Winter of Discontent

**"Winter of Discontent"**is the first and premiere episode of *War* and the 50th episode overall.

The episode was published on January 1, 2021.

In the episode, the beginning days of the War send the nations of Cartonia into a frenzy as they navigate the shifting political dynamic. In Canis, Bentley Connelly grapples with mourning and duty as his ailing father's worsening health edges him closer to the throne.

## Previously On

    This segment was published just prior to the episode's release in order to bridge the gap between "Silent Night" and now. The background music is "And So It Begins" from *The Tudors*. The final image is of the Diary of War's first entry.

## Appendix

Episode Title Card**A:** Map of the War, 708**B:** Canisian Royal Family, 708**C:** Felexan Royal Family, 708**D:** Porcinian Royal Family, 708**E:** Vulpine Royal Family, 708D: The Porcinian branches that end with empty green leaves denote family lines that are irrelevant to the story.

## The Episode

*Three Hundred Years Ago*

—Christmas Morning Address by Queen Vixen VII of Vulpus—

—December 25, 707—

*Good morning and merry Christmas, though I feel neither good nor merry this day. It is with a heavy heart that I must confirm that Princess Victoria Vixen has died from head injuries sustained during an assassination attempt yesterday afternoon as I rode with her to the Vale of Vulpus for the Harmony Holiday Gala. This event has been horrible for me and my family, and I bear a great deal of trauma from the close proximity I was to the fatal bullet. We thank and accept your prayers and condolences at this time.*

*The duck assassin, who has since been identified as Leevey Foster, was a known hitman from the Kingdom of Mallardia. I believe this assassination was an attempt to kill both Victoria and I to destabilize Vulpus and eliminate the royal heads of the Vixen family and bring ruin to the Harmony Crown. This duck was clearly acting out of hatred toward foxes and the relationship between Victoria Vixen and Bentley Connelly of Canis. I believe furthermore that this hit came directly from King Swan XX of Mallardia, who has been outspoken about Victoria and Bentley. Though I too have been against their unnatural partnership, I had just mended my personal relationship with Victoria in the carriage at the moment of her death. This unjust act and cruel political move will be tolerated by neither the Kingdom of Vulpus nor the wearer of the Harmony Crown. The ducks have made it clear that they will not respect the peace that we have so graciously enjoyed for 707 years.*

*I therefore present an ultimatum to the ducks of Mallardia, and specifically to King Swan XX.*

*You will abdicate the throne immediately and denounce your entire dynasty from inheritance.*

*A new royal family will rise to the forefront of Mallardian politics in due time.*

*The ducks will permanently remove themselves from the Harmony Crown lineup.*

*The ducks will take full responsibility for the assassination of Victoria Vixen and the attempted assassination of myself, Queen Vixen VII.*

*The ducks will allow a full investigation into the life of the assassin and all who knew him. The ducks will allow Vulpus foxes to conduct their investigation on Mallardian soil.*

*The ducks will pay reparations for their crimes in the amount of 16 million marks.*

*The ducks will relinquish their coastline to Vulpus and the remainder of the country will be divided into occupation zones as decided by the seventeen other monarchs of Cartonia.*

*Failure to abide by all these terms will result in an invasion of the Mallardian mainland by the Kingdom of Vulpus and the allies of the Harmony Crown.*

*King Swan XX, you have until midnight on New Year’s Eve to fulfill this ultimatum.*

*The foxes of Vulpus await your reply.*

—City of Dückzig, Mallardia—

—Kingdom of the Ducks—

-January 1, 708-

It was 4:40am and the fireworks of New Year’s Eve had since fizzled over the horizon. Festivities had continued as planned, despite the threatening ultimatum issued by Queen Vixen VII of Vulpus last week at Christmastime. She had basically demanded that Mallardia pay for the assassination of her heir, Victoria Vixen, along with the complete and utter dissolution of their monarchy and country.

For Governor Phillip Semper of Dückzig, the ultimatum was an insult to Mallardian sovereignty. Even though the assassin had indeed been a deranged duck, his actions did not represent the entirety of the duck species. Her ultimatum was tantamount to that accusation. Though Phillip was not privy to the discussions between King Swan XX and allies, rumors had it that the ultimatum was going to be ignored. An unofficial response was sent to Vulpus, stating that any aggression would be matched and the situation should be able to be resolved diplomatically.

Midnight came and went, and the Rook of Vulpus and Beakfield Manor were silent. Had the King worked out some sort of compromise with the Vixen Queen? Perhaps Mallardian innocence was able to be conveyed.

The Vixen Queen’s ultimatum was ridiculous. Foxes on Mallardian soil to conduct an investigation? Rubbish. Dividing the peaceful country into seventeen occupation zones? Ludicrous. Failure to abide by the terms resulting in an invasion of the Mallardian Kingdom?

Distressingly plausible.

Dückzig was home to the southernmost harbor in Mallardia. One could walk to the Vulpus border in under a half hour. And since the night of Christmas Eve, a Vulpine submarine had been moored offshore in the Gulf of Cartoon. Silently resting above the waterline, its periscope was aimed at Dückzig. The foxes must be under the impression that any defense of Mallardia would begin here. Governor Phillip Semper had been deliberately told by the highest authority in Anatoidea, the capital, that no offensive or defensive action be taken.

Phillip had therefore obeyed and done nothing. Well, nothing blatant. He closed the harbor for the holiday, and encouraged as many families as possible to stay home and enjoy the day off, thus reducing the amount of ducks who could be wandering around in the event of an invasion. From the Governor’s Mansion atop the hill overlooking the city, Phillip gnawed the edge of his beak and watched the submarine. It had not moved all night.

He checked his watch. It was 4:45 now. Perhaps it was time he go to bed, and see what news arrived in the morning. No doubt the good King Swan was having his own sleepless night, bogged down by the weight of the ultimatum.

Phillip stretched, and squinted into the black harbor. Where was the submarine? He just had it in his sights, over there by the furthest buoy. Had it…

The first torpedo blitzed across the water and slammed into the seawall, causing an immediate explosion. Phillip gripped the windowsill and gaped as another torpedo was fired from the submerged submarine. Lights switched on across the city as citizens awoke in panic. Phillip was paralyzed with terror. A third torpedo destroyed the boardwalk, and a fourth dismantled the trade depot.

Phillip was Governor, and he could not think what to do. There were no preparations to have been made. Military conflict had escaped Cartonia for seven centuries.

But this was Vulpus attacking Mallardia. The echoes of the torpedoes and the bombs rattled violently in Phillip’s ears.

The sounds of war.

—The Canisian Embassy, Vista, Vulpus—

—Kingdom of the Foxes—

-Later That Day-

Leland Dodd, the Canisian Ambassador to the Kingdom of Vulpus, stood stationary behind his desk as Unella Holstein, the Chancellor of Vulpus, entered his office. Leland had served in his Ambassador role for seventeen years. Unella was one of his closest friends in the Vulpine capital. Just three weeks ago they went golfing together. They had smiled and laughed, too friendly with one another to even discuss their work. Today, in the wake of the Vulpine invasion of Mallardia, both of their faces were grave.

“You summoned me,” Chancellor Unella Holstein said emotionlessly. “I believe you have something for me.” She cast a sweeping glance around the Ambassador’s office. Some of his belongings were in boxes. He had been temporarily recalled to Canis.

“Yes,” Leland sighed. He lifted an envelope from his desk and passed it to the Chancellor. “In accordance with Mallardia’s reply to Vulpus’s Christmas ultimatum, which made it clear that the Canisian interest would become involved in the event of an invasion of Mallardia, Canis has no choice but to declare war on Vulpus.”

Unella took the envelope, a war declaration addressed to the Vixen Queen. She tucked it into her jacket. With her other paw, she dropped a sealed envelope of her own onto the Ambassador’s desk.

“In that case, I have something for you.”

Leland slit it open, knowing of course what it contained. A countering declaration of war. The document insinuated that Canis was unjustly interfering with Vulpus and Mallardia’s political spat, and that by not condemning Mallardia for the Victoria Vixen assassination they were in essence condoning the attack.

“Your Prince Regent wanted this war,” Unella sneered in Leland’s direction, all amiability gone.  “Now he has it.”

“Unella…” Leland protested to his former friend, but the Chancellor swept out of his office.

The Ambassador stuck the declaration of war in one of his boxes and carried it from the Embassy. He packed up a few months’ worth of clothes from his home in Vista; that was how long he anticipated this animosity between Kingdoms would last. Before nightfall, Ambassador Leland Dodd took one of the last trains from Vulpus to Canis. He would never return.

—Highland Castle, West Terrier, Canis—

—Kingdom of the Dogs—

-January 2, 708-

King Ewan I of Canis was mentally incapacitated as war erupted in Mallardia on New Year’s Day.  The duties of military obligation fell to his son, Bentley Connelly, who had already been serving as Prince Regent since the previous year. Ewan’s health had deteriorated so much over the last few months that it was inevitable that he would pass, and with him the crown to his heir.

After Bentley had lost the love of his life, Victoria Vixen, last Christmas Eve, he was surprised to find his sadness at his loss replaced with a stronger anger toward the Vixen Queen for taking Victoria away in the first place. Bentley had immediately seen through the Vixen Queen’s ersatz ultimatum, deliberately crafted to mislead the Kingdoms of Cartonia into ceding territories to her.

Bentley could now see the cogs spinning behind the Vixen Queen’s eyes; she hated Victoria from the start, as soon as the Vixen Queen’s only two daughters killed each other in an illicit duel and Victoria became the heir presumptive. Eliminating Victoria was the first step of whatever plot the Vixen Queen had concocted, and invading Mallardia was the second. In the rotation of the Harmony Crown, Mallardia succeeded Vulpus. With Mallardia out of the way, the Vixen Queen could theoretically hold onto the Harmony Crown for a decade longer. Bentley wasn’t sure what good that would do, but it wouldn’t matter.

Vulpus was outnumbered. The crocodiles of Eusuchia, the mice of Willie, and the dogs of Canis would support the stricken ducks of Mallardia, having issued identical declarations of war against Vulpus. Of those four nations and its four rulers, none had been outspoken in support of Bentley’s relationship with Victoria. In fact, King Swan XX of Mallardia and Farress Nilia had done the opposite, condemning it publicly. Even Bentley’s own father was adamantly against the pair.

Yet, the four Kingdoms were allies now. And in a matter of months, they would crush the Vulpine army and turn the ultimatum on the Vixen Queen, ordering her to step down and end the Vixen dynasty forever. Too hostile they had been, to each other and to their Kingdom. Bentley had heard tales of oppression from within Vulpine borders, and knew it had to stop.

To the Vixen Queen, this war may be one of conquest and purported revenge against Mallardia for arranging the assassination of Victoria Vixen. But to Bentley and his allies, this was a war for justice and the restoration of peace.

*This is necessary*, Bentley assured himself as he watched the palace staff convert the Royal Council chamber into a war room. A place to discuss strategy and coordinate any battles or attacks. A large map of the Cartonian continent was being fixed to the wall. There was no rulebook on war; this was the first international war in seven centuries. The only military action in the past had been civil in nature, and never in Canis. All civil wars had been between noble families fighting for the crown. Bentley’s own family, the Connellys, came to the throne peacefully in the year 329, installed by popular demand after the old ruling family died out.

The thought of Bentley becoming King was daunting. He had been raised for it, groomed for it, but his feelings toward his destiny changed after meeting Victoria. *She* became his destiny, the fate he felt he was always meant to have. When the royals of Cartonia would not accept them, when it became apparent that they could not be together under Cartonian law, they announced they would renounce their claims to the throne and flee. In truth, this had been only half-sincere. Bentley had indeed decided that he would relinquish his future as King in order to be with Victoria, but there was nowhere for them to flee. The hurricanes in the Eastern Ocean would destroy them if they attempted to sail south, and the Western Ocean was thick with rocks. The Vixen Cliffs were impassable. Where could they go?

The bluff hadn’t exactly worked, and it may have even led to Victoria’s assassination as the threat of upending two royal families was too controversial to ignore.

Bentley swallowed hard and tried to ignore the thought of Victoria, who had been alive ten days ago.

“Benny?”

His brother, Thumper Connelly, had entered the room with his three-year-old daughter, Evangelina Connelly. Bentley turned to his brother.

“Hi.”

“Are you…well, I know you’re not alright, but do you need anything?”

Bentley just shook his head.

“We keep missing you at meals. And I don’t really see much of you. Father is…”

“Sorry,” said Bentley simply. “I’m preoccupied.”

Thumper blushed.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”

The two brothers fell silent, which Bentley hated. He didn’t want there to be any sort of rift between them. They had been extremely close before Victoria’s death. He wanted to say something, but no words came to his lips.

“Uncle Bentley,” Evangelina said sweetly, “would you please join us for dinner?”

Bentley sighed, then nodded. Poor Evangelina. Her birth had been accidental when both parents were young—Thumper was only 20—and to avoid royal scandal Thumper was forced to marry the mother, Esme Stewart. The couple was content until Esme died of canine flu when Evangelina was only one. It was evident to Bentley, however, that Thumper never felt the same level of love toward Esme that Bentley bore for Victoria.

Thumper looked around the future war chamber of Canis and frowned. His eyes darted over to Bentley’s.

“Benny, I need to talk to you.”

Thumper led Bentley into the hall, where he passed Evangelina off to her governess. Then, Thumper took Bentley out onto one of the balconies overlooking the main courtyard of Highland Castle. The snow-capped mountains surrounding the castle looked dazzling against the crisp winter sky.

“What is it, Thumper?”

Thumper gazed intently at his elder brother.

“Father’s health has worsened. The doctors say he may never be lucid again. You have to go see him.”

Bentley lowered his head. He had been avoiding his father’s sick bed, as if shirking his final farewell would be enough to kick the crown to the next in line.

“The succession is clear,” Thumper stated. “You *will* be King within weeks. And now that Canis is at war, you need all the help you can get.”

“I’m in mourning,” Bentley sighed, which sounded more like a whine.

Thumper softened.

“I know. I know. I’m here for you.”

Bentley knew that was true. Thumper was unequivocally supportive of Bentley and Victoria. Before the story broke last year, Thumper was the only other person who knew of the relationship. However, Thumper was by far Mother’s favorite of her two sons, and she preferred Thumper to take the throne over Bentley. If it was that easy, Bentley would be quick to oblige. Mother had made her thoughts about Victoria known to Thumper, but he had not turned on  his brother.

Maybe Thumper saw the unmistakeable worry in Bentley’s face, for he said, “You believe me, don’t you?”

Bentley nodded dismissively, but Thumper put his paw on Bentley’s shoulder.

“Do you remember when I had to tell Mother and Father that Esme was pregnant? Do you remember how you rehearsed with me all afternoon the best way to break the news to them? How *you* suggested that we marry to ensure shame did not befall the family? *You* smoothed things over with Father while I worked on Mother. We were a team. You helped me through that, and you were always so kind to Esme. Evangelina loves you. I could not have asked for a better source of support.”

Thumper was smiling at Bentley. “I want to be that support for you. This war will not be easy, and I know you can lead this country effectively and justly, even if your heart has been broken. There is no one stronger to take the crown.”

Bentley didn’t move, but internalized what Thumper had said. It was touching.

“Victoria was beautiful,” Thumper said suddenly, causing Bentley’s breath to catch. “She was graceful, elegant, resplendent, and above all she was kind. You should have been able to be happy together. You should have had that. And I’m sorry.”

Bentley threw his arms around Thumper, and wept.

—The Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

—Kingdom of the Foxes—

-January 5, 708-

“Your Majesty?”

Queen Vixen VII lolled her head to glance at the page who had just entered. He was a gangly thing of no import or status.

“What is it, Matthew?”

“Princess Valencia, the Vixen Royal, your Majesty.”

The Vixen Queen slouched out of her chair and rose to meet her sister. Her last-surviving sister.

“Good morning,” Valencia Vixen droned as she sauntered into the breakfast room. “Who’s the page? He’s new.”

The Vixen Queen shrugged.

“Some fox from the southwest. He apparently came over with Victoria’s household.”

Valencia raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve maintained members of Victoria’s staff? I daresay you would have had them purged.”

The Vixen Queen flapped a paw and ordered her sister to sit with her. She resumed her breakfast.

“No, the number of staff was small—only three. A page, a cook, a maid. I consider them promoted.”

Valencia laughed. She plucked a biscuit from the open tin and popped it into her mouth.

“What brings you to the Rook?” Queen Vixen asked. Visits from her sister were annoyingly common, and lately have been about one thing.

“Oh, I just wanted an update. I heard our dear little duck has died?”

Queen Vixen stirred her tea.

“Yes, sister. Tragic, but the assassin who killed Victoria died after being hit by a carriage on transport to jail. He’ll never face trial for his crimes.”

Valencia’s eyes twinkled.

“Sometimes I watch the Christmas Eve news reels over and over again, just for fun. To see that little bitch’s head blasted apart. You were such an extraordinary actress. The look of shock on your face! Oh, it makes me giggle.”

The Vixen Queen smiled as she fondly recalled the moment that Victoria Vixen had died. There had been a feeling of ecstasy as her blood splattered the inside of the carriage.

*“Down with Vulpus!”* Leevey Foster, the alias for the Mallardian hitman, had screamed after the fatal shot. “*An end to sacrilege!*”

The line had been coined by the Vixen Queen herself, designed to frame Mallardia for the murder of the Crown Princess of Vulpus. Victoria was not fit to inherit the crown. She was weak-willed and blasphemous. That became apparent after she canoodled with Bentley Connelly, a *dog*. The whole situation was disgusting. But it gave the Vixen Queen the opportunity to finally achieve her visions for the Kingdom of Vulpus. Enough of the same, mundane, trite politics. Time for Vulpus to rise, as decreed in the Skulkisch Doktrin.

Christmas had been a day of celebration for the Vixen Queen, Valencia Vixen, and other conspirators. They had successfully murdered Victoria Vixen in public, blamed Mallardia, and issued an ultimatum that was certain to be refused. And that was imperative; the ultimatum must be rejected. Ignoring the terms of the document would give Vulpus a *casus belli*—an ancient term meaning a cause for war.

New Year’s Day was similarly jubilant as citizens across Vulpus cheered for the beginning of the war against Mallardia. The first attacks on the City of Dückzig were a wild success, and the city quickly surrendered. The army invaded hours later, and the Vixen Queen was confident that the Kingdom would surrender before the end of the month.

Unfortunately, Mallardia apparently had friends. Willie, Canis, and Eusuchia had declared war on Vulpus before the day was out. The invasion was stalled, and the Vixen Queen was scrambling to find allies. If Mallardia did not fall, and the nations of Cartonia turned on her, Vulpus would be the victim of this conflict. That she must not allow.

“These new members of staff,” Valencia mused, evidently more intrigued with the domestic aspects of the Vixen Queen’s life than anything else, “what are they like?”

The Queen shrugged absently.

“Obedient. Look, they were here. They’re cheap labor. That’s all. Why? Do you fancy the page?”

Valencia clucked her tongue.

“No, sister. I was just curious if they acted like Victoria. You know, pompously arrogant and highfalutin as if she’s some sort of queen of morality. Like her *mother*.”

The Queen gagged. Though she hated Victoria Vixen, she despised her mother even more. Vora Vixen, the Queen’s younger sister, thought herself to be better than all members of the Vixen family. She loathed politics, abhorred the capital, and upon the birth of her daughter Victoria, she left. No note, no word, no message. Vora, her husband, and baby Victoria absconded from the capital and moved to the middle of nowhere. The Queen actually had no idea where specifically her sister had resided. After the fatal duel killed both the Queen’s daughters and the search for the next in line began, the Queen learned that her sister Vora had perished in a house fire several years back, leaving none other than her only daughter Victoria Vixen to pick up the crown.

Barely nineteen and woefully inept to the intricate web of Vulpine diplomacy, she did not stand a chance. Thankfully, she was dead now. And that made the heir to the throne the Vixen Queen’s other sister: Valencia.

The Vixen Queen was weary of her sister because of that. Two Vixen Queens had been unseated by their sisters, and she would have to clutch her crown closely to ensure that did not happen again.

“Vora,” Valencia spat with contempt. “Raising a legitimate Vixen daughter in isolation, to have her mind warped by her own inadequacies. What about that husband of hers? Is he dead too?”

“I’m not sure,” the Vixen Queen pondered. “Victoria never spoke of him. And he didn’t come with her to Vista. So I would imagine so.”

Valencia wiped a few crumbs from the table.

“What about this war? Which nations have aligned with us?”

The Vixen Queen scowled.

“So far, none. Scuridiae was supposed to back us, but the Chequer is dragging his heels. I made a case to each nation, stating that Mallardia obviously assassinated our heir, and made a blatant provocation. We gave them the opportunity to concede to the ultimatum…”

Valencia snorted, then said “go on.”

“I’ve tried to pit nations against Canis too for Bentley’s ungodly love for Victoria, and how Eusuchia and Willie are in theory rebelling against the Harmony Crown.”

The younger Vixen sister tapped her claw against her cheek.

“We only need a few to bite, Valda.”

The Vixen Queen inclined her head. She really only needed one. One shield, one ally. One to take the fall before Vulpus. The two Vixens spoke about the war and strategy, the gripping tales already arising from the battlefields in Mallardia. The thought of war enthralled them both, but none more than the Vixen Queen herself. To demonstrate her plan for the war, the Queen fetched a box of dominoes from the cabinet and set them up on the table. She lifted eighteen up and arranged them around the table like the nations of Cartonia.

The door opened during her demonstration, and Matthew the page returned.

“Your Majesty, I have a message from Martial Klaus. He requests your presence in the throne room at your immediate convenience.”

The Queen dropped her arm on the table to block the dominoes.

“Did he say why?”

“Yes,” Matthew said, his eyes averted downward. “The Chequer of Scuridiae has announced a declaration of war against Mallardia.”

*Clink*.

Valencia had tipped over one of the dominoes.

—Ripper, Porcinia—

—Kingdom of the Pigs—

-January 15, 708-

Diana Loudoun paid for her groceries at the market and lifted her shopping bag over her shoulder. Taking care not to bump into any of the other shoppers, she walked home. The small village in the north of Porcinia was bustling, as it did every weekend, especially when the market was open. The town was arranged in a circle, with the town square at the center. Her house was near the western edge, where she lived with her only daughter, Lana.

War had come to Cartonia two weeks ago. But it was limited to Vulpus, Mallardia, Canis, Eusuchia, Willie, and Scuridiae. Only a third of Cartonia’s Kingdoms, and Porcinia was determined to stay out of it. King Bacon IV issued a unilateral declaration of neutrality. Diana was grateful for that. She wasn’t even sure what was really being fought now. At first, it appeared to be a clear argument between Vulpus and Mallardia. But when the declarations of war came from Eusuchia, Canis, and Willie, Diana was quite confused. How did they get involved in this?

No matter, no worries. Diana was quite content in this village with her peaceful serene life. Her daughter had just turned 22, and was a woman at the doorstep of the rest of her life.

Lana Loudoun was inside the house, bent over the kitchen table writing in her diary. The maroon leather-bound journal was a Christmas gift from Diana.

“What are you writing?” Diana asked, pulling the fresh apples from her bag.

Lana tapped a newspaper on the table.

“I’m writing about the war.”

Diana wrinkled her nose.

“Why? We’re not involved. You should use that journal to write about your experiences, your first career, or how young and beautiful your mother is.”

Lana laughed but shook her head.

“No, mom. This war is more important than anything else I could write about. When it’s all over with, I want to be able to look back and remember how I felt.”

A pit of some form began to weigh heavily in Diana’s stomach. What had caused that?

“Can I read what you’ve written?”

Lana passed the diary to her mother, and Diana read it over.

“It’s just…such a dark narrative. It’s only been two weeks. How have you managed to write so much?”

Lana lifted the newspaper.

“A lot has happened. Scuridiae’s declaration of war might trigger others to join.”

Diana gulped.

“But…Porcinia will remain neutral. You believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Lana said, but her smile was weak. Perhaps she was trying to reassure herself more than anything.

Diana left her daughter to continue writing, and went into her bedroom. She paced around nervously, thinking. The war was still so new, and nothing drastic had happened besides Scuridiae’s entry. Porcinia had no ties to any of the warring nations, despite sharing a border with Canis. Porcinia’s strongest ally was Ursus, who was equally neutral. Nonetheless, maybe Diana would feel better if she sent a letter to the King. It couldn’t hurt. Diana had no idea what would happen if Porcinia became involved, and what that would mean for her life, but she didn’t like the possibilities. War had divided Cartonia in the time before the Harmony Crown, and was reportedly worse than anything imaginable.

Yes, she’d write to the King. She was sure he was receiving letters in droves, but she knew he would read hers.

After all, unbeknownst to Lana, Diana and King Bacon IV were cousins.

—The Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

-January 27, 708-

Within the walls of the Rook of Vulpus was the ceremonial High Tower, the cornerstone of the castle and the first construction of the Rook. The Vixen Queen was at its apex, rubbing her paw along the cage of the Turtles. A thousand or more years ago, the turtle was a species with a civilization in their own right. They lived along the First Vista river, until the foxes subjugated them. Now, they were a devolved domesticated species. Pets.

A legend in Vulpus was that of the Turtles in the Tower. A poem had been written around the time the Harmony Crown was first devised, and it was inscribed on the wall across from the Queen.

*In the Tower High of mortar and bricks,*

*Turtles of the Crown must be kept in six.*

*For if one or more should flee the coop*

*The Crown shall fall, and Vulpus too.*

It was a dumb superstition, but the Queen was not about to take any chances. There were twelve turtles in the cage, gnawing casually on grass.

The Queen was not alone; she was joined in the High Tower by her Chancellor and Martial. She had tasked her Chancellor with finding more allies for the war, which was still just Scuridiae and Vulpus versus Mallardia, Canis, Eusuchia, and Willie. The battles themselves—skirmishes more like it—were only in Mallardia, and so far no one had made significant progress. Mallardia would have fallen already had it not been for its allies. Vulpus needed a similar buffer.

“The neutral nations of Cartonia,” Chancellor Unella Holstein muttered delicately, “have expressed their desire for diplomatic talks, and an end to the conflict.”

The Vixen Queen shook her head.

“Never. I will not appear as the instigator in the eyes of nations. *Mallardia* began this war when they murdered my niece.”

Martial Redgar Klaus nodded in assent, unaware of the Queen’s true role in Victoria Vixen’s assassination.

“I concur. If it’s war Mallardia wants, it’s war they’ll get.”

Chancellor Holstein stuck her tongue in her cheek, her face troubled.

“I do believe in this cause, Majesty. But I worry that without popular support across the continent, and with you in possession of the Harmony Crown, that the neutral nations will eventually side with the others and view our military actions as tyrannical.”

The Vixen Queen stood up quickly, alarming the turtles in the cage.

“*Tyrannical*? This is justice, not tyranny.”

The Chancellor shifted her footing.

“I just imagine that the neutral kingdoms of Cartonia are…discontent with the ongoing war.”

The Vixen Queen tossed back her head and feigned laughter.

“Discontent? Our enemies will soon find themselves in a winter of discontent, as we rise like a splendid sun of summer glory.”

—Tabitha, Felexa—

—Kingdom of the Cats—

-January 31, 708-

Prince Lionel Lazoy stopped the car outside the train station. His colleague from Willie, Minerva Taylor, unbuckled her seatbelt.

“There’s your train,” Lionel said, pointing through the windshield at the extra-long speeder that would take all the remaining mice in Felexa back to Willie. The neutral nations of Cartonia decided that given the uncertainty of the times, it would be best to recommend all its visitors return to their original country. That included Minerva, the Royal Historian for the mice of Willie. She had been visiting Lionel in Felexa for a few weeks to view some of the documents that he had collected on war. The journey was likely unfruitful to anyone except Minerva, who had felt quite isolated in Willie since the war began.

“I’m sorry to see you leave,” Lionel muttered. “It was nice to have a fellow historian here.”

“Well,” Minerva sighed, “hopefully I’ll see you before too long. It’s been ages since you, me, and Max went to the library in Phantine.”

Lionel sucked on his whiskers.

“That seems a world away, almost impossible now.”

Minerva turned to Lionel. “Don’t say that! This will be over soon.”

“Will it?” Lionel murmured, avoiding her gaze. Minerva shifted.

“Lionel, did your sister say anything? Is she planning…?”

Lionel turned off the car.

“My sister the Queen will have nothing to do with this war. Felexa is a peaceful nation, and we will remain as such.”

Minerva nodded. Lionel could tell she was fearful. If Mallardia, Willie, Canis, and Eusuchia were unable to broker peace with Vulpus and Scuridiae, Minerva would have reason to be afraid for her life. And with the new order to restrict international travel, there was little place for any refugees from this war to run.

Minerva bid Lionel farewell and hurried to catch her train. Lionel watched her board, and the train depart the station. Westbound for Willie. Later tonight, the Felexan borders would close indefinitely.

Across Cartonia, nations were beginning to turn inward and rely on themselves. Trade had slowed, and in some places halted. Ambassadors were being asked to leave their Embassies and return to their homes. If not asked, they were recalled.

This war was barely even begun. It had only raged for a month. Every single person knew the war’s start date, but none knew its end.

—Highland Castle, West Terrier, Canis—

-February 3, 708-

Prince Regent Bentley Connelly was having difficulty finding any other nations in Cartonia to fight alongside them against Vulpus. He knew Vulpus and Scuridiae were likewise isolated, but Bentley had been sure that Equine Isle would join Eusuchia, that Bovo and Porcinia may join Canis…

Alas, the wheel of fortune was not spinning in his favor. Bentley’s public opinion was low for his interspecies relationship. Bentley tried to convince King Swan XX of Mallardia to reach out to nations, but Swan was reluctant to embroil anyone else in the conflict at fear of escalation.

Bentley told the Stag of Cervidium that if the deer fought against Vulpus, they may be able to gain more property along the Vixen Cliffs and take away the gold deposits that had made Vulpus so prosperous. The Vulpus Dam and Reservoir could be commandeered and nationalized by the Harmony Crown, instead of belonging solely to the foxes. Such arguments were already dangerous, as they suggested that the foxes should not have sovereignty over their kingdom.

But Bentley was beginning to get desperate. The war was a month old, and nothing had happened. Was this really going to be a stalemate? How long could he keep the public calm with war raging?

Complicating issues in Canis was his mother, Queen Libby. She refused to let him wear black for mourning of Victoria, and even had his entire black wardrobe removed. No one would tell him where she stashed his mourning clothes. Though Bentley was Regent, Queen Libby had a firm grasp over the castle, ruling at her husband’s side.

Bentley started having meals with his family again after speaking with Thumper last month, but King Ewan never joined them. The doctor’s assumption that he would never regain his consciousness was unfounded, as Ewan frequently faded in and out. By now, however, he had been stripped of all power. For all intents and purposes, Bentley was King. In wake of the war, Bentley used his power as Regent to pardon himself for the crime of speciesal infidelity. The motion was surprisingly approved by Parliament, the majority of whom abstained from the vote. Though the backlash toward Bentley in the beginning of the interspecies scandal was substantial, it seemed to wane after Canis was forced to unite against Vulpus. Since youth, Bentley had always been a highly popular member of the royal family, and his forthcoming reign was greatly anticipated. Seeing him step up as Regent and accept his duty to become King instead of abdicating to live a life of sin with Victoria was definitively forgiving among the Canisian populace.

“Lovely dinner,” Thumper uttered to the attendants, who bowed their heads. “Our compliments to Madam Bruich.”

Evangelina Connelly chewed her food slowly, delicately, trying her best to be ladylike. Her governess sat next to her, watching out of the corners of her eyes.

“This war is expensive,” Mother said out of nowhere. Bentley glanced at her, wondering what she would say next. “Have you looked at your finances?”

Bentley tightened his fist.

“Of course, Mother. I met with my Treasurer…”

“It seems we are going to need some sort of financial boost if you want this war to continue. Now, I have been outspoken against it from the start. There is no need to involve ourselves in a Mallardian and Vulpine dispute. But if you *must* continue this charade, then we’ll need a strong dowry from a powerful family.”

The room went quiet. Even the butler tidying the silverware froze, pretending to inspect what he had just polished.

“Dowry?” Thumper gasped. “Like marriage?”

“Daddy’s getting married?” Evangelina asked.

“No,” Mother said. “Bentley will. He has had enough time to rid himself of his lust for that Vixen bitch and must now focus on strengthening the nation through a strategic marriage. The Duke of Shepherd has a beautiful daughter who will come with land, property, money, and the support of one of the more powerful Houses in Canis. I telegrammed him today approving the match.”

Bentley was furious. Absolutely livid. Victoria was dead, cold in the ground, her body far away in Vulpus. Bentley did not have “enough” time to get over her death. He had barely come to terms with it. The war was almost a distraction from the hollow pain in his heart.

“Cancel it,” Bentley hissed. Mother cocked her head at him, her ears perked.

“I’m sorry, dear? You must speak up, especially if one day you will become King…”

“I said cancel it!” Bentley leapt from his chair, knocking his glass over. An attendant hurried to clean the spill. “You had no right! I am not yours to give away. As Regent, I have the prerogative to approve all royal marriages, and to this one I fervidly say no.”

Queen Libby folded her arms calmly over the table.

“Bentley, the populace of Canis do not love you as they did before your little affair. If you want them to respect you as King, you must marry a *dog*.”

“Fine,” Bentley said. “But not this year. Not until I say I am ready.”

Mother donned her vexing half-smile and resumed eating. Bentley waited for the last word, which he knew was coming. Sure enough,

“Then I suppose you do not truly wish to win this war.”

Bentley ran around the table to look at her square-on.

“I do not need a loveless marriage to win this war. By summer, we will run the foxes over the Vixen Cliffs.”

—Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

-February 6, 708-

Matthew Palmer hated serving as a page for the Vixen Queen. It was not what he had signed up for when he accompanied Crown Princess Victoria Vixen to Vista in the fall of 706 two years ago. For the duration of her time as Crown Princess, Matthew and two others—a maid named Yvonne and a cook called Willow—served her dutifully. Victoria was benevolent and insightful, and generous too. Matthew loved her, though not in the way that Bentley Connelly had loved her.

Their relationship was cute, Matthew thought. He knew it was theoretically wrong, but once it was there in front of him, he couldn’t see what was really the matter with it.

Upon her death, he thought he would have to return home. In fact, he didn’t mind the thought. Mom and Dad would have gladly welcomed him back to the house.

But Matthew, Yvonne, and Willow were all hired into the royal household of the Vixen Queen. Her page, apparently, had quit after the ultimatum was delivered, and so Matthew was simply elevated to the position.

The Queen was rude, blunt, abrasive, and hungry for something that Matthew could not comprehend. There was something empty about her eyes, and Matthew didn’t look into them. Her sister, Valencia Vixen, was just as unlikeable. She had some sort of odd infatuation with Victoria’s former household staff. Always lurking around the kitchen with Willow, skulking the halls after Yvonne, and eyeing Matthew when he was at his post.

This war was stupid. All wars were stupid. Matthew thought that was obvious to everyone. It was heartbreaking to him, as someone who loved Victoria, to know that it was her death that triggered this aggression.

—Highland Castle, West Terrier, Canis—

-February 10, 708-

Bentley pulled nervously on his evening robe, and waited for the doctor to finish in King Ewan’s room. An hour ago, Ewan regained his wits and asked specifically for Bentley. Occasions like these were rare, and so Queen Libby, Thumper, and Evangelina were there too. No one wanted to miss what could easily be Ewan’s final words.

The doctor emerged, grim.

“He’s ready, but he’s fading. This week will likely be his last.”

Bentley had heard that before. He took the assessment with a grain of salt.

Mother burst into the room first, falling beside her ailing husband. Father was pale and gaunt, propped on his pillows and staring lazily at the ceiling. His white hair was falling out, and tufts were swept into the trashcan. The only other person in the room was Maximilian Walters, the Royal Historian and close friend of Father. Bentley thought he was a rather aloof man, but he had a good heart.

“Grandpa!” Evangelina squealed, racing forward. Thumper slowed her so she wouldn’t overwhelm the dying King. The crown of Canis was on the bedside table, shining in the lamplight. Bentley’s head began to itch.

“Bentley,” King Ewan moaned, his voice raspy and weak. Bentley sat on the edge of the bed, and took his father’s paw.

“It’s me.”

“I’m sorry,” the King managed, “to leave this weight to you, in a time of such crisis.”

Bentley tipped his head. Tears were welling behind his eyes. His father was dying. He would not be able to help Bentley through his reign. That was the curse of any monarch.

“You will do great things, but you must end this war.”

“I’m trying,” Bentley promised. “We’ll fight…”

“No,” Father said at once. He spoke slowly and carefully. “You must make peace with Vulpus at once. This is not a war you can win, and it is not ours to fight. Do not drag your personal shame into this. That *fox* is no martyr. Canis has no stake in this war, nothing to gain from victory, but everything to lose from defeat. I will not allow you to be the King that brings Canis and the House of Connelly to ruin because you couldn’t control your lust.”

Bentley dropped the King’s paw. His father’s words had rattled him. He was essentially accusing Bentley of activity that would bring his dynasty down.

“Father…” Thumper muttered. “That’s too harsh…”

Ewan lifted his paw to silence Thumper.

“Renounce the Vixen bitch. Condemn yourself for being bewitched by her unholy charm, and then you can redeem yourself in the eyes of your people.”

Each word was meticulous. This was the most lucid Father had been since December. And he was using his final bits of energy to rip Bentley’s heart to shreds. Bentley was not going to take this from his father, even on his deathbed. He was the rightful heir to Canis, and by providence was meant to rule in his own way. And meeting Victoria was part of that, somehow. She had not bewitched him, or led him astray. Victoria had opened him to a world of love, something he had never experienced, and may never again.

“Her name was *Victoria*,” Bentley exclaimed, standing to full height. Father blinked at him in irritation. “She was no bitch, nor was she an enchantress. She was *everything* to me. And the Vixen Queen took her away. She’s the force behind this war and she must be stopped. The ducks had nothing to do with the assassination!”

“Oh, nonsense,” Mother scoffed. “We all saw the assassin was a duck.”

Bentley ignored her.

“What do you want from me, Father?” Bentley demanded. “Do you want me to renounce my birthright? Pass the crown to Thumper?”

Thumper turned red, and Mother smiled. Father simply lowered his eyebrows.

“You shame your family.”

That was it. Bentley turned his back on his father and left. Thumper hastened after him, but Bentley had already broken into a sprint down the corridors of the castle. Down the stairs to the Great Hall, through the doors and across the courtyard, over to the garage. He hopped into his car and began driving. The chauffeurs watched him, wide-eyed, as Bentley blew past them. The gate opened as he approached, and he sped through it.

The road down from the castle was winding, and Bentley drove too recklessly. Realizing he was speeding while gripping the steering wheel with herculean strength, he brought the car to a slower pace.

Part of him knew he should turn back and be with his father, who could very well pass at any moment. The other didn’t want to be anywhere near his family. He wanted to be with Victoria. And to do that, he would have to go to the Lake.

The latter won out, and he took the peaceful drive down to the placid Lake Hund. The entire time, he replayed the conversation in his head. That was one of his most annoying traits; he always dwelled on everything.

He parked at the shores of the Lake, in time to see the final rays of sunshine disappear beyond the mountains. It was silent down here, which was why Bentley had found solace on the beach these last few months.

The wind was choppy, but far warmer than at the apex of the mountain where Highland Castle rested. Soft murmurs from cabins along the water traveled over its surface, filling Bentley’s ears with the melody of his people.

Bentley walked on the stony beach, his shoes crunching over the pebbles. Ahead was a thicket with trees jutting over the water. When Bentley and Thumper were younger, there had a been a swing tied to one of the branches, and the two had taken turns jumping from it into the water.

Moving the brambles out of his way, he meandered to his little passion project since Victoria died: her memorial. There would never be an official one in Canis, since she was insignificant to everyone except Bentley. Even in Vulpus, there were no plans to erect anything in her honor. She was just a Crown Princess, and a controversial one at that.

Bentley knelt before a stone cairn that he stacked in her memory. A picture of her was framed and at the base. It was her sanctioned royal portrait, commissioned as soon as she was invested as the heir to the throne. It was the life she should have had, with Bentley at her side. There was another picture of the two of them, taken at Vinesteeple in Simeone. They were next to each other, smiling at the camera, its capturer unaware of their love.

His lip trembling, Bentley lifted a paw and rested it on the top of the cairn. A wreath of flowers was lain on either side. He had wrapped them himself. There was so much he wanted to do with this memorial, even though it was private. She deserved to be remembered.

*The Vixen bitch*.

Mother and Father tinged with hatred for her. Why? Why were they so adamant that their romance was wrong? It was obvious they couldn’t reproduce, but was that really what love was? Bentley knew plenty of married couples that bore no issue and were quite content. Others had many children but no love. No one batted an eye about them. Why was it that society dictated that Bentley and Victoria had to hide? What kind of life was that?

Grief assailed him, and he broke down. Tormented by the memories of his year with Victoria, and besieged by the thoughts of his father’s words, Bentley curled against the memorial and shivered in the winter air.

—

Thumper paced the room. King Ewan had fallen silent after Bentley left, and would not rouse. His eyes remained open, but his mind had wandered yet again. Queen Libby had sent for Bentley to return, but none knew where he had gone. Guards at the gate reported him driving away in his car, but they did not know where.

“He likes to hike in the mountains,” Thumper suggested to the groundskeeper, but he knew Bentley wouldn’t attempt to walk the trails as the sun set. He would have difficulty returning.

“Find him,” Queen Libby ordered. “He must apologize to his father.”

Thumper rather thought that Bentley was the one *owed* an apology. Father had been brutal. Bentley probably felt very alone, as if no one but him cared for Victoria Vixen’s death. Thumper had been ambivalent when the news broke, and for that he thought himself quite guilty.

Mother rang the bell by Father’s bed, and an attendant appeared.

“Well? Have you found him?”

The attendant bowed.

“Not yet, your Majesty.”

Mother scowled. She rounded on Max.

“Has Ewan altered his will with you?”

Maximilian Walters narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“His will, your Majesty?”

Mother nodded intently.

“Has he disinherited Bentley? I encouraged him to do so, for the good of Canis. Thumper should be King.”

Thumper’s mouth fell open.

“Mother!”

Max was able to maintain his composure.

“With all due respect, your Majesty, altering the line of succession requires assent from the Canisian Parliament, and no such measure was brought forth.”

Mother backed away and sat at Father’s feet. She rubbed his arm tenderly.

“He’s going,” she whispered. “Oh…oh with Bentley on the throne we’ll be lost…”

It was the wee hours of the morning, and Thumper had already sent Evangelina to bed. This wasn’t like the other times when Father regained consciousness, which only lasted several minutes and then everyone left to leave him in peace. Everyone was compelled to stay, and Thumper dreaded what that meant.

“Ewan,” Mother managed to say as she choked down tears, “I love you. I’ll miss you.”

Thumper approached next and knelt by the bed. The King’s breathing became jagged.

“Father…”

He couldn’t think of anything else to say. By the time he could frame a goodbye, he had missed his chance.

King Ewan I of Canis died in his sleep forty-eight minutes past midnight on February 11, 708. Instantly at the moment of death, Bentley Connelly became King.

—

The sun poked through the canopies of the trees, directly into Bentley’s open eyes. Sleeping on the rocks was uncomfortable, yet soothing to feel closer to Victoria. He was cold, and his feet were slightly numb. Truthfully, Bentley would rather stay here at the memorial than return to Highland Castle and face his parents. Mother would assuredly demand an apology for no reason, and Father wouldn’t relent until he received one.

He was hungry, but not starving. Why rush home? He could take a hike in the hills.

—

Bentley had been missing for over fifteen hours now. It was afternoon, and King Ewan was dead. The people of Canis needed to know.

Maximilian Walters drummed his pencil on his desk. Scott Wells, the royal secretary, was awaiting Max’s orders. Word of the King’s death was floating through Highland Castle, and it was only a matter of time before the news leaked beyond the palace and into the village. From there it would progress through the capital, the nation, and Cartonia. They needed to hold a press report! They had a duty to inform the people.

But Bentley, the new King, needed to be told first.

In accordance with Canisian law and culture, there was always a monarch in Canis. Upon the death of the previous King or Queen, the next in line immediately ascended to the throne. The coronation was simply ceremonial, though it was still a significant event. Therefore, whether or not Bentley was wearing the crown, he was King.

Max could not imagine where the young lad would have gone. He was clearly upset by Ewan’s acerbic speech, but the Prince Regent—King—was not prone to prolonged vendettas. He usually got over hardships quickly, or at least appeared to.

“Max,” Scott Wells, the secretary, urged, “the press is here. They’ve heard. The news is breaking all over the country. We must deliver an address.”

Max closed his eyes.

“The Royal Council? Are they here too?”

“Yes, sir. In the Sanctuary. We’re convening the Common Council as well.”

“And…the King?”

Scott shook his head.

“We don’t know. The Dowager Queen and Crown Prince Thumper have agreed to lowering the black drapes over the castle, and a press release.”

Max stood.

*Dowager Queen.*

*Crown Prince Thumper*.

New titles for the royal family to which all would soon grow accustomed.

“Fine. Gather the palace staff and prepare the black drapes. I’ll speak to the Canisian Times and them alone. They’ll handle this delicately.”

—

Bentley returned to his car after his hike. There was a water bottle in the cupholder, which he downed in one gulp. He was pleased to also find a bag of crisps in the glove compartment. He munched on this meager breakfast, gazing out over the lake. Coming down here had been a good idea; his head was clearer and prepared to tackle the next day. For a moment, he almost forgot about the war raging in Mallardia.

He switched on the car’s ignition and began the long drive back up to Highland Castle. From nearly every part of the road, the castle was visible. And thus, the road was always in sights from the castle. Security was key for any royal seat.

On the main avenue of West Terrier, unusually quiet for this time of day, a group of dogs were fixing the Canisian flag atop the city’s central monument. Bentley drove around it, thinking of his ailing father.

Maybe an apology to Father would quell this dissension between Mother and Bentley. After all, Mother was a valuable resource when it came to ruling. She had sat by Father’s side for the last 34 years. If anyone understood Canisian politics from the King’s perspective, it was her.

Bentley made a sharp turn around a bend and passed through the first set of gates to the castle. The guards were not at their posts, but clustered inside the booth, watching something on television. Crying. It made Bentley’s stomach contract. Something about the war?

Bentley sped up, and the second set of gates was soon upon him. He passed through them into the main courtyard, where Highland Castle loomed over him. Then something occurred that haunted the inner depths of Bentley’s soul.

Black drapes were falling.

They unfurled from the windows of every tower, from every window. One right after the other like waves on the lake. Highland Castle was the glittering beacon of the valley, and could be seen from all vantages. The black drapes were a Canisian tradition born of the need to convey one specific dire message to the surrounding areas back in the times when there was no radio or television.

The monarch was dead.

Bentley pressed his paw to his mouth as the death veils painted the castle walls. The tears at the gate, the national flag being lowered, not adjusted. The drapes.

Father died.

He didn’t stop the car, instead picking up speed again to hurry into the garage. The chauffeurs and valets were not present. Everywhere was deserted. Bentley raced into the castle. Dogs were gathering in the main hall, forlorn and dressed in black, but no one seemed to notice Bentley. He took the stairs two at a time to Father’s room. Attendants were outside, weeping.

“Bentley!” one of them gasped, then sputtered an apology and curtsied. “Majesty…”

The new King stumbled into his Father’s bedchamber, where the corpse of the last sovereign was flat on the mattress. Mother was bawling into his cold shoulder, with Thumper at her side. Evangelina Connelly, so small and innocent, was standing alone by the window.

“Bentley…” said a pale Maximilian Walters, his hands clasped before him like a statue. “Where have you been?”

“The Lake…”

He sounded foolish. The King had died, and his son and heir was hiking around the Lake like a wayward vagrant. Everyone else had been here, at the King’s side. He died while Bentley was away.

“When did he…go?”

Max frowned.

“After midnight this morning. We’ve been looking for you. I’m so sorry; we couldn’t contain the news. It was already spreading. The Canisian Times delivered a statement to the public.”

Bentley nodded in understanding. He beckoned to Evangelina and gave her a hug. Thumper turned around and gave a weak smile to Bentley. Mother did not say or do anything except cry. Bentley noticed the crown was still on the bedside table. His head itched again.

“Your Majesty,” Max said, bowing his head, “we have asked the Royal and Common Councils to convene in the Sanctuary. For your coronation.”

Bentley whipped his head toward Max in shock. Coronation?

“My father has just died. Surely the coronation can wait. It’s standard to mourn for two weeks…”

“I know that this is unorthodox,” Max interrupted, “but these are uncertain times. We are at war for the first time in modern history. The people need to see a continuity of government during this period of national crisis. This is what the Royal Council has requested, and your family agrees.”

Thumper nodded, and lifted the crown from the table. He held it for a few seconds, turning it over, and then placed it on a red, blue, yellow, and green cushion. The colors of Canis.

“I’m not ready,” Bentley gasped. “Can’t we wait…”

“We have waited long enough,” Mother spat with contempt through her tears. “Go. Leave me with Ewan. And take your throne.”

Thumper tightened his grip on the cushion and exhaled.

“Be strong, Benny.”

Evangelina squeezed Bentley’s paw.

“Your Grace,” she said with a smile and adorable curtsy.

“But…” Bentley protested, gesturing at his unkempt clothes and fur. “I’m not even bathed. I didn’t come back last night…”

“Not to worry,” Max reassured. “We’ll get you cleaned and dressed. In your absence we’ve had ample time to make the necessary preparations. Are you ready to be coronated?”

Without much choice, and little room to grieve, Bentley joined Max, Evangelina, and Thumper on the walk to the Sanctuary in the heart of Highland Castle.

Bentley was sent to the robe room to be bathed and formally dressed in coronation garb, which included a massive regal red and blue cloak and an opulent gold and green gown. As was custom, he removed his shoes. Thumper went to hand the crown and cushion over to the Master of the Commons, the one who traditionally crowned the new monarch.

This was surreal, and happening too quickly. When Bentley drove away from Highland Castle last night, he was merely Prince Regent and scorned son. Now he was the undisputed King of Canis.

Max came back for him after several minutes.

“They’re ready for you. We have two news stations filming. Just ignore them. And I’m sorry for your loss. I haven’t said that yet.”

Bentley just nodded.

“Um, thank you. And also thank you for putting this together so quickly. I think you’re right. Continuity of government. And all that.”

*That was regal*, Bentley angrily told himself.

Max locked his paws behind his back.

“And…I would like to convey my condolences for the loss of Victoria. I doubt anyone has said that to you, except perhaps your brother. She was a bright woman, with a great future. I agree with you, that there was something suspicious about the assassination. The Vixen Queen may well have had something to do with it.”

Bentley stared in shock. Max was a very private person, and hardly ever shared his own opinions unless prompted. His role as historian was usually limited to speaking facts. But it didn’t really matter. Someone outside his family agreed with him about Canis’s role in the war. And someone else cared about Victoria’s death, even if it was surface-level.

“Thank you,” Bentley replied simply to avoid becoming emotional before his coronation.

“One last thing, then. Any changes to your agreed upon regnal name?”

“Oh,” Bentley stammered, remembering the brief meeting on the subject last year. “Uh. No. I think Bentley is where I’d be most comfortable.”

The historian smiled and left, leaving Bentley alone to gather his thoughts.

He heard the anthem of Canis play, and on cue he passed through the robing corridor into the nave of the Sanctuary. Indeed, the entire Royal and Common Councils had gathered. They faced front, and only saw the back of Bentley as he walked down the center. His paws were folded inside the cloak, and the yellow and green coronation gown was so long it obscured his feet, giving the appearance of him gliding across the floor. Flags of Canis were hung all around the Sanctuary, with one black drape at the rear for the fallen King.

It was a rushed ceremony, without speeches or prayers. The room was only a quarter full, as there was not enough time to invite notables from around the country. When Bentley reached the altar, the Master of the Commons lifted the crown from the cushion, and asked Bentley to kneel. He lowered himself to his knees and dropped his head, acknowledging the power of the Commons.

“Citizens of Canis,” the Master announced with almost comedic bravado, “we gather to crown the next monarch of Canis. Before us kneels Bentley Connelly of the House of Connelly, the eldest son of Ewan of Canis and Libby Galloway, the grandson of Lachlan the Fourth.”

The crown remained poised above Bentley’s bowed head.

“Bentley Connelly,” shouted the Master, “will you solemnly promise to devote yourself to the Kingdom of Canis, to protect and honor it, to defend and cherish it?”

“I will.”

He had to speak loudly, so that the entire Sanctuary could hear.

“Bentley Connelly, will you be just and noble and uphold all laws enacted by the Parliament of Canis?”

“I will.”

“Bentley Connelly, will you shield your peoples from harm and maintain the sovereignty of this great nation?”

“I will.”

His voice cracked.

“On this day,” the Master thundered, “the eleventh of February, the year 708, we do crown thee, Bentley of the House of Connelly, as King Bentley II. Peaceful and prosperous be his reign!”

*Peaceful was already out the window*.

Bentley gave a bit of a start when the cold metal of the crown touched his brow. When the Master withdrew his paws, Bentley lifted his head and rose to his feet. He turned around to face the congregation.

“Long live the King!” the Master bellowed.

The room bowed as one.

“Long live the King!”

*I am the King*, Bentley thought with trepidation. *Nearly 25 years old and King of Canis*.

The room remained bowed, and the chanting continuing. Thumper and Evangelina were in the front with Max. Bentley saw the cameras at the corners of the Sanctuary. To his side, the only figure unbowed, was a fox. Bentley angled his head toward her. She was gazing at him sadly.

*Victoria*.

She was wearing royal regalia and the crown of the Canisian Queen Consort. This would have been her coronation too, had they been allowed to marry.

When the attendees unbowed themselves and the anthem played, the ghost had returned to the ether.

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

The Vixen Queen’s ultimatum to Mallardia is copied verbatim from “Silent Night,” when it was first delivered. The ultimatum was sent to Mallardia in response to the assassination of Victoria Vixen the day before, alleging that Mallardia was responsible for the attack.

The War began on January 1, 708, with the Vulpine invasion of Mallardia. The New Year’s start date has long been alluded to in past episodes, such as “Countdown.”

This episode begins on the same day “Silent Night” ended: January 1, 708.

The story opens with Bentley Connelly as Prince Regent of Canis, a title he was granted during the events of “Silent Night.” By the end of the episode, King Ewan had died and Bentley was coronated as Bentley II.

Both Bentley and the Vixen Queen mention the duel between Veronica and Vina Vixen, alluded to in “Hollow Crown.”

Thumper and Evangelina Connelly are both first introduced as characters, mentioned only in “Silent Night.” Both will eventually become founders of Toontown, as revealed in “Out of the Frying Pan.”

Leevey Foster, the assassin of Victoria Vixen, was purposefully silenced by the Vixen Queen. He died in transport to jail.

Scuridiae became the first neutral nation to join the War, on the side of the Vixen Queen.

Diana Loudoun and King Bacon IV are revealed as cousins, though this is not known to Lana Loudoun.

Lana Loudoun makes her first speaking appearance after a guest cameo in “Silent Night.” She will eventually become a founder of Toontown, the mysterious Diary Pig, and is the ancestress of Piggy Pie.

Queen Libby of Canis continued her sentiment from “Silent Night,” adamantly wishing for the crown to pass over Bentley to Thumper. This ultimately did not occur.

Victoria Vixen appeared in a surprise guest cameo as a ghost.

### References

Leevey Foster’s death en route to prison is a reference to the 1963 murder of Lee Harvey Oswald, the assassin of President John F. Kennedy. Oswald was shot during his transport to jail mere days after the Kennedy assassination.

The jubilance in Vulpus at the outbreak of war is a reference to the attitudes across Europe at the opening of World War I in 1914.

Cairns are popular in Scotland, which served as a general basis for Canis.

## Trivia

* The title of this episode is the first half of the opening quote from *Richard III* by William Shakespeare: "Now is the **winter of our discontent** made glorious summer by this son of York."
	+ The line was quoted by the Vixen Queen in response to her Chancellor: "Our enemies will soon find themselves in a **winter of discontent**, as we rise like a splendid sun of summer glory."
* This is the first season premiere to be published in January.
* This is the second premiere to occur on a federal holiday (New Year's Day).
	+ "Genesis," the premiere for *Rewritten*, aired on Memorial Day 2017.
* This is the second episode published on New Year's Day, after "Outlanders."
* This is the first non-special episode set entirely in Cartonia.
	+ "Hollow Crown" was entirely based in Cartonia, but was a Christmas special, similar to "Silent Night."
* The Vixen Queen’s ultimatum to Mallardia is based on the Austria-Hungarian ultimatum to the Kingdom of Serbia in July 1914, just prior to the outbreak of World War I.
* The City of Dückzig is based on the Free City of Danzig, the site of one of the first clashes of World War II, which began on September 1, 1945.
* Governor Phillip Semper’s name is derived from the Latin motto “Semper Fidelis,” often shortened to “Semper Fi,” meaning “always faithful.”
* Leland Dodd is a portmanteau of Leland Morris and William Dodd. Leland Morris and William Dodd were American ambassadors to Nazi Germany before World War II.
* The ambassador scene was the last to be added, nearly seven months after the first draft of the premiere was finished. The scene was crafted to illustrate the immediate and sudden breakdown of relations between Vulpus and Canis.
* The town of Ripper, Porcinia, is named after Jack the Ripper.
* The High Tower of the Rook of Vulpus is based on the White Tower of the Tower of London. The Cartonian legend of the Turtles in the Tower mirrors the British Ravens in the Tower. So long as six ravens are kept alive within the Tower of London, the Crown of England is safe. "if the Tower of London ravens are lost or fly away, the Crown will fall and Britain with it."
* Tabitha, Felexa, is named after tabby cats.
* Madam Bruich, the cook at Highland Castle, is named after the Scots Gaelic word for “cook.”
* Lake Hund is named after the German word for “dog.”
* The concept of Bentley being one of the last to hear of his father’s passing was inspired by the death of King George VI of Britain while his daughter, the future Queen Elizabeth II, was away.
* The Canisian Royal and Common Councils are based on the British House of Lords and House of Commons.
* This episode is one of the longest episodes, 10,607 words. At the time of publication, it was the fifth longest episode in the series.
	+ It notably beats "Pro Patria Mori" by 2 words.