The Princess and The Pirate

My Emperor and Godhead,

The House of Rocqueburne has fallen into anarchy. As feared, we were too late for the King and queen. Both have met untimely ends, leaving the rule bloodless. In lieu of an heir, the McLaughlin cousin Lillian now bears the crown at eighteen! Here, I had believed the days of child royalty were long passed, but it only seems like the dark ages as of late.

Her by-proxy agreement is merely a week old. Having reviewed it, it does seem unfortunately legitimate. But, it does not shake the suspicion of nefarious intent, though she is just a child. I have stopped believing in random misfortune. I get the ever-growing thought that nothing here was ever by chance. Perhaps it runs as deep as the princess’s original kidnapping? Was there never a body recovered? The crypt is empty of her corpse, although there is a bottomless ocean full of monsters available for anyone’s disposal. No matter, I suppose. Her parents are warm in their funeral beds.

Seeing no point in our occupational force, I informed the new queen that we would leave Rocqueburne. On the same day, both she and I fell ill to a very opportunistic hemlock poisoning. It is a curious event. I know of no such wicked herb in the area.

When I am well enough, we will move out. The east theater needs attention if I remember your last letter.

Sire, I do have a foreboding feeling when it comes to the fate of Rocqueburne. I have yet to see a Jolly Roger fly in the bay but that could easily change if any of this chaos is allowed into the public eye. If it is beyond you to come and survey the disaster personally, I’d strongly recommend a host of representatives to be transplanted here.

Your ever-loyal servant,

Sir Magnus of Whilmshire, Master of the Guard, General

Lillian stood at the topmost tower as birds squawked loudly around her. Dawn was just breaking over the ocean but she had a tainted, fuming darkness in her eyes. There was so little faith in the world these days and she had been so hospitable!

Anarchy? He called it anarchy! Nefarious! How dare he call her nefarious?! The queen took the letter and quietly folded it while slipping the paper into her sleeve. The messenger bird twitched at her feet, its neck freshly wrung.

“Deal with that,” she spat as she kicked the bird’s body towards Versetti, “while I deal with the general.”