Kingly Charm

Ruspin escaped into the dead of the night, just to avoid moi. Apparently he's headed to England anyway. I've no idea why, but I've decided to follow, to make sure he isn't brutally murdered by... well... anyone. His mother was the biggest advocate of my plan, even opting to help me detain Ruspin's bodyguards which he so astutely left behind.

Although, creeping through the sullen walls of the place a once called home was a bit erring. The ghosts what roamed these halls were even more deadly than the great and miserly Ruspin Garrison. Cage and I, playing, my sisters plotting against us with a vigour unheard of. Bellamy and I traversing these halls... Kalvin and I, I kissed him for the first time behind this tapestry, I reminisce. The vivid colours and thick material distracting anyone from our presence.

I rush past that particular hall way, chanting my mantra: Ruspin. I'm here for Ruspin.

I assume he'll seek an audience in the throne room, but then again, knowing him, he doesn't seek audience. He barges in like the smug bastard he is. Which means he could be anywhere.

Turns out, someone with a volatile temper, such as my father, can be easily found given the right circumstances; those being a healthy serving of American businessman.

My footfalls are almost non-existent against the tiled floor as my curiosity pulls me forward like a leash.

"You're claiming my kingdom?" is my father's hysterical query

"I'm notifying you, within the confines of the law, that I'm claiming your territory as mine." Amends Ruspin, sounding as ostentatious as ever.

My father versus Ruspin; an interesting battle... one that I never predicted.

From my cosy hiding spot, I manoeuvre myself so that I have I clear view of the room. My father sits pompously atop his throne, like the king he is whilst my mother sits lovingly beside him, nodding along to every word he says. They're flanked by almost a battalion of guards and are both decked in their finest wear. King Issac; his beloved crown adorns a balding blonde head, a stern and chiselled face belaying nothing akin to mercy, features that belong to me, morphed into something undistinguishable by his ever present glare. Even sitting his form superimposes itself on the room.

My mother, on the other hand, perches daintily atop her throne, not realising it as the prison it is... in her mind, ignorance is bliss. She wears a tightly corseted light blue dress, and sits with perfect posture, looking down her nose at Ruspin.

Though he's the only one standing, his rigid form, clothed in his traditional black suit is something to fear. Given that my view is limited to his rear, I must make the fair assumption that his face is an impassive mask, cold and determined. His stance indicates his lack of fear, even surrounded by trained warriors. He always has a contingency plan, I just don't know what it is yet.

Footsteps near, and in a blur of motion I'm obscured by the curtain. To my dismay, the steps march closer, at least twelve people...

Holding my breath, I press myself back into the wall, dreading that my slightest breath will disrupt the curtain and reveal my presence.

The security doors of the throne room boom open, and in marches the newcomers. Poking my head out the door, I ready my pistol.

Ruspin stands with his arms crossed, he snaps his fingers, and a woman with a tightly bound scroll scurries forward, presenting it to the king and queen. "Sign it." commands Ruspin, his voice no louder than a whisper.

The guards flanking the monarchy shift uneasily, their metal armour clanking in dismay.

My father looks at Ruspin, surveys the room, balks at how severely outnumbered he is and scribbles his signature on the script. But no, my father was never one to go gentle into that good night, "Laws can be undone, kingdoms can be rebought."

In a moment of bravery, I step through into the throne room, and make my way towards Ruspin. Cruelly savouring the scalding gazes of my parents... between them, I'm not sure who's more shocked.

My father stands, slamming his fist down in outrage, "You ungrateful bitch!" he exclaims, sneering at me, "You brought him here."

"Actually, he was already on his way, I just tagged along." I harp, enjoying his annoyance like the petulant child I am.

Resettling into his honoured throne with a newfound arrogance, he regards me with a smirk, "You really have forgotten yourself Angelica." He drawls, flexing his fingers in a foreshadowing gesture that sears down my spine like a vat of boiling water. His following words became the icing on the cake: "I'll remedy that, don't fear."

But I do... oh how I fear. I take a step back, fully prepared to run.

Mr Garrison grasps my shoulder, steadily reeling me back in.

"How exactly do you plan to do that?" questions Ruspin, his expression placid, but his tone dousing.

Balking at the brevity of the situation, my father's expression shutters.

"Answer me!" he booms, signalling for one of his guards.

Tactfully, the guard flanks the king, his hand poised on what seems to be a blade.

As much as I wish to see my father disgraced... his humiliation would destroy Ruspin's image of me, and my father knows that. The bastard.

So, disregarding the triumphant cheering of my mind, I grab Ruspin's arm, uttering the acidic words, "Don't bother."

But alas... Ruspin, being Ruspin, ignores me completely. Gesturing for the guard to continue, he glances at me warily. "What has he done?" he whispers lowly, his voice softening infinitesimally.

"The dungeon!" he yelps, shying away from the pointy sabre directed towards his right eye.

Suddenly, the air is rancid and burns its way through my nostrils. My hands start trembling, the edges of my vision swim with black silhouettes.

At the moment Ruspin drifts away from me, my chest decides it's time to evict my heart; the force of it propels me towards Ruspin.

Grasping my chance his collar, I stare directly into his eyes, "Stop. Seriously. This is hurting me more than it is him." I plead, "I'll tell you later."

He glares at me for a split second before relenting, "Fine."

And just when I think it's over, "Take them to the dungeon." He commands, a voice full of menace, "I'll deal with them later."

"You forget Angelica, I own a dungeon, and I'm well versed in their terrors."



Once again I find myself in an unstable metal chassis. A flying capsule of death if you will... probably a second cousin to Ruspin's car.

After his hostile take-over, he deemed it prudent to head to America to claim his real bounty.

As the saying goes: a kingdom a day keeps the doctor away; two keeps the tax collectors at bay.

Thankfully, he hasn't brought up the whole dungeon situation, but from his expression, I can tell he expects an explanation.

Right now though, I choose to focus on my most pressing problems; one, being the elbow firmly lodged between my ribs. I mean I would move, but it would disrupt the ten soldiers currently crammed into the helicopter with us. One wrong move and someone would be sent catapulting out the window. Mightn't be that bad at the moment though, from what I can see, we're nearing Ruspin's prospective conquest... a falling person might just decapitate enough guards for us to enter with most of our limbs still intact.

Glancing at Ruspin, I notice his tense expression. To the world he looks confident and self-assured, but to me, he's even stiffer than usual.

"Is something the matter?" I ask, tapping his shoulder.

"I'm just getting prepared for a family reunion." He mutters, cryptic as ever.

"Not that I'm doubting you or anything," I begin, lowering my voice to keep our conversation private, "But since your energy plan fell through, do you have enough cash?"

"Your energy plan fell through." He retorts, though I can't determine if he's jesting or actually accusing me. "But your parents had sufficient funds in their coffers to sustain my plan."

I nod, satisfied, at least they've finally done something positive for me.

As we hover over the castle, Ruspin's soldiers start jumping out of the plane, and within seconds they release their parachutes, drifting down serenely to their destination. Ruspin scoots closer to the edge, passing me a pair of binoculars.

This castle is much more fortified than mine, with three layers of walls and a moat wrapped around it like protective layers, it seems impenetrable....

From here, I can detect the flamboyant tapestries and meticulously crafted glass windows lining the walls, but not everything is perfect.

Swinging my gaze downward, my eyes roam the field of blood shed. The king's soldiers fighting Ruspin's. The sounds of guns firing and swords colliding barrage me over the whirring of the helicopter blade. Formerly sculpted plants lay even more disfigured than the combatants. The moat is tinted red, with bobbing bodies and limbs almost obscuring the water. This is almost as bad as my jungle adventures...

Their fight is so violent and grotesque that I almost miss the most important part: littered amongst the king's guards and Ruspin's soldiers, fighters bearing a strange symbol battle, making deadly strikes on each front.

Removing the binoculars, I glance at Ruspin, who comes to the same conclusion as I do, "I'm not the only one vying for this kingdom."