The Ilchester Era

[Thaumantica]

Eternal Pride
: : Vesper,

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::

Reverence for Her Highness had never reached a greater zenith in Cantigny, perhaps the entire Empire, as Imperial & National Youth Scouters took to the freshly paved streets in Vesper. This was perhaps the only city in all of Cantigny where one could walk about without twisting an ankle, or making detours around massive gastly cracks. Here spring time had already begun with a blaze, heat from the commotion made the urban scene feel like an breezy inferno. The climate spared no one in mercilessly distributing small beads of sweat for the beaming faces of almost half a million children, their parents, and the pedestrians of the Capital.

A first overpowering shower of violet streamers and confetti dominated the sky, warmly accompanied by cheers from young men, and cool screaming shreeks from crimson lipped girls. The Boys of Imperial Scouting pushed forward in near perfect marching order, firmly thudding their boots on the ground for effect. In tattered blue military uniforms, the Imperial Scouts called out patriotic cadences over one another so that every new mass delivered a new lyric, a fresh gusto from the exuberant youth. Their feet would begin to ache soon, but espirit de corps, the group mentality of motivation, would fuel blind persistence with honed survival mechanisms.

Inhibition was no where to be seen, and for so many in the shifting crowds this was a most welcome release. Cantigny was greeting the new year in a most prickly manner, their Chancellor was entertaining socialist ideals and could be heard disrespecting of beloved Motherland, which now occupied the Cantigian state of mind like an army division. Spade City might be contemplating secession, but the children of Vesper still hailed for the Queen tirelessly on this day of Jubilee. Ladies of Scouting, the Feminine Youth of Cantigny, contrasted their male counterparts with cream blouses and crimson red skirts and bows. While they did not march in rank and file, their theatrics were equally as graceful as they played a litany of instruments, skipped and danced with one another in striking choreography. Many waved violet banners or proudly held up portraits Her Majesty, shining their brightest smiles for all to see, for each fellow Scouter to reflect with a smile of their own. Today the Children, the City, the Nation, and the Empire smiled despite all of the adversity which had been overcome, forgetting for these fleeting moments the pain which was surely to come.

Charles Bordeaux, a thirty something civilian observer, viewed this all from his vantage point atop a classic city flat, squaring his round rimmed glasses back to the moist arch of his modestly sized nose every so often. He could not help but smile as well, "Vive!" he wailed at the top of his lungs down at the children dancing below, "Vive Cantigny!" A worn out copy of his first Imperial Scouters Guide splayed over the ledge beside a brand new edition, this one with Queen Charlotte's visage displayed subtly but entirely erotically as printed in full royal dress, his eyes were poised towards the commotion, but he could not help but look down at Her Majesty from time to time in awe. Violet was the theme of this March Jubilee, a celebration of Her Majesties Youth and Vibrance, and Charles could not help but feel an intertwined desire to both serve and please Charlotte in this moment.

He was calm and generally content with his role in society as a Dock Worker at Vesper's Port Fidelity, at least until this very moment, he had not wanted for much more then to simply wine and dine in the culturally divine capital with kindred spirits. Now that unfamiliar word, patriotism, boiled within him. Artillery cannons fired from Capitol Center to mark the passing of an hour, and for the first time Charles did not flinch from the noise, instead he cheered once more "Vive, Vive!" in his sharp dock whipped voice. Unafraid now, he took to the streets with the other wide-eyed adults, mostly clad within the strict style mandates of the National Legendary Front, even the oldest amongst those present could have never imagined a celebration, a jubilee, rocking the streets in such grandeur and scale. For a self-professed Conservative Nation, the women in Vesper were not hiding very much skin, on the contrary, their skirts were a cut above the knee, and the men could be caught staring at the young National Organizers who were just barely of age to be considered on the menu.

"Which way, young sir?" Charles asked of an absent-minded looking National Organizer, "Where are they marching to?". He shrugged and shook his head at first, but the young sir eventually declared "Imperial Square!" with no muzzle for his stark sarcasm. Charles immediately ran ahead, leaving the goat of a man in his misery behind, weaving between pedestrians who stood as awe-struck as he had just been atop his flat. The race of his heart was no competition for the yearning desire to see how all of this tied together. It was nearing dusk by the time he reached the square, and unlike Spade City, smog did not poison a starry view of the night sky. Gasps fluttered up like monarch butterflies as violet and crimson colored fireworks skyrocketed from Imperial Square. Charles could only help to catch his breath between cheers and rousing instrumental music, coveting their muse and skill throughout the entire exposition.

No taller or shorter then he, a young woman of obvious Suionian lineage approached Charles with open arms, "Take this, Brother!", she hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek without hesitation. "Live the Legend, sir" she smiled jovially, "Join us after the Jubilee at the Front!". Opening Charles right hand open wide, she softly placed a brochure down for him to accept. She wasted no time now, winking suggestively before trotting back within the fray of the crowd. He quietly looked down at the brochure resting in his sweaty palm, excited by the vibrant violet text:

'LIVE THE LEGEND - JOIN US AT THE FRONT - NATIONAL LEGENDARY FRONT'

​

He had a vague idea of what these people stood for, but the details always seemed to be smothered with patriotic expression and tales, legends really, of military expeditions half way around the world on behalf of the Crown. Charles was not a fighting man, far from, yet he had never shied away from a fight on the docks or in a wine garden. Port Fidelity was a quieter place now, or at least the violence had been organized as to stay out of the tabloids and the common mans work palette. Charles Bordeaux had no passion nor hobby to speak of, a sporting boy in primary school, now he simply punched his card at the docks, spending his evenings cupping a stiff drink or watching the pretentious television networks of National and Imperial entertainment.

"I'll . . I'll be there!" he exclaimed sheepishly to the young woman, who was now long gone, somewhere else in the sea of dumbfounded young folks, taking advantage of their shock at the boldness of it all. Charles had truly never seen anything like this, and it excited him in all aspects of the word as he neatly folded the brochure in to his handkerchief pocket. They seemed so confident, proud even, and Charles Bordeaux was so jealous that it made him wince, he wanted what they clearly had this evening, and he would go to any length to reach that mountain top.​

 

[Thaumantica]

His Tragedy
: : Vesper,

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::

They had striven to design this city in the tradition of Engellex by luring stunning clashes from Western Europe's breathtaking architectural styles, then underlining their sensual century lasting curves with lush gardens and streaming blood red banners. A special care and attention to detail had been undertaken so that the greater picture, Vesper at Port Fidelity, might culminate in to something truly illuminating. With no higher cause or aspiration, tens of men and women ranging from all ages and temparments prepared the Capitol Building on a daily basis with one striking similarity, cold eyes and white skin. In the same lovely city streets they now tended to with red roses and scarlet banners, blood red fear occupied simple minds and political motives now unlike any generation before them. Cantigny was waging war upon itself, its own sensibility, and tens of thousands with no plot but to prosper beneath that same striking stream of fabric.

"I see it differently, ladies and gentlemen, the S.M. Alice sees it differently" Chancellor Ilchester reminded a set of television microphones broadcasting throughout the Commonwealth. Before him eight documents and pens were sprawled out upon a dark oak desk, made from forests no one present would ever embark to see, baring the Cultural Sustainment Act. "If you share our vision, the Cannie vision, then I trust you will view this Act with the same enthusiasm," Felix called out with the first scribble of a pen, "Lord willing.".

It was not a few hours from the signing that Felix Ilchester encountered physical resistance from immagrant workers, Touzen born engineers, while Ilchester and his staff spent their last night in Vesper before departing for Great Engellex, partaking in the cities multi-ethnic quisine without any guilt. Ilchester was a proud and stubborn man, his palette diversified as well as any suburban youth, staple foods like peanut butter and macaroni occupied his diet, though the Press would never discover such crass. His wife Elsie however could not deny a taste for Eastern European food, spanning from Vangalan to obscure Kyivan dishes. There's was a dinner outing to a Touzen themed restaraunt, complete with Revolutionary Propaganda wall to wall, the Ilchester's and their closest advisors and assistants all ordered an array of dishes from sushi to Felix, who quietly ordered an Engellexic dish of fish and chips in the vibrant ethnic restaraunt.

Their dinner intact, a group of street ruffians accompanied the meal complete with cricket bats and the muscle to swing them, an element of the enthusiasm Felix had not trusted the Cannie people might share with him. Security personnel, who were eating at another table, were caught entirely by surprise; a storm of cricket bats and fists rained over the Ilchester party, promptly disabling Elsie and her close friend Abigail before they could flee. No escalation of force was required for the security service as Ilchester's detail opened fire with snub nose uneasy bursts of nine millimeter fire, clipping their schedule manager who immediately squeeled like a female swine being reamed. The bodies seemingly stacked upon one another, slowly overcoming the restaraun in ethnic stench, even as adrenaline and screams overtook the scene. Felix, the Chancellor, found himself tackled and dragged away by his own security staff while Elsie and the others were left to wallow in their pain.

What was left of the aggresors was snuffed out by execution style murders by security personnel, no law or limitation could limit them now as the Chancellor's wife covered her bleeding jaw from brutal strikes. A surving Touzener attempted to crawl away, shuffling elbow to elbow through pools of blood and his peoples finest dishes, his legs already shot out from under him, somehow motivating himself with the hope that he might escape. "You!" an over stimulated guard bellowed, causing him - the final Touzener to stop in place to rear his petrified head enough to meet the Cannie's gaze, "Not a . . " - - before he could finish his statement the other two guards unloaded upon the crawler.

"El . . Elsie? . " Felix cried out from outside the restaraunt, feeling almost removed and foreign to what had just transpired as he was being tucked away like an object in to an armored limousine, "Tracking Sir!" a young guard loudly replied, a verbal dismissal of the Chancellor's concern; the only concern he had was for the Chancellor, no part of him was tracking the safety or well being of the Chancellor's wife. A phone lied dormant inside of the limousine, but for reasons that escaped him second to second the Chancellor could not recall a single outgoing number, nor imagine who he might call at that very moment of shock. Police rovers, and they were Rover Automotive rovers, shot in the opposite direction as the Chancellor's motorcade vacated the once quiet neighborhood, now erupted with gunfire and screams of countless origins.

The phone rang like an alarm clock as tears had just begun to fill Felix's pale brown eyes, "Felix . ." the Chancellor sighed, "Chancellor Ilchester speaking!" he answered with perhaps the greatest flex of an upper lip he had ever been asked to procure. "Nine in total, Lord Chancellor, nine and rising casualties" an unfamiliar voice calmly informed. Ilchester composed himself over a time, as long as it took him to count to nine in his head as he recalled the four Touzeners, his wife Elsie, and several boorish guests that insisted on following him like hungry puppies, "Their race or allegiance, officer?" Felix asked with politically correct guilt fading from what was left of his harshly bigoted mind. Not a moment would pass for the Chancellor in the future that was not dictated by these events, he knew then, not a decision left to make as Chancellor of the Commonwealth that would not fall back to this brief trauma, and the grieving left to experience from the days events.

 

[Thaumantica]

Tumbling Down

Evergreen Promenade
: : Persephone Territory, Cantigny ::

​

Scents of natures victory over the elements of mankinds irresponsibility filled the Chancellor's cocaine scarred nostrils, a sweetening gesture of Cantigny's majesty over what he had considered a barren loss to addiction. The high of women, booze, and narcotics were suddenly lost to the robust visage of an Engellexic Stag, fur flush with venous waves of flooding red blood, its life slowly succumbing to the final strokes of deaths clock.

In a subtle triggers pull, his mechanism of iron peril cried streaming lead bullets towards a certain target: the beating heart of a 14-Point Red Deer Buck, majestic as any living creature had ever been. Felix gasped as the captivating beast charged his position, making its last wager with lively permanence with bounding hooves and corralling antlers. The human man shook with a moments fear, unsure of whether his mastery of iron trumped the creatures mastery of courage. He found himself enmeshed with the thrill of uncertainty, not unlike the state of being his Nation, Cantigny, could be found along the road to war. The Stag crushed dried leaves and flush green grass beneath its dying weight, quickly losing its balance and fight for life.

Felix Ilchester began motioning to reload the precision rifle between his ghost white fingers, but felt a reactive sigh of relief when the grandiose creature stumbled to the earth. "Are we in over our heads?" Ilchester asked the uniformed General and Admiral stalking his flanks. Their dress clearly uncomfortable in the smoldering summers heat, Admiral Wick tugged at his tight noose like collar, "We are in, Lord Chancellor, and can see the surface . ." he said, "the air we breathe topside will be quite unfamiliar."

The Cult of Christianity which they knew as Mormonism demanded a thanks to Elohim, which Felix delivered by tapping a free hand to the cross beneath his dark ash colored shirt. It was more habit now then faith, somewhere in his rise to power the Lord Chancellor had lost communication with the Lord God Himself. He spoke exclusively to Mormon Elders now, old crones claiming a Manifest Destiny exists for the Cantigny that expands and reinforces the Church of Oceanic Saints. Ilchester jabbed the Red Deer Buck's frozen eye with his rifle's muzzle, drawing no reaction but assurance that his target was dead.

Felix gave the carcass an approving nod, which the Commanders acknowledged quietly with a sideways glance. The Lord Chancellor took a knee, viewing where the first bullet entered just beyond the heart, and where the second captured a vibrant and admirable life. "As I breathe now," Felix whispered, drawing in the fumes of gunpowder and wasted life, "I do not sense the Commonwealth of my Youth; this Nation exudes a scent like smelted iron, our Cantigny wreaks of crimson blood". He understood the situation precisely in that moment, knowing even that the practical minds of working men were perhaps devoid of fully grasping what needed to be done; fighting men and women surely would, the Patriots of Cantigny must also be desperately searching for this crimson bounty.

 

[Thaumantica]

Midnight Blush
: : Vesper, Cantigny ::
​

Thrown lazily in to the air, eight paper Crossers (‡), the National Currency, rained down atop a petite gyrating young nubile as her rose coloured lips whispered out unique streams of tobacco smoke. Felix gasped uncontrollably as the feminine creature flicked off her cigarettes cherry with one hand, and dropped out of her blueberry lingerie with the other. Beneath her the Crossers stacked like matches as the Lord Treasurer of Cantignia, George Dacre pelleted the stage with crumpled up bills he had withdrawn for precisely this occasion.

Ilchester could not help but project Alice upon the subtle curves of this exotic dancer, rotating her hips in the dark as otherwise reserved men howled and made barbarians of themselves. The Princess had departed his fair Nation for the gossiping sanctuary of the Imperial Establishment, Dulwich.

"She sure is" Dacre began, "Impossibly blooming" Felix finished for the Lord Treasurer. "I was going to say, well, that is a finer way of saying it Fel'" Dacre said with an addicts snort. Taking to the floor, the youthful dancer began to roll and crawl through the Crossers, dragging them along with her soft breasts as bills attached to her sweat moistened midsection. Felix downed his whiskey sour unceremoniously so he could take to his feet and approach the fluttering naked girl on stage.

The Lord Chancellor offered his hand with an assuring smile, gesturing a question for privacy upstairs with a clear deficit of innocence or indetermination. Dacre stood as well, however only to call off the staff security who clearly did not recognize their Chancellor in this less than political habitat. In all the flurry of activity she honed in on the Chancellor's placid blue eyes, slowly but surely accepting his hand and an elevation to her feet beside him.

"I might be mistaken, but I believe I have voted for you?" the girl whispered carelessly in Felix's ear, "Of course you did" Ilchester replied in a most imperious fashion as clusters of well-dressed men and under-dressed women cleared a path for the two. Their private room was the comforting colour of melting cream and faded berry blue, to match the under clothing she was now wearing again. He first reached for his wallet, but the girl quickly redirected his hands to two cigarettes, lighting her own, then igniting his tip with her own as their eyes met again. The vibrant blush of all Vesper's wonders were suddenly dulled by this simulated, surely not legitimate, intimacy between two masses of flesh and bone.

"One does not seduce a man of power . . surely not . . with words" she said before aggressively seizing his hidden and subdued vessel. And while he did not stop her, Felix felt an intermittent hesitation before giving way to the majesties of her dark black locks as they swayed down over her blushing face and down between his legs. She then clenched his crown between her teeth playfully, arousing him fully and completely with rapid vibrating puffs of air through his quickly disappearing clothing. He forgot his first wife Bella, killed in child birth at twenty-two, next Elsie who had been gunned down by extremists at a well rounded thirty, and finally Alice who was unconquerable as the Cantignia Persephone; still entirely culminated in this precious midnight encounter with his easily attained desires.

 

[Thaumantica]

Our Heritage
: : New Egg, Cantigny ::
​

The Expeditionary Soldier, Corporal Shorditch, was freshly returned from the Island of Butuan, where the Chancellor's own vision had blurred in the sight of four aircraft carriers and the presence of three two Empires and two Kingdoms respectively. Buckling to the pressure in his own way, Malcom Shorditch cast a streaming wave of orange vomit over the Chancellor's shoulder. "Are you quite . . " Felix managed to say before the Soldier collapsed in to his arms like a lifeless heap of hay. Not a single soul flinched on either side of the rank and file formation despite the fall of one of their own, Felix looked down only momentarily before letting his eyes dart back up again at the rigid army, against all odds erect with their thick gray uniforms turning an even darker gray from an onslaught of sweat.

Moments passed as Felix stood and continued down the line, returning each outstretched salute from platoon leaders and their troops with a stern nod. By the time the Chancellor looked back around, Corporal Shorditch had already been whisked away somehow with a new motionless soldier occupying his place. Like so many others Felix imagined, Malcom Shorditch had exited his life just as soon as he had entered it. And while the Chancellor took refuge in the fact he had saved the Corporal from death today, he knew quite viscerally that more violent days were yet ahead for men with white skin and ambitious leaders like Ilchester himself.

No Egg's (City) significance to humanity manifested in the form of a largely decaying Army barracks, and a state of the art Naval port on the Eastern Coast of Cantignia. In 1821, a time of Republican Upheavel, the Village of Salemwood suffered greatly at the hand and sabre of Imperial Marching Lords from Engellex proper; plundering Salemwood of all its food and wealth, down to the last egg. Salemwood thus became No Egg colloquially until 1968, when it adopted the moniker as its formal designation.

"Paradise feels like Hell, Lord Chancellor" remarked Richard Greenfax, appointed Guardian of the Commonwealth, as the two men boarded the H.H.S. Marauder. Beneath the deck he watched as a few bodies too many filled the Admiral's spartan Quarters, shuffling along the bare walls so Ilchester and Greenfax could take center stage. Admiral Hambard looked overwhelmed, completely unused to this many men of purpose and power concentrated in one yoke, "May we? . ." Hambard demanded without truly ordering. "We may" Felix replied with a gesture to Lord Greenfax to begin.

From the Admiral's desk, Chief Petty Officer Bexley produced a crimson colored telephone for the use of Richard Greenfax, who dialed the handheld slowly until reaching the last intended digit. "With a Six?" he said turning to Felix, "With a Six, Rich" the Chancellor answered with a lightly repressed smile. For the first few minutes Lord Greenfax stood motionless, answering secretaries and buffer men with simple yes and no answers until reaching Field Marshal Arthur Batten-Lyon, Duke of Rothermere, and Imperial Secretary of War.

"It was as you said, Mister Secretary, an intriguing experiment . . Quite right Mister Secretary" Greenfax affirmed to the Engellexic man on the other side of the world, "Of course, sir, our prayers are with Her Majesty". Felix snagged the telephone away as soon as the line was dead, dialing his own indirect superior in Engellex: Leader & Chairman of the Nationalist League, Albert B. Leusowe. "Have you been looking after her Albert?" Felix demanded immediately, sounding almost desperate in his inquiry for Alice. Though the Lord Chancellor had his reservations about Leusowe, all financial and verbal indications led him to believe that this Nationalist League was committed to maintaining the Engellexic blood source in Oceania. Felix shook his head, "Finish the Hammersmith rally and get her the hell out of there Mister Leusowe, we wouldn't display one of your crown jewels so close to peril at a time like this. . . Listen, show the people Foxwood, shoot a crimson banner in the air and watch them hail to Her Highness, to our heritage."

 

[Thaumantica]

Five Pillars
: : Vesper, Cantigny ::
​

Felix Ilchester struggled to remain lucid with the vision of his new mistress sprawling about in his head like a blooming flower, somehow imagining her warmth to the touch oh so hopelessly as he stood before the cold eyes and intentions of Vesper's Nationalist Elite. If the deviant theater within his mind could be projected for them all, surely there would be an utter breakout of chaos, with rows of FemeNationalists and retired Mormon Missionaries occupying the seats of Vesper's Empress Auditorium. Felix stood motionless as the National Anthem, 'the Iron Symphony', reverberated in his bourbon tumbler, falling back awake in the anti-silence of a group of his common flesh and blood rattled off the final verses with pride.

"Let us pray . . ." the Chancellor ordered, bowing his head to an unseen God. And while apart of Felix dreamed to pour a prayer directly from his own soul, the written and recited: "Behold, my beloved brethren, remember the words of your Lord; pray unto him continually by day, and give thanks unto his holy name by night. Let your hearts rejoice!" he declared, looking up again to view his silent audience. Mormon or otherwise, political factions within the Nation relied on faithful benefactors of a religious nature. Despite the death of two wives and a painful lack of children, Ilchester's faith was neither shaken nor in doubt by the Church of Oceanic Saints.

Familiar faces smiled, some deviously, up at Felix as he began his short introduction. "Be seated" he ordered without asking, "And remain quiet as Her Majesty the Empress Queen Charlotte is now honoured" Felix said. From his flank thirty-one candles were quickly lit aflame by the miniature hands of eight National Girl Scouts, dressed in their uniform of cream blouses and crimson skirts, small belts wrapped around their waists denoting each girls rank and position with differing colours or insignia. "May the Vibrant Flame of Her Youth never be extinguished" he recited begrudgingly, his concern over youth and vibrance of Alice taking internal precedent over Charlotte.

"Vesper lacks a vision they say in Dulwich, the Princess Alice informs" Felix said, "Vesper has devised a vision of genocide they say in Butuan City, my Commanders inform . . What do Vesperians truly strive for, what precisely fills and hardens our iron dream?" he asked. Blood and toil had laid the foundation for men like Ilchester, the too soon forgotten harshness of the Engellexic Empire over Cantignia for centuries. "I have seen in my own vision a civilization beyond the highest ambitions of our Europe's so called visionaries, supported by five pillars of indomitable strength. This is to be our common vision, for all men and women of our united blood to flow towards without another moments hesitation!" the Chancellor declared.

THE FIVE PILLARS
I II III IV V
HYGIENIC MORAL UNDERPINNINGS OF THE MODERN CITIZEN
INITIAL DRAFT OF THE VESPER NATIONAL COMMITTEE, 27 AUGUST 2011

PREAMBLE

Intertwined by the compelling fate of mankind and our divine modus operandi, are a profound set of obligatory responsibilities that must be maintained at all costs. Duty is thus entrusted unto the last living and breathing citizen child, should this Nation seek to preserve its respective pillars:

- UNITY - CULTURE - BRAVERY - JUSTICE - FREEDOM -

I

Nation & Citizen shall henceforth form together as One Nation & One People without religious, ideological, or racial hyphenation - for only when no alien body lingers within can we realize our greatest potential

II

Nation & Citizen shall henceforth protect and propagate the viability of our enlightened culture, ensuring its impregnability against steep moral decline and triumph over columns of our impure corporeal enemies

III

Nation & Citizen shall henceforth actively procure both the human and material requirements for sustaining our cherished way of life for eternity, capturing the steel of our youth whose love for peace must be as strong as their personal bravery

IV

Nation & Citizen shall henceforth respect and obey those obstinate laws which have been mutually accepted by the common sense, and logic, of a bravely united people committed to an orderly process for exchanging services and kindnesses

V

Nation & Citizen shall henceforth heed the primal call, the choice of freedom, to hoist the crimson banner high over all Cantignia, and fully recognize and embrace the consequences of our fateful choice

 

[Thaumantica]

Good Life
: : Vesper, Cantigny ::
​

In the cosmopolitan core of Vesper, in one of a row of chiché clubs, Richard Greenfax winced as he conquered another shot. His trimmed head of hair was now a distinctly paler white than his cherished white skin, possessing bold irises of blue to boot; his ash and crimson smoking jacket aged him decades yet more alongside the bristling youth of the barside.

The very moment his glass hit the table he was met with a beaming barmaid that reminded him wonderfully of a blonde Charlotte, perfectly baring her pearl like teeth and a glimpse more of cleavage then she would let her father (which he was old enough to be) see. Beaming and slinging up another drink. The smile was fake, as was the one he forced his own mouth to return, and the hate of youth which Richard had developed flared violently. Richard Greenfax was an old man.

For a few moments he basked in the slaying scent of a delicious trio of Cannie Swans, making their impression with expensive perfumes from wartorn mainland countries, and swaying their hips as only the young could. The music snapped in to a tune riddled with suggestive beats and feminine vocals, such was Cantignia, blaring sex in every pocket that the Mormons did not have their righteous hands in. Richard Greenfax sighed and loosened up his hands which had gone tight with the lady passerby's before stepping out to join the mix.

In Vesper, where electricity ensured endurance, it was already morning and the sun was rising outside. Richard bumped in to frightening looking man, more the specter, who he had seen every night, throwing back expensive drinks and taking home expensive daimes.

"My mistake or yours, Lord Guardian?" the gaunt looking man chided. "If you know who I am, should I know who you are? And I'll take the buck for this bump." Richard replied, leaning back with one hand resting on a concealed firearm. Had his forgettable old face been circulated throughout the Empire without his knowing again? Surely few in Charlotte's Europe knew his name, and even less knew his face by memory. But one had taken it to memory, and it could not by mere coincidence, the old man did not like this one bit.

The specter of a man was Walt Maddox, and he had recently come in to an impressive amount of wealth and title. Maddox shook his head carelessly. He wanted to be known as desperately as Greenfax did, not in the slightest. "Inevitably you will know me, should our Queen-Empress honour the transfer of the usurpers wealth and title in due time."

Greenfax knew then immediately, he had the man pegged, "You are the Baron Maddox of . ." Richard trailed off, completely unsure how or where Walt Maddox had come from. "Of Noble Service to Her Majesty the Crimson Queen, of course." Walt said with a cackle. The Lord Guardian of the Commonwealth, now the Covenant, was hardly impressed, and his distaste for the Cannie Queen was rapidly becoming a conflict of interest with the Oceanic Establishment. Felix, the Chancellor, encouraged a degree of dissent from Alice, but Richard's degree had become visibly dangerous to her and her advisers.

"And so?" Richard asked. "And so you will retire . . From this club, my Lord, and from the Covenant." Walt shot back all too surely. This was neither the time or place to participate in such brash discourse, and Richard had an elephant sized doubt in the man participating in it with him. "Given the setting, and your age," the Baron Maddox said, "a poor diet and a ravishing female creature could contribute to a fatal heart-attack. Couldn't it?" Walt mocked. With his hand tightening over a loaded firearm, Richard complained with sheer reason why he could not just end this with a firm pistol whip across the corner of the Baron's smirking lower lip.

This was the time of Alice, and clearly he would have to fall so others could rise, others like this detestable Walt Maddox. The Lord Guardian had a wife and grown children, many of whom were near or already raising grandchildren of their own, who inevitably would have to live and perhaps even suffer with his decision. "I fold. Of course I fold. . " Greenfax whispered with a sigh, watching a half-century career in the rear view mirror.

"What's that, sir. I must beg you say that a bit louder!" Baron Maddox demanded, thoroughly enjoying this previously unknown form of power: politics. "I said Long Live, and good riddance . . She can have her crimson bloody Empire of the Implarian!" Richard yelled back. Walt scrambled for his cellphone, which was both vibrating and ringing in his recently tailored slacks, "Every word?" he asked the incoming caller, "Outstanding . . No, thank you!" Maddox chirped before ending the call almost as soon as it had began.

Richard shuffled back to the bar and ordered a row of drinks, this time without returning a smile for the beaming barmaid. No, Richard had just been broken down from one of the highest pinnacles by a fresh Monarch and her entirely offensive hound. This was not much better then a hear-attack, and part of the defeated Lord questioned whether or not his heart might just attack to avenge his pride. "Pride is like an Empire, Alice" he whispered to the Crimson Queen who was in no sense of the word 'there', " - it crumbles until someone young and brave enough can topple it in an instant.".