The Crimson Queen

[Thaumantica]

FOXWOOD MAYHEM

Foxwood Manor, Persephone Island of

You must be registered for see links

​

With toe in line and fingers in a tight anacondas curl, the dark dressed men of the Foxwood Foot Guard collided Six-Hundred & Six boots together with their respective pairings. The ear striking noise sent chills down the Princess Alice as her eyes were overwhelmed by the sudden extension of Three-Hundred & Three lurid crimson gloves up and towards her. "My Charlotte!" she whispered in shock, immediately regretting having taken the Empresses name in vain.

Alice bit the inside of her lip, breaking way for a languid but distasteful gush of blood to smother her tongue. Felix Ilchester was somewhere in Persephone now scheming, she just knew it, the tall white Mormon Chancellor had dispatched this Military Order of the surest Engellexic Pedigree to protect her, whether she preferred so or not, and in spite of the Royal Guard thus far loyal to her. The Myth of Foxwood preceded them by a titanic berth; despite their prolific infamy the Foot Guard had not been seen publicly in all her life, their myth had struck her as phantom until resonating in corporeal form in front of her this evening.

Although her fingers shook and resisted, Alice found the strength to lift them up to her heart as the Lord Chancellor had instructed in a most imposing manner. "For . . " she struggled for air as the moment struck and overwhelmed, "FORWARD!" Alice rang out with loud decree. "FORWARD!" Foxwood replied, shaking the ground beneath them like a Wieser Tank.

The Royal Guard which preceded them quietly threw down their sabres to the courtyards center, arranging themselves before their displaced Commander who loosened his collar and removed the helmet protecting his head. "My Princess, these swords belong to you, despite our failure to protect . . " the Commander Brenner said, reduced to a whimper as his sabre was drawn for him by the Foxwood Marching Lord, Robert Herschell. Lord Herschell swiftly opened the mans throat without provocation or command from Alice, who clenched her hands tightly in to fists behind her back.

Spilling his life essence in violent spurts, Brenner collapsed beneath the manifest weight of gravity whilst iron tipped rounds punctured the defenseless guards lined up behind him. Weapons silencers made each of their individual deaths seem subtle, and somehow less graphic to Alice in her bewildered state. Never before had she viewed this degree of violence, surely never in such rapid succession, the Royal Guard that had attended to her security for the first Twenty-Three years of her life had been reduced to a motionless mound of human flesh and bone.

Lord Herschell cast the blood moistened blade symbolically aside in to a pile with the others, he slowly approached the Princess who had already prepared her hand to receive his outstretched salute upon arrival. "My Princess" Herschell said from down upon his knees, presenting a dark black coated pistol up above himself, "The Foxwood Foot Guard presents its arms, a ballistic weapon Your Highness, that will protect you from hereon".

"For as long as we both so live" Alice recited, just as the Chancellor's letter had instructed, " . . Forward Cantigny!". Lord Herschell holstered his weapon and took to his feet, which immediately turned him around to face The Guard. "FORWARD" Foxwood called out in grand unison, throwing up yet another salute to Alice for reception. Finally her pride began to swell like a cherry ripe for picking, and while the Princess felt physically quite weak, her youthful mind and spirit was emboldened by the Foxwood mayhem.

 

[Thaumantica]

THE SHADOW QUEEN

Vesper, Capital of

You must be registered for see links

​

Be it from an astute sense of direction, or the likely event Lord Herschell was familiar with the Lord Chancellor's compound in Vesper, Alice was appalled by how swiftly and surely her Foxwood Footguard pivoted sharply around corners of hallways deeper than few, least of all Alice, could possibly imagine. As they drew nearer to him, she felt the constant apprehension reserved only for Felix Ilchester, the Chancellor who dared to place his own image near to or perhaps even above that of the Queen-Empress Charlotte, a man of National Democracy, a dangerous melding of the pious Touzen Constitutionalism and the Mother Country's own audacious intrepidity.

Stacking the large iron door at what seemed to be the end of the line, Foxwood partially detached itself from Alice to enter the Lord Chancellor's office chamber. "May I be entrusted with the honour of presenting Your Highness?" Lord Herschell gently queried, to which Alice simply acknowledged by warmly palming her heart with her hand, in order to ceremoniously receive his devoted kindness. A terrible silence pervaded there for nearly two minutes; it had been said before of Alice that the Princess waited on no man in Europe, and to but only one woman in the Empire: Charlotte.

"Her Royal Highness, the Princess Royal, Alice Alexandra Rydell, Her Grace, the Duchess of Hammersmith and Vesper, Surrogate Queen of Cantignia" Herschell finally bellowed from inside. Ignoring the screaming urge to stomp in to the Chancellor's chamber in a huff, Alice instead thanked the Footguards she would leave behind in the hallway with a beaming of her renowned bright blue within green eyes. Her Highness hailed vaguely from the Arendaal pedigree, and though several generations removed it had been remarked by certain public intellectuals occupying the position that her visage perhaps lent more to the Nordic design than Engellexic, even while her racial consciousness gravitated towards an Engellexic regalia.

What struck her first was the duality of the Lord Chancellor's chamber: here beneath the city languished a temperature chill greater even than the halls that had brought her here, and next the oppressing consistency of crimson decor over iron furniture that both impressed and disturbed her eye for the National Culture. The design was hardly Engellexic, in fact she struggled to associate it with anything but the Lord Chancellor's iron will - now bearing down upon her from behind a large desk that had been melded with dulled barbwire and engraved with innumerable symbols that she imagined were meant to empower.

Alice cleared her throat gingerly in earnest expectation of Felix's salute, greeting, anything at all, but the Lord Chancellor deferred any gesture of respect so he might persist in that piercing stare which often graced magazine covers and tabloids across Oceania. "The Feminine Youth of our fair Nation celebrate your charm, Miss Alice, yet I myself must be immune to it, to this captivating allure my darling Cannie girls wish to emulate" Felix communicated with the utmost condescension. "As far as I am concerned" Felix uttered with an emphasis on 'I', "Vesper belongs most entirely to me, and Hammersmith to Her Majesty . . That said, my Surrogate Queen, long live the Queen-Empress; I do pray that surrogacy remains synonymous with permanence".

Customarily aloof to her Highness's exchanges, Lord Herschell broke custom by scowling, almost snarling at Lord Ilchester for his blatant disrespect towards the object of his sworn protection. "Is that your sincere view, Lord Chancellor?" Herschell asked, attempting and failing to appear skeptical. "It is most surely his view, I am afraid to report, Mister Ilchester does not share the devotion to Divine Establishment, here, down under the World, as Foxwood and all truly patriotic people of Greater Cantignia have for the first twenty-three years of my life".

"Of course . . " Felix began, "Of course," Alice interrupted - "The Lord Chancellor was thumping the Book of our Prophet, playing the ghoulish game of politics here in Vesper, and failing to fill a woman with his child twenty-three years ago". Felix burst out in sudden laughter, her retort had hit him square in the groin, precisely where the haughty Mormon majority in Cantigny demanded a child from, no, a large family from a man now twice widowed by violent circumstance. "Very good, Alice." Felix sighed as only a man rapidly approaching fifty could. "Still, as I am Father to no child, you Alice, are Monarch to no realm or people".

Alice dabbed her lips with a handkerchief, feeling ill suddenly as the Chancellor lamented over their disposition, "Surely you are not suggesting?" Alice shivered, curdling inside from the thought of herself and this sad old man spending even five more minutes together. "Never, oh never, excuse me if I . ." Felix demanded.

"You are excused!" Lord Herschell interjected before the queer inferrence dominated their exchange, "Have out with your request for Her Highness, Lord Chancellor, so we may all go about our duties to the realm". While the Commander of the Foxwood Footguard had been initially offended by Felix's niggardly behavior, now he grew most impatient with Alice's aimless youth as he often did as her constant and faithful attendee.

Rolling out from behind his iron-cast desk, Felix approached Alice with closed arms as a teacher might approach a student. "I would have the Princess Alice attend Her Majesties August festivities, Wrexham is positively convinced that Cantiginia cannot afford to go unnoticed" Felix said, eying her from head to toe and back up again, "You Alice are our Persephone, if you will". A daughter of Zeus and Demeter, known as the luscious embodiment of a fruitful harvest and seed, raped and abducted against her will to the underworld, a land down under, to serve a King she did not choose as both a feared and admired Queen of the Shadows.

"Persephone I have been, and Persephone I will be . ." she said, ". . Dulwich recognizes my value, my beauty, but I will never be one of them." Alice anguished, somehow still leagues detached from the emotional displays of a common young lady. The Lord Chancellor smiled for the first time, sensing the subtleties of her ambition, and how it had been limited by mere geographic disposition as it had limited him, and all those children of Empire from faraway realms. He fundamentally believed with all of his heart and soul in Cantigny, Greater Cantignia; the Prophet, Savior, and Lord had chosen Oceania for grandiose extravagance and culture beyond the Motherlands perceived apex for its very own children.

 

[Thaumantica]

IN IMPERIAL DEMAND

The Hotel Imperial, in New Dulwich

You must be registered for see links

​

Alice grimaced at the sight of mildew and dust as she shuffled lightly through the Imperial Hotel, a relic of its former greatness and luxury. As she arrived in the Great Hall, Elder statesmen from far across the Engellexic Empire met her with their eyes and a hoisting of cloudy glasses, each filled too high with brandy to be considered respectable.

"Give me one good reason to be here, I asked him," the Crimson Queen whispered to her personal footguard, "and would you guess to what level that mans audacity has swelled?". Foxwoods Commander shook his head and shrugged, although he knew full well what his wiretaps had overheard. "The Lord Chancellor advised me to lower my dress and give our brothers from the motherland one good reason to stay . . " Alice scoffed, " . . and pay for the remainder of the war.".

The Crimson Queen's own Oceanic Band churned out a cadence of Engellexic origin as Alice took her seat at the head of the Hall, gesturing for her Engellexic guests to take their own seats with a subtle nod to the Imperial's Maître d’. "Her Imperial Highness, the most venerable and vestal Queen Charlotte, has entrusted Her own overseas brothers and sisters with entertaining each of you 'Snowbirds', as you are known to be called." An uncomfortable grumble from the aging group was let out as Alice lied, afterall, each of these men and women were either too elderly, wealthy, or dreadfully afraid to stay in Engellex proper as the war for Montelimar approached an all too ominous winter.

"Queen Alice, of Hammersmith and Vesper, will now hold council with those of fitting pedigree and mind." Robert Herschell, Marching Lord of the Foxwood Footguard calmly announced. Aliced glared out at all of them, musing at the sight of geriatrics where the youth of the Empire might typically stand to meet her, bright eyed and bushy tailed. A man of significant age and drunkenness rose to his feet instead, laboring to raise all seventy years of himself.

"Our gratitude to The Lord Chancellor, and . . " he began before Alice smashed a gloved fist in to her arm rest. "Your gratitude to The Lord Chancellor, Felix Ilchester, is not appreciated Mister Sydes. Out of faith in our race, and sincere love in our culture, I - Your Queen so long as you cower within the friendly confines of the Oceanic Realms - will be entitled to the same respect, the same gratitude, as would be expressed towards Charlotte . . Whose grace emanates through me as it never will through Lord Felix Ilchester.".

Mister Sydes rose an index finger in protest, but was met with one of Alice's own gloved index fingers, which pointed towards the mans unoccupied seat. "Of fitting pedigree and mind, distinguished guests. This is not Wightland, Karoskland, or Zadar-Istria. The Queen Alice is not a mere throne warmer for flesh bore from Dulwich, She is the Crimson Queen.".

Sydes took to his chair without further protest, but another quickly took his place to dispute her reign. Sir Vincent Wood, a long retired hero of colonial war and politics, stood above one prosthetic and one natural leg.

"Why precisely are you underearthers calling her that, and why in good faith should we do the same?" he asked in a tone of honest if not condescending concern. Alice let out a long sigh and relaxed her hands, waving off Lord Herschell before he could intervene. "Sir Vincent Wood . . As you well know, the Empire is at War. In Her Imperial Majesties Implaric-Oceanic Realms, as they are known to you, I have seen to it with intimacy that usurpers to the Crown are bled out in plain sight of myself and the public. The purity of the Covenant and our Oceanic Realms has been washed with flowing crimson blood." Alice said with the same condescension as had been implied by Vincent Wood. Processions then continued without further disturbances, allowing Alice's envoys to advise the 'Snowbirds' of the sights and pleasures they might enjoy on a continental sized island, thousands of miles removed from the World War; Lord Herschell took the time personally inform Sir Vincent Wood where and when he could attend a Royal Execution, the recurring event from which Alice attained her moniker.

 

[Thaumantica]

THE PIONEER

Aboard the HHS Pioneer, off the coast of

You must be registered for see links

​

The highway of life had opened up to her like a mayflower in Spring, as if destiny were as real as the rain that assaulted the earth from above. While correlations with her eternal relative Charlotte of Engellex had finally begun to fall by the wayside, the Matriarchal element of the Covenant crept over the friendly confines despite Felix Ilchester, and his undying attempts to undermine the direct power of an Engellexic Woman in Cantigny. As surely as the state portraits Ilchester graced every school, nationalized business, and barracks - the elegant visage of Queen Alice loomed above his own.

In wide circulation, the portrait of Alice featured her favorite adornments: a cream coloured gown, accented by purely Cantigian Crimson and fainted blues. Where her youth as a being had spurned skepticism, her prowess as a public figure had surely cemented her value to Oceania in enumerable qualities. From the bold White majority she evoked adoration and pride, while hate and fear stunted her perfect image amongst leftist ideologues and nativist reactionaries. For the Queen herself, the portrait represented a peculiar lethargy that positively revolted her to no end ; so much that it was insisted that copies were to be removed while Alice herself was present.

"The Queen of The Oceanic Realms must be vibrant, greater than stagnant," Alice had divulged in conversation with her closest council, "yet the Queen should never get her hands dirty, like Suionia's Queen Caroline for example."

December brought on the first cold front of the Winter Season, close enough to frigid that Alice had been forced to dawn a peacoat for the first time by her caretakers. The threat of the common cold was perhaps the days greatest challenge, beside the prying eyes of navy men and women, specters of the Oceanic Seas. Worst of all were the two eyes of Mormon Patriarch Malcom B. Wilkinson, from the Church of Oceanic Saints. There he stood, in suit and tie, firing off innapropriate questions like "Tell me the state of your virginity?" and "When was the last time you felt the presence of Christ the Redeemer?" at not but a whisper.

The Eighty Year Old Patriarch led Queen Alice aboard The Covenant's most illustrious and first Aircraft Carrier, the H.H.S. Pioneer, one of the four Frontier Class Aircraft Carriers planned for Her Engellexic Highness's Armada, or The Navy of the Covenant. To Alice the ship was larger than life, in fact, she eyed it with the same awe and surprise a Cantigian would the sight of her. Its deck sprawled in size comparative to football pitches, and its hull reminded her of the brawny sides of a bull, complete with shades of grey only a tint too dark to seem analagous with the Royal Engellexic Navy's own vessels.

"I could not possibly find the words to describe the pride I feel for The Covenant today . ." Queen Alice spoke, calmly leaning towards a microphone that carried her voice across the shipyard, and by proxy to the homes of millions across the Oceanic Realm. "Our Forefathers and Mothers dreamed of so very many things. Some searched far and wide to find paradise, while others pioneered the grand civilization which we thrive in today" she said, scanning the assembled naval officers and selected seamen that would man the H.H.S. Pioneer.

"The taming of the Oceanic Frontier was a harrowing undertaking for our blood ancestors, one in which the union of wits, strength, and iron were essential to the successful achievement of the Cantigian Destiny, or the establishment of the friendly confines." Alice said, sorely reminded of the contemporary racial strife that had persisted and haunted her these last few weeks. For every Crossmark of wealth the Old Ways had passed down to her, a most troubling guilt continued to come as a price, a most certain deficit of equality amongst the White Conquerors and the Besieged Olenasean aborigines.

"The Pioneer, this state-of-the-art Aircraft Carrier, represents that sublime union of wit, strength, and iron . . ." From the flank of Queen Alice, Malcom B. Wilkinson crept all too quietly, completely surprising the young Queen at only a few feet away, "My dearest friend, from the Church of Oceanic Saints, Patriarch and Lord Malcom B. Wilkinson will now lead us in praying for the purity and justness of this vessel. Lord Wilkinson?" Alice said with a few long steps away from the microphone, leaving the center-stage open for the eerily grinning Mormon.

Wilkinson possessed no card or written reference for his prayer, committing all of it instead to either memory or improvisation ; which one he utilized, Alice would never know. "Almighty Lord and Savior, Our Jesus Christ," the Patriarch began pompously, "we call on you to tame the raging Oceanic seas with the help of our pure and justified will. Bless all of those who prepared this Lordly Vessel to loyally guard your flock in Oceania. May you instill the faith and pride you deserve in the servicemen of those who will sail her," Wilkinson's voice boomed, "I hereby Christen this vessel of yours: the H.H.S. Pioneer." His head then rose from prayer, following the customary "Amen", which then led way in to a salute towards Alice in the style of Bellamy, which was repeated by a hundred similar salutes. At the ships head, four men were required to grab and hoist the Covenant's over-sized for effect Ensign above the Pioneer, casting a terrible shadow over the part of the ship where Alice stood, who now held her palm near her heart to receive the persisting salutes as the flag reached its zenith.

Ensign of the Covenant Fleet (Cantigny)

You must be registered for see images

​

 

[Thaumantica]

TO HIGHER KINGDOMS

Foxwood Manor, Persephone Island of Cantignia, 10 June 2012

AT FOXWOOD MANOR, THE estate of Queen Alexandra Sophia Catherine, known to the greater Engellexic Empire as Alice, boomed with the hurried voices of footmen and a most meticulous new array of armed guards. Alice found herself deeply disturbed by the incessent raucous, trying with all her might to tune them out as she put ink to paper for the outline of her message to the Higher Engellexic Court. Lord Robert Herschell, to this point the Lady Queen's most trusted and decorated guard, bore the sullen look of a beaten hound as Alice's personal standards and essential possessions were struck from the premisies. The Marching Lord of the renowned Foxwood Footguard would not be accompanying her in this next royal venture, and if the pigmentation of his face could be any indication of his condition, this development was the very death of him.

Herschell had asked, pleaded, then outright begged to remain in Alice's royal stead for the better part of a champagne filled evening. The Queen of the Crimson Islands sat idly for the first five minutes of his babbling, perhaps ten, before she finally removed her eyes from the decorated standard of House Atwood, two cunning foxes holding up the Crown of Cantignia; the image still seemed strange to her, a childhood spent admiring the foxes looking outward with claw and fang directed at any incoming threat, perhaps unaware that they would be one day supporting her claim with the entirety of their attention. 'Your station has escaped you Lord Herschell. perhaps not even for the first time,' Alice had said with an absent gaze into his warm brown eyes, 'The Marching Lord of Foxwood must remain posted here in Persephone, unless otherwisde ordered by a higher authority to serve in some other capacity - Lord Herschell, the Queenship no longer requires your service to her immediate person'. And so there he had stood, all evening and all morning, lingering beneath the precise posting position where he might receive formal orders from the Lord or Lady of Foxwood Manor.

By now she had ceased to care very much at all where Robert Herschell sulked, her own fox like attention was meant to be dedicated to correspondence with her exalted cousin, Queen-Empress Charlotte of Great Engellex. To escape the bustle of the Great Hall, Alice retired to the waiting-room where Maximus Grantley, the Chief Records Officer for the Covenant, was waiting to assist her in finishing these overdue messages. 'My Queen!' Mister Grantley exclaimed, acting as if this time, likely the thousandth time in the last year, he was surpised to be in her presence. "Rise, Mister Grantley -" Alice beckoned, 'You are to have finished our formal message?' she asked with her eyes staring through him and into the memory of her father's Walssex-Battent Residence. 'Quite right, Your Highness, I have it here for you to sign at your leisure':

You must be registered for see images

OFFICE FOR HER HIGHNESS
THE QUEEN OF CANTIGNIA & CRIMSON ISLANDS
THE DUCHESS OF HAMMERSMITH

His Excellency Maximus Grantley, Baron Grantley of Persephone, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary From the Royal Court of Persephone

THIS TELEGRAM IS DELIVERED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE OCEANIC COVENANT & CROWN

Baron Grantley of Persephone to the Secretary of State, his Grace the Duke of Nonsuch, Telegram No. 107, Great Engellex​

TUESDAY 10, JULY 2012
ASSUMPTION OF DUTIES​

Her Highness Queen Alice wishes to inform the Engellexic Establishment that within the fortnight, Her Royal personage shall be ascending this fair world of ours to assess the renovations and improvements made to Chateau de Épehy. Following the hasty abandonment of this Montelimarien residence by the disgraced Mortimer-Garland clan, certain accouterments and recreational standards required replenishment before Her Highness could consider visiting this appreciated acquisition from the good graces of Her Imperial Majesty.

To best facilitate the safety and well being of Her Highness, the Lady Chancellor of Cantignia so endeavored to provide the appropriate funds from her personal wealth to raise an attached regiment of trained footguards. The First Colonial Regiment of Cantignia, a historically accomplished unit of our colonial roots and the Empire at-large, was re-commissioned to assume the standards and achievements of the prolific regiment.

​

You must be registered for see images

​

The Lady Queen is not of a mind to serve her beloved Empire in any public convention unless otherwise ordered, and would instead enjoy the solitude of personally overseeing the completion of Chateau de Épehy. We bear all faith and good wishes to the Establishment, and hope that by contributing to the legacy of this building, we can instill a sense of cultural order to the tumultous post-war Montelimar.

Forward Cantignia!
Maximus Grantley
Baron of Persephone​

'Would Her Highness care to detract from or caveat to this brief message to our Motherland?' Mister Grantley queried with his curtious smile. Alice was taken aback by the regimental standard of the First Colonial, it occurred to her, as it naturally would any student of Cantigian history, that the First Colonial Regiment had been both the butcher and the ground meat to several skirmishes, battles, and wars of pre-commonwealth Cantignia. 'Won't you remind me of the Regimental Motto of the Fighting First, Mister Grantley?' . . Alice asked dreamily, wanting only to hear someone else say the words which haunted her as surely as the Atwood Familly Motto, We Serve the Blood. 'Of course, My Queen. The First Colonial Regiment bears this motto: "Blood & Iron - Both - Alive & Dead"'. For a few moments Alice felt gooseprickles run up and down her frail and priveleged body, eerily familiar, welcome even, and completely as powerful as the first time she had layed eyes upon the nearly forgotten banner and history of the Fighting First in an illustrated history of the Crimson Islands. 'I pray this gesture is not lost on Dulwich proper, Mister Grantley' the Queen sighed, remembering how impressed Charlotte seemed with herself when telling Alice she would assume the abandoned trust of de Mortimer-Garland.

Alice spent the next minutes finishing her personal telegram to Charlotte, which, if most of her advisers would have her believe, was as personal as shouting a message down from outside the gates of Middlesex House in Dulwich proper. The circulation of her telegrams hardly concerned the Queen anymore, Alice had hardened a great deal since her last visit with the Queen-Empress. She was quieter, now more than ever before, and she had ceased from investing in as many personal relationships with the gentle men and ladies who surrounded her. Claire Meadows, Cantignia's brightest and perhaps most beautifal commoner was the closest thing, or person if she was willing to go that far, to what Alice might call a friend. The young Cannie superstar was adorably shy in Alice's presence, yet hopelessly devoted to every syllable, every expression, and every gesture the Queen made to the female tennis player. Foxwood's Marching Lord had been a friend to Alice these last two blood wridden years, but at some point Robert Herschell had assumed the role of her absent father; constantly worrying and fawning over Alice like she was his own flesh and blood.

Mormons and feminists would be at work back in Cantignia while the Queen was away, and if they were anything, Alice thought, they were a predictable lot. The Chancellor would be island hopping across the Implarian to ensure the 'True Peace of the Covenant', and the Mormons of the friendly confines would be happily pre-occupied with their prohibition to cause any trouble greater than the prohibition itself. Alice motioned for a manservant to fetch her a spirit before writing out the final letters of her future telegram. 'Post these yourself, Mister Grantley - see to it that it's done before our aerofleet leaves Persephone this evening,' she ordered as the morning's first drink was poured out for her in a fine glass, a Provincial gift from the Pledge Territory from some weeks before. Alice touched the glass up to her heart, as if she were receiving the outstretched salutes of a slew of provincials, or more fantastically, receiving the same heartfelt salute from the risen Regiment of the First Colonial.

 

[Thaumantica]

TO HIGHER KINGDOMS II

Above the Hessex Bight, The Sea Territories of Great Engellex

'AT WHAT EXPENSE DOES our Lady Queen spend the public's crossmark on Summer Holiday?' Alice read aloud with a melancholy gaze in to her copy of this month's edition of 'The Colonial'. "At what expense do we sup the Otherlings* with milk?" the Queen asked rhetorically, "At what expense does the Mormon Faith use the public's crossmark on our National Parks dedicated to their Holy Father?".

Sighing heavily, the Queen of the Crimson Islands and Duchess of Hammersmith ordered another glass of wine from a buxom stewardess in the late years of her thirties. She had always been privately jealous of the curvy shaped women of Western Cantignia, and subtly stole a glance at the madame's backside as she sashayed away to fulfill Alice's no longer illegal demand. The short reach of the prohibition hardly extended beyond the continental island of Cantignia, and had no chance of denying her a spot of drink in a private aerofleet cabin, thousands of feet above the Hessex Bight.

Three heavy knocks on the door sent her immediate footguard to an upright position, hands reaching for the holstered firearm around a black leather belt. "Colonel Isaac Edgehill reporting to Her Highness Queen Alice!" an unfamiliar voice, but not name, declared from the other side of her less than luxury cabin, "Permission to enter Her Highness' Cabin?". Alice nodded to the brauny footguard, "Granted, Colonel Edgehill!" he declared with the voice of a small giant as he stepped to the side of the cabin where he might best see the man who entered to meet his Lady Queen.

Colonel Edgehill stood at nearly two meters tall, and wore the muscular armor of an Expeditionary Marine. Her previous Footguard Commander, Lord Herschell, had developed in to something less than a physically fit man when she had last seen him some fifteen hours before. "Admiral Burberry failed to inform my regiment on how to salute Your Highness," Colonel Edgehill said, "When last in service, the First Colonial Regiment saluted in the Engellexic Style, of the Old World . . Would Her Highness have us salute her as Colonists, or as Patriots of the Covenant are known to do, arm extended to serve our Lady Queen?"

Pondering for a moment, Alice had not even considered this essential custom. "You serve the blood, Colonel Edgehill, for the duration of your assignment to House Atwood, as singular as it is, you are to extend a hand to serve the Royal Personage," the Queen reminded with slight annoyance, "I am pleased that you recalled your regimental tradition, however - most impressive Colonel". Isaac Edgehill sent out his salute after an assured nod, which Alice received by motioning to internalize it in her heart. If the Cannie side of her heritage was anything, it was symbolic, preoccupied with constant reminder of ones heritage through the words and customs they lived by.

"What business do you have here, Colonel?" Alice asked while the stewardess placed her cup of wine on the lightweight desk before her. "I have concerned myself with your security, and as the standing commander of your footguard, I feel obligated to advise a change to the itinerary previously planned by Lord Herschell," the Colonel said with a somber yet certain tone. Alice took up her glass and tasted the wine, letting the Colonel wait and think for awhile on how she might react to having her previous commander insulted from the other side of the world. "And what precisely is your prerogative with my visit to the Motherland?" she asked in her cold and distant way. Men and women from all rungs of society often walked away with the impression that Queen Alice saw them as inconvenient pieces of the puzzle which was her life, and in truth, she had only ever viewed a select few people as anything more.

The Colonel of the First Colonial Regiment shifted his gaze to the window, the initial trance of his encounter with the young monarch broken, where in the landscape the Island of Engellex proper was slowly growing to meet them below. "An ignominious threat has been made upon the life of Her Highness by a ringleader of republican terror; I advise as the commander of your security detail that we forego a public arrival in Dulwich proper, and instead travel to your engagements with heightened security and discretion."

Alice nodded in agreement, these were an entirely and properly Engellexic people anyways. Whatever interest the commoners had in viewing her publicly would likely be negative, the latest in a saga of regrettable disastrous exchanges with the people of her aunt's Imperial Capital. Her last visit had sparked a wildfire of tabloid speculations as to her composure when meeting the Queen-Empress, and the visit before that shocked the people of Dulwich when she stepped off an aircraft carrier blowing cigarette smoke from her crimson lips. Alice found the latter more humorous in her own way, and commemorated it by drawing out two fresh cigarattes to be spent aboard her aeroplane. Lighting one with her iron encased lighter, Alice ignited the second by touching the two ends together gracefully.

"I will die from this before my pale feet dangle from anywhere, Colonel, I reckon, as we are known to say, that you have the right of it!" Alice declared, offering the second cigarette to Edgehill, who immediately accepted with one of the gloved hands resting behind his back. "Two strangers smoke and drink to discrete affairs between Colony and Empire," she said as the Colonel accepted a glass of wine from the stewardess with is other hand. He recognized that her familiarity with him was purely staged, a design of her life's puzzle, but none the less entertained her fancy by reciting the regimental motto: "To Blood and Iron, Your Highness, both alive and dead".

 

[Thaumantica]

THE FOX OF VALMY

Valmy, The Engellexic Occupied Capital of Montelimar

"VIVE ADELAIS, VIVE ADELAIS," chirped a small sea of Cantigian expatriats and curious francophone onlookers. Alice considered herself par for the course in Valmy, a sideshow to the greater union of the rose and the fleur-de-lys. None-the-less, the Crimson Queen of Cantignia accepted a sparse selection of pledge salutes from those patriotic few who dared display them. As she was accustomed to, her supporters were comprised mostly of energetic youth ; jaded survivors of catastrophe and political upheaval often found the Crimson Queen's presence intolerable, as she emanated a certain vengeance devoid of practical experience.

"Vive George, chéris!" Alice replied with a glowing countenance, "Ce soir, je danse pour Marie - magnifique!" she beamed as cameras flashed and captured her in a cream lace dress with ivory buttons. Colonel Isaac Edgehill pushed himself in front of the Queen to block a rush of young women, adorned with far more humble accouterments, who crashed up against the Colonel and another soldier like waves upon coastal rocks. "Please, if it please Her Crimson Highness, tour the inside of the aparments?" Colonel Edgehill pleaded as a girl of some questionable age fondled at his person in order to best distract.

Alice nodded to her security officer and cast a short wave out to leave them with, this was too much excitement for a visitor, and she was not so naive to attribute it to her own presence. These were stragglers from the Engello-Montel marriage surely, capitvated by the class and mystique which surrounded the present Engellexic Establishment. Charlotte was of course the architect, a divine human statue to everything which breeding and circumstance intended. Earlier, Dulwich found Alice to be a passing presence in the few days she had spent there, a capital fully invested in government reform and preparation for the Great Imperial Exposition. This was a relief to the Cantigian Queen - for the first time in perhaps a decade, the colonial disappointment which was Vesper did not follow her like a wraith throughout the cobbled streets of Dulwich. Her visit with the Queen-Empress had been both quaint and enlightening, Alice observed her dearest aunt with reverant diligence. The opportunity which was being afforded to her did not escape Alice, post-war Montelimar was a petri-dish of monarchist revivalism, and naturally, countering Republicanism of every imaginable persuasion.

The interior of the former Mortimer de Garland apartment was sparsely decorated, save for imported tapestries and banners of Alice's pedigree. The Crimson Queen lit a cigarette, half hoping she was the first in some decades to do so, breathing in the history of fear, betrayal, and longing that must have stewed within these apartments of some great expense. The idea of exile was by no means foreign to Alice, several disgraced Engellexic, Potenzan, and even Montel Lords were known to choose the friendly confines as a final resting place for their remaining lifetimes. Garland's were such a bitter breed of royal stuff, first abandoning their Haven-Realms, and later the very apartment and Chateau which Alice now possessed and resided in. "So this is how a Garland lives?" she asked the walls of the dully lit apartment, "I'll swallow cyanide before I'm subjected to this fleeting vestige of pride,"

Colonel Edgehill closed the front door with a slam, "The solitude of Persephone would be holiday enough for me right now," he sighed. Alice bore in to him with her green-blue eyes indifferently, pouting almost, but surely looking down at him with patronizing cool. "Excuse me, Your Highness . . " Isaac Edgehill said in his most subservient tone, he had not realized how close-quartered the apartment was. The Queen took another drag and puffed it towards the flustered officer, "Judging by your build, sir, there is not a single Francophone bone in your body," she said, half-scolding, "You simply do not belong in Valmy, as I would not belong in Escalera, Colonel Edgehill," Alice scoffed, extinguishing her cigarette in an empty flower vase, "Find it within yourself to appreciate our heritage, dear sir, Cantignia was nearly the francophone dream before it became the purely Engellexic spectacle."

The Colonel removed his cap and bowed, as he likely should have before the Lady Queen went on her tirade. He was still not quite used to keeping up with the demands of such an emasculating royal, whose very purpose was to impose a sense of longing and loyalty for greater glory. From what he saw in his eyes peripheral, the Queen-Empress was indeed Alice's total master, but there was a prodigy within the young Crimson Queen which caused an awkward stir which he could not hope to describe. It was not lust, and it was not absolute loyalty, Alice's enigma seemed destructive and menacing. "How may I serve Her Highness's fancy tonight?" the Colonel asked with his eyes intent upon the cigarette, fading without an influx of oxygen from the Queen's pursed lips. Alice turned on her heel and simply coasted away slowly towards the next room, leaving behind her mixed scent of Victorinox Campion's and tobacco, which the Colonel followed with a feeble hesitance until they were within the royal bed chambers.

Alice giggled and held her hands to her mouth, "Why Colonel Edgehill, perhaps you've exhausted your range!". His emotions were rocked with disgust and arousal, and again, Alice's eyes showed her true intent. The Crimson Queen reached back to unzip the her hugging cream dress, shaking her head at the Colonel dismissively with her lip firmly bit. "We can still hear the wedding bells of King George and Madame Marie, and you want to molest a maiden of twenty-three, shame-shame sir!" she declared with another burst of soft, sultry laughter. The Colonel stood and watched the Queen start to undress, swallowing his tongue as his entire person throbbed, "I . . Your . . Excuse me," he scrambled, backing out he door and in to the hallway. "Destructive and menacing," he muttered to himself when he was again out of earshot, "What the fuck have we gotten ourselves in to?" Colonel Edgehill asked two soldiers posted near the front door. This holiday to Montelimar for the Crimson Queen was far more complicated than he ever expected, and they had yet to arrive in the countryside, where a whole new host of complications would surely meet them.

 

[Thaumantica]

THE QUEEN'S HOLIDAY

Epehey, The Engellexic Occupied Countryside of Montelimar

A HORSE OF SOME sixteen-hands trotted towards Alice with highsteps and head held to the heavens, kicking up mounds of dirt and bright green patches of grass in its overpowering stead. The Queen held out her hand to the creature as if she were accepting a salute, but instead of bring it towards her heart, she waited until the horse settled itself, breaking its trot with enormous breathes as its face rested against her gloved palm.

"Why, I have never seen anything quite like you before Good Sir," she said with a grin, "You might have the prettiest face in Dulwich, should you ever fancy an Imperial Ball!" Alice screached before turning her neck about every which way to see if any eavesdroppers had invaded their privacy. The Saddlebred Horse let out a heavy sigh and shook its head dismissively, to which Alice replied with an exagerated mimick of the surly horse's antics. "Great men have lost their lives over less, Sir Horse," she declared, "do not claim I failed to remind you!".

A mere five hours had passed since Alice and the First Colonial Regiment arrived in the quiet Montel countryside of Epehey, and the motorcade of the Cantigian Queen was likely the loudest noise residents and farmers of the realm had heard since the August Catastrophe itself, only a year ago. Epehey itself was of little strategic importance to any Great Power today, Alice surmised, yet it was open grounds like this that hosted scores of history's bloodiest battles, and that prospect alone, was importance enough for the Crimson Queen. Days were steadily turning in to weeks, and weeks in to months since Alice last saw a proper execution, or a death in battle ; and while she never said it aloud, many were beginning to notice how the Queen's typical melancholy could be uplifted by the shedding of a spot of blood.

Idonia Luxon, the Estate's primary houskeeper and Madame, called out to the Queen from the steps of the former exiles home of clan de-Mortimer-Garland. "Adelais ma chérie, dîner!" Mrs. Luxon exclaimed, not fully committing to an embarassing shout. Alice quite preferred Adelais to Alexandra, as her properly Engellexic cousins fancied, though she was most convinced Cantignia had the right of it with Alice, it felt most natural, and there had once been an important Alice in the Pioneer days, the wife of Lord Chancellor Ormonde Rosenberg. House Roseburrow, from the budding Province of Madeleine in Cantignia, was somewhat of a nuissance - clearly not the direct legacy of their Lord founder's genes. The Queen curtsied towards the horse, who seemed now to have his breathing under control, and turned back to the Estate for dinner.

No less than twenty guards awaited the Queen inside, filling the room with their vaguely red or grey uniforms like a Dulwich fog. "Have you met the Saddleback, Your Highness?" the now familiar voice of Colonel Edgehill asked. Alice's cheery mood immediately evaporated at the sight of so many lesser born soldiers and largely foreign serving women, so instead of replying, the Crimson Queen bore in to the nearly middle aged man with an emptiness that could consume an army. The Colonel nodded assuringly, he watched Alice interact with the horse from a window, and the Queen's demeanor now could hardly deceive the joy he had seen her display so affectionately from afar.

"The chef is prepared to serve you a choice dish of duck," Edgehill said, directing Alice towards the dining room, "I believe water fowl is now in season here, if I'm not mistaken?" he asked to encourage some form of communication out of the young woman. Alice sighed, performing much like the majestic Saddleback trotting about outside, "Claire Meadows will be in Dulwich sooner or later, see to it that she visits us here before continuing to the Capital," Alice verbalized as she took her seat, "The Crown will cover all expenses entailed with the visit, I wish to show her Holiday . ." she said while a glass of champagne was poured.

"Holiday, Your Highness?" Edghehill asked suspiciously, the Queen was not to one to speak madness, with the exception of matters of war. Alice flickered her hazel eyes up at the Colonel for a short dazzling moment, then returned them to their resting place in infinity, "I have named him Holiday, the Saddleback, I believe it is quite appropriate." Alice said confidently. Colonel Edgehill wanted badly, though he knew it would make her uncomfortable, so he nodded again shortly, and left the Crimson Queen to her meal.