The Lamps Are Going Out

**"The Lamps Are Going Out"**is the second episode of *War* and the 51st episode overall.

The episode was published on January 3, 2021.

In the episode, as war grips the continent, the King of Mallardia faces a threat within his realm from his own family. Developments in Vulpus secure the Vixen Queen's authority but destabilize Cartonia. One by one, the dominoes begin to fall.

## Appendix

Episode Title Card**A:** Map of the War, 708**B:** Mallardian Royal Family, 708**C:** Canisian Royal Family, 708**D:** Beakfield Manor, Anatoidea, Mallardia
## The Episode

*—Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*—January 1, 708—*

*War is here.*

*Last night, while Cartonia slept after joyful reveling for the New Year, Vulpus invaded Mallardia. The newspapers say that a Vulpine submarine fired on a peaceful city in the south, and the ducks did not have ample defenses. The foxes claim that the King of Mallardia ignored their ultimatum after a duck assassinated Crown Princess Victoria Vixen on Christmas Eve. For the past week, Cartonians have watched with bated breath as the nations bickered over the shooting. Though many—King Bacon included—believe this is a localized conflict in Mallardia, I fear that is no longer true now that Canis, Eusuchia, and Willie have joined the war on Mallardia’s side. This is war, and I do not know how long it will last. And whether it be long or short, what kind of world will we inhabit when it is over?*

—Beakfield Manor, Anatoidea, Mallardia—

—Kingdom of the Ducks—

-October 19, 708-

Ten months into the war, and most of Cartonia had remained neutral. King Swan XX was bothered by the war’s length, which was promised by Canis and Willie to be short, over in a month. It was easy for the dogs and mice to rest, watching idly from their safe palaces as all battles and clashes occurred on Mallardian soil.

Never in history, Swan thought angrily, had such slander been leveled against a Kingdom. Mallardia had *nothing* to do with the assassination on Victoria Vixen, only that it bore her murderer. Leevey Foster, the assassin, was already dead. Shouldn’t that be enough to bury the hatchet? But alas, all attempts to make peace with Vulpus fell short. The conditions of surrender were mounting. Gone were the original stipulations of the ultimatum. For this war to end immediately in Vulpus’s favor, all four nations of the alliance must cede territory to Vulpus.

The Vixen Queen was a tyrant, hell bent on disturbing the peace in Cartonia. *Why* did so many nations remain neutral? What was she promising them to keep them out of the fray?

Willie, Eusuchia, Mallardia, and Canis on one side of the divide.

Scuridiae and Vulpus on the other.

Two fronts had opened in the war. One in the south, on the border between Mallardia and Vulpus; another by sea in Amethyst Bay. Scuridiae was sending its ships south, and Mallardia was joined by Eusuchia and Willie to defend the ports. The northern front was the more successful of the two, with no loss of land and few casualties. It was a perpetual impasse.

However, in the south, Vulpus had taken small swaths of territory. Mallardia was forced to relocate the southern citizens inward. Trenches were dug, and the Vulpine and Mallardian forces were at a standstill. Supplies from across the country were being funneled toward them in an effort to outlast the other. Ducks, mice, crocodiles, and dogs rubbed shoulders in the crucible of the trenches.

Swan dedicated part of his military agenda to transparency and communication. He delivered daily updates to his court, and also to the public via television. Polls on public opinion varied, with some supporting Swan’s decisions and some opposing, but the response in his immediate court could best be described as negative and waning. The nobility saw only the large cost of the war and the detriment to the economy; loss of life took the backseat in their eyes. Many lords of Mallardia regularly beseeched Swan to do whatever possible to make peace with Vulpus. They did not seem to remember that Queen Vixen always refused.

Swan stood, as was customary when addressing his court, in front of his throne in the Gallery. Though he was the King, Mallardian monarchs believed in displaying equality when speaking to the court, and so he stood on the same level as them.

The Gallery was long, spanning the width of the River Canard. Beakfield Manor, the seat of the royal house, was reputable in Cartonia for the grandeur of the castle and the stunning views of the river from the Gallery. The floor was tiled teal and white, the colors of the Mallard dynasty. Busts of the heads of the monarchs of Mallardia lined the walls. Since the Harmony Crown’s inception, every King and Queen of Mallardia had been of the eponymous Mallard family, and all had adopted the name Swan. Even though King Swan XX had been born Beck Mallard, he chose the regnal name Swan to continue that tradition.

Swan lifted his flipper to adjust the modest circlet on his head before continuing his update.

“The trenches remain unbroken, but citizens near the lines are still in danger. We must evacuate them north, and I have begun preliminary discussions with Willie to establish an emergency pipeline to send at-risk ducks into temporary exile.”

A few of his lords muttered to themselves. Swan could hear the discontent in their voices. He sighed and waited for the backlash.

“Your Grace,” spoke the Lord of Grasse, “an evacuation is extreme.”

“Not to mention a display of weakness,” the Lord of Severn, better known to Swan as his Uncle Richard, scowled. Swan angled his head at his uncle, whose animosity toward him over the past months had swelled immensely.

“I only think of those stuck in the crossfire,” Swan defended. “I do not know how long the trench lines will hold. I just think we should keep our options open.”

Swan glanced down the Gallery at the gathered nobles, numbered about thirty. No one looked pleased with him.

“As one of the southern peers,” the Lord of Enterhone chimed in, “I oppose any form of evacuation to another nation. Ducks should not be hostages of a foreign power, even if it is one of our supposed allies.”

Swan suppressed a sigh.

“If I may, your Grace,” Phillip Semper, the Governor of the City of Dückzig said, “I have seen firsthand the atrocities the foxes are willing to commit. I was there on New Year’s Day when the foxes shed first blood in my beautiful city. I approve of the King’s measures to explore an evacuation of the south if the trench lines are broken. At least for the children.”

The Lord of Enterhone began to debate with Governor Semper, and soon the Lords of the Gallery were squabbling with each other. Swan merely watched the disorder unfold, unsure if he should interrupt or let it play its course. Evidently, he chose incorrectly, for Uncle Richard laughed. The obviously fake cackle drew the others to silence.

“We are not united! We are factionalized by this war!”

Swan lowered his eyebrows.

“What are you sensationalizing about, Uncle?”

Richard stepped into the center of the Gallery, and gesticulated wildly.

“Think back on this year, my Lords! How can you describe this war? Come on, each of you. In a word, what is this war?”

“Costly,” the Lord of Grasse muttered.

“Unnecessary,” another said.

“Monstrous.”

“Ill-managed.”

Richard placed his flippers on his hips.

“Well, my Lords. We are unhappy. We are dissatisfied with this war, and we are dissatisfied with how it has been led. In addition to this poor leadership, our King was unable to detect the threat of Leevey Foster before he pulled the trigger on that fatal shot in Vista, Vulpus. I am not alone in thinking that King Swan is not suited to continue wearing the crown.”

Swan staggered backward, absolutely shocked. This was a coup! Led by his own Uncle! There had been no whispers of this, none whatsoever. Who else here knew of it? Swan was a young King, only 28, and had been on the throne for six years. Asserting himself had always been a struggle from him, especially before his elder peers.

But he was the *King*. A wartime King, no less. No one would defend his claim to the throne if he didn’t grip it with all his strength.

He calmed his countenance and glowered at Uncle Richard. His shoes clacked on the tile as he crossed the Gallery.

“My Lords, I command your leave. Uncle, do stay. It is apparent you have words to exchange with me, and you shall have my audience.”

The Lords of Mallardia wavered, and Swan snapped, “NOW!”

Once it was just Richard and Swan in the echoing Gallery, the King rounded on his uncle.

“How *dare* *you* speak that vitriol in my court? It is appalling that you, my father’s only brother, would debase yourself to usurpation and rebellion during a time of national crisis. Is this how you show your love for your family? By plotting openly before your anointed King to unseat him? What would your brother, the last King, say to this insurrection?”

Richard clucked his tongue through his beak.

“Oh, Beck. You foolish boy, just like your father. You are no anointed King. And I should have always taken your crown. I never had the proper opportunity, but chaos loves chaos and this war is just the chance I was looking for. Clutch your crown to your brow, for I will be returning to court for what is mine.”

Swan tightened his fists and prepared his next verbal attack, but Richard swept his cloak behind his back and stalked down the Gallery. The words ordering his arrest lingered in Swan’s throat as Richard exited. If Uncle had supporters, they would not take well to his sudden arrest. Swan would have to amass his own allies, and navigate an internal battle.

He removed the circlet from his head and held it before him, admiring its simplicity. He didn’t like the ornate metal crowns that his predecessors had worn, and preferred one that was more subtle. When he came to the throne, he had eagerly devoted himself to being an approachable, relatable sovereign. And until this year, until this war, he had appraised himself of a job well done.

But now, he was likely to lose his throne and his country.

—The Grand Dowager House, Beakfield Estate—

—Anatoidea, Mallardia—

-One Day Later-

Bosworth Mallard, son of Richard Mallard, and cousin to the King, waited in the parlor of the Grand Dowager House. His visit was unexpected, and the Grand Dowager was not accustomed to surprise drop-ins. Her house was quaint, devoid of regal ephemera. If not for its location on the Beakfield Manor Estate, the house would never be pinned as royal by onlookers.

The Grand Dowager Queen’s lady-in-waiting reentered the parlor.

“My Lady has agreed to see you, and she is now decent. Will you please follow me?”

Bosworth rose and trailed the servant to the makeshift bedroom on the first floor, which had formerly been the dining room when the former Queen was still receiving guests and performing other royal duties. The windows were closed and blocked by curtains. Only the lamps on the bedside table illuminated the face of Emmeline of Capet. At 101 years of age, she was not only the oldest known person in Mallardia, but one of the eldest in all of Cartonia. In her lifetime, she had seen the reigns of five Mallardian Kings, including her husband, son, and grandson. Through his father, Richard Mallard, Bosworth was also Emmeline’s grandson.

“Bosworth,” the Grand Dowager Queen beamed, “how lovely! Come, my darling. Give your grandmother a kiss.”

Bosworth pecked his grandmother’s beak and sat on a chair pulled up for him. The lady-in-waiting bowed before Emmeline and left the two in private.

“It’s good to see you, grandmother. I apologize I haven’t been around. Father has stationed me in Severn with him so that I may learn politics.”

Emmeline nodded.

“I understand. I’m not much to see these days, anyway. My mind remains sharp but my body has withered. I have to keep the room dark or the sunlight will hurt my eyes.”

She batted her eyelashes and frowned at Bosworth. “Your face is grave, Bosworth. What is it? Do you have frightful news of the war?”

“Grandmother,” Bosworth said solemnly, “my father has stated his intention publicly before court to usurp the crown from Beck, on the grounds that he is an inept ruler. Father believes Beck is unfit to rule Mallardia through this war.”

Emmeline was stoic.

“I see,” she muttered. “When was this?”

“Yesterday.”

“And you said this was public?”

“Yes,” Bosworth replied. “In the Gallery before the Lords.”

Emmeline shook her head in frustration.

“My son is a fool, then. How could his claim be stronger than Beck’s?”

She was thinking, her eyes traveling over the ceiling in repetition. Other than that, she wasn’t moving, but Bosworth squirmed.

“Father has gone to rally support for his cause,” he said, “and will return this Friday to coerce Swan to relinquish his throne.”

Emmeline heaved a deep breath.

“And tell me, grandson, why have you come to me? You don’t seem happy about this development, even though success on your father’s part would mean eventually leading you to the throne. Does the thought of being King not intrigue you?”

To prove his point, Bosworth stood and bowed.

“I am loyal always to the rightful King, and that is your grandson and my cousin, King Swan XX. My father’s machinations will catapult himself illicitly to the throne, and I will not pick up a false claim and drive factions in my family and country.”

Emmeline nodded with pride.

“You’re a good duck, then. Stronger than your father, who has always been greedy, I regret to say. I always knew this would come, though I never thought he’d deign try during a war. So, you’ve come I suppose to seek my help. What do you think I can do? As you can tell, I’m no longer an able figure.”

Bosworth couldn’t think of a concrete response, so he shrugged. Emmeline cocked her head.

“You don’t have any plan? Suggestions?”

“I…maybe you can talk to my father?”

Emmeline scoffed.

“Richard would not listen to me on this matter whether it be by phone or letter. I could ask him to see me, but he would assuredly postpone until after he’s made his rush for the throne. I am tempted to counsel the King, but I am not confident that will be enough.”

She tapped her beak. “Now, more than ever, we must be united. Of all years, this is not the one to spawn a civil war.”

Bosworth returned to his seat on the stool, waiting for the famous threads of Emmeline of Capet’s brain to weave together an action plan. When she was Queen and Dowager Queen, all Cartonia knew of her strength. After the coronation of her grandson, the current King Swan XX, the Dowager Queen became a Grand Dowager Queen and retreated from public life. Since that event, she had not left her house.

“We need to make a statement, and present an effective counterargument for the King. Will you be my ally in this?”

“Gladly,” Bosworth exclaimed.

“You’d be willing to publicly stand against your father?”

Bosworth hesitated, but ultimately accepted. He knew he would not be apt to the throne, and dreaded the thought of sitting upon it. As eldest son of Richard, he would be next in line should his father succeed in wresting it from his nephew’s head.

“You said Richard is returning to court on Friday?”

“That’s correct.”

Emmeline wryly rubbed her flippers together.

“Then let’s begin.”

—Beakfield Manor—

-Thursday-

Boats were sailing on the River Canard outside King Swan’s window, and every now and then would pass underneath the Gallery. The only locked room in the Gallery corridor was the King’s private suite. Swan was angrily pacing, trying to calculate who would be supporting Richard in his bogus claim to the throne.  He kept being interrupted by calls, telegrams, and messages from the war. Farress Nilia of Eusuchia wanted to discuss the defense of the Mallardian ports. King Mickey XI of Willie wanted confirmation on the evacuation plans. Bentley Connelly—King Bentley II—wanted to propose another counterattack on Vulpus.

None knew of the coup d’état blossoming in Anatoidea.

Swan was furious with his uncle, his ire exacerbated by the ongoing war. He was frustrated with all of it. The trenches, the strategy, the attacks, the deaths. He never wanted a war. He had been prepared to accept most of the terms of the Vulpus ultimatum, though very few knew about that.

Bentley Connelly had convinced him otherwise. To avenge Victoria Vixen.

Swan snatched up his phone on impulse and dialed Highland Castle. It went directly to King Bentley.

“Beck,” Bentley said casually, using Swan’s birth name, “good to hear from you.”

Swan breathed heavily into the phone. Logic begged him not to lose his temper, but logic was pushed aside.

“Everything that’s happening is your goddamn fault.”

Bentley was silent on the other end, presumably openmouthed.

“Sorry?”

“Yes. Yes, I think you should be. None of us would be fighting this war if you had kept your godforsaken hands off Victoria Vixen! But no. No, no, no. You dragged all of us into hell with you. I shouldn’t have let you convince me to do this. We should have surrendered to Vulpus when we had the chance…”

“Stop.”

Swan exhaled and held the phone away from his head for a few seconds. Bentley remained quiet. Swan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Beck?”

Swan was about to hung up, but he suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Benny had always been a friend of Mallardia. When the scandal between Victoria and Bentley broke, Swan declared publicly that the relationship set them both as “enemies of nature.” Despite that, Bentley had rushed to Mallardia’s side when Vulpus threatened them with their ultimatum. With this burgeoning coup, Swan was looking for someone to blame, and Benny was the unfortunate scapegoat.

“I…oh Benny, I’m sorry. There’s a coup underway in my court and it’s very concerning.”

Bentley didn’t answer right away.

“That’s…terrible! Does it have merit?”

“Certainly not!” Beck shouted.

“You said you wanted to surrender to Vulpus. Are you going to?”

Bentley had already moved off the subject, back to the war. Swan’s anger returned.

“I want to. I would love to. Throw in the towel and just let this fucking war end. We’re not built for it.”

“If you do that,” Bentley responded slowly, “you will be subjecting your people to generations of misery. We don’t know what the Vixen Queen has planned, but already it is far more than we originally assumed. She wanted to decimate your monarchy and your dynasty. And that was ten months ago. She wants more now. She’ll take all of Mallardia and enslave your people.”

“That’s drastic,” Swan scoffed.

“Is it?”

Swan weighed Bentley’s words. Maybe he was right, or maybe he was going to guide Swan in the wrong direction again.

“Beck,” Bentley sighed, “I know that you are the monarch most impacted by this struggle. All eyes are on Mallardia, and you’re at the center. But Canis, Willie, and Eusuchia are still standing beside you. My country has little to gain from this war personally, but we have not surrendered. Please don’t give up on us, as we will not give up on you. We will not yield to Vulpus. Ever.”

“But…”

“This isn’t about Victoria,” Bentley insisted. “Part of it is for me, but not at all for you. Not for Eusuchia, or Willie. Not even Vulpus. This is about the Vixen Queen and her tyranny. It must end.”

Swan groaned.

“It’ll be hard to fight Vulpus if I am not King. My uncle…”

“Your uncle will have to fight against us, then. We are already in Mallardia fighting under your banner. If anyone usurps your crown, they’ll have four unhappy armies to respond to. Make that clear to your uncle, and squash this rebellion. You are a King, Beck. The twentieth in your dynasty with allies and an heir. I’ll tell Nilia and Mickey of this development so you can focus on expunging the threat. Do you need anything else from me?”

Swan bit his tongue.

“No.”

“Alright. Take care, Beck. We’ll be thinking of you.”

Before Swan could muster an apology for his words against Victoria and Bentley, the line disconnected.

—The Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

—Kingdom of the Foxes—

The Vixen Queen approached Matthew Palmer, the page, who was opening telegrams and sorting them into piles. He jumped to his paws and bowed when he noticed her approach.

“Majesty…”

“Where is my husband?”

Matthew searched the Consort’s agenda.

“He is attending the ribbon cutting of a bakery downtown. He should be on his way back.”

The Queen picked at her claws.

“Is he coming by car or tram?”

“Car.”

The Queen left without another word, heading for the garages. Her husband, Reynard Vixen, was a mere figurehead in the Kingdom. His duties consisted only of public engagements on behalf of the crown. He wielded neither power nor influence. As far as the Vixen Queen was concerned, her loveless marriage to Reynard was nothing more than a business contract to provide her with children. He had fulfilled his obligation to that end; the Queen had two daughters.

But Veronica and Vina offed each other in a duel in 706, leaving the Queen without an heir. Her son was excluded from the line of succession because he was male. Only women inherited the crown in Vulpus.

Reynard eyed his wife uneasily as he exited his car in the garage terminal an hour later.

“Valda? What are you doing here?”

The Queen crossed her arms.

“I’m pregnant. I thought you should know.”

Reynard nodded and removed his gloves.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

—Beakfield Manor, Anatoidea, Mallardia—

-Friday-

Richard had returned to the capital. From the Lords and Barons of the Kingdom of Mallardia, he had brought his strongest supporters to the capital to depose Swan.

The King’s own supporters, chiefly in his own family and the appointed Senate, had spent days with Swan going over strategies to combat the coup. Swan’s cousins Bosworth and Albion, Richard’s own sons, were also intending to declare in support of Swan. The King’s wife, Queen Isadora, had suggested he wear full coronation regalia to accentuate his status as anointed sovereign. But Beck had chosen to wear his standard court raiment, including the subtle circlet for his crown. He was a humble monarch, and wanted to appear so. To this end, Beck also did not sit on his throne. He stood before it, as he did every Friday when addressing his court.

“Good morning,” Beck said to the court. “Uncle Richard, I see you have journeyed back to Anatoidea.”

His uncle was flanked by many of the King’s Lords, some that Beck had truly thought would stand strong with him.

“I have come to put forth my assertion that I should wear the crown,” Richard announced. “Per the Second Act of Acclamation, a monarch may be proclaimed rightful sovereign over a sitting ruler if the court rules in the claimant’s favor by a two-thirds majority.”

Beck nodded. The Act had heretofore never been invoked, but was designed to allow the peaceful deposition of a despot. However, Beck was no tyrant.

“The Lord of Severn, Richard of the House of Mallard, has announced himself as supposed better ruler of Mallardia over myself, King Swan XX. Do the Lords—“

The Gallery’s double-doors at the southern end swung open at once. Beck looked up in shock; all the Lords had already gathered. Who…

It was Emmeline of Capet, Beck’s 101-year-old grandmother. She wore her favorite teal gown, embroidered with yellow suns. The hefty cape of her royal house was upon her shoulders, and attendants held the ends as she strode into the Gallery. Leaning heavily on a cane, she began the long march down the Gallery. Bosworth Mallard hurried to help her. Taking her arm, Bosworth aided her as she walked the entire length of the Gallery.

Beck’s grandmother had not left her house in six years. Not for any reason. Not even when Beck’s mother died. She had sent her condolences but was too ill to move. Now here she was, dressed for court with an iron disposition.

“Grand Dowager Queen Emmeline!” the Lord of Enterhone cried, and bowed. The entire court followed suit, but per tradition the King did not. Emmeline regarded her grandson, and Beck searched her face for the purpose of her visit. Did she know about this coup? Was she going to unseat him? Emmeline’s words and opinions were heavily weighted; she could easily sway the Lords to turn on the King.

“Your Majesty,” Emmeline declared, and lowered her head. “It has come to my attention that there is a *pretender* in your court.”

The room ruffled in surprise. The use of the word ‘pretender’ instead of ‘claimant’ immediately lessened Richard’s support. She said it with contempt too, as if the very idea of the Act’s invocation was preposterous.

“Indeed,” Beck agreed. “The Lord of Severn, your son Richard Mallard, has proposed he is the rightful King of Mallardia.”

Emmeline turned to her son, who was tightlipped.

“Is this true, Richard? Do you seek to topple the King?”

“Not topple, *mother*. I ask merely that he step aside to let a stronger ruler take his place.”

Emmeline continued to lean on Bosworth and her cane while sweeping the room with her gaze.

“Your grievances?”

Richard was prepared for this question, though evidently not from his own mother, who had assumed the nominal position of mediator for his claim.

“The deficient King Swan has led us into an impossible struggle against the docile foxes of Vulpus! Because of his inaction, we did not detect the provocative assassin who triggered this war, and due to his own pride he did not successfully negotiate the Vulpine ultimatum. His ineptitude to lead our military has led to a stalemate on the southern front which will require a miracle to tip in our favor! Despite cries from this court to lower costs and make immediate peace with Vulpus, Swan has ignored our pleas and carried on with his reckless spending and blind faith in Bentley Connelly. Mallardia deserves a stronger King to reason with the Vixen Queen. With me on the throne, we will end this war *peacefully* and restore our reputation on the continent!”

Richard’s supporters cheered. Beck made a mental note of all who did. It was at least half the room. Emmeline glowered at Richard.

“Is that all?”

She smiled sweetly at him, demoting him to nothing more than a child. Richard blushed and looked down. Emmeline turned to the King. “May I present the defense?”

Swan had prepared his own supporters and friends to do so, but would not dare defy the Grand Dowager Queen.

“Of course.”

Emmeline unclasped her cape and let her attendants carry it away. She tapped Bosworth’s arm and he moved aside, leaving her alone in the middle of the Gallery with only her cane.

“First, I would like to make it clear that I have undivided loyalty for the King. He is the son of my son, the grandson of my husband. His royal lineage is written in stone and cannot be altered. The bloodline is absolute and…”

“The King is illegitimate.”

Richard’s sudden statement caused a complete silence, and a nauseating disturbance for Beck. *Illegitimate?* His birth had never been questioned. Where was this coming from?

“Excuse me?” Emmeline spat.

Richard joined his mother in the center of the Gallery, where he could spew his lies.

“The King is a bastard of his whore mother, the late Lady Lissette Lacha.”

Emmeline took a step toward her son.

“*Queen* Lissette was no whore, and she bore no bastards. You have the audacity to besmirch her name when she is no longer here to defend it? This rumor is preposterous, and there is no proof.”

“Isn’t there?” Richard suggested coyly. He snapped his flippers and a Lord jumped to attention. “I present to you King Swan’s true father, the Lord of Orlois.”

The King gaped at the Lord, who shared some physical similarities to Beck but not many. But this was, as the Grand Dowager Queen espoused, outrageous. Was Richard in possession of some great truth or was he really stooping so low to spin the sickest lie?

Emmeline guffawed.

“Richard! This is…unprecedented. You managed to convince the Lord of Orlois to come forward as the biological father of our King? I imagine you promised him something extreme. Well, my Lord? What was it? The Regency? A castle? Jewels? Money, surely.”

She was calm, poised. Swan wished he had the same composure.

“I was promised nothing,” the Lord of Orlois clearly lied. “I only want to make things right for my son.”

“Spare me,” Emmeline chided. “I don’t need to hear the story you rehearsed in the mirror this morning. When was King Swan XX born?”

The Lord of Orlois lifted an eyebrow.

“November 29, 679.”

“Very good. Which means he would have been conceived…?”

“In October.”

“And in October of 679, you were where?”

The Lord of Orlois bit his beak.

“Here,” he mumbled.

“Here? Do you mean Beakfield Manor, or Anatoidea? Would you please be more specific?”

Orlois thought for a second.

“I was here, in Beakfield Manor. At court.”

“You’re lying,” Emmeline replied instantly. “In October of 679, my husband King Swan XVIII and my sons—Richard included—enjoyed a private retreat in Sicacor. There was no court to convene. The Lord of Orlois was with the Lord of Bourmandy on a diplomatic mission to Equine Isle. You spent the last quarter of 679 in the court of King Horatio V. Do you deny that?”

The Lord was silent, but quickly shook his head. Swan, among others, gaped at Emmeline’s impossibly precise memory.

“I do not deny it. I snuck back to Mallardia to see Lissette.”

Emmeline snorted.

“Unlikely. Our family was undisturbed. Richard, don’t you remember? I do. I remember most things, you see, especially from my time as Queen. Sicacor was so quiet and secluded. How could anyone have snuck into Lissette’s bedchamber? Especially given she was sharing it with her *husband*. My *son*, who went on to become King Swan XIX. This claim is unfounded, and the Lord of Orlois is fabricating lies for personal gain. He is no more the father to Swan XX than I am. Shame on both of you for leveling these heinous accusations.”

Richard was not perturbed, but the Lord of Orlois slunk to the wall, looking disappointed. Swan would sack him at the first opportunity.

“Swan remains an ill-ruler,” Richard lambasted, “even if you do not believe the truth of his legitimacy.”

Emmeline slammed her cane on the ground.

“Almighty Duck, Richard! Where is your *loyalty*? You should be teeming with it because you *swore an oath* to your father.”

The Dowager rounded on the elderly Lord of Grasse.

“My Lord, you were present at the coronation of my husband. Can you testify to the oath that his second son, Richard Mallard, swore fealty to his father?”

The Lord of Grasse glanced at Richard, as if to silently apologize.

“I can, your Majesty. Richard swore upon his life and line that he would serve his father, King Swan XVIII, loyally and righteously.”

“My Lord Grasse, did such an oath reoccur when Richard’s brother ascended the throne as King Swan XIX?”

“It did.”

“I likewise testify,” Beck’s ally, the Lord of Anjon, concurred. Several more gave theirs.

“And,” Emmeline continued, “in 701 when Beck Mallard was coronated as Swan XX, who was the first to swear fealty and allegiance?”

“Richard,” the room said in agreement. Swan lifted his head toward Richard, who was gnawing his tongue. Emmeline gazed at him.

“My son, do these oaths mean anything? Were they empty words when you spoke them? Are you disloyal to your House, your family, and your nation? Are you disingenuous?”

Richard swallowed.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. It is apparent to me, Richard, that your claim is invalid. You seemed to pin your hopes on the court’s dissatisfaction with Swan’s rule, but I do not believe the court blames Swan at all for current events. The King did not instigate this war, nor did we as a people. The blame for that rests with the Vixen Queen, but we cannot put her on trial or invoke the Act of Acclamation to punish her. Richard, you intended only to unseat your nephew so that you could claim power and reward those who helped you do so. You will receive no two-thirds majority vote here today. I am a member of this court. As Grand Dowager Queen I have a vote, and I shall not vote in your favor. If any of your supporters have any logic or reason left within their avaricious souls, they shall do the same.”

Richard’s supporters averted Emmeline’s steel gaze. It was over for Richard, and he knew it. He backed away from his mother until he was against the wall. As if poisonous, those nearest him scooted to the side.

“This war,” the Dowager Queen went on, “has nothing to do with the unfortunate assassination of the Crown Princess Victoria Vixen. If it was, then peace would have already been negotiated. After all, this began on a misunderstanding that Mallardia—indeed, King Swan XX—had ordered the shot of the fatal bullet that took that young woman’s life. But Leevey Foster was not hired by us, or by anyone in Mallardia. What would we have to gain from the Crown Princess’s death? *Nothing.* We made that perfectly clear to the Vixen Queen, but she did not waver. She will never waver.

My Lords are discontent with Swan’s management of the war because we wrongfully assume there is a panacea to this conflict. Why do you think that peace attempts by my son and this nation’s allies have amounted to nothing? Hmm? Anyone? Well, I believe that the Vixen Queen wants Mallardia to fall. And we are only contributing to that end if we turn on each other. The only way forward is to unite; Mallardia cannot fight a civil war in the midst of an international war.

However, I do respect the institution of this monarchy, and the laws of this Kingdom. If anyone would like to add to Richard Mallard’s invocation of the Act of Acclamation, please do so now.”

Emmeline waited, but no one came forward. No one said anything. Not even Richard.

“Lord Orlois?”

The disgraced Lord glanced away and said nothing.

“Lord Enterhone?”

Silence.

“Prince Bosworth?”

Beck glanced at his cousin, who was with his brother, Albion. Bosworth raised a flipper over his heart.

“I support my King, Beck Mallard.”

Prince Albion repeated the action.

“King Swan XX!”

Emmeline gestured around the room at Richard’s assumed supporters.

“No one? Anyone? Please speak up; this is your chance. Who would like to see Richard on the throne? Let’s hear your arguments.”

But no one was willing to speak, or no one wanted to. Emmeline gripped her cane with both flippers.

“Well, then. I shall conclude my defense of the King. In my lifetime, I have seen the reigns of five Mallardian monarchs. All of them were peaceful, and never had there been any challenge to the crown. This is an unparalleled time in our nation’s history, and this day is unique in its own right. Let the memory of these proceedings persist, for we leave this Gallery united as one. I am an old and frail woman. Each week I assume to be my last, and yet I seem to survive. Perhaps I was destined to stand before you today and declare my loyalty for the King and his heir, the Princess Bella. I might egress from this Gallery and immediately die upon laying to rest in my bed. If I do, then I will die content knowing I used my final breaths to protect my grandson’s rightful place on the throne of Mallardia.”

Emmeline pushed over her cane, leaving her unsupported at the Gallery’s center. She moved her right foot behind her left leg, bowed her head, and curtsied. Bosworth and Albion rushed to help her back to her feet, but she refused their help. Bosworth and Albion bowed themselves, and the court followed suit. Even Richard lowered himself before his King.

“Rise,” Swan commanded. The room lifted as one, Emmeline aided by Bosworth. “I will not condemn those who came here today to unseat me, as I will choose to believe that they were acting in the best interests of this Kingdom, and not motivated by selfishness. I am proud to be a duck, and proud to be a Mallard. Most of all, I bleed with Mallardian pride. We will *not* surrender to the Vixen Queen. She will not undo our nation and subjugate our people. I will accept nothing from the Vixen Queen except unconditional surrender. Mallardia Forever!”

“Mallardia Forever!” the Lords boomed.

“Now,” Swan transitioned, “to court business. I am aware of the malaise toward the management of the southern front, and recognize my uncle’s unorthodox effort to remedy it. He has made it plain that he wishes to lead this nation into war. Therefore, I shall be appointing Richard, the Lord of Severn, in command of the southern front. Uncle, you will leave at once and take full strategic responsibility for the trenches. Do you understand?”

Everyone quietly looked at Richard, who was livid. He nodded once.

The rest of court proceedings occurred without issue, and the Lords of Mallardia seemed to immediately forget the attempted coup. At the end of the session, Swan dismissed the Lord of Orlois from court, banished indefinitely. He did not argue.

Richard Mallard ignored everyone when he left, not even acknowledging his mother Emmeline. Swan felt victorious. Richard had marched into Beakfield Manor today prepared to snatch the throne. Instead, he left with the direct responsibility for what occurred along the southern front, encircled by a crown of shame.

—Beakfield Manor—

Emmeline of Capet followed King Swan to his chambers. She was walking easily with her cane, as if she had not spent six years in bed.

“I’m surprised at your vigor, grandmother. We thought you were infirm.”

“As did I,” she chuckled, though she took the first opportunity to take a seat. “I seem to have misjudged when I was going to die.”

Beck eyed her cautiously.

“Are you alright? Do you want me to get you something?”

Emmeline waved her flipper dismissively.

“No need. It would be a relief, I think, to die in Beakfield Manor and not in that stuffy room in the Grand Dowager House.”

Beck frowned.

“Well, I hope that doesn’t happen tonight.”

“Me too.”

She smiled at him as the fireplace crackled quietly beside them.

“I am so proud of you, Beck. You have been an exceptional King. I wouldn’t have defended you if I thought otherwise.”

“Thank you for that,” Beck expressed. “I would have been deposed if not for you.”

“Poppycock. You had your own supporters, and Richard would have had to make passionate arguments to turn your allies to his side. Not to mention Richard did not involve the Senate today—I dare not think of their reaction. I do not believe there was truly a veritable democratic threat. If Richard had raised an army…”

“Would he have?”

Emmeline sighed.

“I’m not sure. My son has drifted from me since his brother died. Maybe he does believe these illegitimacy claims.”

Beck squirmed uncomfortably; that accusation had been playing out in his head all evening.

“Oh, Beck. There is no doubt that you are the true-born son of Swan XIX and Lissette Lacha. If you feel insecure, order a DNA test to be taken. But I warn you that it will only enrage or embarrass you. Put those thoughts of yours to rest. I will manage the threat in my son, Richard. You focus on the war.”

Beck teared up as he imagined life after his grandmother, who was one of his closest confidantes.

“But what if you’re gone? Will Richard rise again?”

“I’ll see to it that he does not,” Emmeline insisted. “I was convinced six years ago when I retired to the Grand Dowager House that I would be gone within the year. Here I am. I have always believed in some sort of higher power or destiny. Perhaps I have to see you through this conflict with your uncle.”

Beck had the strongest of allies then in his grandmother. He saw today how she moved the entire court to side with the King. She could keep Richard at bay so long as she was alive.

“This war,” Emmeline said suddenly, “will last years. Decades, possibly. I don’t think I’ll see the end of it.”

“Grandmother…”

“I’m old, Beck. Very old. My mind hasn’t deteriorated yet, but a heart can only beat for so long. You must prepare for the long haul. Mallardia and Cartonia will never be the same again. Do not give up on recruiting further allies. The Great Cartonian War involved every single nation all those centuries ago, and it’s only a matter of time before the other dominoes fall. They must not join the other side.”

She was sad, speaking nostalgically as if the land she loved was already dead. Beck was reminded of his conversation with Bentley.

“Sometimes I think we got dragged into this by Bentley Connelly. We were going to accept half the terms of the ultimatum. I was going to abdicate.”

Emmeline stared in surprise.

“Why would you do something so idiotic?”

“Wow, well I—“

“Bentley was trying to help you. He may have made a serious lapse in judgement when involving himself with a fox, but he’s helping you defend your realm. The other three on our side—Canis, Willie, Eusuchia—could have withdrawn from this war months ago. They haven’t. Why do you think that is? They too believe that the Vixen Queen must be stopped. Bentley perhaps may be in this for an additional personal reason, but his Parliament backs his actions. They will fight for us. There has been no military action anywhere else except within Mallardian borders. Do you want to see Mallardia subjugated?”

“Of course not!”

“The easy way out is surrender, but Mallardians do not surrender. The foxes mean to make us appear weak, but they’ll soon learn that our flippers are made of steel and are not afraid of blood.”

Beck knelt by his grandmother and gave her a hug.

“Thank you, gran. Again, for your support.”

“My *loyalty*, Beck. Royals are nothing without it. Even if I am gone, you will always have my loyalty. We will prevail over the foxes, even if it takes centuries.”

—Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

—December 5, 708—

-2 Months Later-

Matthew Palmer, the Vixen Queen’s page, waited in the wings behind the royal balcony of the Rook of Vulpus. The announcement was about to take place. In the Plaza beneath the Rook, raucous crowds were gathered to celebrate the birth.

The Vixen Queen’s birthing occurred three nights ago, and was eerily quiet. Years ago, Matthew had been present when his neighbor gave birth, and she had screamed so loudly that the window cracked. The Vixen Queen, on the other hand, did not make a sound.

Her pregnancy was a well-kept secret, to ensure that no threat befell the child. An ultrasound showed that it was a girl, and thus the Vixen Queen would have a new heir. The only person who was probably upset was Valencia Vixen, the Queen’s sister. Now, she was second in line to the throne, behind the baby.

The gathered masses of Vulpus went ballistic as the Vixen Queen emerged on the balcony overlooking the Plaza, carrying the baby. Matthew clapped to appear patriotic, but he did not care at all about the new child. It would surely mean more work for him. The Queen was joined by the immediate members of the Royal Family, nearly all male and therefore insignificant. They stood behind her, subservient to the Queen.

“Tonight!” the Vixen Queen bellowed into an affixed microphone, “I present an heir to Vulpus: Violetta Vixen!”

The people cheered. The baby was lifted above the Vixen Queen’s head, and Matthew nearly laughed to see that the child was already wearing a tiny crown.

Matthew returned to his “office,” a cupboard where he could check mail. The Harmony Holiday Gala that was always hosted in the Harmony Crown’s current nation was cancelled. For the first time in 708 years.

The war had not budged much since the summertime, when trenches were dug in Mallardia. The ducks still held all lands north of the original trenches, and the naval battles in Amethyst Bay had waned. Martials in all six warring Kingdoms were calling this a war of attrition. Essentially, the victor would be whoever could outlast the others in supplies and numbers.

Matthew had noticed something different about the Vixen Queen lately; she was happier. Was it because of the birth of her daughter, or was it because she detected a forthcoming change in the tides?

*—Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*—February 28, 709—*

*Cartonia is splintering into factions and alliances following the Vixen Queen’s sudden and horrific announcement that the Harmony Crown has been dissolved. The neutral nations intended to issue a blanket refusal of this decree, but Cervidium and Psittancyna entered the war on the side of Vulpus. Their justification was minimal, simply that Mallardia and Canis are colluding to end Cartonian peace. In response to the abrogation of the Harmony Crown, more and more nations are joining the war. Leprolia, Bovo, Equine Isle, and Phantine have aligned with Mallardia, Canis, Eusuchia, and Willie.*

*It’s as if someone has overturned a spice rack; one by one, we’re added to the mix. For now, Porcinia remains neutral. As are Gallix, Simeone, Ursus, Capricon, and Felexa. I fear that will change. Capricon is Psittancyna’s sworn ally. Mom believes King Bacon will only enter if Ursus does, and both of our nations have adamantly sworn by our neutrality in this odious conflict.*

*The map of the war has expanded, and it’s inevitable more fronts will open. The fighting will remain in Mallardia but shift to additional places in Cartonia. The Vixen Queen’s bellicosity is posing a serious threat to everlasting peace on this continent. Porcinia may soon capitulate.*

—The Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

-March 1, 709-

The war had finally kicked into high gear, with the Vixen Queen’s decision to abolish the Harmony Crown. That had been part of the plan all along. A year of the war had passed, and none of the other nations were involved. The Vixen Queen had to act. She successfully convinced Cervidium and Psittancyna of the expected spoils of victory, and thus had enough allies to win. Vulpus had been preparing for this war for a decade. They were the strongest force in the conflict, and would win with or without allies. Having a few buffers helped. And no buffer was larger than the territory of Cervidium.

“What are you going to do with the Crown?” Princess Valencia Vixen asked the Vixen Queen, her eyes eager. “I think you should melt it down and make a sword. Or a new crown for Vulpus!”

Queen Vixen had been thinking about this a lot, actually. What should be done with the Harmony Crown? It was a stupid symbol of cooperation. There was no use for it now that it had been abolished. The Vixen Queen was confident they would win the war, and she didn’t need the ducks claiming their Harmonious Reign in 711. Mallardia was next in the rotation, after all.

“I think we’ll do a public destruction. We’ll fashion it into a statuette of preemptive victory.”

Valencia licked her lips.

“I love it! Where did you put it?”

The Queen gestured vaguely down the hall.

“In one of those cupboards.”

Valencia went to fetch it, but returned empty-handed.

“Where?”

The Vixen Queen groaned and triumphantly threw open a locked compartment in the hall, but it was empty.

A full search of the castle commenced, but the Harmony Crown was gone.

—Highland Castle, West Terrier, Canis—

-March 3, 709-

Maximilian Walters watched from the window of his office as the sun set over the mountains. Prince Thumper Connelly was standing beside him, enjoying a drink. He had brought one for Max after a long day, but it was still untouched on the desk.

Today, Capricon joined its ally Psittancyna in war against the group of nations now known as the Granite Bloc. The term was coined by Bentley, who viewed his conglomeration of warring states to be unbreakable like granite. Shortly after the Granite Bloc was named, the Vixen Queen christened her side as the Summer Sun. Burning bright, forever.

*They’ll burn alright*, Bentley had murmured as he read the news brief.

After dinnertime, Felexa entered the war. For the Summer Sun in support of Capricon.

Only four of eighteen nations remained neutral—Porcinia, Gallix, Simeone, and Ursus. It was crazy to Max how quickly things had progressed from the stalemate last December to the abolition of the Harmony Crown and outbreak of total war. The Mallardian war of attrition was now something far bigger and far worse. It was only a matter of time before the last nations caved and all of Cartonia was engrossed in warfare.

Down below, the darkening square was being illuminated by the automatic streetlamps. Max grinned at them. He found them soothing. Each night, they flickered on in spite of the world around them. Then, as he watched, one by the courtyard entrance blew its fuse. Max frowned.

“The lamps are going out all over Cartonia,” he remarked to Thumper. “We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.”

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

The first entry of the Diary of War opens the episode, the first sentence having previously appeared at the end of “Silent Night.” As it was penned on January 1, 708, it serves as a summary of the preceding episode.

Swan XX crushed an attempted coup in his court, led by his own Uncle Richard Mallard.

Vixen VII became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter, Violetta, who immediately became heir apparent.

The Harmony Holiday Gala was cancelled due to the War, the first time in its history.

Due to the War’s standstill nature, it was quickly noted as a war of attrition. The victor would be whoever could outlast the others in supplies and numbers.

The two sides of the war were given their names: the Granite Bloc (led by Bentley Connelly) and the Summer Sun (led by the Vixen Queen).

At the end of February 709, the Vixen Queen dissolved the Harmony Crown, as foretold in “Hollow Crown.” As a result, Leprolia, Bovo, Equine Isle, and Phantine declared war on Vulpus and joined the Granite Bloc. Cervidium and Psittancyna entered the war on the side of the Summer Sun, giving little justification. Capricon and Felexa then joined the Summer Sun too. The only nations remaining neutral were Porcinia, Gallix, Simeone, and Ursus.

The Vixen Queen stashed away the Harmony Crown after its abolition, but it subsequently disappeared.

### References

The teal, yellow, and white colors of Mallardia are a nod to the French House of Capet, which ruled France from 987-1328.

Much of Mallardia is based on France.

## Trivia

* The title of this episode is a quote by British Foreign Secretary Edward Grey, remarked to a friend on the eve of the First World War in 1914. He was reported as saying "**The lamps are going out** all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again our life-time."
	+ The line was quoted almost verbatim by Maximilian Walters in a similar capacity; he remarked this quote to Thumper Connelly at a time when the nations of Cartonia were rapidly declaring war on each other. He said "**The lamps are going out** all over Cartonia. We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime."
* Anatoidea, the capital of Mallardia, is named after the Anatoidea superfamily of ducks.
* Beakfield Manor is based on Chateau de Chenonceau in France.
* The River Canard means “duck” in French.
* Richard Mallard is named after and partially based on King Richard III of England, who ruled from 1483-1485 until his defeat in the Battle of Bosworth Field. Richard was the brother of King Edward IV, who died in 1483 with two boys too young to assume the throne. Richard was appointed Lord Protector. The two princes were declared illegitimate on the grounds that the dead king’s marriage was bigamous, and Richard declared himself King. The two princes subsequently went missing and were never found. Their disappearance is known as the mystery of the Princes in the Tower.
* The Lords of Mallardia all derive their titles from French places (or portmanteaus of said places).
	+ Grasse
	+ Enterhone (Charente, Rhône)
	+ Orlois (Orleans, Blois)
	+ Bourmandy (Cherbourg, Normandy)
	+ Anjon (Anjou, Dijon)
	+ The exception is Richard Mallard, the Lord of Severn. Severn is the longest river in the United Kingdom and played a major role in the Battle of Bosworth Field, which saw the death of King Richard III.
* Bosworth Mallard gets his name from the Battle of Bosworth Field.
* Emmeline of Capet's name comes from Emmeline Pankhurst, a prominent British suffragette. The author wanted the name of a strong female historical figure to fit Emmeline's status as one of the wisest people in Cartonia. Her maiden surname comes from the French House of Capet.
* Richard’s son Albion is named after Ambion Field, where the Battle of Bosworth Field occurred.
* The gestation period of a red fox is 58 days, hence why the Vixen Queen is only informing her husband two months before the birth.
* The gestation period of ducks is around 28 days, which is why Swan would have been conceived in October and born in November.
* Sicacor, the site of the Mallard family retreat, is a rearrangement of the island “Corsica.”
* The rapid joining of nations to the War is based on the various alliances before World War I that caused all the Great Powers to declare war on each other.