The Anloniad

[Warre]

November 8th, 2017

The 3rd Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)

Lumina, High Kingdom of Warre

There were a few clear signs of winter in Warre versus the season in other places. The first being that winter brought a need to be with others; a need that was more than a psychological imperative to be with people, but instead a need which was sometimes viewed as a physiological imperative as the cold winds from the Gothic Sea and further afield hit the Warreic Peninsula and made sitting around others in a room with an active fire a relaxing, comforting proposition. The second being that with it, the weather could rarely choose between driving, freezing rain and that of heavy snows when it began to rain, and the third being that the radio stations were awash with songs which no matter the genre, brought about feelings of holiday mirth. To hear an Early Warreic Metal band like Ui Bolge sing about a Merry Christmas and a warrior version of the Warreic version of Santa Claus, Papa Hybor, was something that made even an old man like him laugh as he stared out the rain drenched windowpanes onto the lawns of his Lumina residence.

Anlon was not the type of man who did what the typical Warreicman did, that was true. He had never been, and yet as he stared out at the heavy winter rains of early November he yearned for this Christmas to be a bit more typical. The reason itself was simple, Anlon was no spry chicken anymore, his oats had long been sown and both of his dear sons, Arthur and Dairrach had been in in their graves for more than a half decade, and any grandchildren he knew of were busy with their own affairs or simply were too much of little twats to visit their grandfather (he thought of young Reynold at that, Dairrach's only son and a boy who was too busy worrying about the things popular in Bourgogne, Eiffelland, and the rest of bloody Gallia); it was not easy being the High King of the Warreics.

There was no large family milling about the fire and enjoying their days together in the holiday season, there was nothing of the sort. Instead, as he leaned on his cane and nursed a tumbler of whiskey he had only dreams of that sort of family, that fiction of life. Instead hee thought elsewhere, thought of the papers strung out among his Arthan imported mahogany desk, and more over of their contents. Top secret reports from his secret service on manners which they had been investigating for years.

Dairrach had died nearly six years before after a bout of liver cancer which he had been fighting for nearly twelve years. A bout brought the doctors said, by excessive drinking – a bout which had made Anlon give up on drinking himself for nearly a decade. It was a vow that depression, exhaustion, and guilt had broke today, as he thought of his elder son, Arthur, on this day. It had been Arthur's birthday today, and that was brought it all on. Memories.

 

[Warre]

November 8th, 2017
The 3rd Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
Lumina, High Kingdom of Warre

As he watched the rain come down, his mind continued to flicker to that day, the last day he had seen his eldest son within the confines of the High Kingdom's 'home provinces'. Things had seemed so different back then, so hopeful. Rebecca had still been with them on the earthly plane and Dairreach was half-way through getting his masters at the University of Stormmaigh, and Arthur had both gotten a doctor's in archaeology years before and finished his first term of service with the Royal Army.

It was exactly this day, thirty years before.

November 8th, 1987
The 3rd Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
Lumina, High Kingdom of Warre

Despite being Christmastide, the den of the High King's residence within Lumina didn't smell of deliciously roasting meats and potatoes from down in the kitchen, it didn't smell of pine limbs burning on the fire. No, overwhelmingly it smelled of the spices and foods from the far east, and as he sipped his coffee and looked over a copy of the Ulaid Hirt, Anlon was filled with wonder, and indeed far more than that worry as his wife sat on the couch parallel to his own with a coy look upon her smile. Whatever one might say of the High Queen of Warre, Rebecca MacCuAodha (nee UiRyan) was not the type of woman to smile coyly unless she had something nefarious planned, and indeed was not the type of woman to not have been personally overseeing the preparations for dinner herself on this her eldest child's birthday.

Yet here she sat, smiling coyly of him and sending thoughts of worry more severe in his mind than if he had been sitting across from the premier of Kadikistan making a similarly knowing smile.

“Honey, where is Arthur? He was supposed to be home already, was he not? He flew in from his meeting in Midwies all of this morning if I remember the time tables correctly. Why aren't you worried?”

He didn't need to remind her that typically in a situation such as their sons not showing themselves after being due back such a time ago, she would have been storming around commanding the house staff and anyone else she could as if she was the Morrigan incarnate. Yet here she sat, smiling coyly at him.

“I'm not sure, Anlon. You know boys, sometimes they think it not necessary to check on their family, as if we are the Glengarry Glacier, un-moving for eons and untouched by the passage of time.”

She knew something she wasn't letting on, or he was the Prince-Bishop of Grouw Marken. So putting his paper down, he gulped down the last of his coffee and began to prowl the royal home to find out what this particular surprise was.

 

[Warre]

November 8th, 1987
The 3rd Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
Lumina, High Kingdom of Warre

Even in the 1980s he used a cane when walking far thanks to a shell he had taken to his knee while he was leading an unit of Warreic volunteers in Borovanger. Relaxed as they had been in assurance that they would survive this battle with ease, for the same unit had fought on the side of the Ivernian High Kingdom during Milesia's (successful) attempt at rebellion, and suffered no issues. The Borovangen Civil War was a bit more visceral than that and they had never expected a minefield and explosion so serious it had caused an localized earthquake. One which caused a WARI D-12 “Draig” jet to jostle enough it fell off its landing gear and rolled over his left leg. Being the crown prince even then, the finest doctors in the Warreic Empire had been called after he was medically evacuated from Borovanger and his leg was saved at the cost of tremendous physical training and surgeries on the knee which brought it operational but could never replace his knee cap.

By the time the 82 had rolled around and his father died, Anlon was already known as the 'Grandfather prince' in some of the most unflattering circles within Warre thanks to that cane.

So his quest for the truth was not a simple jog down some stairs from the den to the kitchens, it was an ordeal which had him pass several of the household staff and made him glare at them like a hunting hound whenever it even looked like they were going to offer him help down the stairs. Thirty minutes passed before he finally got to kitchens and from outside of it he heard sweet laughter and a rapid smattering of language flipping between Engellish, Warreic, and the dialect of Tianese that most would call 'Wui Tianese' or simply 'Wuinese', the language spoken by the majority of the ethnic Tianese native to the Siu Wui Island group, as well as those Xianese and Tianese who had immigrated early enough.

One of the voices was his eldest son's and he could tell that very clearly even over the sound of cooking and the other was a young woman's which he had never heard before. Despite knowing next to nothing of Warre's own personal dialect of the language of the former 'eternal empire', he knew more than enough Engellish and Warreic to know that whoever this young woman is, she had no business talking to a Crown Prince and Tanist of one of the oldest and most prestigious royal houses within Europe like that.

He hesitated rather than storm into the kitchen and let the young lady know exactly that only because of words he heard before he could think to do so. Arthur's voice carried even without telling speeches so it was not hard to understand the words fully.

“Yan Xue, it might seem like a lot of work just to convince my father that there is a laudable chance for us to be together and marry, but it is worthwhile. It isn't like you are some alien to our culture and your family is of good breeding and standing. We just have to show him that, and he'll definitely say yes to our marriage.”

The word brought a frown upon his face as he thought of the hostile, sometimes alien seeming nations of the east simply at the words which were said. He might be the King of Siu Wui just as much as he was the High King of Warre, but that did not mean that Anlon believed it a glorious place of high civilization.

He sneaked back up stairs in half the time it took him to get down the stairs despite the pain. His son would be the one in for a surprise.

 

[Warre]

December 23rd, 2017
The 48th Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
City of Fort Ross, Dal-ross Metropolitian Governance, Kingdom of Tauros, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

Despite claiming itself to be just as 'traditionally Warreic', as the rest of the High Kingdom, the Kingdom of Tauros, with its largely inland territory and its very small snippet of the coast of Arthalan was not the sort of place which directly reflected its ancestral homeland. Wherein Lumina was driven by harsh rains or heavy snow during the Christmastide Season, in Tauros it was far more often expected for high, cutting winds or flash storms of hail and snow than the gentle snow and biting freezing rain of the home provinces.

So the radio stations in the region inter played their holiday time melodies with news reports of the meteorological type and aside from the WARN-1 station, as associated as the primary Warreic & Anlyric Realms Network station was with news; few snippets of news from the outside world could be had without pulling out a computer, television, or if you were a traditionalist, a newspaper. It was something that made families stick together and the public houses throughout the region be awash with groups of friends and not much room for outsiders. Twice as much could be said of the historic 'Hell's Half-Acre' district of Fort Ross. Which despite having a notorious streak for partying, casinos, brothels and worse since the earliest days of the city springing up around Fort Ross thanks to the Cattleman's trade, was mostly a ghost town when it came to a friendly smile to a stranger in these times.

It was no surprise then that Edward MacArthur, a young man who was not strong in the 'having a family to lean on department', or having a large circle of friends thanks to being a child without both parents, then an orphan, was among those who strode through the skyscrapers and brownstones of the largely renovated historic district without a holiday greeting grin on his face. He had just made a trip to the local public library specifically to read up on the news that had interested him, such as the IOF's progress, the theories on what the current papal conclave would bring about, and also a mysterious disease which conspiracy theorists claimed was spread by the monstrous Strix, 'Changeritis'.

His reading done, now he was on his way home, or as close to a home as he had. His mother's brother, Uncle Eric, had been the one to help raise him throughout the most of his life, and his Uncle Eric's family were those who he lived with even now in his late twenties. It would be as good a Christmas as he had ever had in a day or two, and for that he was happy. Aunt Diane's Pumpkin Pie would make sure of that.

He saw the warmth, inviting lights of every store, house, bar and apartment block he passed despite it being only five pm, and so he decided to make a stop into one of Fort Ross' greatest gifts to the Warreic (and perhaps world) civilization, the convenience store. A “Seachd Diech” or '7-10', located on the cellar level of one of those historic brownstones. Down he went along the well swept staircase and to the door he reached. With a quick step past the reinforced fiberglass windows which made up the majority of the store's street facing wall, he was inside and on the hunt for a “Sairsint Piobar” the spicy cherry flavored soda pop which was kept in both refrigerators and normal shelving, because its kick provided a non-alcoholic warmth in winter.

Picking up a 24 Ounce Bottle and a Two and a half Liter Bottle as well to take to his family, he Edward strode towards the counter to pay only to notice that the shouting he had heard wasn't the typical sort of shouting from people. As he went about his task he had done so thinking that they were just listening to a high level sports game and simply were shouting over excitedly, but instead he found himself stumbling upon a drunken man in fatigues, with a large haversack over his shoulder pointing a gun at the clerk and demanding all the money.

Before he even registered the cries from the clerk of “Oh, okay, okay.” or “I don't know what riled you up so much just because we refused to sell you more alcohol.” from the clerk's assistant with her arms raised up in a 'don't shoot' pose; something forced him to react. Rearing back, he tossed the larger soda, which despite being plastic had plenty of weight behind it, and before it connected tossed the smaller, glass bottle over head at the robber's head. As the larger bottle bowled him to the side for a moment, the smaller glass bottle shattered against his head.

Before the robber could react more, Edward had already thrown himself forward and tackled him around the midsection, sending them sprawling on the ground and rolling thanks to the plastic soda bottle's still being in the area. Wrestling the gun from the robber's hand, Edward kept running on instinct and by the time he had him and his gun pinned the clerk had rushed over with some packing tape. The robber's hands were bound and before Edward could really react, the clerk was calling for his assistant to call the police already.

Which would have been her first response had she not been busy shouting “Wow that was just like in Live Hard.” A Warreic Christmas Classic.

 

[Warre]

December 23rd, 2017
The 48th Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
City of Fort Ross, Dal-ross Metropolitian Governance, Kingdom of Tauros, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre



The calls were made and they waited for the arrival of the local police force. Given the level of minor disturbances, fights, and house eggings which happened at this time of year, it was estimated by the dispatchers that it would take nearly twenty minutes for officers to arrive, take witness statements, and take the criminal to jail as well as detail the name, age, and status of the young man who had stopped it, because stopping a robbery or other acts of civil custodianship could get someone awarded status as a citizen if they didn't have such a rank before then.



So young Mr. MacArthur amicably sat with the clerks, sipping a complimentary Sargeant Piobar as he waited for the arrival of the police officers which had been dispatched. While he had been ready to go home, it was understood that he would be doing a disservice to the store if he left before they arrived, officers preferred to have at least three witness statements in situations like this for the strongest of cases.



So when not ten minutes later the klaxon of a police vehicle, and the flashing red, green, blue, and orange lights of its ceiling were seen through the window they assumed that they had gotten lucky. Soon there after, a series of five men in well pressed black suits strode into the store, three of which with guns drawn.



Edward's eyes flicked to the gun some four feet away from him, but before he could even get the inclination to move the head of the group, a man wearing a newsboy hat in addition to his suit, popped open his suit jacket and reached in to reveal the tin badge seal of the Rigard, the Kingsguard, the combined highest law enforcement agency in the entire realm, royal intelligence agency, and yes, actual guards of the King. Its circle with triskele engraving over topped with an alert 'crowned' hound made it clear exactly what it was, if the man's words did not do so itself.



“Edward Anlon MacArthur, I am Marshal Thaddeus Walsh of the Warreic Rigard, and you are hereby placed in custody. You will come with us, or we will make you come with us.”

 

[Warre]

December 23rd, 2017
The 48th Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
City of Fort Ross, Dal-ross Metropolitian Governance, Kingdom of Tauros, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

Edward might have been a lot of things, but what he was not was someone who was stupid enough to resist the duly mandated order of warrant from a member of the Warreic Rigard, at least while within the Warreic realm. So he put his hands up at the command, and followed them out the door. As they went through the doors and up the stairs he saw a large black van and a medium sized black sedan were parked there and Edward was led to his surprise to the Sedan.

The inside was black, plush, and leather to his surprise when he was expecting to be led to the bleak steel wagon bench in the back of the van. As he sat he realized it had black plexiglas stopping a clear vision of the direction which they were traveling in. Darkened glass all around him, he started to wonder which would have been more preferable when it came to figuring out where he was. Maybe if this was Eiffeland or one of those snooty Gallian monarchies a young man his age who had served in the military would have a smart phone and be able to track his path with that, but it wasn't. The Pay Phone and Pager were still lords of the land in the majority of the Kingdom of Tauros, and that was a fact.

So he simply sighed and relaxed, at least he wasn't handcuffed for the ride. He went to sleep shortly after the engine kicked up and the car began to drive away.

In the front of the car, the Kingsguard assigned to driving turned to their commander, Marshal Walsh as they began to drive away and said the simple words which would in the days that follow be on the lips of all of Warre.

“Who exactly is this guy? I mean while I know his name, we're not exactly treating him like a suspect, and this is a lot of security for someone who isn't on the most wanted list.”

The Marshal simply tilted his newsboy cap on his head. “That's classified, Doherty. But know we're following orders from the very top. And I don't mean CarrickAodh top, I mean, 1 Hightower Lane, Lumina, the official residence of the High King, the top.”

November 9th, 2017
The 4th Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
Lumina, High Kingdom of Warre

The night had not treated him well, and long years of not drinking had put Anlon out on his couch well into the night. The man was almost eighty years old so that have been no surprise, but it was at least to him. The picture of health and spirited youth to the rest of the elders of of Warre, the High King was none the less no longer used to the punch of hard liquor, or alcohol at all and when he woke up, he thanked his stars that Mrs. Machuran had left out a bottle of aspirin and tall glass of water for him along side the delicious fried eggs, toast, baked beans, roasted tomatoes and pork belly bacon she had left.

After the refresher of a college student, the octogenarian stood up and walked over to his desk to pick up the file again. He opened it up and began to look over it for the nine-tenth time in the past three days, before reaching for the twenty plus year old, wired, touch tone phone on his desk and taking it off the hook. He began to call a number and before he could talk himself out of it he said the words he had been fighting to say since he had got this report, a celestial present on the first day of Christmastide.

“Do it. Bring him in, not just a medium distance protection program like you've been doing since you found out who he was.”

He closed the file and began to walk towards the nearest restroom. It was going to be a long night, and a long flight ahead of him, so he would need more than fried egg and aspirin magic.

 

[Warre]

December 24th, 2017
The 49th Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
Undisclosed Location in the Dal-ross Metropolitian Governance, Kingdom of Tauros, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

It had been hours, and hours, possibly four, possibly more, possibly less, of driving around until they got to their location and while Edward had woken up once or twice for a few minutes on the way of the drive he had no way to know exactly how far they went. Without being able to see the dashboard, out the windows, or if they were driving back around places he had no idea of where they were at when they got there. The last part had a slope to it and that was what had jolted him awake the last time as they drove downwards, and combined with the fact that they were not exiting the car with the almost ever present late night and early morning mist of the Dalros-Fort Ross area, it made it obvious they were underground. Perhaps a simple underground office parking lot, perhaps one of the many bunkers the government had been rumored to have built at the height of the 'World War' scare where some had thought the end of the modern world would at the hand of chemical and biological weapons, if not worse destructive forces.

Indeed, when the door opened part of him expected to be hit with a rifle but and to have his head covered with a sack so he couldn't see where he was, but as the door opened he doubted there would be any use of hiding where he was anyways. No one would believe he had ever found the notorious 'Area 53' anyways, it was the stuff of urban legends and movies. Despite those facts, he realized as the car came to a stop and the door was opened, with two armed guards standing buy with rifles, that that was exactly where he was. A bunker which had '53' emblazoned across the reinforced concrete walls in multiple places, all with the same green, and orange lettering surrounded by dark blue 'shadowing'.

This time though he didn't even see the Marshal waiting for him, as he expected. Instead, it was a graying, grizzled general that he thought only appeared in the movies anymore. Warre hadn't been in any stance beyond that of anti-piracy operations and (severely) armed neutrality in decades, and the High King had went on record saying that so long as he was reigning that would remain the case. After all, Warre had more to gain from open trade with as many countries as it could trade with than it did over the prestige wars that the so-called 'powers' of the world got into; so it was almost crazy to see a man like that in uniform and not retired by now.

“Mr. MacArthur, please allow me to introduce myself. Brigadier General Albert Keith O'Rourke. I am in command here, and would like to welcome you to area 53. While I cannot reveal the reason you are here, I have went out of my way to make sure they provided you a comfortable accommodation for the time you spend waiting here.”

At the sight of Edward's right fist upon the left side of Edward's own chest, the General added, a salute in kind of his own, and the words “Anlyr Go Braugh,” Anlyr, the poetic name for all the 'Warreic High Kingdom' and its realms, Anlyr Forever.

After all, Mr. Edward Anlon MacArthur had done his terms of service as any would be citizen (as opposed to subject) of the High Kingdom would, and the traditions of military service were still firmly engraved into his mind.

 

[Warre]

December 24th, 2017
The 49th Day of Christmastide (Warreic Reckoning)
Undisclosed Location in the Dal-ross Metropolitian Governance, Kingdom of Tauros, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

Soon, Edward was led to a rather plush (for a bunker, and also considering it had probably been decorated in the 1980s) set of apartments to decompress for a moment. After showering, shaving, and spending some time playing a VirtuToy Color, the most popular handheld gaming system around during the early 2000s, he left the room with its steel springed camp bed, 30 inch CRT TV, book shelf with classics and contemporary (as of last decade) books, and a wardrobe with fresh clothes in it; behind.

Thoughts of the joy of playing MonéDan Orange Version once again after so many years put a spring in his step despite the fact he was wearing standard issue military PT clothes for the moment. Following the guards, he was soon led to a door which had no place card upon it, and which had no windows inside. After two knocks by the lead soldier, the door buzzed and let him in from the inside, where the General sat in a bleak room with nothing but steel chairs and tables, and a water cooler in the corner. On the table opposite of General O'Rouke sat a piping hot bowl of chili with all the fixings. Certainly not traditional Christmas Eve fare in Warre, but the smell and sudden realization of his hunger led Edward to sit down and begin to devour it.

The general laughed from across the table, taking more measured bites of the chili before stopping all together to ask the twenty-something year old Mr. MacArthur a question.

“So, Mr. MacArthur, tell me what you know about your father?”

“I'm sorry... what?” was the confused response after chili demolishing had been canceled by that question. What did Edward Anlon MacArthur know about his father? His real father, not the uncle who had been more like a father to him than anyone else? What did he know?

 

[Warre]

December 25th, 2017
The 50th Day of Christmastide, Christmas Day Itself (Warreic Reckoning)
Undisclosed Location in the Dal-ross Metropolitian Governance, Kingdom of Tauros, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

It had been hours, and hours, and hours of back and forth between the two, of the general telling state secrets which made the young citizen grimace simply from knowing, and finally a series of photographs which made it all clear. Edward had been told that his father was a soldier, of course, and had been told his father died in the small scale insurrections and skirmishes which had occurred in various areas of the Warreic High Kingdoms' realm around the time Edward was born, as the Kingdom fought it's war on the trafficking and production of controlled narcotics in its lands.

His mother claimed to have lost any picture of his father in the fire that destroyed his childhood home, before her death, but in fact that seemed to be a lie. As the General finished his various questions and began to instead explain things that the state had found out about the previous Tanist, or Crown Prince in the words of some European nations, of the Warreic High Kingdom, Arthur (MacAnlon), of House MacAodha, some things began to be pieced together, and as the general showed him a quick process camera's photograph of a the former Tanist holding a day old baby and standing near a woman that looked eerily similar to his mother, he could not believe it.

He was bombarded by emotions even as the General turned picture around to show the hastily scribbled date and time of his birth, along with a name very eerily similar to his own, Edward Anlon MacArthur, of House MacAodha.

Also shown to him had been a number of documents such as wedding certificates of his mother and the prince, and while some might jump for joy at the idea they had suddenly won the celestial lottery and gotten such a present on Christmas day, the Edward simply grunted.

“You expect me to believe that my father was the long-lost and dead tanist Edward MacAodha? What are you after, some kin-?” and before he could finish the words of 'kinda coup', the door opened again, and a man Edward and so many other citizens and subjects of the Warreic realm had seen at least once a week on their televisions, newspapers, or heard in radio broadcasts, stepped in.

The High King himself, and the old man spoke up before Edward could even throw himself to a knee in prostration to royalty.

“I would say I expect you to do more than believe that you are my grandson, Edward. I expect you to learn what it means to be the next Tanist of Warre and to act the part, regardless of what complications you may bring to the table.”

And despite Edward's knowledge that there were numerous other candidates to take the throne, despite he knew this man no more than he knew a sandwich shop owner, there was something in the tone of the man that kept him from speaking up. If Anlon MacAodha, the High King of all Warreicmen told him to believe it, he damn well would more quickly than an Elbener following the censure of the Pope.

 

[Warre]

March 5th, 2018
New Launch Preparation Day
Offices of the Chief Editor, Havok! Comics Echidna Branch, City of Kirkdown, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

Things were much more hard for Alexei Geoff Ballewick the 3rd (the third generation publisher and senior chief editor of Havok! Comics from his family) in the past few months, as Alex Bal (as fans called him) dealt with the demanding, corrective influences of the new chief share holder and owner of the Havok! Comics corporation. While the previous controller of those shares, and thus board seats had been utterly silent on things that was not the case now.

This was the fifth meeting in as many days that he had with his company's new chief executive officer, and he could only hear the demands for corrections, modernization, and movement to open branches elsewhere in the world. As if Alex Ball didn't know what people wanted! He was the man who invented the 35 pouch version of the Mahogany Hound costume!

Did the new owner think this some kind of game?

March 5th, 2018
New Launch Preparation Day
Entrance of the Havok! Comics Echidna Branch, City of Kirkdown, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

The new chief owner of Havok! Comics did not think this a game at all. After having been given a task, a challenge even by his grandfather less than three full months ago. He had been given the knowledge that when his father was a child Grandfather Anlon had bought majority stock in Havok! Comics simply because Arthur enjoyed the comics company. and when he had turned 21 it had been part of Arthur's Graduation gift from University.

After Arthur's death, of course Anlon did not do much with the company, having not done much with it before aside from silently buoy it and keep it from floundering, and after Arthur's death it had such bitter memories that he tried to ignore he possessed it.

But no matter the qualifications of Edward, no matter his lineage, no matter what responsible side he might show in comparison to Anlon's other grandchildren, simply placing him as Tanist would be no good without a record to show his skill. Service in the military and having citizenship already helped things, but if he could turn around or begin turning around a floundering company it would go far to show that he had the skills to be Tanist in addition to the fact that he was Anlon's choice.

He headed into the office of the head Editor.

March 5th, 2018
New Launch Preparation Day
Entrance of the Havok! Comics Echidna Branch, City of Kirkdown, United Sovereignity of Arthalan, High Kingdom of Warre

“Listen kid, you don't know this business from a lick of salt, and I have to say that these new concepts you demanded to represent all of Warre are damn well good.”

Alex waved his hands over the various concept art pieces and story snippets that had been put together, and smirked. Obviously this rich kid or upstart mogul would accede to his greater experience. This was just a game to them after all.

“I don't think so Mr. Ballewick, if we've got this new story arc planned we should make sure that it's planned right. You want to bring people back into comics and hell launch a proper entertainment company like I do, making movies, cartoons, and action figures and by god you've got to have better things to work with than this.” he picked up the sketch of a far too many pouched, muddy red-brown costumed man with an ox or bull motif for his superhero costume, and he crumpled it. “Anyone within the Kingdom of Tauros who saw this disgrace would roll their eyes at best, or actively campaign against people buying comics featuring him at worse. While Tauros is and always has been depicted as a ranching state with fast herds of bison, cattle, and buffalo that is not the root of that province's name...” he grimaced, his 'born in raised in Tauros' showing at the hot shot Kirkdown media mogul. “It's because of the Tor Roc, a legendary thunder bird from many Echnida mythologies, and which is the reason we call what others might call Ostriches, Torries. When the first settlers came to that region, they would notice the native tribes moving their settlements to and fro, and when asked why they said 'The Thunder Birds', the 'Tor Rocs', and guess what? It was the common ostrich, Mr. Ball, their herds were big enough at the time that they thundered across the plains, savannas, and beaches of the Kingdom of Tauros. You want to get people talking about these regional superheroes for each region of the High Kingdom? Put the work in. ”

Alexei was without words at that, he had practically been lectured at by this rich kid, this country bumpkin, this little did he know future King of Warre.

“You expect me to throw out all this work and get the artists and writers to come in and hash out new characters with you directly supervising? Nothing is wrong with a beefy strong man for representing the Kingdom of Tuaros!”

“Hm... I wonder how hard it would be to find someone willing and able to fulfill the chief editor's job after I sack you.... bet it wouldn't be hard, so I suggest you listen to my mandates.”

And so it went on, with artists, writers, and more being brought in to design new characters, stories, comics and teams for the new launch of Havok! Comics, and the first test of Edward's leadership capabilities outside of the military.