the bad vapours that cause my malady.”

He cleared his throat, as he had begun to sound hoarse as he spoke. “I hope you wouldn’t mind, but I would want to keep this short, for my humours are acting up again. Let me formally introduce myself. I am Lorenzo of Dojutyar, one of the underchancellors to the venerable Lord Archbishop Kõszegi. As the de facto chief of the Silverhelms, Lord Kõszegi bears authority over the temporal justice as well as the spiritual. Naturally, then, he would possess concise knowledge on the recent criminal happenings.

“By now you must be aware of that insidious Jewish sect known as the Zealots. It was by their hand that Prince Leopold was assassinated, and it was them who coerced Sir Fitzhenry into murdering Prince Peter. It would not surprise you, then, that their next target is the King himself.

“This group is very secretive in their operations, as they must be. After all, the Silverhelms keep an eye on the Jews so that their criminal antics may be kept to a minimum. The Zealots are even worse than the others, however. They are bloodthirsty madmen, and there is some evidence to suggest that they might be demon possessed.

“Now, if you are wondering why it is so important that I am telling all of this to you, then it is because this problem may soon be on your hands. For the Zealots are an internationalist organization and they may already have cells operating in several countries. Once King William is dead, then you will surely be next. They do not appreciate you working so closely with him, and when the movement does spread into your own country, you will have an impossible problem on your hands.

“There is one way that this can be circumvented, however. The Silverhelms serve in every parish of the Dominion, and therefore monitor every port in the Dominion. We can stop shipments of weapons by this group, and we can also apprehend those members who we believe will be sailing to your country. All of this costs money, though, and that is where you come in. For us to be able to provide these services, Lord Kõszegi requests £150,000.

“This offer is quite extreme in its generosity, and it should be, since Lord Kõszegi is adamant about pursuing crime wherever it might threaten Christendom. If you consider the scope of this operation, then you would be mad to refuse an offer so generous as this.

“That is all that I had planned to say, but if you would like more details, I am sure I would be able to provide them for you.”

Throughout this conversation, Dojutyar had produced his spray bottle and decontaminated the air a few more times. He had also begun to develop a cough, and sipped what appeared to be some kind of medicine from a flask on his belt.

OOC:

Restrictions on entering the country can be found at the end of my factbook.

IC:

The group climbed a set of wooden stairs in the courtyard and made their way along the brattice to the entrance of the residential area of the palace. The castle’s medieval architecture was made very clear in the interior. The rooms always seemed just slightly too small and the doors between rooms were often uneven with the floor below them.

Grunovich led them through the twists and turns of the area. There were no hallways, but instead rooms were connected directly to other rooms. The unevenness of the doors and the general haphazard and asymmetrical design that had resulted from hundreds of years of adding on to the structure created quite a confusing path. Indeed, it would be easy to get lost in this complex, despite it being several times smaller than the other palaces that the Monavians had seen.

Finally they made their way to the room that Lorenzo of Dojutyar was staying in. Grunovich knocked, and the door was opened by a serving man. After looking in to make sure everything was alright and to check out Dojutyar, the spymaster left the Monavians to their privacy.

Although the oddly constructed castle proved to be a hindrance to the passage of the Monavians, they found sufficient space to permit ingress and egress throughout the crowded building. The royals, in particular, were drawn to the rich assortment of architectural detail and variation which was present in the castle, and were thus not too easily annoyed by the unusual floor plan.

Dojutyar was dressed in the red garments of a church official, but his most distinguishing feature was his silver mask that covered his leprosy disfigured face. The mask itself had a look of unfathomable sadness about it, as if to forever express the pains of Dojutyar’s disease.

Dojutyar rose. “Please, be seated,” said he with a thick Magyar accent, but otherwise flawless English. He motioned to two small, old chairs placed before his. When he had risen, Dojutyar suddenly seemed more imposing, as he was nearly six and a half feet tall. The muscular definitions of his figure could be discerned through his silk clothes. He was truly much more vigorous in demeanor than one would expect of a leper.

He then sat down once the Monavians had taken their seats. “Do not be frightened by my horrifying condition. I have treated myself to the extent that it will not be contagious—” he procured from a pocket a spray bottle, which he squirted into the air between the two of them. “This bottle contains holy water and neutralizes the bad vapours that cause my malady.”

The Monavians took their seats where the man had indicated to them. Queen Elizabeth looked briefly at the silver mask that covered the underechancellor's face, reminding her of a similar one worn by the Emperor of Zaheran. Of course, his case was different, as his face was scarred and damaged from wounds sustained in battle, but still, a theme of continuity began to emerge throughout the nations to which the Monavians had visited. The queen then began speaking.

"Underchancellor, I thank you for your pleasant invitation. It was on short notice, but it, being pertinant to state security, trumps smaller social affairs. On the state of your health, I see no reason for fear. While the medicines produced to treating leprosy in Monavia have been in short supply, I am unable to procure any. My sympathies lie with you.

"Now, as to the nature of our business, I will inquire as to why you felt that such an urgent need existed for us to visit you here. Clearly, the gravity of the situation must be immense."

He cleared his throat, as he had begun to sound hoarse as he spoke. “I hope you wouldn’t mind, but I would want to keep this short, for my humours are acting up again. Let me formally introduce myself. I am Lorenzo of Dojutyar, one of the underchancellors to the venerable Lord Archbishop Kõszegi. As the de facto chief of the Silverhelms, Lord Kõszegi bears authority over the temporal justice as well as the spiritual. Naturally, then, he would possess concise knowledge on the recent criminal happenings.

“By now you must be aware of that insidious Jewish sect known as the Zealots. It was by their hand that Prince Leopold was assassinated, and it was them who coerced Sir Fitzhenry into murdering Prince Peter. It would not surprise you, then, that their next target is the King himself.

"I am afraid that I am unaware of the dear Archbishop. It is quite unfortunate, as I have spent only two daye here, and already, I am drawn into the maelstrom of political intrigue enveloping this fair country. I will begin to describe what I do at least know as of late." King Charles gathered his breath, before he quieted himself in thought so that he may collect his wits about him and produce an accurate narrative of his latest tastes of Cotenshirick politics.

"Underchancellor Lorenzo, I will describe to you the extent of my knowledge as it pertains to the situation at hand. Last night, I was with His Majesty and many others in a hall to have a pleasant dinner and enjoy the pleasure of his noble company. Sir Grunovich, the royal spymaster, was conversing with Lord Chancellor Sebastien about his duties and information that he obtained from his investigations of the plot to assassinate the late Prince Peter.

"He mentioned to Sebastien, among other things, an organization known as the 'Silverhelms', and them also talked about another group known as the 'Shepards'. He said that Sir Fitzhenry was tortured for inforamtion and that he served these shepards, and not the Doncasterians, who are in support of Archibald. My Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Carter, overheard portions of their conversation at the dinner, as a result of being seated so close to Sebastien. The two seen to enjoy speaking to each other." he said, chuckling merrily.

"Mr. Carter spoke with Sebastien about the nature of these two groups, but he was told that is was not his concern. However, a messenger from one of the Jewish academies paid a visit, interrupting the conversation, and told them both about how the Archrabbi of the academy admitted a new student a few months prior, a student who later showed contempt for the teachings of the school and became a mystic, and soon gatereed a group of followers.

"Lord Chancellor Sebastien and Mr. Carter thought nothing of it, although the latter did inform me of the nature of what happened and provided me with the necessary details. I have since then heard nothing about any 'Zealots', so I will need to know more about the organization."

Taking some time to rest his mind, the king paused. He then recounted the events in dealing with the spy on board the land yacht, and the other information that he believed was relevant. He said nothing more about Sir Grunovich, or about the absence of his guards, or even anything that may be inappropriate to disclose for security reasons.

"Underchancellor Lorenzo, I am disturbed to hear that Sir Fitzhenry was coerced into committing such a heinout act as the assassination of the Dauphin, but I do not see these people as being above such venal beahvior."

“This group is very secretive in their operations, as they must be. After all, the Silverhelms keep an eye on the Jews so that their criminal antics may be kept to a minimum. The Zealots are even worse than the others, however. They are bloodthirsty madmen, and there is some evidence to suggest that they might be demon possessed.

“Now, if you are wondering why it is so important that I am telling all of this to you, then it is because this problem may soon be on your hands. For the Zealots are an internationalist organization and they may already have cells operating in several countries. Once King William is dead, then you will surely be next. They do not appreciate you working so closely with him, and when the movement does spread into your own country, you will have an impossible problem on your hands.

"It would be difficult for these terrorists to enter Monavian territory without being noticed. All nationals entering the country are given an automatic status based upon their nation of origin, and are then reclassified after a search of their criminal history has taken place. If any known Zealot enters Monavia, they will be arrested before so much as firing a shot.

"The Jews in Monavia are numerous, however, they would not want to share power with this group. Despite their enormous clout, they will not tolerate any stain upon their reputation, and the Zealots will have difficulty in gaining followers in the counrty. A simple national address and some private..."meetings"... with Jewish leaders and politicians who I know will bring them to keep their congregations away...for the most part."

“There is one way that this can be circumvented, however. The Silverhelms serve in every parish of the Dominion, and therefore monitor every port in the Dominion. We can stop shipments of weapons by this group, and we can also apprehend those members who we believe will be sailing to your country. All of this costs money, though, and that is where you come in. For us to be able to provide these services, Lord Kõszegi requests £150,000.

“This offer is quite extreme in its generosity, and it should be, since Lord Kõszegi is adamant about pursuing crime wherever it might threaten Christendom. If you consider the scope of this operation, then you would be mad to refuse an offer so generous as this.

King Charles thought for some time about Lorenzo's offer. He soon had an answer. "Lorenzo of Dojutyar, I can provide a sum of money equal to £400,000 for such an effort. My national treasury is no...common repository of funds. This will be enough to pay for all of your operations for some time."

OOC:

The only facility which produces drugs for treating leprosy in the whole country was almost completely destroyed in 2006 by a large explosion, caused by a massive chemical spill and some other lapses in safety. It is currently being rebuilt, so the drugs are being produced in very small amounts at select locations for the moment. This has driven up the price a hundred fold.

"Underchancellor, I thank you for your pleasant invitation. It was on short notice, but it, being pertinant to state security, trumps smaller social affairs. On the state of your health, I see no reason for fear. While the medicines produced to treating leprosy in Monavia have been in short supply, I am unable to procure any. My sympathies lie with you.

“I have learned to live with my condition," said Dojutyar. "One shall not be angry or sad over one's troubles in life, for such conditions are our natural state. It is the grace of the Lord that enables us to rise from such a base slime as our flesh."

"Mr. Carter spoke with Sebastien about the nature of these two groups, but he was told that is was not his concern. However, a messenger from one of the Jewish academies paid a visit, interrupting the conversation, and told them both about how the Archrabbi of the academy admitted a new student a few months prior, a student who later showed contempt for the teachings of the school and became a mystic, and soon gatereed a group of followers.

"Lord Chancellor Sebastien and Mr. Carter thought nothing of it, although the latter did inform me of the nature of what happened and provided me with the necessary details. I have since then heard nothing about any 'Zealots', so I will need to know more about the organization."

While one could not see any portion of Dojutyar’s face under the mask, it was still evident that he began to listen more intently when the story of the Jewish mystic was recounted to him, and he was shocked when he heard of the infiltration of the land yacht by a spy.

“I have heard of this mystic you speak of, but no one seems to know his name. He joined the Zealots for a brief period of time and then left the group, although I suspect he still has a great deal of influence among them. Indeed, he has followers from every Jewish sect and cult. I would be not at all surprised if he is related to these happenings.”

Taking some time to rest his mind, the king paused. He then recounted the events in dealing with the spy on board the land yacht, and the other information that he believed was relevant. He said nothing more about Sir Grunovich, or about the absence of his guards, or even anything that may be inappropriate to disclose for security reasons.

“Yes, it is unfortunate that spies are most often among the ranks of the servants. Their masters rarely pay attention to them, and someone as wealthy as King William has so many that he certainly does not know them all. It was fortunate that you were able to find the spy.

“Sir Grunovich usually is able to sniff out spies before anyone else even sees them, but somehow this one got past his first line of defence. This encounter also shows how the Jews have been able to recruit Christians, or at least those who can pretend that they are Christian. They are more sophisticated than I thought they were.”

"It would be difficult for these terrorists to enter Monavian territory without being noticed. All nationals entering the country are given an automatic status based upon their nation of origin, and are then reclassified after a search of their criminal history has taken place. If any known Zealot enters Monavia, they will be arrested before so much as firing a shot.

"The Jews in Monavia are numerous, however, they would not want to share power with this group. Despite their enormous clout, they will not tolerate any stain upon their reputation, and the Zealots will have difficulty in gaining followers in the counrty. A simple national address and some private..."meetings"... with Jewish leaders and politicians who I know will bring them to keep their congregations away...for the most part."

“This is good to hear. The situation regarding the Zealots is beginning to get out of hand in the Dominion, and I would shudder to think of what would happen if they could gain manpower in a country with as large of a Jewish population as yours.”

King Charles thought for some time about Lorenzo's offer. He soon had an answer. "Lorenzo of Dojutyar, I can provide a sum of money equal to £400,000 for such an effort. My national treasury is no...common repository of funds. This will be enough to pay for all of your operations for some time."

Dojutyar was noticeably startled when King Charles announced that he was willing to give £400,000 for the defense project. “Your Majesty, that is…exquisitely generous of you. I am not sure if Lord Kõszegi will even want to accept that high of a payment, for I am not sure if we would be able to allocate all that money. I will certainly inform him of your offer, though, and he will contact you as soon as a decision can be reached.”

Dojutyar coughed a few hoarse coughs. “My, my humours, my humours.” He sprayed the holy water again before procuring a handkerchief and sneezing and wheezing a few times into it from under his mask.

“I deeply apologize for my grotesque display,” said he. “I have nothing left to say to you, so I am sure the King would like to have you back in his presence.”

He summoned the guard to get Sir Grunovich and take the Monavians back to the courtyard.

“I have learned to live with my condition," said Dojutyar. "One shall not be angry or sad over one's troubles in life, for such conditions are our natural state. It is the grace of the Lord that enables us to rise from such a base slime as our flesh."

"The Lord is very generous to His servants, and our existance is but another blessing upon the earth."

While one could not see any portion of Dojutyar’s face under the mask, it was still evident that he began to listen more intently when the story of the Jewish mystic was recounted to him, and he was shocked when he heard of the infiltration of the land yacht by a spy.

“I have heard of this mystic you speak of, but no one seems to know his name. He joined the Zealots for a brief period of time and then left the group, although I suspect he still has a great deal of influence among them. Indeed, he has followers from every Jewish sect and cult. I would be not at all surprised if he is related to these happenings.”

"I would consider it wise for you to suggest a hunt for this man to your superior. This mystic may possess information which may be of benefit to your operations against the Zealots."

“Yes, it is unfortunate that spies are most often among the ranks of the servants. Their masters rarely pay attention to them, and someone as wealthy as King William has so many that he certainly does not know them all. It was fortunate that you were able to find the spy.

“Sir Grunovich usually is able to sniff out spies before anyone else even sees them, but somehow this one got past his first line of defence. This encounter also shows how the Jews have been able to recruit Christians, or at least those who can pretend that they are Christian. They are more sophisticated than I thought they were.”

Please note that Sir Grunovich was the man who detected the spy in the first place, albeit late. Still, he has taken care of the problem. As King William once told me, Grunovich is one of his most talented ministers."

“This is good to hear. The situation regarding the Zealots is beginning to get out of hand in the Dominion, and I would shudder to think of what would happen if they could gain manpower in a country with as large of a Jewish population as yours.”

"I can sincerely assure you that such will not be the case. If any of the Zealots can gain entry, they will not get far in completing their treacherous works."

Dojutyar was noticeably startled when King Charles announced that he was willing to give £400,000 for the defense project. “Your Majesty, that is…exquisitely generous of you. I am not sure if Lord Kõszegi will even want to accept that high of a payment, for I am not sure if we would be able to allocate all that money. I will certainly inform him of your offer, though, and he will contact you as soon as a decision can be reached.”

Dojutyar coughed a few hoarse coughs. “My, my humours, my humours.” He sprayed the holy water again before procuring a handkerchief and sneezing and wheezing a few times into it from under his mask.

"Tell Lord Kõszegi that I will pay him what amount he is able to allocate easily, and will provide the remainder as he needs it."

“I deeply apologize for my grotesque display,” said he. “I have nothing left to say to you, so I am sure the King would like to have you back in his presence.”

He summoned the guard to get Sir Grunovich and take the Monavians back to the courtyard.

"Again, thank you for your invitation. Now, if you will allow us to leave this place, so as to continue our business, I bid you farewell."

The group rose from their seats, and departed, joining the guard and walking back to see Sir Grunovich.

Sir Grunovich met with the Monavians again outside of the room. They began walking back to the courtyard following the same path that had taken them to Dojutyar’s room. Sir Grunovich then began to speak to them. “Well, I am not sure what Lord Kõszegi wanted with you, but—“ Grunovich stopped his speech suddenly and froze in his steps. His nostrils began dilating as he sniffed the air.

Sir Grunovich then broke off into a sprint back towards Dojutyar’s room. “Lorenzo? Lorenzo?” cried he. The room was empty. He then noticed a breeze coming from the window. “The window?...” He crept over to it perplexed, and then saw the rope that was tied to two of the bed posts. Dangling twenty feet out the window was Dojutyar’s corpse. His head hung in the noose with its mask removed, revealing his horribly disfigured face.

Sir Grunovich then surveyed the rest of the room. An ink well had been shattered on the vanity. The words “I’m sorry Your Majesty” were sloppily written on the mirror with fingers, as evidenced by the smudgy ink fingerprints that had appeared all over the room.

The spymaster then discovered the shattered bottle of holy water on the floor nearby. Grunovich quickly procured a match from his cloak, lit it, and threw it down on the holy water, which burst into flames and vaporized almost instantly. He turned to the Monavians and said, “We must get back to the King at once.”

They hurried back to the courtyard, which had now been decorated with banners bearing emblems of the Cotenshirick Eagle. The King was inspecting the decorations as well as some of the meats that had been cooked for dinner. Upon seeing the return of Sir Grunovich and the Monavians, he appeared overjoyed. “My guests! Why do you hurry so? You could’ve stayed and mingled with whoever that was for a few moments longer. I would not have been offended. Indeed, we have a great deal of time to discuss whatever it is we must discuss between us.”

Sir Grunovich, who had now made his way down the staircase and up to the King, said, “Now is not the time for niceties, Your Majesty. Have you seen anything strange in our absence.”

The King thought for a moment. “Yes, there was one bizarre incident around here. But anyway, are you going to be staying for the night?”

“Come, Your Majesty, what happened?”

The King looked taken aback. “Sir Grunovich, please, I asked you if you were staying to-night. I must know, since we do not have as many meats here at this palace as at my others, so I do not want to have some prepared for you if you will not be here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I am staying for the night. Now what was it that you saw?”

His Majesty paused. “I forgot.”

“Sir, you must know!”

A servant suddenly came to the King and presented him a shotgun. “Here is the weapon you told me to fetch you, Your Majesty.”

But Grunovich snatched the shotgun from the servant before the King made a grab for it. “What is going on?” asked the spymaster incredulously.

“Sir Grunovich, hand me that at once. I have had it with your insub...hold on a second, I think this has reminded me what had happened.” The King turned and looked up at the banners. “Yes, look there, Sir Grunovich. A wasp’s nest.”

“That was what was strange, my liege?”

“Well, yes. While hanging up these banners, six of the labourers saw the wasps nest and attempted to bat it down with sticks. Unfortunately, a wasp stung them and they all died. So I ordered for this shotgun so I could shoot it down. Give it here.”

“No! My Liege! Those wasps have obviously been fed poison, and their sting is now lethal. Leave it alone for a few minutes and I will personally clear it out later.” Grunovich motioned to the Monavians as well as Lord Sebastien. “Gather around here. I am afraid that something wicked is afoot. Here is what we must do. I want all of you to go immediately to the bedrooms that I assign you. There you will be placed under heavy security by my own detail of guards. This is for maximum security until I am able to determine our next—“

“AAAAGGGGHHHH!!”

Sir Grunovich and the others wheeled around. The cry had come from one of the servants, who was now writhing on the ground in agony. Several of the other servants were also suffering convulsions and flinging themselves around in pain. Blood was seeping out from their sweat pores, and was gushing in fierce streams out of every bodily orifice. Occasionally, as blood pressure built up, minor explosions would occur from under their flesh, blowing blood all over the scene.

After one man’s eyeball burst, the King exclaimed, “Oh my God, this is horrifying. Someone clean this up at once! I cannot have the others seeing my courtyard in this manner. You, there, go die outside, please.”

They did as their King asked, or at least they did so to the best of their ability under their seething pain. Lord Sebastien grabbed Sir Grunovich’s shoulder. “Is this more wasp stings?” asked he, his voice quivering in obvious terror.

“No, the toxin causing this display is CMX Blood Sarin. It cannot be passed through the sting of a wasp, but is instead airborne.” Grunovich’s calm demeanor contrasted dramatically with the scene of chaos that had unfolded around them. Even the King had become hysterical and was calling out for his guards to shoot these men.

“Everyone, stop!” yelled Grunovich. “Your Majesties, Monavian guests, you need not worry about this poison. I had laced your wine with the antidote earlier, and you are as good as immune to it. I am afraid, however, that we must isolate you. Especially you two, King Charles and Queen Elizabeth. The CMX Blood Sarin had somehow been mixed into Dojutyar’s holy water, and when he sprayed it, the less dense chemical agent separated itself out from the water. It then condensed itself on your clothing, and it vaporized once you came out into the sun.”

He quickly added, “I should be able to wash your clothes of it clean in a few minutes.”

He then confronted the King. “Your Majesty, get a hold of yourself. I need you to order the mobilization of the 1st Alderney Regiment.”

“But that regiment consists of almost one thousand men!”

“I must quickly reinforce our garrison here, and that is the closest regiment that we have to Inverness. Now, before you retreat to your bedroom, I need you to write the order of mobilization.”

“Very well. I hope this is all cleared up before dinner,” said the King.

“You can forget about a formal dinner for now,” said Grunovich. “I will most likely keep all of you under intense security throughout the entire night.”

Lord Sebastien, who had been breathing heavily and observing the chaos, finally opened his mouth to speak. “Sir Grunovich, we are all going to die, aren’t we?”

“Our enemy is indeed cunning,” growled Grunovich, “But you are safe in my hands.”

IC:

Sir Grunovich met with the Monavians again outside of the room. They began walking back to the courtyard following the same path that had taken them to Dojutyar’s room. Sir Grunovich then began to speak to them. “Well, I am not sure what Lord Kõszegi wanted with you, but—“ Grunovich stopped his speech suddenly and froze in his steps. His nostrils began dilating as he sniffed the air.

The Monavians had followed Sir Grunovich back to the room, wondering what he could have discovered.

Sir Grunovich then broke off into a sprint back towards Dojutyar’s room. “Lorenzo? Lorenzo?” cried he. The room was empty. He then noticed a breeze coming from the window. “The window?...” He crept over to it perplexed, and then saw the rope that was tied to two of the bed posts. Dangling twenty feet out the window was Dojutyar’s corpse. His head hung in the noose with its mask removed, revealing his horribly disfigured face.

Sir Grunovich then surveyed the rest of the room. An ink well had been shattered on the vanity. The words “I’m sorry Your Majesty” were sloppily written on the mirror with fingers, as evidenced by the smudgy ink fingerprints that had appeared all over the room.

The gravely disturbing sight of a rope secured to a bedpost and hanging out of a window was instantly recognized by the Monavians. In addition to the bloody display that had been left upon the front gate, they now had a murder-suicide to contend with. The ghastly message, written upon the mirror in the ink from the smashed inkwell, showed signs that betrayal was in the air.

The spymaster then discovered the shattered bottle of holy water on the floor nearby. Grunovich quickly procured a match from his cloak, lit it, and threw it down on the holy water, which burst into flames and vaporized almost instantly. He turned to the Monavians and said, “We must get back to the King at once.”

"What in God's name is that?" asked Queen Elizabeth, growing more distraught. The group soon made their way through the castle, reaching the courtyard. While on the way, King Charles hastily spoke of Lorenzo's meeting with them.

"Sir Grunovich, Lorenzo of Dojutyar wanted us to meet him over the issue of a Jewish sect which he called the 'Zealots'. He spent some time lamenting over his condition, spraying his noxious holy water all over the room. It did little to help my breathing, to say the least.

"He said that the Archbishop was the leader of a group called the Silverhelms, which he claimed was operating in parishes located throughout the Dominion. He also claims that Sir Fitzhebnry was coerced by the Zealots to assassinate Prince Peter, and that they are also responsible for killing Prince Leopold. He finally demanded that a large sum of money was paid to them to continue their operations against the Zealots." he said, as they reached the bottom of the front staircase.

They hurried back to the courtyard, which had now been decorated with banners bearing emblems of the Cotenshirick Eagle. The King was inspecting the decorations as well as some of the meats that had been cooked for dinner. Upon seeing the return of Sir Grunovich and the Monavians, he appeared overjoyed. “My guests! Why do you hurry so? You could’ve stayed and mingled with whoever that was for a few moments longer. I would not have been offended. Indeed, we have a great deal of time to discuss whatever it is we must discuss between us.”

Sir Grunovich, who had now made his way down the staircase and up to the King, said, “Now is not the time for niceties, Your Majesty. Have you seen anything strange in our absence.”

The King thought for a moment. “Yes, there was one bizarre incident around here. But anyway, are you going to be staying for the night?”

“Come, Your Majesty, what happened?”

The King looked taken aback. “Sir Grunovich, please, I asked you if you were staying to-night. I must know, since we do not have as many meats here at this palace as at my others, so I do not want to have some prepared for you if you will not be here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I am staying for the night. Now what was it that you saw?”

His Majesty paused. “I forgot.”

“Sir, you must know!”

A servant suddenly came to the King and presented him a shotgun. “Here is the weapon you told me to fetch you, Your Majesty.”

But Grunovich snatched the shotgun from the servant before the King made a grab for it. “What is going on?” asked the spymaster incredulously.

“Sir Grunovich, hand me that at once. I have had it with your insub...hold on a second, I think this has reminded me what had happened.” The King turned and looked up at the banners. “Yes, look there, Sir Grunovich. A wasp’s nest.”

“That was what was strange, my liege?”

“Well, yes. While hanging up these banners, six of the labourers saw the wasps nest and attempted to bat it down with sticks. Unfortunately, a wasp stung them and they all died. So I ordered for this shotgun so I could shoot it down. Give it here.”

“No! My Liege! Those wasps have obviously been fed poison, and their sting is now lethal. Leave it alone for a few minutes and I will personally clear it out later.”

The disconcerting dialogue between King William and Sir Grunovich added to the cloud of apprehension that had begun to fill the minds of those present. Mr. Carter and Queen Elizabeth were speaking about the meeting, so that Mr. Carter would receive the details, and the disguised guard watched with increasing alarm as he paced around the perimeter of the courtyard.

Grunovich motioned to the Monavians as well as Lord Sebastien. “Gather around here. I am afraid that something wicked is afoot. Here is what we must do. I want all of you to go immediately to the bedrooms that I assign you. There you will be placed under heavy security by my own detail of guards. This is for maximum security until I am able to determine our next—“

“AAAAGGGGHHHH!!”

Sir Grunovich and the others wheeled around. The cry had come from one of the servants, who was now writhing on the ground in agony. Several of the other servants were also suffering convulsions and flinging themselves around in pain. Blood was seeping out from their sweat pores, and was gushing in fierce streams out of every bodily orifice. Occasionally, as blood pressure built up, minor explosions would occur from under their flesh, blowing blood all over the scene.

After one man’s eyeball burst, the King exclaimed, “Oh my God, this is horrifying. Someone clean this up at once! I cannot have the others seeing my courtyard in this manner. You, there, go die outside, please.”

They did as their King asked, or at least they did so to the best of their ability under their seething pain. Lord Sebastien grabbed Sir Grunovich’s shoulder. “Is this more wasp stings?” asked he, his voice quivering in obvious terror.

As this dreadful sight unfolded before the Monavians, they backed away, toward the staircase, as if to retreat from a hidden danger. "I believe that something far more sinister, and certainly more vile, is clearly afoot here!" exclaimed the distressed Queen, before screaming as an exploding mass of flesh which sprayed the snow in front of her with crimson blotches. Mr. Carter turned around as if to look upon the place of refuge, that was Inverness Castle, a citidel of the the days long gone by, only to see its apparent security evaporate as the carnage increased around him.

“No, the toxin causing this display is CMX Blood Sarin. It cannot be passed through the sting of a wasp, but is instead airborne.” Grunovich’s calm demeanor contrasted dramatically with the scene of chaos that had unfolded around them. Even the King had become hysterical and was calling out for his guards to shoot these men.

“Everyone, stop!” yelled Grunovich. “Your Majesties, Monavian guests, you need not worry about this poison. I had laced your wine with the antidote earlier, and you are as good as immune to it. I am afraid, however, that we must isolate you. Especially you two, King Charles and Queen Elizabeth. The CMX Blood Sarin had somehow been mixed into Dojutyar’s holy water, and when he sprayed it, the less dense chemical agent separated itself out from the water. It then condensed itself on your clothing, and it vaporized once you came out into the sun.”

He quickly added, “I should be able to wash your clothes of it clean in a few minutes.”

The notion that Dojutyar was merely a trifling pawn in this despicable game of assassinations and violence that the Zealots had been playing greatly sicked the countenance of King Charles. His face had alternated rapidly between ivory and vermillion, flushing one color or the other as anger faded into distress, and then back into a raging contempt for those who would dare to make an attempt upon his life, or that on anyone else.

"We must make our way into the castle at once!" he roared, running toward the staircase, followed by his wife and Mr. Carter, and leaving Sir Grunovich to contend with the disaster unfolding in the snowy courtyard.

The disguised guard, meanwhile, was hit multiple times by the flailing servants, some falling upon him in their fatal agony. One particularly burly servant hit him in the face, nearly knocking him asunder, and cutting his lip open, so that his blood began to drip from the wound upon the snow, already dyed with the copious scenes of red death. He collapsed into the snow, and feigning death as he crawled into the doorway of a building, he snuck himself inside, and rested upon sacks of flour and wheat stacked there.

If the man had hit him any higher upon his face, his nose would have been broken. Such would have been worse than his actual injury. His prediciment was now only more dire.

It was well known that he loved wine, perhaps too much, and was sometimes accused of intemperance. Yet, his sin saved his life, for he had drunk the remainder of the Queen's wine as she was leaving the land yacht. Her glass, still containing a few sips, was too much for him to resist; naturally, he had inadvertantly consumed a portion of the antedote. Still living, he could only watch as runnels of blood flowed from those unfortunate enough to die the slowest.

He then confronted the King. “Your Majesty, get a hold of yourself. I need you to order the mobilization of the 1st Alderney Regiment.”

“But that regiment consists of almost one thousand men!”

“I must quickly reinforce our garrison here, and that is the closest regiment that we have to Inverness. Now, before you retreat to your bedroom, I need you to write the order of mobilization.”

“Very well. I hope this is all cleared up before dinner,” said the King.

“You can forget about a formal dinner for now,” said Grunovich. “I will most likely keep all of you under intense security throughout the entire night.”

Lord Sebastien, who had been breathing heavily and observing the chaos, finally opened his mouth to speak. “Sir Grunovich, we are all going to die, aren’t we?”

“Our enemy is indeed cunning,” growled Grunovich, “But you are safe in my hands.”

As the theree men in thecourtyard ascended the steps, the Monavian royals had already filed inside, while Mr. Carter held open the door. They then went in, as the last victims of the horrific attack perished upon the cold ground.

Inside the medieval Norman building, the disguised guard cleaned and bandaged his lip, until it quit bleeding, which did not take very long. He then closed the door, barricading it with a few items that could be removed if the need to escape arose. He readied his pistol and ammunition, and lay in wait for any assassins who might arrive perchance to inspect the success or failure of their work.

He sent a coded message to his fellow soldiers in the snowy cave on the lake, routing it through several satellites using a scrambling sequence, so that both the locations of the sender and reciever could not be traced, and then sent a relay order to the airport.

An attempt has been made upon the lives of King Charles, Queen Elizabeth, Mr. Carter, and several others, including Lord Chancellor Sebastien and King William.

The assassins have so far killed none of their primary targets, but this means that they may approach my new position, so that they may inspect the state of their work.

I will continue to moniter the site while you prepare for the night. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR POSITION.

Down by the lake, in the snow cave, two men lay concealed behind a small, inconspicuous mound of snow hiding the entrance to their cave, behind which they could safely look out for possible intruders. One of them received hte message, and quietly nodded to the other, before showing it to him.

Inside, the decision was made by the unit leader to disable the prisoner, so that they may later interrogate him. He procured a small steel case, largh enought to fit a pair of eyegalsses inside, and unlocked it with a miniature key, and removed several small vials from it, along with a small piece of paper with some instructions printed on it. He walked outside, while one of the two men took his place.

He mixed the contents of the vials together inside one empty one, and then poured a small aamount of this odorless ether upon a small handkerchief. It was only enough to knock out the spy for half an hour, but that was enough time to remove his cyanide pill and wny weapons that may be hidden on his person.

He walked inside, telling the man that he had a spot on his face, and wiped it away gently with the handkerchief, before rubbing it on his nose to remove some grime which he claimed was stuck quite well to the skin. by then, he had breathed in enough to feel sleepy, and in five minutes, after the handkerchief was back in the leader's pocket, the spy was asleep. They then disarmed him of his pill.

OOC:

Someone clean this up at once! I cannot have the others seeing my courtyard in this manner. You, there, go die outside, please.”

CANNOT STOP LAUGHING!!!!

Also, are you interested in RPing the actions of the spy?

Also, are you interested in RPing the actions of the spy?

(OOC: Well, there will not be much to RP concerning him, as you shall see…)

As the Monavian team searched the unconscious spy, they found an arsenal of guns, daggers, and the like. But also concealed among his belongings was an opened letter, which read thus:

Dear Monavians,

If you are reading this, then that means you have foolishly attempted to knock out my henchman in some way. While you revel in your newfound weapons, one of you ought check the poor soul’s pulse. I’ll wait.

What is this? He is dead? You are all fools, for implanted in this minion were devices that severed key blood vessels in his heart when his pulse dropped to hibernation levels. Now you have a corpse that is transmitting a radio signal from your location. Enjoy your last minutes on Earth.

Before you go, you might like to know the condition of your beloved monarchs. They are being held at Inverness Castle under the supposed protection of Sir Grunovich. He will surely place them in one of the "secure" hidden bedrooms of Inverness.

I will pay a visit to them there, and I am sure they are just dying to meet me. Wouldn’t it be terrible if something were to happen to them tonight?

At the bottom of the letter was written a line in that same cryptic Hebrew code that had been observed on the mysterious drawings of King William.



Back at Inverness, about an hour had passed since the mass deaths had occurred in the courtyard. Grunovich and his team were busily accounting for everyone, and he had finally found the Monavians in the room that they had boarded up.

“The Zealots,” said Grunovich. “You said that he had mentioned the Zealots…I am not sure what role Bojutyar had in what transpired here, but even I admit that the Zealots are a likely suspect. Their workings are intensely secretive and clandestine, and they have been known to pull off elaborate plots. The large scale on which security has been breached today is unprecedented, however. I have managed to once again gain control, but I am not sure what happened to cause all of this.”

Suddenly, King William stormed into the room. “Sir Grunovich, I am concerned.”

“As am I Your Majesty, but I believe that I now have it all worked out.”

“You have it all worked out? How can you have it all worked out? My guests are worried that we will not have enough cooks to prepare the feast tonight and here you are prattling on to the Monavians?”

“There will be no feast, Your Majesty. We will separate all of our guests and put them in separate rooms. We will go into full security lock down.”

“Fine. But will we be able to go hunting tomorrow?”

“Doubtful,” said Grunovich.

“Grunovich, I have not been hunting in six days now. I have never gone that long without a good hunt since adolescence. I crave the crisp winter air and the thrill of the hunt.”

“I think you could agree, Your Majesty, that we could use less thrills around here.”

“All they have done so far is murder servants. Any lowlife ruffian can kill a servant. I am a king.”

“Whoever villain this is has shown himself to be quite cunning. His plot may have already been foiled, or it may still be unfolding. Until I have some kind of concrete intelligence, we must remain vigilant.”

“Sir Grunovich, you are the greatest spymaster to have ever lived. We honestly need not worry. I might as well be immortal when you are around.”

“My competence only comes from my ability to do what needs to be done, and right now what needs to be done is a full lockdown of the castle. Have you written your order to mobilize the 1st Alderney Regiment?”

“Yes, here it is.” The King handed a sealed envelope to Sir Grunovich.

“Thank you, my liege. The regiment is currently stationed in a garrison just beyond the mountain pass, and if they march double-time then they should arrive by late this evening. Now, follow Sir Ripthorpe. He will lead you to your assigned room in which you shall spend the rest of today and the night.”

The King indignantly complied, and he and Sir Ripthorpe walked off.

Sir Grunovich turned to the Monavians. “Now, I shall personally lead you to your room, since it is located behind a lock for which only I know the combination. We shall rendezvous there with Sir Ripthorpe, and he will personally guard you throughout the night while I look after the King. But after I leave you at your room, we will not be able to discuss anything else until tomorrow morning. Are there any fears that you need me to put to rest?”

Snip, first bit.

The guards had begun to arm themselves with the weapons they found on the body of the dead man. The leader took the letter and hid it in his coat pocket.

The leader ordered four of the men to carry the body outside of the cave, and throw it into the snow about a hundred feet away from the entrance, and bury it in the thick snow. Since the entrance to the snowdrift cave was on the opposite side from the shore, the advancing party was concealed all of the way towards their destination. Within five minutes, they had completed their task. Now, the attackers would have to follow a the signal to a different location.

The leader sent a coded message back to the personnel stationed at the airport, employing the same scrambling device to prevent the tracking of their communications.

Immediately scramble the F-35s and dispatch them to our position, and keep a lookout for ground troops and missile strikes.

He also sent a message to the hidden guard at Inverness.

Enter the castle and find Sir Grunovich, and notify him that he must change the location where they will be kept. Their selected location may be compromised.

Finally, he sent a message to Mr. Carter, who possessed a similar coding device, which had been given to them.

Mr. Carter, your position is in danger of being detected. Upon the body of the spy, there was a letter which specified that the insurgents' agent will find you!

Snip, second bit.

At the airport, the planes were taking off as quickly as possible, scanning for possible missile strikes. Air-to-air missiles were primed to fire upon any airborne attack, and the second set of fighters, F-22s, was being readied. Due to the nature of the events which had transpired, all troops had been kept on heightened alert.

At Inverness, King Charles recounted the story of the meeting with Dojutyar in explicit detail to Sir Grunovich. Mr. Carter sat near Queen Elizabeth, quietly reading the message that he had received. He said nothing yet, waiting for opportunity to manifest itself.

Airport security officials radioed to the Monavian fighters: “Sirs, desist your operations immediately and land. You are unauthorized for takeoff. Turn and align your planes for landing immediately.”

----------------------------------

The sun had come down from the sky and was almost completely below the horizon when the Monavians heard a shuffling sound in the snows above them. Suddenly, the roof of their cave began to collapse. A giant mountain grizzly, weighing almost a ton, crashed through the snow almost immediately after it had begun to dig through it. The beast began swinging its massive paws at the Monavians, but it had become stuck in the hole and was having difficulty extricating itself.

----------------------------------

Back at Inverness, Grunovich was talking to the Monavians as he led them to their room. “Something about your confrontation with Dojutyar seems odd,” noted Sir Grunovich, “but I cannot pinpoint what it is. Are you sure that you are telling me the conversation exactly as it occurred?”

When King Charles responded that he had, Grunovich continued. “Well, I had some time to examine his corpse in the past hour. Everything about it seemed normal, or at least normal for a leper. He had a few bruises on his body, but aside from that, there was nothing wrong. A quick blood sample also did not turn up anything of note. Of course, if I had more time I could’ve done a more accurate blood sample, but I doubt I would have found anything.”

The group met up with Sir Ripthorpe in a small parlour deep within the castle. From there they went down several flights of stairs and came upon a rather large hall with a checkerboard pattern floor and several large mirrors along the walls. They walked about halfway down the room when Grunovich stopped and pulled on one of the mirrors. It opened like a door, revealing what appeared to be a safe behind it.

“Just one second, Yer Majesties.” Before turning the combination dial, Grunovich pressed a button on it which revealed in the center of the dial a retina scanner. After scanning his right eye, Grunovich entered the combination on the lock. The door swung open, revealing a small safe. Grunovich scanned his retina again on the open door, and then pressed into the bottom of the safe. A tight passageway opened.

“I hope you are not claustrophobic,” said Grunovich. “But do not worry yourselves. It is just a short drop. Sir Ripthorpe, why don’t you go in first and help our guests when they drop down.”

“Certainly.” Sir Ripthorpe climbed into the safe and lowered himself through the opening in the bottom. The Monavians then entered through the safe, followed by Sir Grunovich. They had dropped down into dark catacombs and were now deep beneath the level of the courtyard. Grunovich lead them through the passage and several columns of medieval stone staircases. The bones of thousands of medieval people were interred in the walls surrounding them.

They came to a statue of six men gathered around a pike that had a head impaled upon it. Grunovich crept towards the statue, seemingly paying close attention to which stones he stepped on. He searched the statue, and out of a slot in the statue’s base he procured a large gold key. They then travelled back through the maze and came upon what seemed to be the end.

It was an enormous room with a giant chasm separating the two sides. On the side of the chasm to the far end of the room was a door with a large keyhole that the key was evidently meant for. The side of the chasm that the group was on was separated into two halves. On the left was a circus merry-go-round and on the right was the layout of a full symphony orchestra with every instrument placed in its seat.

“This is the tricky part,” said Grunovich. “Hold this.” He gave Sir Ripthorpe the key and led them over to the merry-go-round. “Alright, I need all of you for this. Each of you shall sit on the assigned horse on this merry-go-round, since the mechanism to lower the rope bridge will not be activated unless your weight is applied on the requisite horses. He led each of them to specific horses on the merry-go-round and had them sit there. As they sat, the horses fell a few inches under their weight and locked into place.

Sir Grunovich then made his way over to the orchestra’s piano, and began playing the fourth movement of Alvise’s Sonata #2. As he played, the merry-go-round began to spin, and a rope bridge was lowered from the ceiling inch by inch. After about seven minutes, Sir Grunovich completed the piece. “It is okay to dismount your horses now,” said he. “Come over here.”

They made their way to the rope bridge. Grunovich pulled down on the support cables. “It appears to be stable,” he began, “but if I had played a single wrong note this would not support our weight. Now, let us carefully make our weight across. I would advise you not to look down.”

But as they made their way across, it was difficult not to look down. Several embers fluttered up from under them, and it was clear if one of them were to look down that their room was embedded in the ceiling of an active volcano’s magma chamber. A sea of magma simmered nearly a hundred feet below them.

“It would also be wise not to look up, either.” As he said this, several giant basalt bats fluttered above in their roosts just a few feet above their heads. Their wingspan was over two feet long and their razor sharp fangs appeared menacing in the red light of the magma.

Once they had crossed the rope bridge, Sir Grunovich took the key, forced it into the key hole, and turned it. As he did so, the rope bridge was released from the ceiling and plunged into the magma below. “Don’t worry, that’s to be expected,” said Grunovich. The panel in the center of the door into which Grunovich had plugged the key swung up to reveal a number pad.

Grunovich stared quizzically at the number pad for a few seconds. “Say, Sir Ripthorpe, do you remember the birthday of King Humphrey I?”

Sir Ripthorpe gulped. “I am afraid that I do not…”

Grunovich pounded the door in frustration. “Confound it! I thought were had been lucky to not encounter the tigers back in the maze. I—Oh, never mind, I just recalled it.” He punched in the numbers on the keypad and the door opened to reveal the bedroom.

“I hope I remembered to change your sheets,” muttered Grunovich.

(OOC: I think this is enough to respond to for one post. In anticipation of a reply to the effect of your character’s protesting the bedroom chosen by Grunovich due to the content of the letter, here is Grunovich’s response. If you decide not to post anything about that, then just ignore it.)

Sir Grunovich said, “Whoever hid that letter on the spy must have known that you could receive transmissions from your guards. The fact of the matter is that the two bedrooms that I am allocating to both you and King William are the most secure places in the castle. By placing those words in the letter, our enemy is trying to get me to place you in a less secure area. We must not fall for it.”

Airport security officials radioed to the Monavian fighters: “Sirs, desist your operations immediately and land. You are unauthorized for takeoff. Turn and align your planes for landing immediately.”

The squadron leader sent a simple reply to the tower. "We have reason to believe that a possible breach of security has taken place, however, our suspicions have been shown to be false." he siad, noticing that there were no signs of any attack.

"We will be making a return to the landing site."

The planes soon landed and were sent back to their hangers. Several of the pilots were noticably frustrated by the false alarm and went off to their quarters, where they began to drink liquor and play cards. Some of the more scrupuklous ones refrained from the activity, and asked they they ceased after some thime so that they may be sober in time for their return to duty.

The sun had come down from the sky and was almost completely below the horizon when the Monavians heard a shuffling sound in the snows above them. Suddenly, the roof of their cave began to collapse. A giant mountain grizzly, weighing almost a ton, crashed through the snow almost immediately after it had begun to dig through it. The beast began swinging its massive paws at the Monavians, but it had become stuck in the hole and was having difficulty extricating itself.

After the bear had fallen through the roof of the cave, the guards fled out the front, drawing their guns and training them upon the beast. One of them removed a tranquilizer round from his pack, loading it into his rifle. It was not a round meant for a bear, but rather for taking down suspect individuals. However, he had more then one, and after passing them out to four of his companions, they all fired in unison at the unprotected portion of the bear. It would be a few minutes before it was fully knocked out.

Back at Inverness, Grunovich was talking to the Monavians as he led them to their room. “Something about your confrontation with Dojutyar seems odd,” noted Sir Grunovich, “but I cannot pinpoint what it is. Are you sure that you are telling me the conversation exactly as it occurred?”

When King Charles responded that he had, Grunovich continued. “Well, I had some time to examine his corpse in the past hour. Everything about it seemed normal, or at least normal for a leper. He had a few bruises on his body, but aside from that, there was nothing wrong. A quick blood sample also did not turn up anything of note. Of course, if I had more time I could’ve done a more accurate blood sample, but I doubt I would have found anything.”

By now, the disguised guard had reached the place where the Monavians were at. He entered the room, and knocked on a wooden table next to him. "Mr. Carter, I must have a word with you." he said.

Mr. Carter was quite stunned to see him, thinking that he had perished as a result of being exposed to the poison gas. "No, the antedote which Grunovich spoke about was in that bit of wine I drank, and (don't tell Her Imperial Majesty), it was the remainder of hers. I feked death to hide in one of the out buildings, and look out for more assassins."

Mr. Carter then looked at Sir Grunovich. "This was a hidden guard, assigned to afford us his protection at this time." The guard then beckoned for Mr. Carter to follow hi out of the room. Out of soght, he gave him his silenced pistol and two magazines. "Conceal them as well as you can. I will wait here."

The group met up with Sir Ripthorpe in a small parlour deep within the castle. From there they went down several flights of stairs and came upon a rather large hall with a checkerboard pattern floor and several large mirrors along the walls. They walked about halfway down the room when Grunovich stopped and pulled on one of the mirrors. It opened like a door, revealing what appeared to be a safe behind it.

“Just one second, Yer Majesties.” Before turning the combination dial, Grunovich pressed a button on it which revealed in the center of the dial a retina scanner. After scanning his right eye, Grunovich entered the combination on the lock. The door swung open, revealing a small safe. Grunovich scanned his retina again on the open door, and then pressed into the bottom of the safe. A tight passageway opened.

“I hope you are not claustrophobic,” said Grunovich. “But do not worry yourselves. It is just a short drop. Sir Ripthorpe, why don’t you go in first and help our guests when they drop down.”

"I see no reason why it will be difficult to enter the opening, since it was built to accommodate the passage of important people."

“Certainly.” Sir Ripthorpe climbed into the safe and lowered himself through the opening in the bottom. The Monavians then entered through the safe, followed by Sir Grunovich. They had dropped down into dark catacombs and were now deep beneath the level of the courtyard. Grunovich lead them through the passage and several columns of medieval stone staircases. The bones of thousands of medieval people were interred in the walls surrounding them.

They came to a statue of six men gathered around a pike that had a head impaled upon it. Grunovich crept towards the statue, seemingly paying close attention to which stones he stepped on. He searched the statue, and out of a slot in the statue’s base he procured a large gold key. They then travelled back through the maze and came upon what seemed to be the end.

While they all proceeded through the maze, Mr. Carter told Sir Grunovich and Sir Ripthorpe about his conversation with the messender the previous night, though he said nothing of being with Sebastien at the time or any other similar details. He then asked if either of them knew anything else about the sects and so forth.

Meanwhile, the royal couple looked upon the piles of bones, occasionally stopping to examine ones which appeared unusual. Some elaborate arrangements of skulls and smaller bones appeared to have been built with an artistic spirit in mind.

It was an enormous room with a giant chasm separating the two sides. On the side of the chasm to the far end of the room was a door with a large keyhole that the key was evidently meant for. The side of the chasm that the group was on was separated into two halves. On the left was a circus merry-go-round and on the right was the layout of a full symphony orchestra with every instrument placed in its seat.

“This is the tricky part,” said Grunovich. “Hold this.” He gave Sir Ripthorpe the key and led them over to the merry-go-round. “Alright, I need all of you for this. Each of you shall sit on the assigned horse on this merry-go-round, since the mechanism to lower the rope bridge will not be activated unless your weight is applied on the requisite horses. He led each of them to specific horses on the merry-go-round and had them sit there. As they sat, the horses fell a few inches under their weight and locked into place.

The design was quite amusing to the Monavians, who had never before witnessed such a complicated way of securing a part of the castle.

Sir Grunovich then made his way over to the orchestra’s piano, and began playing the fourth movement of Alvise’s Sonata #2. As he played, the merry-go-round began to spin, and a rope bridge was lowered from the ceiling inch by inch. After about seven minutes, Sir Grunovich completed the piece. “It is okay to dismount your horses now,” said he. “Come over here.”

They made their way to the rope bridge. Grunovich pulled down on the support cables. “It appears to be stable,” he began, “but if I had played a single wrong note this would not support our weight. Now, let us carefully make our weight across. I would advise you not to look down.”

But as they made their way across, it was difficult not to look down. Several embers fluttered up from under them, and it was clear if one of them were to look down that their room was embedded in the ceiling of an active volcano’s magma chamber. A sea of magma simmered nearly a hundred feet below them.


The chamber was quite warm, as the magma heated the place up, however, the roof was probably quite cold. Mr. Carter, who did not like to be in the heat of the room for very long, walked quickly across the bridge, looking down to watch for any places where he best not step.

“It would also be wise not to look up, either.” As he said this, several giant basalt bats fluttered above in their roosts just a few feet above their heads. Their wingspan was over two feet long and their razor sharp fangs appeared menacing in the red light of the magma.

Once they had crossed the rope bridge, Sir Grunovich took the key, forced it into the key hole, and turned it. As he did so, the rope bridge was released from the ceiling and plunged into the magma below. “Don’t worry, that’s to be expected,” said Grunovich. The panel in the center of the door into which Grunovich had plugged the key swung up to reveal a number pad.

Upon hearing the fluttering of the bats, Mr. Carter curiously looked up. "Large bats." he muttered, unconcerned about them. He figured that there would be something living there, but then, upon realizing that the bats were many in number and of such great size, he began to think that it would be best not to draw their attention.

When he saw the rope bridge fall, he commented, "Sir Grunovich, you do realize that you will need a new bridge."

Grunovich stared quizzically at the number pad for a few seconds. “Say, Sir Ripthorpe, do you remember the birthday of King Humphrey I?”

Sir Ripthorpe gulped. “I am afraid that I do not…”

Grunovich pounded the door in frustration. “Confound it! I thought were had been lucky to not encounter the tigers back in the maze. I—Oh, never mind, I just recalled it.” He punched in the numbers on the keypad and the door opened to reveal the bedroom.

“I hope I remembered to change your sheets,” muttered Grunovich.

"If not, there should be some spare linens." said the queen.

The grizzly thrashed about in the snow, but was too heavy to emerge from the newly created hole. In its few remaining moments of consciousness, the bear slammed its claws into the ice. The repeated poundings caused the ice to fracture and slip.

Several large shards of ice jutted upward due to the pressure, and the Monavians would have to be careful not to get skewered on the or otherwise injured by them. Equally massive chunks fell down through the new cracks and into the water, creating spouts of frigid water that came up through the cracks.

Before long, the ice in the area had become completely shattered and was floating around in pieces, with the Monavians stranded in the middle. The bear had sunk below into the depths and would surely drown, but that was not the end of their problems. The floating slabs of ice were still violently spinning and crashing into each other.

While the Monavians were attempting to find their level footing, an arm emerged from the water and lobbed a grenade on to their slab of ice.

--------------------------------------------

When he saw the rope bridge fall, he commented, "Sir Grunovich, you do realize that you will need a new bridge."

“Do not worry about me. I can lower another rope bridge from the ceiling on this side.”

The first thing that one would notice in the bedroom was the windows on the walls that showed a view of the three surrounding rooms.

“Not windows,” explained Sir Grunovich, “but one way mirrors. We can see them, but they cannot see us. Do not worry about the glass. It is seven-inch-thick plate glass, and will probably withstand even heavy artillery. You are safe in here.”

The first room, on the wall to the left of the entrance, appeared to be a kitchen. There were several servants in it drinking whiskey and turning meat on spits. In the second room, which was straight ahead, was evidently a sitting room. There was a piano in it along with several chairs and the walls were covered in the heads of various animals killed during hunts. The final room, to the right, was another bedroom. The Monavians would be able to recognize Lord Sebastien lying in the bed, with a woman who was evidently his wife sitting in front of the window and removing her makeup.

There were several beds in the room, all of which were very luxurious. Grunovich inspected all of them and then spoke. “Unless you have any questions, I must now leave. King William is waiting. Sir Ripthorpe will stay here alert throughout the night to keep watch.” Sir Ripthorpe nodded, and showed his rifle to Grunovich.

“I bid you good night,” said the spymaster before walking out and closing the door.

(OOC: Would you be opposed to your fighter planes being blown up (or at least rendered temporarily unflyable in some way)?)

IC:

The grizzly thrashed about in the snow, but was too heavy to emerge from the newly created hole. In its few remaining moments of consciousness, the bear slammed its claws into the ice. The repeated poundings caused the ice to fracture and slip.

Several large shards of ice jutted upward due to the pressure, and the Monavians would have to be careful not to get skewered on the or otherwise injured by them. Equally massive chunks fell down through the new cracks and into the water, creating spouts of frigid water that came up through the cracks.

The Monavian guards had by now ran a good thirty yards from the site of the bear, taking with them what little equipment they had set up in the preceding hours. The ice fractured around the snowdrift, allowing the whole mass to break up and sink into the water.

Before long, the ice in the area had become completely shattered and was floating around in pieces, with the Monavians stranded in the middle. The bear had sunk below into the depths and would surely drown, but that was not the end of their problems. The floating slabs of ice were still violently spinning and crashing into each other.

The ice had broke up into pieces that ranged from a few feet across to almost several fathoms. the Monavians were separated into two groups, their ice sheets both moving toward the edge of the intact lake surface.

While the Monavians were attempting to find their level footing, an arm emerged from the water and lobbed a grenade on to their slab of ice.


The ice, still tipping to one side or another, became awash in places with the cold water of the lake. As the two ice floats came together, colliding, the Monavians from the smaller sheet ran over to the larger sheet, which was still stable, and had a layer of snow which was providing friction to give them a better footing. The grenade, however, changed the whole game.

Upon seeing the arm emerge from the water, the group separated, jumping to any nearby sheet that was adjacent to theirs. The grenade slid to the far side of the sheet, as it tipped over to one side and partially submerged, causing some of the snow to be washed off. It exploded, spraying a lethal barrage of shrapnel around the vicinity of the blast. One guard remained on the other side of the sheet, protected only by a pile of snow a foot high.

The pellets inside fractured the sheet, shattering it apart into many small pieces. The stranded man was grazed in several places by the flying pellets, some hitting his light body armor, which stopped the shrapnel, and some tearing into his pack, damaging his provisions and tearing it open, so that things began to fall out.

He got up, his pack nearly shredded, and l;ept from the ice as it broke up beneath him, jumping onto the unbroken ice. He then crawled away for about ten yards, training hois gun and checking himself for any serious wounds.

The others were also soprayed by the blast, some being lucky and sustaining no injuries, and some being hit from distances of ten or fifteen yards, where the fragments were more spread out and caused minor injuries. The shock wave from the blast propelled the ice sheets away from it, allowing the other Monavian guards to begin their retreat toward the shore.

“Do not worry about me. I can lower another rope bridge from the ceiling on this side.”

The first thing that one would notice in the bedroom was the windows on the walls that showed a view of the three surrounding rooms.

“Not windows,” explained Sir Grunovich, “but one way mirrors. We can see them, but they cannot see us. Do not worry about the glass. It is seven-inch-thick plate glass, and will probably withstand even heavy artillery. You are safe in here.”

The first room, on the wall to the left of the entrance, appeared to be a kitchen. There were several servants in it drinking whiskey and turning meat on spits. In the second room, which was straight ahead, was evidently a sitting room. There was a piano in it along with several chairs and the walls were covered in the heads of various animals killed during hunts. The final room, to the right, was another bedroom. The Monavians would be able to recognize Lord Sebastien lying in the bed, with a woman who was evidently his wife sitting in front of the window and removing her makeup.

There were several beds in the room, all of which were very luxurious. Grunovich inspected all of them and then spoke. “Unless you have any questions, I must now leave. King William is waiting. Sir Ripthorpe will stay here alert throughout the night to keep watch.” Sir Ripthorpe nodded, and showed his rifle to Grunovich.

“I bid you good night,” said the spymaster before walking out and closing the door.

The Monavians entered, looking about as they inspected the rooms. They appeared to be in perfect working order. They all bade good night to Sir Grunovich, and then began to settle in for dinner.

Mr. Carter knocked on Lord Sebastien's door, to make known his presence, before going back to the kitchen to look at the food being prepared for the night.

OOC:

(OOC: Would you be opposed to your fighter planes being blown up (or at least rendered temporarily unflyable in some way)?)

Since the planes are separated into more than one hanger, it would be difficult to attack them all. However, as most of the guards are preparing for dinner and many others are away in the barracks, it will be easier to slip saboteurs into the hanger(s).

Here are some ideas :


Perhaps planting a bomb in the building or damaging the ordinance carried on board would be the easiest, blowing up all of the planes would be quite hard, though.
Let the fuel out.
Try to steal some of them (not recommended, the saboteurs will probably get shot).
Somehow jam the hanger doors shut, so they they cannot be flown out.
Obstruct their passage out by parking some vehicles in front of the doors.
Set fire to the tanks used for refueling.
Shoot out the tires.
Glue down the triangular blocks used to keep the planes from rolling away.
Placing a pipe bomb near some of the ammunition crates.
Destroy some supports to collapse a part of the hanger roof.


Feel free to improvise and come up with your own ideas.

By this point, the portion of the lake had become a swirling mass of ice, water, and snow. A machine gunner from a hidden nest on the coast began firing towards to areas of most activity. The darkness of the water and whiteness of the snow prevented him from discerning human figures, though, and his heat vision scope was also misleading. He fired indiscriminately and hoped he hit one of them.

While this was happening, several other grenades were thrown up on to the ice by hidden divers below. Bullets and shrapnel fragments were slowed down too quickly in water, so as long as they stayed submerged, they were safe from projectiles.

-------------------------

(OOC: There are no doors or any other connections between the rooms that are seen through the one way mirror. It is simply for spying purposes.)

“Well, my friends,” said Sir Ripthorpe, “ I am sorry that we have to isolate you like this. It must be done for security purposes. Now, I have some food for you. I am sorry that it is not a dinner fit for a distinguished guest, but it should at least fill you up for the night.”

He procured a few roasted chickens as well as some bread, soup, and wine from an ice chest in the room. A fireplace heated the room in a corner hidden from the one way mirrors. Sir Ripthorpe prepared warm coal pans so that their beds could be heated throughout the night.

“This has been a rather frightening day, but you should know that Sir Grunovich has everything under control. This will all be over tomorrow, or so we hope. We will at least have a plan to implement by then.”

As the evening winded down, the servants put out the fire in their kitchen, drank whiskey together for another hour, and then left. Similarly, Lord Sebastien had a servant extinguish the fire in his room, and he too went to sleep. Finally, Sir Ripthorpe put out the fire in their hidden bedroom and took his place standing next to King Charles’ bed.

“I will be alert all night in the unlikely event that something occurs. I doubt anything will happen down here, but something might go awry elsewhere in the castle, and Sir Grunovich will alert me to that.”

Night came on, and the castle was temporarily at peace.

-------------------------

Back in Caen, the labourers at the Eastern Royal Airport were enjoying the end of another long, cold day with a festive gathering in the tavern. They were busy singing folk songs and engaging in innocent brawls when a cloaked man entered the low-lit pub. The man came towards a large table of labourers. “I understand that you fellows are workers at hangars at the west end of the airport.”

“Yessir, tha’s right,” said one of them jovially, sloshing his whiskey all over the table.

“What’s it to you?” asked one of his more sober friends.

“Me and my crew needed to get back to our hangars to check our fuel and secure the doors, but those brutish guards would not let us in—“

“And ye want us to let ye in?”

“Yes, exactly.”

The group erupted in raucous laughter. “Ye know’ee can’t do dat, siree.”

The cloaked man continued. “I’ll buy you each a gallon of whiskey.”

When the labourers entered through the gates and led the cloaked man and several of his associates to the hangars, they inspected the planes, including the Monavian fighters. They were stopped by some guards once, but the guards agreed to accompany them for a share of the booze.

The cloaked men got to work, draining all the planes of fuel before welding shut the locks on the hangar doors. A few pilots of some passenger planes in the hangars came out to protest, but the guards threatened them and they backed down. The planes were not owned by them, after all, and they had just been promised a pint of whiskey by the labourers.

When the spirited enterprise was complete, the labourers and guards went back to the tavern where they were lethally poisoned by the cloaked men.

By this point, the portion of the lake had become a swirling mass of ice, water, and snow. A machine gunner from a hidden nest on the coast began firing towards to areas of most activity. The darkness of the water and whiteness of the snow prevented him from discerning human figures, though, and his heat vision scope was also misleading. He fired indiscriminately and hoped he hit one of them.

While this was happening, several other grenades were thrown up on to the ice by hidden divers below. Bullets and shrapnel fragments were slowed down too quickly in water, so as long as they stayed submerged, they were safe from projectiles.

The Monavian guard upon the stable ice followed the shore of the ice sheet, heading towards his stranded companions. They were now getting close to the edge of the sheet, but their own piece was beginning to melt and break apart.

A grenade shattered a stretch of ice thirty feet behind the man on the ice, who dived to avoid the murderous hail of lead and steel. He lept from the ground and ducked behind a snowdrift, as bullets began to fly past his position, some hitting the edges of the snowdrift near his.

All the while, the floating sheet made its way towards the stable, one, and the guards began to disembark, but the bullets began to come closer and ricochet off of piles of snow and ice, some breaking off more chunks from the floating sheet. As the last guard left the sheet, now weighed down by water coming over its sides, they all began to run towards the nearest large snowdrift, one which was quite larger than the ones which they were hiding behind.

More pieces of shrapnel flew by, breaking up more portions of the ice sheet and sending pieces of ice and steel casing fragments in all directions. More pieces tore into the pack of the guard who was hit originally, and a piece of ice was sent flying by the blast toward the mass of guards, hitting one of them, and knocking him to the ground. He staggered up, only to fall again on the slippery surface.

In five minutes' time, they had all ran nearly a quarter of a mile away, but were still being shot at. Machine gun fire had come close again, and several rounds had ricocheted off of other iced-over snowdrifts and come close to them.

“Well, my friends,” said Sir Ripthorpe, “ I am sorry that we have to isolate you like this. It must be done for security purposes. Now, I have some food for you. I am sorry that it is not a dinner fit for a distinguished guest, but it should at least fill you up for the night.”

He procured a few roasted chickens as well as some bread, soup, and wine from an ice chest in the room. A fireplace heated the room in a corner hidden from the one way mirrors. Sir Ripthorpe prepared warm coal pans so that their beds could be heated throughout the night.

“This has been a rather frightening day, but you should know that Sir Grunovich has everything under control. This will all be over tomorrow, or so we hope. We will at least have a plan to implement by then.”

As the evening winded down, the servants put out the fire in their kitchen, drank whiskey together for another hour, and then left. Similarly, Lord Sebastien had a servant extinguish the fire in his room, and he too went to sleep. Finally, Sir Ripthorpe put out the fire in their hidden bedroom and took his place standing next to King Charles’ bed.

During dinner, the royals and Mr. Carter sat down at a table in the sitting room with Lord Sebastien and his wife. They conversed over dinner.

After everyone had retired, Mr. Carter extracted the pistol and magazines from his coat and placed them on the table next to his bed. He chose to stay awake until midnight, ocasionally resting, but remaining alert, so as to watch for any suspicious activity. He took his pistol off of the stand after about and hour, and slipped it into his pocket.

Back in Caen, the labourers at the Eastern Royal Airport were enjoying the end of another long, cold day with a festive gathering in the tavern. They were busy singing folk songs and engaging in innocent brawls when a cloaked man entered the low-lit pub. The man came towards a large table of labourers. “I understand that you fellows are workers at hangars at the west end of the airport.”

“Yessir, tha’s right,” said one of them jovially, sloshing his whiskey all over the table.

“What’s it to you?” asked one of his more sober friends.

“Me and my crew needed to get back to our hangars to check our fuel and secure the doors, but those brutish guards would not let us in—“

“And ye want us to let ye in?”

“Yes, exactly.”

The group erupted in raucous laughter. “Ye know’ee can’t do dat, siree.”

The cloaked man continued. “I’ll buy you each a gallon of whiskey.”

When the labourers entered through the gates and led the cloaked man and several of his associates to the hangars, they inspected the planes, including the Monavian fighters. They were stopped by some guards once, but the guards agreed to accompany them for a share of the booze.

The cloaked men got to work, draining all the planes of fuel before welding shut the locks on the hangar doors. A few pilots of some passenger planes in the hangars came out to protest, but the guards threatened them and they backed down. The planes were not owned by them, after all, and they had just been promised a pint of whiskey by the labourers.

When the spirited enterprise was complete, the labourers and guards went back to the tavern where they were lethally poisoned by the cloaked men.

During the night, at about 3:00 A.M., the Monavians were asleep in the barracks, with the notable exception of one man who had woken up and needed to use the latrines. He walked through one of the hangers, but seeing nothing wrong, he continued onward. He did, however, smell a lot of fuel, as if there had been some leaking.

Sure enough, he observed a small puddle, a few inches across, beneath one of the planes. He reasoned that it was due to a leak, and would notify the pilots in the morning.

Little was known about Frederick locke, the man who had been sent to the Dominion to observe Sir Fitzhenry's execution. He was still busy making his way toward Caen, and found himself at the airport at about midnight. He atrrived at the barracks, where he spoke briefly with a contact in the guards, and found for himself a spare bunk.

The machine gunner could see his prey now that they were running through the clean white snow drifts. The full moon had revealed itself by this point and a modest amount of light was available. It was almost impossible for him to hit them, however, because the distances were so far, and a machine gun was no sniper rifle.

The Monavians now faced the option of building another shelter in the snow drifts out on the ice or of crossing the lake and hoping the other shore was safer.

------------------------------------

(OOC: Lord Sebastien is not even aware that you are in this room. There is no connection between your bedroom and the kitchen, sitting room, or Sebastien’s room. This room is completely isolated from everything. There are only three one way mirrors that allow you to see them, but they cannot see you.)

Midnight came and went. The night hours passed. There was no light in the bedroom or in any of the adjacent rooms at this point, and, since there were no windows to the outside in any of these rooms, everything was pitch black. It was the extreme darkness that one could normally only experience in a cave. It was the complete and absolute absence of light.

The Monavians were woken at some deep hour of the night by a rapping noise on one of the one way mirrors. The noise persisted until all of the Monavians were awake. Sir Ripthorpe was conspicuously silent during this time.

Then, in Lord Sebastien’s room, a candle was lit. The candle had been placed on the vanity at which Lord Sebastien’s wife had sat hours before. It revealed standing in front of it the façade of Lorenzo of Dojutyar, his silver mask dancing in the flickering candle light. The shadows that it cast up on its cheeks made the face seem even more somber than it had been earlier.

In one hand, Dojutyar held a long dagger, which was dripping with fresh blood. In his other hand he held a severed arm, which was ghostly pale and also dripping with blood. The dagger was what had been tapping on the one way mirror, and its taps continued and increased in force.

Dojutyar then took his dagger and swished it around in the arm, gathering more blood on it. He proceeded to write four letters on the mirror in blood: “DOOM”

After completing his work, Dojutyar stood and glared through the mirror, shaking his head in a somber way. He then continued tapping on the mirror, his blows becoming increasingly violent and clamorous. He began to pace back and forth around the mirror, looking into it, searching it. He grabbed the candle, and moved it too around the mirror.

The candle shed light on what had been in a shadow under the mirror. Sir Ripthorpe lay dead in a pool of his blood, with a knife sticking through his chest. On the cylindrical handle of the knife was an emblem of a circle being pierced by a shepherd’s staff.

The machine gunner could see his prey now that they were running through the clean white snow drifts. The full moon had revealed itself by this point and a modest amount of light was available. It was almost impossible for him to hit them, however, because the distances were so far, and a machine gun was no sniper rifle.

The Monavians now faced the option of building another shelter in the snow drifts out on the ice or of crossing the lake and hoping the other shore was safer.

As the distance between the machine gunner and the fleeing guards increased further, they stopped about a half mile from their original place of shelter. There, they hid behind a snowdrift for a few minutes, catching their breaths, before running farther, attempting to stay hidden among the piles of snow and ice which dotted the surface of the lake. They soon found a snowdrift about a mile from the place where they were originally holed up, and prepared to create a shelter inside of the snowdrift there.

Midnight came and went. The night hours passed. There was no light in the bedroom or in any of the adjacent rooms at this point, and, since there were no windows to the outside in any of these rooms, everything was pitch black. It was the extreme darkness that one could normally only experience in a cave. It was the complete and absolute absence of light.

The Monavians were woken at some deep hour of the night by a rapping noise on one of the one way mirrors. The noise persisted until all of the Monavians were awake. Sir Ripthorpe was conspicuously silent during this time.

After being woken from their sleep, the king and queen washed their faces off with cold water from a bowl on top of a nightstand, and then dried themselves off, so as to view more clearly the source of the noise.

Then, in Lord Sebastien’s room, a candle was lit. The candle had been placed on the vanity at which Lord Sebastien’s wife had sat hours before. It revealed standing in front of it the façade of Lorenzo of Dojutyar, his silver mask dancing in the flickering candle light. The shadows that it cast up on its cheeks made the face seem even more somber than it had been earlier.

By now, all three were awake. They approached the window in order to see what image lay behind it. Being so thick and dimly lit, it was hard to see what was on the opposite side.

When they had gotten close enough to make out the shape of a tall man standing there, they came even closer to examine the features of his face. The silver mask made it appear opaque and plain, so much so that it could not immediately be recognized. However, upon seeing the hideous visage of Lorenzo of Dojutyar, and realizing whose it truly was, terror reigned in that room.

Mr. Carter, turning sheet white, stumbled backwards, clawing at his pocket where he had placed his pistol. He could not reach it immediately, but knew that shooting at plate glass whoich could withstand much greater forces was futile.

The royal couple merely stood aghast, too shocked to move. Surely Lorenzo was dead; they had seen his corpse hanging from a rope, far above the ground.

In one hand, Dojutyar held a long dagger, which was dripping with fresh blood. In his other hand he held a severed arm, which was ghostly pale and also dripping with blood. The dagger was what had been tapping on the one way mirror, and its taps continued and increased in force.

Dojutyar then took his dagger and swished it around in the arm, gathering more blood on it. He proceeded to write four letters on the mirror in blood: “DOOM”

After discerning that Dojutyar was the man behind the glass, they noticed the bloody dagger. They knew that he had killed someone, but who it was eluded them.

After completing his work, Dojutyar stood and glared through the mirror, shaking his head in a somber way. He then continued tapping on the mirror, his blows becoming increasingly violent and clamorous. He began to pace back and forth around the mirror, looking into it, searching it. He grabbed the candle, and moved it too around the mirror.

The candle shed light on what had been in a shadow under the mirror. Sir Ripthorpe lay dead in a pool of his blood, with a knife sticking through his chest.

The sight of Sir Ripthorpe, one of the best of King William's men, lying dead upon the floor of the dark chamber was too much for a lady of the queen's standing to bear. Shrieking violently, half mad and half horrified, she collapsed onto the floor and lay there, having fainted. Mr. Carter had by now backed away, and had drawn his gun, cocking it and aiming at the glass.

"Vengeance is mine!" he thundered, shooting at the figure in the window, as if to scare him off or attempt in some way to cause injury to Lorenzo.

On the cylindrical handle of the knife was an emblem of a circle being pierced by a shepherd’s staff.

Mr. Carter, then having seen the emblem on the handle of the knife, grew redder than the coals used to heat his bed, having seemingly left his fear and allowing himself to be consumed by a raging desire to destroy those responsible for this grusome act. He glared at Lorenzo, knowing that his attack had failed.

Almost rendered unable to speak by his now violent temper, exacerbated by the sight of the swooned queen, simply muttered, "Mark my words. The Shepards shall all perish."

After Carter had shot the glass, Dojutyar tilted his head back and shook, as if to engage in a hearty laugh. Whether or not he actually laughed could not be heard from inside the bedroom.

Dojutyar laughed again. Taking a washing basin on the vanity, he procured a rag and washed his hands of the blood, and then wiped clean the mirror and his dagger. He then resumed tapping it on the mirror. Despite being in such close proximity to the magma chamber, the rooms had become quite cold after the extinguishing of the fires. The air bit the skin with its frigid chill, and the temperature had surely dropped significantly. A cloud condensed after every breath of those inside the bedroom, although no cloud formed in front of Dojutyar's mouth.

Suddenly, the bedroom’s only door flew open. In strutted Wallenheim, with his long sword unsheathed and in attack position. In his left hand, he grasped a bloody eyeball. Seeing Dojutyar, he gasped. “My God, who is…no, we haven’t the time. All of you, follow me. Quickly. Run!”

He turned and fled back out of the door. Wallenheim had brought five of his halberdiers over the rope bridge of the magma pit, and about ten more waited on the other side. If needed, the Queen was carried by some of his halberdiers or by the Monavians themselves if they wished. Wallenheim dashed over the rope bridge, looking behind him to make sure that the Monavians were crossing safely.

Wallenheim’s enormous codpiece shimmered in the red light of the magma, and it seemed to have disturbed the bats that were dwelling above. The bats fell down upon them in a fierce swarm, and the Halberdiers began swinging their halberds at them. Rarely did they hit a bat, however, and the bats went for the halberdiers’ throats. One bat sunk his fangs into a guard’s wrist and cut his hand completely off.

They were saved when Wallenheim procured a bottle of pepper spray from his belt and began spraying it in the air. The bats could not stand the terrible burning, and many fell to their deaths in the bubbling pit below. Wallenheim’s indiscriminate spray had also gotten into the eyes of many of the humans, and they were writhing in agony upon the robe bridge. One of the planks that they had been walking on fell through, and a halberdier fell down into the magma. Another one fell but was saved when his halberd became stuck on top of two of the ropes.

The group eventually crossed to the other side with a few fatalities and injuries, and Wallenheim wasted no time in leading them into the catacombs. They stopped short of the entrance that Grunovich had taken, however. Wallenheim procured the bloody eyeball and wiped it off on his sleeves before placing it in front of a retinal scanner hidden in one of the skulls.

As the scanner detected the eye, a ladder was dropped from above. Wallenheim and the others climbed up what seemed like over a hundred feet before Wallenheim pushed through the hidden floor of a cabinet. He opened the cabinet door to reveal that they had emerged in a library. The halberdiers, who had to abandon their halberds to make their climb, now drew their swords.

They were not a moment too soon. The sound of automatic weapons rang out through the library and several tufts of paper and book binding were blown into the party’s faces. Wallenheim led the way, swinging his sword and disemboweling several of the soldiers. The Halberdiers took the assault rifles that the soldiers had dropped and began using them on their former owners.

One man entered the library with a flamethrower and began blowing fearsome jets of flame and napalm over the entire library. Wallenheim navigated through the book stacks and found the man spraying the fire. Not wanting to strike him from behind, Wallenheim got his attention and the two stared down at each other.

The flamethrower was ignited, but Wallenheim maneuvered his rotund body to avoid the blast and slashed his sword across the man’s throat. Wallenheim then accounted for the Monavians and the rest of his halberdiers. A quick survey of the burning corpses revealed that he had lost most of them to the flamethrower, but he still had a handful left.

They ran out of the burning library and were soon joined by more halberdiers. They encountered only a few enemy combatants along the way and dispatched them easily before making it out to the courtyard. There they saw Grunovich, King William, Lord Sebastien, and several others.

Wallenheim ran up to them and stood, clutching his knees and gasping for breath. He took the eyeball and handed it back to Grunovich. Looking at the Monavians with as much distrust as ever, he said to them, “This man here gouged out his eye so that I could save you.”

But Grunovich did not want to waste any time. “We can talk about it later. Right now we must leave the castle. Follow me!”

The group ran with Grunovich leading the way, followed by several halberdiers. Some soldiers, evidently from the 1st Alderney regiment, lined the brattices above the courtyard. As they passed, Wallenheim gave them a solute.

The group ran through the entrance tunnel, and had barely came in sight of the drawbridge when the portcullis came crashing down upon them. Several of the halberdiers were maimed and decapitated by the falling iron, and Grunovich had been separated from the rest of the group. Wallenheim attempted to lift the portcullis up, but it was no use.

“Go back and find another way out!” yelled Grunovich, clasping the iron bars.

The party sprinted back into the courtyard, but suddenly the soldiers on the brattices above opened fire upon them with their assault rifles. They had not aimed to kill, but instead their bullets surrounded the group with a cloud of dust. Confused and disoriented, the group stopped in its tracks.

Laughter rang out from a window in the guardhouse above the tunnel where the portcullis had been dropped. From the window jumped Dojutyar, his large muscular body flexing with finesse. He examined the decapitated halberdiers.

“Not exactly a way to get ahead in life,” said he. A malicious cackle rattled up from his throat and was amplified by his silver mask. “But it is a way to get a crown.” He held up his hand. “Men good job tonight. Now hold your fire while I talk to our beloved monarch.” He said these last words with a sour sarcasm and another cackle.

He then walked over towards the group. It had begun to snow again, and the intense moonlight reflected each flake as it fell to the ground. A frigid arctic breeze whipped up through the night air and swirled around Dojutyar’s red robes. He then stopped.

“My friends, quite a lovely evening we have had, isn’t it? It has been such delightful fun. But as you can see, our game is through.” He held out his hand, and several of the guards, along with some members of the King’s privy council, including Lord Sebastien, formed a line in front of him. Notably among those who abstained were Wallenheim and the King himself.

The mask turned to the Monavians as those who lined up kissed his hand one by one. “If it isn’t our most esteemed guests. I will have you dealt with in a minute. Do not worry, you will not suffer for too long. I just want you to live long enough to see my dear grandson Henry to be crowned the next King of the Monavian Empire.” Another wicked cackle permeated through the crisp night air.

IC:

After Carter had shot the glass, Dojutyar tilted his head back and shook, as if to engage in a hearty laugh. Whether or not he actually laughed could not be heard from inside the bedroom.

Dojutyar laughed again. Taking a washing basin on the vanity, he procured a rag and washed his hands of the blood, and then wiped clean the mirror and his dagger. He then resumed tapping it on the mirror. Despite being in such close proximity to the magma chamber, the rooms had become quite cold after the extinguishing of the fires. The air bit the skin with its frigid chill, and the temperature had surely dropped significantly. A cloud condensed after every breath of those inside the bedroom, although no cloud formed in front of Dojutyar's mouth.

Suddenly, the bedroom’s only door flew open. In strutted Wallenheim, with his long sword unsheathed and in attack position. In his left hand, he grasped a bloody eyeball. Seeing Dojutyar, he gasped. “My God, who is…no, we haven’t the time. All of you, follow me. Quickly. Run!”

Mr. Carter faced Wallenhiem, and ran towards him. "Take the Queen from this place immediately! I will deal with Dojutyar--"

He was cut off by King Charles. "OUT, OUT, OUT!" he cried, seizing his case of luggage and that of his wife. They all bolted out the door.

He turned and fled back out of the door. Wallenheim had brought five of his halberdiers over the rope bridge of the magma pit, and about ten more waited on the other side. If needed, the Queen was carried by some of his halberdiers or by the Monavians themselves if they wished. Wallenheim dashed over the rope bridge, looking behind him to make sure that the Monavians were crossing safely.

Wallenheim’s enormous codpiece shimmered in the red light of the magma, and it seemed to have disturbed the bats that were dwelling above. The bats fell down upon them in a fierce swarm, and the Halberdiers began swinging their halberds at them. Rarely did they hit a bat, however, and the bats went for the halberdiers’ throats. One bat sunk his fangs into a guard’s wrist and cut his hand completely off.

They were saved when Wallenheim procured a bottle of pepper spray from his belt and began spraying it in the air. The bats could not stand the terrible burning, and many fell to their deaths in the bubbling pit below. Wallenheim’s indiscriminate spray had also gotten into the eyes of many of the humans, and they were writhing in agony upon the robe bridge. One of the planks that they had been walking on fell through, and a halberdier fell down into the magma. Another one fell but was saved when his halberd became stuck on top of two of the ropes.

The group eventually crossed to the other side with a few fatalities and injuries, and Wallenheim wasted no time in leading them into the catacombs. They stopped short of the entrance that Grunovich had taken, however. Wallenheim procured the bloody eyeball and wiped it off on his sleeves before placing it in front of a retinal scanner hidden in one of the skulls.

As the scanner detected the eye, a ladder was dropped from above. Wallenheim and the others climbed up what seemed like over a hundred feet before Wallenheim pushed through the hidden floor of a cabinet. He opened the cabinet door to reveal that they had emerged in a library. The halberdiers, who had to abandon their halberds to make their climb, now drew their swords.

They were not a moment too soon. The sound of automatic weapons rang out through the library and several tufts of paper and book binding were blown into the party’s faces. Wallenheim led the way, swinging his sword and disemboweling several of the soldiers. The Halberdiers took the assault rifles that the soldiers had dropped and began using them on their former owners.

One man entered the library with a flamethrower and began blowing fearsome jets of flame and napalm over the entire library. Wallenheim navigated through the book stacks and found the man spraying the fire. Not wanting to strike him from behind, Wallenheim got his attention and the two stared down at each other.

The flamethrower was ignited, but Wallenheim maneuvered his rotund body to avoid the blast and slashed his sword across the man’s throat. Wallenheim then accounted for the Monavians and the rest of his halberdiers. A quick survey of the burning corpses revealed that he had lost most of them to the flamethrower, but he still had a handful left.

They ran out of the burning library and were soon joined by more halberdiers. They encountered only a few enemy combatants along the way and dispatched them easily before making it out to the courtyard. There they saw Grunovich, King William, Lord Sebastien, and several others.

Wallenheim ran up to them and stood, clutching his knees and gasping for breath. He took the eyeball and handed it back to Grunovich. Looking at the Monavians with as much distrust as ever, he said to them, “This man here gouged out his eye so that I could save you.”

But Grunovich did not want to waste any time. “We can talk about it later. Right now we must leave the castle. Follow me!”

The group ran with Grunovich leading the way, followed by several halberdiers. Some soldiers, evidently from the 1st Alderney regiment, lined the brattices above the courtyard. As they passed, Wallenheim gave them a solute.

The group ran through the entrance tunnel, and had barely came in sight of the drawbridge when the portcullis came crashing down upon them. Several of the halberdiers were maimed and decapitated by the falling iron, and Grunovich had been separated from the rest of the group. Wallenheim attempted to lift the portcullis up, but it was no use.

After enduring the ordeal of the passage to the courtyard, the group was out of breath. As they looked upon the carnage caused by the the falling portcullis, they knew that only more was to follow.

“Go back and find another way out!” yelled Grunovich, clasping the iron bars.

The party sprinted back into the courtyard, but suddenly the soldiers on the brattices above opened fire upon them with their assault rifles. They had not aimed to kill, but instead their bullets surrounded the group with a cloud of dust. Confused and disoriented, the group stopped in its tracks.

Laughter rang out from a window in the guardhouse above the tunnel where the portcullis had been dropped. From the window jumped Dojutyar, his large muscular body flexing with finesse. He examined the decapitated halberdiers.

“Not exactly a way to get ahead in life,” said he. A malicious cackle rattled up from his throat and was amplified by his silver mask. “But it is a way to get a crown.” He held up his hand. “Men good job tonight. Now hold your fire while I talk to our beloved monarch.” He said these last words with a sour sarcasm and another cackle.

He then walked over towards the group. It had begun to snow again, and the intense moonlight reflected each flake as it fell to the ground. A frigid arctic breeze whipped up through the night air and swirled around Dojutyar’s red robes. He then stopped.

“My friends, quite a lovely evening we have had, isn’t it? It has been such delightful fun. But as you can see, our game is through.” He held out his hand, and several of the guards, along with some members of the King’s privy council, including Lord Sebastien, formed a line in front of him. Notably among those who abstained were Wallenheim and the King himself.

"So, you have won the alliegiences of those who His Majesty trusted most. Life, though all too short, and often made cruel, is still precious enough for those who are of weak mind and soul to ask for, when politics compels them to yield. This is indeed the basest form of treason."

King Charles now took a step towards Dojutyar. "You say that you represent the clergy of the Dominion, that you serve a holy man, that you serve a man of such honor as would place him above reporach. Yet, for all of your seditious lies, you betray your king. You murder both of his heirs, and destroy his property. Tell me, do you believe that God will grant you the right to usurp the throne of your own king, or have you lost all of your faculties?

"Perhaps, before you attempt with all futility to destroy God's perfect order, you should provide some justification for your barbarous acts."

The mask turned to the Monavians as those who lined up kissed his hand one by one. “If it isn’t our most esteemed guests. I will have you dealt with in a minute. Do not worry, you will not suffer for too long. I just want you to live long enough to see my dear grandson Henry to be crowned the next King of the Monavian Empire.” Another wicked cackle permeated through the crisp night air.

"Just whom is is grandson Henry, the one who you plan to give two thrones to? Ifyou have been aware of the laws of succession, you should know that there are those still loyal and who would resist, I say truthfully, resist with such force as to present you with a risk of being destroyed.

"Also, how fo you expect to gain the Monavian throne? The Parliament shall not allow it to pass, and Chancellor Hanover is a capable man who would not hesitate to declare war upon you. Finally, you cannot expect to follow through with your plans without knowing that vengeance shall never rest, not shall it falter, so as to bring about the final acquisition of justice."

OOC:

If you have any major objections to the following, just ignore it and find some alernative.

IC:

During this time, the sole guard, still disguised, had been woken by the loud noises and had decided to use the only weapon he had remaining. He had removed a dagger from his coat, only minutes before, and had laced it with enough poison to kill ten men in less than thirty seconds. He had slipped it into is coat, and had followed the Privy Councellors for some distance, until he was only about forty feet away from Dojutyar. He stood by, appearing as one of the attendants of King William, having stolen one of the other servant's uniforms, and had faced Dojutyar, as if to honor his new lord.

Slipping his hand into his pocket, as if to scratch an unbearable itch, he puled out the dagger, and hurled it at Dojutyar, its gleaming steel blade whirling so quickly as to be unable to miss its mark. It buried itself in Dojutyar's throat, up to the hilt, and from the mortal wound there sprung a river of blood, which flowed upon the fresh night's snow, as the great bulk of Dojutyar's body fell, rolling over, forever immersed in an eternal slumber.

OOC:

If you don't mind, I was hoping that Dojutyar would give a classy, over-the-top monologue or something of the sort. Also, we have over 100 posts on this thread.

OOC:

If you have any major objections to the following, just ignore it and find some alernative.

(OOC: Unfortunately, he is too skilled to die to such a technique. He would have counted the servants and had them all disarmed. And anyway, killing him with a dagger would be like trying to kill Darth Vader with a blaster, and we saw how that worked out in Episode V. Instead, we can pretend that he threw it from some hidden position, but if you object to that then just ignore the relevant parts in the following post.)

Dojutyar had a hearty laugh at King Charles’ monologue. As he responded, the Magyar accent faded away and was replaced by an authentic Norman one. “You are a fool. Look around you at what a true a true genius can accomplish. No one, not Chancellor Hanover, not any parliamentarian, can resist me. If he wants a war, then he has one. Right now. And you shall be its first casualties.”

Bored with them, he turned to King William. “Ah, the crown of Cotenshire. The greatest prize of all. After seventeen long years, it shall finally rest upon its rightful head.” He then let out another gleeful laugh and turned towards those in the line. “Of course, some people still believe that it does not belong to me. Do you know any such people,--“ he turned back to the king—“dear brother?”

The mask was removed and revealed not a sign of any leprosy infection. Instead there was the worn face of someone who appeared to be in his sixties. “Tell me brother, do you know any of these people.”

King William said, “I am the rightful king. Why can you not accept that.” He yelled at Grunovich, “I have decided to cancel the hunt tomorrow.”

“No, no, my dear brother is not in his right state of mind. The hunt is still on, Grunovich, I assure you. Now, about my crown?” He muttered some cryptic Hebrew phrase.

King William suddenly straightened up and said in a monotonous drone, as if possessed: “Hail Archibald, King of Cotenshire, Emperor of the Triple-Crown Union of Cotenshire, Ajaelland, and Lotharingia.”

“I am glad that you have finally seen the light,” sneered Archibald. “Now, kneel.”

William kneeled before King Archibald, who ignored him and went back to having his hand kissed. He was watching the hundreds of soldiers that had gathered on the brattices above in their black and gold uniforms when he heard the sound of a dagger flying through the air behind him. He deftly leaned to the left with his back, and the dagger sailed through the air and landed in a wine barrel. Archibald growled. “I’ll pretend to ignore that if whoever threw it joins in this line and recognizes the royal personage.”

He then looked back over at the kneeling William, and was annoyed to see Wallenheim still standing defiantly next to him. “Duke, it would greatly diminish your quality of life under the new regime if you were not to prostrate yourself before me. Come, I will pretend to ignore your actions as of yet if you pledge your allegiance to me.”

“Sir, you are the loathsome spawn of Satan, the very antichrist incarnate. I would sooner kneel before an ape.”

Archibald released yet another laugh. “Good duke, I am not sure if I have made it sufficiently clear. You will either submit to me or die.”

Flustered and enraged, Wallenheim stamped his high-heeled shoes into the snowy ground and unsheathed his sword. He swung it up above his head and slashed at the air. The soldiers on the brattices suddenly became more alert, and their fingers crept up their triggers.

“Hold your fire,” said Archibald. “To prove my supreme mercy, I shall grant this fool one more chance at life. What do you say now?”

“I would like to make a deal with you,” said Wallenheim.

Archibald laughed triumphantly. “That’s the spirit! What do you want, and what is it that you could give me?”

“We shall duel, sir. At this very moment we shall lock swords.” Wallenheim's voice quivered as he grew more irate. “It would greatly behoove you to have the King and all his subjects alive, despite their actual allegiances, to at least pledge their support to you until you are coronated. Like King Charles had said, if you just usurp the throne now, then you will have a full-blown rebellion on your hands. Despite what you may think, your support among those in power is quite low.”

“And I suppose you will agree to support me if I win our duel?”

“Yes, and so will everyone else here. If you win, then we all live, and you will be guaranteed the crown. If I win, then you will be granted safe transport out of here and the crown will remain in William’s hands.”

Sir Grunovich could be heard yelling from his position behind the portcullis. “Wallenheim! You fool! He can’t be trusted!”

Archibald grinned. “Those are terms I can agree to. After all, you stand no chance against me.”

“I stand more than enough chance when I have the passion of loyalty burning inside me,” yelled Wallenheim.

Archibald drew his sword, a diamond edged steel shamshir and the two assumed an engagement position across from one another. “To first blood, kind duke?”

Wallenheim gnashed his teeth. “To last,” he stammered.

Archibald made a sudden swing at Wallenheim’s feet, but was blocked with a powerful downward stroke. The fierce duel had begun.

(OOC: He did a lot of speaking in that post, but I may find some more room for a monologue in the posts to come.)

(OOC: Unfortunately, he is too skilled to die to such a technique. He would have counted the servants and had them all disarmed. And anyway, killing him with a dagger would be like trying to kill Darth Vader with a blaster, and we saw how that worked out in Episode V. Instead, we can pretend that he threw it from some hidden position, but if you object to that then just ignore the relevant parts in the following post.)

OOC:

I agree; that would not work if such a thing would happen. If he had them disarmed, then I can assume that the guard left the dagger behind as he saw the others laying down their arms.

IC:

Dojutyar had a hearty laugh at King Charles’ monologue. As he responded, the Magyar accent faded away and was replaced by an authentic Norman one. “You are a fool. Look around you at what a true a true genius can accomplish. No one, not Chancellor Hanover, not any parliamentarian, can resist me. If he wants a war, then he has one. Right now. And you shall be its first casualties.”

Bored with them, he turned to King William. “Ah, the crown of Cotenshire. The greatest prize of all. After seventeen long years, it shall finally rest upon its rightful head.” He then let out another gleeful laugh and turned towards those in the line. “Of course, some people still believe that it does not belong to me. Do you know any such people,--“ he turned back to the king—“dear brother?”

Kign Charles only glared. He was ready to draw his rapier, and fight to the last with anyone who would come for him, but he knew that such was suicide. He thus left it alone.

The mask was removed and revealed not a sign of any leprosy infection. Instead there was the worn face of someone who appeared to be in his sixties. “Tell me brother, do you know any of these people.”

King William said, “I am the rightful king. Why can you not accept that.” He yelled at Grunovich, “I have decided to cancel the hunt tomorrow.”

“No, no, my dear brother is not in his right state of mind. The hunt is still on, Grunovich, I assure you. Now, about my crown?” He muttered some cryptic Hebrew phrase.

King William suddenly straightened up and said in a monotonous drone, as if possessed: “Hail Archibald, King of Cotenshire, Emperor of the Triple-Crown Union of Cotenshire, Ajaelland, and Lotharingia.”

“I am glad that you have finally seen the light,” sneered Archibald. “Now, kneel.”

King Charles looked at Archibald. "So, you claim your authority through mastery of the Hebrew tongue."

William kneeled before King Archibald, who ignored him and went back to having his hand kissed. He was watching the hundreds of soldiers that had gathered on the brattices above in their black and gold uniforms when he heard the sound of a dagger flying through the air behind him. He deftly leaned to the left with his back, and the dagger sailed through the air and landed in a wine barrel. Archibald growled. “I’ll pretend to ignore that if whoever threw it joins in this line and recognizes the royal personage.”

He then looked back over at the kneeling William, and was annoyed to see Wallenheim still standing defiantly next to him. “Duke, it would greatly diminish your quality of life under the new regime if you were not to prostrate yourself before me. Come, I will pretend to ignore your actions as of yet if you pledge your allegiance to me.”

“Sir, you are the loathsome spawn of Satan, the very antichrist incarnate. I would sooner kneel before an ape.”

Archibald released yet another laugh. “Good duke, I am not sure if I have made it sufficiently clear. You will either submit to me or die.”

Flustered and enraged, Wallenheim stamped his high-heeled shoes into the snowy ground and unsheathed his sword. He swung it up above his head and slashed at the air. The soldiers on the brattices suddenly became more alert, and their fingers crept up their triggers.

“Hold your fire,” said Archibald. “To prove my supreme mercy, I shall grant this fool one more chance at life. What do you say now?”

“I would like to make a deal with you,” said Wallenheim.

Archibald laughed triumphantly. “That’s the spirit! What do you want, and what is it that you could give me?”

“We shall duel, sir. At this very moment we shall lock swords.” Wallenheim's voice quivered as he grew more irate. “It would greatly behoove you to have the King and all his subjects alive, despite their actual allegiances, to at least pledge their support to you until you are coronated. Like King Charles had said, if you just usurp the throne now, then you will have a full-blown rebellion on your hands. Despite what you may think, your support among those in power is quite low.”

“And I suppose you will agree to support me if I win our duel?”

“Yes, and so will everyone else here. If you win, then we all live, and you will be guaranteed the crown. If I win, then you will be granted safe transport out of here and the crown will remain in William’s hands.”

Sir Grunovich could be heard yelling from his position behind the portcullis. “Wallenheim! You fool! He can’t be trusted!”

Archibald grinned. “Those are terms I can agree to. After all, you stand no chance against me.”

“I stand more than enough chance when I have the passion of loyalty burning inside me,” yelled Wallenheim.

Archibald drew his sword, a diamond edged steel shamshir and the two assumed an engagement position across from one another. “To first blood, kind duke?”

Wallenheim gnashed his teeth. “To last,” he stammered.

Archibald made a sudden swing at Wallenheim’s feet, but was blocked with a powerful downward stroke. The fierce duel had begun.

King Charles now formulated his own plan. Should Wallenheim be killed, he must take his own course of action. He immediately chose to cast his lot with his country. His loyalties and honor were now at stake, and he would soon know if he had to finally prove them, once and for all, as he watched the duel.

(OOC: He did a lot of speaking in that post, but I may find some more room for a monologue in the posts to come.)

I figured that Dojutyar was truly dead, but I could not be sure, as you are definitely full of surprises.

Also, I expected some fighting to happen, but not an elegant bout of dueling. This is going to be very interesting.

King Charles looked at Archibald. "So, you claim your authority through mastery of the Hebrew tongue."

Archibald sneered. “No, you idiot, watch closely.” Archibald faced William.”Dear brother, choke yourself to death right now, please.”

William’s hands immediately bolted up to his neck and his fingers began squeezing it so hard that blood was drawn at the nails. He otherwise sat absolutely still while doing this. There was no look of anxiety or any other emotion in his face.

“Stop,” ordered Archibald. The hands fell limp to William's sides and he kneeled there awaiting his next orders. Archibald laughed. “He is so much more useful this way.

"I found him stuck at some Jewish pilgrimage spot in the woods. He had apparently been on a hunt or some other inane activity. Anyway, the Jews had him tied up, and they hypnotized him somehow. Naturally, I did not want him to die until I could secure my succession. I dropped in their hovels and killed the whole lot of them, and then my brother, still hypnotized, began following me. I told him to go away and do something. Dear brother, tell all these people what I had you do.”

The King began in a monotonous voice: “You told me to go and dash Leopold’s brains out with my scepter, and then—“

“No, that’s enough,” Archibald laughed. “We do not want them to hear the rest quite yet. Now, surely a father would not kill his own son? Did you do it?”

“Yes.”

“You mean it was you who bashed your own son in the head?”

“Yes.”

Archibald cackled more triumphantly than ever. “Oh, how scandalous, dear brother. And they’ve always said that you were the saner one. Ha ha ha…”

King Charles now formulated his own plan. Should Wallenheim be killed, he must take his own course of action. He immediately chose to cast his lot with his country. His loyalties and honor were now at stake, and he would soon know if he had to finally prove them, once and for all, as he watched the duel.

The duel only built in intensity with every blow. Archibald slashed viciously at Wallenheim, but Wallenheim’s sword defended against the swipes just before the shamshir could reach his flesh. On one of his blocks, Wallenheim smashed down Archibald’s shamshir so hard that Archibald had to dash backwards or else his head would be vulnerable. Wallenheim then went on the attack, landing blow after on Archibald’s sword.

Wallenheim seemed to know that he could not beat Archibald on speed and finesse, so he instead tried to hit Archibald’s sword so hard as to make it fall out of his grip. Wallenheim’s strikes were powerful like a bear’s, and Archibald’s were calculated and agile like a cat’s. Eventually Wallenheim’s barrage of overhead slams was outdone when Archibald crouched and grazed Wallenheim’s shin with the shamshir. Wallenheim pulled his sword down to defend, and in doing so lost the height that his strategy depended upon. He pulled his sword down to defend against Archibald’s next swift blow, and Archibald was then on the attack again.

The wind had picked up. Archibald’s red robes were flying back behind him. Wallenheim’s hat and wig had come off and his white hair was now being swept about before him.

Archibald was swinging quick strokes at Wallenheim, and in order to make his slashes in faster succession, he began using the follow through of his previous swing as the starting position of his next. Wallenheim quickly caught on to this. When Archibald had swung to his right and was about to swing to his left, Wallenheim anticipated it and spun away from the swing. Using the momentum from the spinning maneuvre, he initiated a heavy slash that forced Archibald to pull out of his attack and mount a defence.

Wallenheim used the recoil of his sword against Archibald’s to help lift his sword higher, and he was once again on the offensive with more crushing blows. By this point, Wallenheim was gripping the hilt of his sword with both hands, and putting his entire body weight into his swings. Wallenheim built up for a particularly devastating blow, and brought the sword down with thunderous strength. Archibald slid out of the way, however, instead of attempting to block it, and the sword half buried itself in the soft, muddy earth.

Seizing the opportunity, Archibald jumped up, and with a deft slice of his shamshir, lopped Wallenheim’s left arm completely off. Wallenheim, struck with agony, fell and sank into the snow. Turning his head around, he yelled, “Curses, man, why did you not go for my head!?”

Archibald stood looking at this sight in a relaxed stance. “Get up now, Wallenheim. Our audience wants an exciting duel, and that cannot happen when you give up on your King and lay in the mud.”

But Wallenheim only sunk further into the snow as blood gushed out of his bloody stump of an arm. Archibald stood stamping a foot into Wallenheim’s back and thrusting his sword into the air. “I am victorious. You traitors are the first witnesses to a glorious new age. Now, as you were doing?”

The group around him stood shocked, unable to take in what had just happened. Archibald reminded them, “Is there not a hand around here that needs kissing?”

Then began Grunovich’s heckling. “Hrr hrrm, Archibald, you inept rogue.”

Archibald turned to face the darkened tunnel from which Grunovich’s voice had emerged. “Quiet, you. Guards, get the Monavians over there and disarm them.”

Fifteen guards moved in to the Monavians with their assault rifles trained on them. “Throw all your weapons down on the ground here,” said their captain. “King Archibald will know if you try to hide any. He has taken a complete inventory of your items.”

Grunovich continued. “I thought I had taught you better than this, Archibald. You are demonstrating severe weaknesses in your choice of chemical agents.”

Archibald could not help but to engage Grunovich in this debate. “I only poisoned the wasps so that you would heighten security and therefore draw your guards further into the castle.”

Grunovich laughed. “Then where did the CMX Blood Sarin fit into your plan?”

Archibald fired back. “If you are attempting to mentally dishevel me, then you know as well as I that wont work.”

Grunovich continued, "You know that CMX Blood Sarin, despite the dramatic deaths its victims suffer, is easily evaded by skillful planning. But then again, you always favoured theatrics over competency."

"What would you know about competency? I am the victor here, and you lie defeated."

"I am still alive. You have not defeated me."

"Quiet you rogue. I used no CMX Blood Sarin. You must have misidentified a symptom."

"Heh heh, is that so?"

"Quiet, fiend!"

"Oh, it appears that I have stepped on someone's feelings, Your Majesty. Heh heh heh..."

Grunovich was quiet for a moment, and Archibald turned back to face his new subjects. The moonlight was glowing as brightly as ever, illuminating the bloody patches on the ground from the gory episodes that had occured over the course of the previous day.

Archibald sneered. “No, you idiot, watch closely.” Archibald faced William.”Dear brother, choke yourself to death right now, please.”

William’s hands immediately bolted up to his neck and his fingers began squeezing it so hard that blood was drawn at the nails. He otherwise sat absolutely still while doing this. There was no look of anxiety or any other emotion in his face.

“Stop,” ordered Archibald. The hands fell limp to William's sides and he kneeled there awaiting his next orders. Archibald laughed. “He is so much more useful this way.

"I found him stuck at some Jewish pilgrimage spot in the woods. He had apparently been on a hunt or some other inane activity. Anyway, the Jews had him tied up, and they hypnotized him somehow. Naturally, I did not want him to die until I could secure my succession. I dropped in their hovels and killed the whole lot of them, and then my brother, still hypnotized, began following me. I told him to go away and do something. Dear brother, tell all these people what I had you do.”

The King began in a monotonous voice: “You told me to go and dash Leopold’s brains out with my scepter, and then—“

“No, that’s enough,” Archibald laughed. “We do not want them to hear the rest quite yet. Now, surely a father would not kill his own son? Did you do it?”

“Yes.”

“You mean it was you who bashed your own son in the head?”

“Yes.”

Archibald cackled more triumphantly than ever. “Oh, how scandalous, dear brother. And they’ve always said that you were the saner one. Ha ha ha…”

"That which is done under hypnosis or duress can be excused from beign considered scandalous. Also, it takes a sane man to recognize insanity, and what uncle would kill his nephew?" he retorted, now nervoulsy thumbing the hilt of his rapier.

The duel only built in intensity with every blow. Archibald slashed viciously at Wallenheim, but Wallenheim’s sword defended against the swipes just before the shamshir could reach his flesh. On one of his blocks, Wallenheim smashed down Archibald’s shamshir so hard that Archibald had to dash backwards or else his head would be vulnerable. Wallenheim then went on the attack, landing blow after on Archibald’s sword.

Wallenheim seemed to know that he could not beat Archibald on speed and finesse, so he instead tried to hit Archibald’s sword so hard as to make it fall out of his grip. Wallenheim’s strikes were powerful like a bear’s, and Archibald’s were calculated and agile like a cat’s. Eventually Wallenheim’s barrage of overhead slams was outdone when Archibald crouched and grazed Wallenheim’s shin with the shamshir. Wallenheim pulled his sword down to defend, and in doing so lost the height that his strategy depended upon. He pulled his sword down to defend against Archibald’s next swift blow, and Archibald was then on the attack again.

The wind had picked up. Archibald’s red robes were flying back behind him. Wallenheim’s hat and wig had come off and his white hair was now being swept about before him.

Archibald was swinging quick strokes at Wallenheim, and in order to make his slashes in faster succession, he began using the follow through of his previous swing as the starting position of his next. Wallenheim quickly caught on to this. When Archibald had swung to his right and was about to swing to his left, Wallenheim anticipated it and spun away from the swing. Using the momentum from the spinning maneuvre, he initiated a heavy slash that forced Archibald to pull out of his attack and mount a defence.

Wallenheim used the recoil of his sword against Archibald’s to help lift his sword higher, and he was once again on the offensive with more crushing blows. By this point, Wallenheim was gripping the hilt of his sword with both hands, and putting his entire body weight into his swings. Wallenheim built up for a particularly devastating blow, and brought the sword down with thunderous strength. Archibald slid out of the way, however, instead of attempting to block it, and the sword half buried itself in the soft, muddy earth.

Seizing the opportunity, Archibald jumped up, and with a deft slice of his shamshir, lopped Wallenheim’s left arm completely off. Wallenheim, struck with agony, fell and sank into the snow. Turning his head around, he yelled, “Curses, man, why did you not go for my head!?”

Archibald stood looking at this sight in a relaxed stance. “Get up now, Wallenheim. Our audience wants an exciting duel, and that cannot happen when you give up on your King and lay in the mud.”

The duel now carried the undivided attention of the Monavians. Its results, however, were not what was to be expected. The king had seen worse, once observing a man being blown apart by by an artillery shell impacting the ground. That, however, was a different story. When the duel drew to its unfortunate conclusion, King Charles remarked, "This is a shameful way to make a martyr of one of William's subjects."

But Wallenheim only sunk further into the snow as blood gushed out of his bloody stump of an arm. Archibald stood stamping a foot into Wallenheim’s back and thrusting his sword into the air. “I am victorious. You traitors are the first witnesses to a glorious new age. Now, as you were doing?”

The group around him stood shocked, unable to take in what had just happened. Archibald reminded them, “Is there not a hand around here that needs kissing?”

Then began Grunovich’s heckling. “Hrr hrrm, Archibald, you inept rogue.”

Archibald turned to face the darkened tunnel from which Grunovich’s voice had emerged. “Quiet, you. Guards, get the Monavians over there and disarm them.”

Fifteen guards moved in to the Monavians with their assault rifles trained on them. “Throw all your weapons down on the ground here,” said their captain. “King Archibald will know if you try to hide any. He has taken a complete inventory of your items.”

Grunovich continued. “I thought I had taught you better than this, Archibald. You are demonstrating severe weaknesses in your choice of chemical agents.”

Archibald could not help but to engage Grunovich in this debate. “I only poisoned the wasps so that you would heighten security and therefore draw your guards further into the castle.”

Grunovich laughed. “Then where did the CMX Blood Sarin fit into your plan?”

Archibald fired back. “If you are attempting to mentally dishevel me, then you know as well as I that wont work.”

Grunovich continued, "You know that CMX Blood Sarin, despite the dramatic deaths its victims suffer, is easily evaded by skillful planning. But then again, you always favoured theatrics over competency."

"What would you know about competency? I am the victor here, and you lie defeated."

"I am still alive. You have not defeated me."

"Quiet you rogue. I used no CMX Blood Sarin. You must have misidentified a symptom."

"Heh heh, is that so?"

"Quiet, fiend!"

"Oh, it appears that I have stepped on someone's feelings, Your Majesty. Heh heh heh..."

Grunovich was quiet for a moment, and Archibald turned back to face his new subjects. The moonlight was glowing as brightly as ever, illuminating the bloody patches on the ground from the gory episodes that had occured over the course of the previous day.

As the guards approached, the Monavians stepped backward a few paces toward one of the walls. "A man of honor would fight to the finish for his prize, rather than leave the battle when it has only been half won. You may have conquered your king, but your 'victory' is incomplete."

(OOC: This post is reserved for a response. I can't write an adequate one right now, but I just want you to know I'm not forgetting about this. I should be able to get one up tomorrow but my time is limited around the holidays.)

OOC:

I understand. I was thinking that if Wallenheim died, that I would have some more action occur. I bet that the blood sarin has a role to play shortly.

Archibald watched as the Monavians chose not to surrender to the guards.

“Back off, you dogs,” he barked. “Let us give them an opportunity to defend themselves.”

The guards stepped back from the Monavians, but kept their guns aimed at them. Archibald pulled Wallenheim’s sword out of the ground and threw it at William, ordering him to catch it. William did so, almost cutting some off his fingers off in the process.

“Let me explain how this will work,” began Archibald. “You, King Charles, and your friend here will face off in a duel to the death. Whoever wins saves not only his own life but that of his family, or—“ he laughed when nodding at William, “what remains of his family. Now, dear brother, kill him!!”

William charged forth at King Charles with the sword raised in a position to strike. As the duel began to unfold, a sword suddenly came flying over the head of Archibald. He was only able to block it due to his tiger-like reflexes. “Arrggh!” screamed Archibald. “I thought you would have been able to melt through the bars quicker than that, Grunovich!”

Grunovich was not interested in a conversation with Archibald at this point. Instead, his words were for the Monavians. “All of you, subdue the King immediately! Don’t kill him!”

Archibald responded whilst swinging away, “That would be breaking the rules. A one on one sword duel or everyone dies!”

“Do not believe him! He will break the promise!”

“Oh, but Grunovich, if I never made good my word, then it would be worth nothing.”

Grunovich managed to drop a canister of some gas out from his cloak in between blocks. He then kicked the canister over to the Monavians. “Use this to knock him out!”

The guards had moved in a line to separate the two duels. Archibald was now facing a fellow master swordsman, and this one could go either way.

IC:

The sight of King William lifting up the heavy sword that once belonged to Wallenhein and raising it to strike as he advanced was a woeful sight, as former allies were now locked in a twisted duel, their cruel blades beginning to clash. King Charles drwe his ivory and gold hilted rapier from its scabbard, raising it near chest height and tilted to one side, forming a defensive posture. Its slender blade, wrought of fine Damascus steel and smooth as glass, reflecting the pale, faint light of the moon split the air. With every swing and cut, the light glinted off of its flat surfaces, as its cold blade met the heavy saber and clanged together.

As King Charles made his initial moves, he skillfully directed the direction of his rapier, as it rent the still air with swishing sounds which were almost as clear as the rapid noise of the duel taking place on the opposite side of the line of guards. With every stroke, he brought his blade against Wallenheim's saber, hitting it with such force as to knock it aside at times, while blocking its vicious cuts. With every thrust his adversary made, he used took every opportunity to parry. Every sinew and muscle in his lean body now felt tighter than the cables in a suspension bridge, as twenty years of fencing lessons and pure nerve were brought together to mount an effective defense.

Realising that the weapon being employed by his opponent was made for a stronger man, one like Wallenhein, he believed that King William would slowly, but inevitably tire as he fought. If he could not outlast his opponent through raw strength or endurance, he could perhaps find some way to disarm him, but such was not yet the case, as only time would tell how the duel would play out.

The canister of gas, in the meantime, was difficult to position, as the two combatants were moving around the courtyard at a quickening pace. Mr. Carter attempted to lift up the canister and throw it closer to the general direction of King William, but upon holding it for but a moment, the gas nearly overcame him, and he dropped it, having moved it only a fathom from where Sir Grunovich had first placed it. He nearly collapsed into sleep, or perhaps a fleeting faint, but he reasoned that it would be better to move back a few paces and allow the gas to disperse over the next few yards, permitting a chance that King William could be driven close enough by the fight to inhale some of its vapors.

OOC:

If any portions of the above post somehow interfere with the intended plot or contradict something, point them out and I will edit them.

Bump. I haven't seen many other people post condolences on this thread.

William swung his sword violently against King Charles, but was unable to land a hit against him. The gas canister had been positioned so that it was behind William and, in his heavy breathing, William inhaled much of the gas. In less than a minute he dropped to the ground unconscious and his sword fell into the snow.

Archibald saw this occur through his peripheral vision and muttered something under his breath. Grunovich let out a triumphant cry and began swinging his sword at Archibald with renewed vigour. Grunovich’s empty eye socket had been bleeding the whole time, but his depth perception was seemingly unharmed by him only having one eye.

Taking a risk to try and stop Grunovich’s blows, Archibald attempted to kick Grunovich in the groin. Grunovich reacted quickly and grabbed Archibald’s foot, but Archibald was ready and cut off Grunovich’s hand with a quick swing of his shamshir.

“Aaaaghh!!” screamed Grunovich. He attempted a quick, reckless blow with his sword, which was easily blocked down by Archibald. Archibald then ran his shamshir through Grunovich up to the hilt. Archibald removed his weapon as Grunovich collapsed to the ground.

Raising his sword up in the air, Archibald ordered all in a booming voice: “Bow down to your new King!”

He had barely finished his first proclamation when he was tackled by a newly galvanized Wallenheim. The force of the blow as the two came crashing down on the hard ice knocked the wind out of Archibald, who had not expected Wallenheim to have risen again.

Then began a tooth and nail struggle, as the two rolled on the ground. Wallenheim pinned Archibald down and was on top of him, his massive girth suffocating Archibald and cracking several of his ribs as he repeatedly slammed his body against him. Archibald tried many tactics to get Wallenheim to relent, including clamping down on his throat and digging his fingers into Wallenheim’s esophagus. The two kept exchanging bowls. Archibald was kept in a close quarters position that made him unable to use his shamshir, although he kept it well within his grasp. Wallenheim repeatedly pounded his fist into Archibald’s face, driving his nose cartilage up into the cavities of his skull.

Wallenheim finally slid over on the ice and enabled Archibald to get up and dash away. By this point both were drenched in blood from head to foot. Archibald had several tufts of hair ripped out of his scalp, and Wallenheim had one of Archibald’s fingernails embedded in the flesh of his neck. Both were missing several teeth.

As Archibald sprinted away, Wallenheim leaped on him but was shaken off. Just before Archibald got away, Wallenheim thrust his sole remaining arm downward and stripped Archibald of his shamshir. Archibald began climbing up a ladder to the side of the entrance tunnel. Wallenheim was again quickly on his tail, and was able to yank him down from the ladder by grabbing on to his leg. Archibald collapsed to the ground, and Wallenheim, thinking he was down for good, hesitated. Archibald then sprung up and delivered an uppercut right on Wallenheim’s chin, which knocked the Duke down. Archibald was able to get his shamshir back but then noticed his guards collapsing to the ground.

“Blood sarin?”

Indeed, the guards, both in the courtyard and up on the brattices, were now collapsing to the ground and bleeding profusely as had the chemical’s previous victims the day before. Archibald quickly turned and fled up the ladder, with Wallenheim on his tail.

Suddenly a large shadow was cast upon the courtyard as the moonlight was covered up by a massive flying object. It was flying no more than one hundred feet from ground level, and was quickly making its way over the castle. A rope ladder was lowered from a pod on the underside of this object, which by now could be identified as an airship.

Archibald grabbed hold of this ladder and began climbing up. Wallenhheim had just barely managed to grab hold of the rope ladder, and was shimmying his way up after Archibald. With a deft swing of his shamshir, Archibald cut the rope ladder underneath him. Wallenheim was quick to react, however, and grabbed hold of Archibald’s cloak. Archibald threw up his arms and the cloak fell off. Wallenheim went crashing through a thatched roof of one of the Castle’s buildings.

“Good bye, dear brother. Farewell, all you fools. And William, you can always save some more lives by giving me my crown.”

Grunovich, dazed but alive, had sat up. “Someone get the jets into the air! Now!” he ordered.

A soldier yelled down from the guardhouse above, “All nearby airports have experienced severe sabotage. We will not be able to scramble the jets for over an hour.”

“Damn,” cried Grunovich.

“Should we send the helicopters in the air, sir?”

“No, they will not be able to pursue Archibald’s airship into the thin mountain air.”

William swung his sword violently against King Charles, but was unable to land a hit against him. The gas canister had been positioned so that it was behind William and, in his heavy breathing, William inhaled much of the gas. In less than a minute he dropped to the ground unconscious and his sword fell into the snow.

Archibald saw this occur through his peripheral vision and muttered something under his breath. Grunovich let out a triumphant cry and began swinging his sword at Archibald with renewed vigour. Grunovich’s empty eye socket had been bleeding the whole time, but his depth perception was seemingly unharmed by him only having one eye.

King Charles stood over his opponent, having finally outlasted him in single combat. He placed his foot upon the sword in the snow, to prevent it from being taken, only to realize within seconds that he had at last won the duel. He picked up the heavy weapon and held it up as a sign of defiance.

Taking a risk to try and stop Grunovich’s blows, Archibald attempted to kick Grunovich in the groin. Grunovich reacted quickly and grabbed Archibald’s foot, but Archibald was ready and cut off Grunovich’s hand with a quick swing of his shamshir.

“Aaaaghh!!” screamed Grunovich. He attempted a quick, reckless blow with his sword, which was easily blocked down by Archibald. Archibald then ran his shamshir through Grunovich up to the hilt. Archibald removed his weapon as Grunovich collapsed to the ground.

Raising his sword up in the air, Archibald ordered all in a booming voice: “Bow down to your new King!”

Mr. Carter watched as Sir Grunovich put up a gallant fight against Archibald. Helpless to intervene, he knew that it had to play out the way in which it began. The dreadful spectacle that unfolded as Sir Grunovich was hacked and stabbed was quite much for even him to bear, and he could barely believe his senses. Queen Elizabeth was beyond distress, as her apparent level of consumption left her in a total faint, despite the coldness of the snow. Mr. Carter tried to pull her away from the expanding gas, and soon his eyes were watering as the effort of avoiding the cloud wore him down.

King Charles reddened considerably, both from his furor and the effects of the gas. He backed away as he prepared to fight again if the necessity arose.

He had barely finished his first proclamation when he was tackled by a newly galvanized Wallenheim. The force of the blow as the two came crashing down on the hard ice knocked the wind out of Archibald, who had not expected Wallenheim to have risen again.

Then began a tooth and nail struggle, as the two rolled on the ground. Wallenheim pinned Archibald down and was on top of him, his massive girth suffocating Archibald and cracking several of his ribs as he repeatedly slammed his body against him. Archibald tried many tactics to get Wallenheim to relent, including clamping down on his throat and digging his fingers into Wallenheim’s esophagus. The two kept exchanging bowls. Archibald was kept in a close quarters position that made him unable to use his shamshir, although he kept it well within his grasp. Wallenheim repeatedly pounded his fist into Archibald’s face, driving his nose cartilage up into the cavities of his skull.

Wallenheim finally slid over on the ice and enabled Archibald to get up and dash away. By this point both were drenched in blood from head to foot. Archibald had several tufts of hair ripped out of his scalp, and Wallenheim had one of Archibald’s fingernails embedded in the flesh of his neck. Both were missing several teeth.

Seeing that the need to fight yet again had now been removed by an unexpected miracle, lacking all explanation or modicum of reason that could offer a way to explain its occurrence, King Charles stood back and sheathed his rapier. He watched the ensuing fight wear on, and as the minutes passed by with exceedingly slow agony, his complexion faded from reddened to a bleak, pallid color.

As Archibald sprinted away, Wallenheim leaped on him but was shaken off. Just before Archibald got away, Wallenheim thrust his sole remaining arm downward and stripped Archibald of his shamshir. Archibald began climbing up a ladder to the side of the entrance tunnel. Wallenheim was again quickly on his tail, and was able to yank him down from the ladder by grabbing on to his leg. Archibald collapsed to the ground, and Wallenheim, thinking he was down for good, hesitated. Archibald then sprung up and delivered an uppercut right on Wallenheim’s chin, which knocked the Duke down. Archibald was able to get his shamshir back but then noticed his guards collapsing to the ground.

“Blood sarin?”

Indeed, the guards, both in the courtyard and up on the brattices, were now collapsing to the ground and bleeding profusely as had the chemical’s previous victims the day before. Archibald quickly turned and fled up the ladder, with Wallenheim on his tail.

As Wallenheim pursued Archibald up the ladder and the guards began to fall victim to the hidden poisons the Sir Grunovich had identified earlier, King Charles charged in the direction of Sir Grunovich. He knocked aside the dying men with many powerful blows as he drove himself through the crimson mass. The bloody scene did not deter him as he made his way through the courtyard.

Sir Grunovich, your knowledge has saved us all. Such was his sole thought as he fought his way to Sir Grunovich.

Suddenly a large shadow was cast upon the courtyard as the moonlight was covered up by a massive flying object. It was flying no more than one hundred feet from ground level, and was quickly making its way over the castle. A rope ladder was lowered from a pod on the underside of this object, which by now could be identified as an airship.

Archibald grabbed hold of this ladder and began climbing up. Wallenhheim had just barely managed to grab hold of the rope ladder, and was shimmying his way up after Archibald. With a deft swing of his shamshir, Archibald cut the rope ladder underneath him. Wallenheim was quick to react, however, and grabbed hold of Archibald’s cloak. Archibald threw up his arms and the cloak fell off. Wallenheim went crashing through a thatched roof of one of the Castle’s buildings.

The shadow caught up with King Charles as he was but a few yards away from Sir Grunovich. He stopped and looked up into the frigid night sky, as he attaempted to make out the identity of the craft. He only then noticed that Archibald was trying to climb up, and witnessed the final attempt by Wallenheim to subdue him. He turned back toward Sir Grunovich, coming within feet of him when he heard the sound of Wallenheim's bulk crashing through the thick roof of straw and wood.

HJe wheeled around, seeing only a hole and hearing the dull thud of Wallenheim hitting the floor inside.

“Good bye, dear brother. Farewell, all you fools. And William, you can always save some more lives by giving me my crown.”

Grunovich, dazed but alive, had sat up. “Someone get the jets into the air! Now!” he ordered.

"Fiend!" King Charles thundered. "Your doom is soon at hand!" He was cut off by Sir Grunovich's furious orders. "Sir Grunovich! You are--"

He was interrupted again by the soldier's reply to the injured spymaster's orders.

"You are severly injured!" He turned around, shouting, "Are there any doctors here?"

A soldier yelled down from the guardhouse above, “All nearby airports have experienced severe sabotage. We will not be able to scramble the jets for over an hour.”

“Damn,” cried Grunovich.

“Should we send the helicopters in the air, sir?”

“No, they will not be able to pursue Archibald’s airship into the thin mountain air.”

The disguised guard, which had still retained possession of his communications device, sent an urgent message to the barracks.

URGENT!

AN ATTEMPT HAS BEEN MADE ON OUR LIVES! ARCHIBALD IS RESPONSIBLE.

IF POSSIBLE, DETERMINE THE STATUS OF OUR PLANES. WE NEED TO SCRAMBLE THE FIELD!

The barracks was soon filled with activity, as ground security mobilized and the pilots prepared to take off. One of the guards notice tghe fresh welding done to the doors and pointed it out to several of his comrades. They soon began to work on opening the doors as the planes were being refueled.

Ten minutes later, the welds were being cut open, but not quickly enough for the pilots to leave on time. Several shape charges were attached to the doors and used to blow them open. The planes soon began to taxi out of the hanger, but only half of them actually were ready to fly, as the other half were being refueled.

Bump. [Posted on January 8]

Another bump. :confused:

“I should be fine,” grunted Grunovich. He had put his disembodied hand in a bag full of snow for temporary preservation. “All this injury will need a little wrapping up to stop the bleeding. Wallenheim is the one that needs the most help. He has already lost a great deal of blood.”

Grunovich managed to find a group of servants that would be a suitable medical staff until professionals could be found. They went into one of the courtyard buildings to look for Wallenheim. The King took this opportunity to address the Monavians.

“I am sorry for tonight,” he said. “I am sure that your stay here has not been as comfortable as I have envisioned it. Worry not, however, for we shall have a fine hunt in the morning to relax our stress away.”

Lord Sebastien overheard this and came up from behind him. “What His Majesty means is that he would understand if you wanted to leave after this incident, and that the hunt is cancelled for safety reasons.”

The King turned around looking incensed. “Lord Sebastien, my guests are not to be treated in such a way. It is perfectly safe, and, after all, I am a king. No harm can come to me by the hand of a lesser man.”

“Your Majesty, we almost died tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your Majesty, do you remember nothing of the past ten minutes?” But Lord Sebastien figured out the answer before he had even finished the question. The King stood there pondering and trying to concentrate, but did not want to submit himself to the humiliation of not being able to recall what exactly had caused the mess that had appeared around them.

Sir Grunovich then emerged from the building, with Wallenheim following him. His arm had been bandaged, but the cloth was already soaked with blood and he would require more care. Grunovich directed several servants to take him to another building before King William called him over.

“Yes, my liege, what do you want?”

“Well, Sir Grunovich, I do not believe that tonight’s events were supposed to have occurred. I do not want to question your exemplary services, but I cannot help some doubts I have as to the protection this castle received. I may be wrong, but it appears that there was a flaw somewhere in your plan and security was compromised tonight. I do not want to sound unappreciative, but you surely know that I do not want bloody corpses strewn about the courtyard.”

“I shall discuss all of this with you later, Your Majesty. I have more important matters to attend to at the moment.”

“I trust that you will have our security measures in place in time for the morning hunt?”

“Yer Majesty, I do not think that we should have a hunt tomorrow. Can you give me a day to get everything straightened out?”

“I suppose I can, Sir Grunovich, but know that the last time I have gone a week without a good hunt was when I was four years old.”

“No, Your Majesty, it was when you were two.”



Dawn came and servants were still cleaning up the courtyard. Jets had been in the air for about an hour at this point. Grunovich finally received a radio confirmation that the freshly smoking wreckage of an airship had been found by the fighters in the side of a mountain around forty miles from Inverness.

Grunovich became even more irritable when this news broke. Lord Sebastien had also approached the King with more bad news.

“My liege, I want you to know that I am thankful for your confidence in me. When you blocked your Parliament’s movement to impeach me, I was certainly touched by your faithfulness. I would like to take leave from my position, however, for at least six months.”

King William was startled. “What is this? Six months? Well, if this truly is your wish, I suppose I could grant it. But you have only held this office for two years.”

“I need some time to relax, Your Majesty. Perhaps you could convince Lord Rockingham to come out of retirement and lead my diplomatic offices.”

“I have been in contact with Lord Rockingham, and he will not take any Privy Council position I offer him. Have you any other suggestions?”

“You should offer the office to Sir Torrasque or Lord King.”

“But Sir Torrasque is a Catholic.”

“Then you should offer it to Lord King.”

“I do not like Lord King. I offered him the privilege of hunting with me nineteen years ago, and he declined.”

“Well, Your Majesty, those two are my chosen successors. You may disregard them if you so desire.”



Soon after sunrise, helicopters arrived and transported the Royal contingent and the Monavians back to the Eastern Palace in Caen. There they were reunited with the Monavian guards, who had been picked up off the lake by some of Grunovich’s agents.

Grunovich waited for a moment when King William was distracted to talk to the Monavians. “It would be ill-advised for you to stay here longer,” said Grunovich to the Monavians. “The skies are protected now, so you can leave without fear of attack. I can only hope that our troubles with Archibald are over, but I know him. I was his tutor in the arts of espionage and clandestine activities. He is too vigourous of a man to perish in those mountains. He will surely survive.

“I must admit that we have not been completely honest with you. Under normal circumstances, Archibald would be the legal successor to the throne. As you have observed, however, his mental condition is extremely unstable and he has no capacity for ethical reasoning. King William also has some mental disorders, but they are few compared to Archibald’s. I believe that their conditions are the result of generations of inbreeding in the Salisbury dynasty.

“It became clear at an early age that William, despite being younger, would be the more able monarch. For the most part, there was a mutual consensus among the tenants of the realm that exceptions could be made to the succession law in the case of extreme incompetence of the heir apparent. Archibald may have exhibited extraordinary capacity for planning and conspiracy in last night’s endeavours, but those would not translate to his ability to rule.”

“I should be fine,” grunted Grunovich. He had put his disembodied hand in a bag full of snow for temporary preservation. “All this injury will need a little wrapping up to stop the bleeding. Wallenheim is the one that needs the most help. He has already lost a great deal of blood.”

Grunovich managed to find a group of servants that would be a suitable medical staff until professionals could be found. They went into one of the courtyard buildings to look for Wallenheim. The King took this opportunity to address the Monavians.

“I am sorry for tonight,” he said. “I am sure that your stay here has not been as comfortable as I have envisioned it. Worry not, however, for we shall have a fine hunt in the morning to relax our stress away.”

Lord Sebastien overheard this and came up from behind him. “What His Majesty means is that he would understand if you wanted to leave after this incident, and that the hunt is cancelled for safety reasons.”

The King turned around looking incensed. “Lord Sebastien, my guests are not to be treated in such a way. It is perfectly safe, and, after all, I am a king. No harm can come to me by the hand of a lesser man.”

“Your Majesty, we almost died tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your Majesty, do you remember nothing of the past ten minutes?” But Lord Sebastien figured out the answer before he had even finished the question. The King stood there pondering and trying to concentrate, but did not want to submit himself to the humiliation of not being able to recall what exactly had caused the mess that had appeared around them.

Sir Grunovich then emerged from the building, with Wallenheim following him. His arm had been bandaged, but the cloth was already soaked with blood and he would require more care. Grunovich directed several servants to take him to another building before King William called him over.

“Yes, my liege, what do you want?”

“Well, Sir Grunovich, I do not believe that tonight’s events were supposed to have occurred. I do not want to question your exemplary services, but I cannot help some doubts I have as to the protection this castle received. I may be wrong, but it appears that there was a flaw somewhere in your plan and security was compromised tonight. I do not want to sound unappreciative, but you surely know that I do not want bloody corpses strewn about the courtyard.”

“I shall discuss all of this with you later, Your Majesty. I have more important matters to attend to at the moment.”

“I trust that you will have our security measures in place in time for the morning hunt?”

“Yer Majesty, I do not think that we should have a hunt tomorrow. Can you give me a day to get everything straightened out?”

“I suppose I can, Sir Grunovich, but know that the last time I have gone a week without a good hunt was when I was four years old.”

“No, Your Majesty, it was when you were two.”

King Charles and Mr. Carter rejoined the Queen by the gate. Mr. Carter had taken a halberd from one of the fallen guards and used it to help himself up out of the snow. He now stood, a little weary from the fumes of the gas, which still lingered in small, diluted quantities around the area where it was deployed.

Mr. Carter then walked over, albeit slowly, toward Sir Grunovich. "Duke Wallenheim may need to be taken to a hospital for treatment. His injuries are numerous and grave. I can have him taken to the airport in Caen in the morning."

Dawn came and servants were still cleaning up the courtyard. Jets had been in the air for about an hour at this point. Grunovich finally received a radio confirmation that the freshly smoking wreckage of an airship had been found by the fighters in the side of a mountain around forty miles from Inverness.

The Monavian fighters were called off from the mission to hunt down the airship when news of the Cotenshirick air forces had been deployed ahead of them. They were already refueled and ready to be taxied out of the hanger, the doors of whicj had been unsealed, so that they may be moved to another location if the need arose.

Grunovich became even more irritable when this news broke. Lord Sebastien had also approached the King with more bad news.

“My liege, I want you to know that I am thankful for your confidence in me. When you blocked your Parliament’s movement to impeach me, I was certainly touched by your faithfulness. I would like to take leave from my position, however, for at least six months.”

King William was startled. “What is this? Six months? Well, if this truly is your wish, I suppose I could grant it. But you have only held this office for two years.”

“I need some time to relax, Your Majesty. Perhaps you could convince Lord Rockingham to come out of retirement and lead my diplomatic offices.”

“I have been in contact with Lord Rockingham, and he will not take any Privy Council position I offer him. Have you any other suggestions?”

“You should offer the office to Sir Torrasque or Lord King.”

“But Sir Torrasque is a Catholic.”

“Then you should offer it to Lord King.”

“I do not like Lord King. I offered him the privilege of hunting with me nineteen years ago, and he declined.”

“Well, Your Majesty, those two are my chosen successors. You may disregard them if you so desire.”

The conversationwent mostly unnoticed, as the Monavians had retired again to rest for the remainder of the night.

Soon after sunrise, helicopters arrived and transported the Royal contingent and the Monavians back to the Eastern Palace in Caen. There they were reunited with the Monavian guards, who had been picked up off the lake by some of Grunovich’s agents.

The guards that had been evacuated from the lake were ordered to the barracks for a brief period of rest, while the rest of the security forces were being readied for possible departure.

Grunovich waited for a moment when King William was distracted to talk to the Monavians. “It would be ill-advised for you to stay here longer,” said Grunovich to the Monavians. “The skies are protected now, so you can leave without fear of attack. I can only hope that our troubles with Archibald are over, but I know him. I was his tutor in the arts of espionage and clandestine activities. He is too vigourous of a man to perish in those mountains. He will surely survive.

“I must admit that we have not been completely honest with you. Under normal circumstances, Archibald would be the legal successor to the throne. As you have observed, however, his mental condition is extremely unstable and he has no capacity for ethical reasoning. King William also has some mental disorders, but they are few compared to Archibald’s. I believe that their conditions are the result of generations of inbreeding in the Salisbury dynasty.

“It became clear at an early age that William, despite being younger, would be the more able monarch. For the most part, there was a mutual consensus among the tenants of the realm that exceptions could be made to the succession law in the case of extreme incompetence of the heir apparent. Archibald may have exhibited extraordinary capacity for planning and conspiracy in last night’s endeavours, but those would not translate to his ability to rule.”

This should not prevent proper succession to the throne if necessary. However, there is still a major risk to all involved.

"Mr. Carter, will you come here please?"

"Mr. Jackson, what is it?"

"I would believe it wise to return to monavia soon. Sir Grunovich is right."

"I do have another proposal which I should make."

He turned back to Sir Grunovich. "Seeing how Archibald has caused such damage in this place, it may not be safe to do too much. What we need is to bring his targets away from him, to force a persuit.

"I am hoping that you would allow His Majesty to come with us soon, in his own craft, to Monavia, where he can be treated fro the hypnosis that was placed upon him, and for any other mental defects which may have resulted from the past weeks' events.

"Our medicines should be sufficient for such, and we do have physicians that can deal with such problems. However, there is a chance that it cannot be adequately treated."

He paused, thinking briefly. "In addition to this, it may also be wise to bring Lord Sebastien along. With the danger here mounting, he may wish to leave as well, until he can return."

Mr. Carter had been informed of Lord Sebastien's "retirement" remarks by The formerly disguised guard, who had told him of it after he awoke.

“I shall tell the King and Lord Sebastien of your invitation,” said Grunovich before departing to find the King. He found the two of them in Wallenheim’s room, where the Duke was being nursed. He was very weak having lost a significant amount of blood, but would recover. Grunovich himself had saved his hand and eye, and would have them reattached in a later operation.

“Lord Sebastien,” began the spymaster, ”may I have a word with you in the hall?”

The King answered for him. “Yes, as long as he tells me what you discussed afterwards.”

“Very well.”

Lord Sebastien stepped out. “I am glad to see that you are recovering from your own injuries, good sir.”

“Yes, well, the Monavians have invited the King and yourself to stay in their land for an extended period of time. I am going to be frank. I do not think he should go.”

“Seeing what has transpired here, Sir Grunovich, a strong case can be made for temporarily relocating the King.”

“Yes, it would be safer there I will admit, but what we need now is stability. And we both know that whenever the King is away, revolts will spring up.”

“I am sure that the King will want to go, though.”

“Yes, he will not even think twice. That is why I would like for him to never hear of it.”

It was at that moment that Grunovich realized he still had the piece of rubber in his hand and had forgotten to place it in the keyhole. The door opened, and King William came out, excited at the news of the invitation.

“We shall begin packing immediately,” he stated. “I will not listen to a word of protest from the two of you.”

“My liege, it would be foolish to leave,” protested Grunovich, “before you again can consolidate your position on the throne. And we do not know what that will entail.”

The King looked aghast. “Sir Grunovich, we have put our guests through a rather uncomfortable ordeal. I will not further disappoint them. We will be leaving in a few days.”

Sir Grunovich went back to inform the Monavians of the King’s acceptance of their proposal.

The Monavians had begun to pack some of their possessions and send them aboard the plane, but the packing process was halted when news of the departure of King William and Lord Sebastien was announced. Luggage from Inverness was now being brought back to Caen by some servants, and the royal craft was being readied for leaving at any time.

On the ground, guards and soldiers were inspecting the plane, along with flight crews, to locate any signs of damage or sabotage. Locke was among them, assisting in the operation.

Orders had been transmitted along secure lines of communication to fly in a transport plane with another detatchment of troops, consisting of a platoon of Marines and several medical personnel, including a surgeon and several aides. They would safely take Duke Wallenhem aboard their plane if necessary, while the Marines would further improve security around the airport, at least until the planes had left.

In addition to the new ground forces, an aircraft carrier was now anchored about halfway between the Queen Theodora Islands and the coast of Aurellia, making it possible to fly in more fighters. Two dozen more soon landed in Caen, where they parked themselves in the hangers that evening.

Upon receiving word of the issue of revolts, which was of concern, new orders were also sent out to dispatch a missile frigate within the next few days, so as to provide a means of targeting rebels in the future.

OOC:

If I had already not made you aware, the Queen Theodora Islands are to Monavia what Hawaii is to the United States, that is, they are located far out to sea, in the extreme east of the Nova region.

Also, what was the purpose of mobilizing that regiment and sending it to Inverness? Was it to eliminate them, since they were supporting Archibald?

The King visited with the Monavians again before they left. He was visibly excited at the prospect of a trip to Monavia, while Sebastien and Grunovich attempted to show enthusiasm.

(OOC: Grunovich did not know that the regiment of troops was loyal to Archibald. He ordered them to come to the castle to defend in case of an attack.)

That night, around 8:00, the transport plane landed in Caen. The platoon of Marines soon disembarked, taking with them three armored personnel carriers and a small filed howitzer. The medical team was dispatched to tend to Duke Wallenheim's injuries. They would also examine Sir Grunovich if he had not been examined already, otherwise, they would not have to.

(OOC: Sorry, I thought there was going to be a new thread for some reason)

After clearing up some things and treating Wallenheim and Grunovich with the proper medical care, the King set off for Monavia in his private jet. Following him was the private jet of Lord Rodderwick, whom the King had chosen to replace Sebastien as Lord Chancellor, and following that plane was Lord Sebastien’s plane. Lord Rodderwick, formerly known as Sir Tancred Ellery before being granted the title of Earl of Rodderwick, was a rural “man of the sword” with vast provincial land holdings. Grunovich was unable to accompany the group, since there were significant security issues that needed to be addressed within the Dominion itself, and he was confident that the Monavians could provide suitable security for the King.

After an uneventful flight the planes entered Monavian airspace above the Queen Theodora Islands and landed at the appropriate airstrip.

OOC:

(OOC: Sorry, I thought there was going to be a new thread for some reason)

There will be, but I thought that I should finish up this one first. I will post the new link later.

IC:

After clearing up some things and treating Wallenheim and Grunovich with the proper medical care, the King set off for Monavia in his private jet. Following him was the private jet of Lord Rodderwick, whom the King had chosen to replace Sebastien as Lord Chancellor, and following that plane was Lord Sebastien’s plane. Lord Rodderwick, formerly known as Sir Tancred Ellery before being granted the title of Earl of Rodderwick, was a rural “man of the sword” with vast provincial land holdings. Grunovich was unable to accompany the group, since there were significant security issues that needed to be addressed within the Dominion itself, and he was confident that the Monavians could provide suitable security for the King.

After an uneventful flight the planes entered Monavian airspace above the Queen Theodora Islands and landed at the appropriate airstrip.

In the morning, the planes took off with their passengers around 10:00. The Monavian fighters had been refueled and began taking off first, although several stayed on the ground until the Cotenshirick planes had taken off. The transport planes also took off, carrying the Royal Guardsmen and Marines with them, as well as their associated contingent of medical staff.

Around 6:00 in the evening, the planes landed, one by one, on an airstrip near the capital of the Queen Theodora Islands. They were soon docked at the terminals or stowed in the hangers, in the case of the latter set of planes, and their passengers were unloaded.

While the planes were being refueled, Mr. Carter asked the royal secretary to inform Sebastien that the plnes needed to be refueled for an hour or so, and that they needed to be ready to take off in the next morning to fly to Chalcedon, saying that security issues prevented a lengthy stay on the island from remaining secure. He also added that in Chalcedon, the royal palace had secure facilities which could provide the necessary protection, though he did not elaborate on the nature of these measures.

The King did not protest when informed of the planned departure to Chalcedon in the morning. Soon after their departure, Lord Rodderwick sought to discuss certain issues with the King.

“Yes, what is it Lord Rodderwick?”

“Well, my liege, I was wondering if you had any specific of routine whereby the Lord Chancellor informs the King of issues pertaining to his office.”

Lord Rodderwick’s appearance was very different from that of Sebastien. Rodderwick wore his heraldic liveries, which stood in contrast to the gentlemanly city-suit that Sebastien preferred. Lacking Sebastien’s long sideburns, Rodderwick instead possessed a full beard and mustache. He also had a broadsword hanging from his belt at all times.

In response to Lord Rodderwick’s query, the King answered: “Well, Rodderwick, I do not know about any of that. I must tell you, though, that I need to make up for the hunts that I have missed over the past couple weeks. We need to do two hunts per day if necessary. If you may, ask Mr Carter about Monavian hunting practices, and as to the most expedient means by which to initiate such hunts.”

“I shall certainly fulfill your request, my liege, but I desire at least some validation from you on my first work as your Lord Chancellor.”

The King laughed and drank some more wine. “You are doing an excellent job, sir. I need give no further evaluation.”

By the early afternoon, the planes had landed in Chalcedon, having completed a journey of several thousand miles. The flight crews were growing somewhat eager to finish their immediate duties so that they may deal with more personal matters, or prepare the planes for maintainence.

The royals disembarked onto the primary government terminal, and were soon making their way toward some secure limousines. The public was kept away from the area, being confronted with signs and flyers that spoke of the need for both privacy and security, which would last until the next day.

OOC:

I will post a new thread to continue this. Expect the link and new thread tomorrow or Thursday.

(OOC: I'm sorry if you wanted a response before you created the new thread.)

Lord Sebastien took the King aside at one point, looking to clear some things up.

"Yes, my good Lord?" said the King. "What concerns you?"

"Well, my liege, I do not wish to sound as if I disapprove of your selection of Lord Rodderwick as my replacement, but I would like to know what was wrong with the two candidates I had put forward."

"Well, Lord Sebastien, I believe I had told you before. Sir Torrasque is Catholic, and Lord King is a generally unpleasant person."

"I fail to see how those reasons should be of enough substance for you to overlook them."

"Sebastien, as you undoubtedly know, I must see to it that a minister of such high position is also one of scrupulous character."

"But my liege, those reasons do not suggest poor character on the part of those men. Your disagreement with Lord King originates in an isolated moment several years ago. And a man's Papism has never before stopped you from promoting him to an esteemed office. On the other hand, I have worked with these men for a decent part of my career, and am thus able to view them holistically."

"That is just the thing," said the King. He was speaking lowly now and did not like the way the conversation was going. "You have worked with them. They are, how should I put it, city men. Now, this is a rather unpleasant issue. Let us join the others again for myrth and merriment."

The King did not wait for Lord Sebastien to assent and turned back toward the group they had been with.

I did not require one, however, it is certainly welcome. I am posting a new thread tonight, though I am uncertain where it will lead beyond the first few posts.

The link to it is here: Preserving an Imperiled Government (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=583250).

Behold the next bump!

The other thread has been up for two days now.