Be it herewith known that the Emperor of LEGOland, Overlord of Dametreos, Constantius VII, gives Imperial Assent to the government of the Kingdom of the Black Falcons, having taken it by force from the illegal regime of General Martin Humboldt.
We order the removal of all international sanctions against the Black Falcon nation, and advise the restoration of all diplomatic ties therewith. In conjunction with the fulfillment of their financial obligations as outlined in the peace accords of February of this year, they are to be once again considered a faction in good standing among the nations of Dametreos, and once again protected by the rights and freedoms those in accord with the Emperor.
All national laws and statutes as enacted upon their own soil are to be held as legally and morally binding therein, and as under the approval of the Emperor.
In recognition of the peace treaty now enacted between the Black Falcon and Bull Knight nations, the Bull Knight kingdom is now formally recognized as containing the same territory as it did prior to the Bull-Falcon War of 1995, as well as the island territory associated with Bull Isle. The land grants of the February peace accords are rescinded by agreement between the involved parties.
Imperial Assent is herewith given to Lord Barbod to reign as rightful King of the Bulls.
Dated this 29th Day of April, in the 2005th Year C.C. in the Imperial Castle of Orion. On the authority of:
Constantius VIII,
Emperor of LEGOland,
King of Orion,
Overlord of Dametreos,
Lord of the House Legonis.
Grid: G-7
Location: Lone Falcon’s chamber, the Spire, Black Falcon’s Fortress, Falconis City, Black Falcon Empire, Dametreos
The Lone Falcon was sitting at his desk tiredly going over notes when he was interrupted by a knock. The Lone Falcon sighed, leaned back, and called, “Yes? Come in.”
The door opened and Mills entered. In one hand was tenderly cradled a pigeon. In the other was a folded parchment.
“Lone Falcon, sir, this just arrived. It bears the seal of the Classic Emperor!”
The Lone Falcon eager jumped forward and unfolded the note. He quickly scanned the contents, then read it again more slowly. A smile appeared on his wrinkled and worn face.
“Praise Chodan, praise the Emperor!” he cried with an unusual display of ferventness.
“Good news?” queried Mills.
“Grand news, grand indeed.” smiled the Lone Falcon, “Here, you read it while I write a reply.”
The Lone Falcon returned to his desk, drew out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began to write as Mills, still clutching his bird, read the Emperor’s letter.
“This is it, then?” said Mills, “The Black Falcons are a legitimate faction once again?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Mills let a out a patriotic whoop.
“Here,” said the Lone Falcon, handing Mills his reply, “Get this out as soon as possible. Oh, and-”
The Lone Falcon passed over a stack of other letters.
“Send these to the noted capitals. The only way the Black Falcons will rise to our former glory will be with the aid of our allies.”
Mills nodded vigorously and left the room, beaming. The Lone Falcon sank back down onto his chair and continued writing. He was interrupted again after ten minutes by another knock. It was Freena and Bersun.
“Yes?”
Bersun spoke, “Lone Falcon, sir, we’ve found Martin Humboldt.”
“Indeed? Have you taken him into custody?”
“He’s dead.”
“Ah.”
“It seems his escape by carriage was foiled by a platoon commanded by John Chayefky. Witnesses report John dueled with Martin but was killed. Another man by the name of Nicolas Cratchett then shot Martin dead.”
The Lone Falcon bowed his head. “I knew John well. He was a good man. And a father. And a husband.”
Freena nodded. “Cremation preparations for him are already underway.”
“What have you done with Martin Humboldt’s body?”
“It awaits burial.”
The Lone Falcon shook his head.
“No. Don’t bury him. Cremate him.”
Bersun and Freena looked at one another, shocked. By tradition, most Black Falcons were cremated. It was believed the smoke of the cremated one would rise to heaven in the lungs of the falcons of the air. Only enemies of the state and criminals were buried.
“Cremate Humboldt?” repeated Freena.
“Yes.” nodded the Lone Falcon, “And all who were loyal to him who fell. They are fellow Black Falcons too. They may have been corrupted, but they are Black Falcons. Our brothers, our sisters, our kin. They do not deserve to be thrown moldering into the ground, to be eaten by worms and maggots. Cremate them.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Bersun and Freena bowed, and left the room. The Lone Falcon returned to his paperwork. However, once again, he was interrupted.
“Lone Falcon?” came Vanderdious’s voice through the door, “Are you busy?”
“Very.” replied the Lone Falcon, “But enter anyway. It seems this paperwork is destined to not get done.”
Vanderdious entered, smirking.
“Not so great, being the interim leader of the Black Falcon nation?”
“It’s like trying to keep together a decomposing mummy while running.” muttered the Lone Falcon, rubbing his eyes, “I’d rather face the smelly Ogre any day.”
Vanderdious chuckled and leaned on the desk, glancing over all of the Lone Falcon’s notes.
“I agree. Ever since I read that little speech you gave me in front of all those Black Falcon brass I’ve been hounded with questions, demands and a whole lot more. Seems I’m the Rebel Resistance’s new Public Relations guy.”
“You fit the role perfectly.” said the Lone Falcon, “But don’t worry, once we all get this blasted government slapped together us poor Rebels can retire and let the politicians take over.”
“I’d like that.”
“How go the interim committee elections and debates?”
“It’s a mad house. Without any legitimate heir, the Black Falcon parliament is stuck between a rock and a hard place, if you’ll pardon the horrible cliché. About the only thing that’s been voted upon is who is to be Prime Minister.”
“And?”
“Lord Drakko won that position easily. But as I said, we can’t get much further without this Graygon fellow.”
The Lone Falcon shook his head. “Randolph left over a month ago and there’s been no word since. I am worried.”
There was yet another knock on the Lone Falcon’s door. Mayriz entered, babbling excitedly.
“Milord Lone Falcon, Randolph’s returned…and he’s found the heir!”
“Speak of the devil.” Vanderdious smirked as a haggard Randolph entered, followed by three other persons.
“Lone Falcon, Vander.” nodded Randolph, “may I introduce Graygon, who is the son of Helen Falconis, the daughter of Susannah Falconis, the former wife of Falconis XXVIII. These are his companions: Lord Willem Blackcloak Crowne, legitimate king of the Wolfpack empire, currently on the run from the soldiers of Lady Ciroal, and Miss Katheryn Gladwheel-Turnleaf, a Forestwoman druid.”
The Lone Falcon rose and bowed deeply to all three.
“My lords, lady.” he greeted, “I am the Lone Falcon, interim Governor of Falconis City and temporary Protector of the Kingdom of the Black Falcons. This is Vanderdious, who prefers simply to be known as a man of many masks, thought in truth he is much more. I am honored that you three willing to come at my request.”
“Greetings, Lone Falcon.” Willem Blackcloak returned the bow, speaking before Graygon could, “Trust me, these settings are far more satisfactory than our previous one.”
“I imagine so.” agreed the Lone Falcon, “Please, all of you, you are most welcome. I have much to discuss with all of you, Graygon especially, but you all must be tired from your journey. Mayriz, would you please lead Lord Crowne, Lord Graygon and Lady Gladwheel-Turnleaf to the guest rooms?”
“At once.” Mayriz bobbed a curtsy, then left, beckoning the others, who left as well.
When Vanderdious and the Lone Falcon were alone again, Vanderdious said quietly, “Tell me Graygon was a Black Falcon and I’d think you had gotten too deep into the wine barrel. He’s Wolfpack through and through.”
The Lone Falcon sighed. “Yes, I saw. But who can blame him? All he has know is the ways of the Wolfpack.”
“This be just my on humble opinion,” said Vanderdious, “But methinks he’ll have a problem filling the Black Falcon throne.”
“First impressions are misleading more often than not.” retorted the Lone Falcon, “Don’t judge him before we’ve even talked to him. Still, you might be right. And…if you are…then we might be back at square one.”
“Square two or three.” corrected Vanderdious, “Square one was forming the Resistance and overthrowing the Black Falcon regime.”
“Good point.”
======================================
After a day of rest, Graygon met with the Lone Falcon. Vanderdious was also present to take notes.
“Greetings, Lord Graygon.” the Lone Falcon shook Graygon’s hand.
“Please, call me simply Graygon.” said Graygon, turning a shade red, “I’m not really a lord.”
“Very well. Please, sit.”
They both sat. There was a silence, then the Lone Falcon said, “Well, I suppose Randolph explained why I wanted to see you?”
Graygon nodded.
“Yes. It seems I’m next in line to the Black Falcon throne.” Graygon chuckled nervously, “Imagine. Me. King Graygon of the Black Falcons!”
“
Can you imagine that?” asked the Lone Falcon quietly.
Graygon sat there for a long while.
“I can see me decked out in blue, black and white with a crown on my head…” he said slowly, “but…honestly…I know nothing of politics. I couldn’t rule a county!”
“We could teach you.” said the Lone Falcon.
“You could.” Graygon nodded, “and I could learn…but…”
“But what?” the Lone Falcon cut in quickly.
“But…” Graygon looked away from the Lone Falcon and Vanderdious, to the only window in the room, “That’s my home. Out there. In the woods. In the trees. Among the Wolfpack. Among…”
“Your people?” suggested Vanderdious.
“Yes.” breathed Graygon. He looked apologetically at the Lone Falcon, “I was born a Black Falcon, an illegitimate one at that. Black Falcon blood runs in my veins…but…I was raised by the Wolfpack. They are my family, my culture, my comrades. I am bound to them. I am bound to no one here.” he waved his hands about the room.
The Lone Falcon nodded slowly.
“Do not think that I do not understand, for I do. And understand this: no one is pressuring you to do something you do not want to do. Princes have refused the Black Falcon throne before. It can happen again. If you do not want to be king of the Black Falcons, please say so.”
Graygon looked at the Lone Falcon steadily, not blinking, and said slowly, “I do not…want to be king of the Black Falcons.”
Vanderdious scribbled furiously. The Lone Falcons let loose a breath.
“But.” Graygon suddenly said, “I…I think of someone who…might agree to the throne.”
The Lone Falcon looked up sharply.
“Who would that be?”
Graygon looked back at the Lone Falcon carefully.
“My mother.”
Vanderdious stopped scribbling and looked up. The Lone Falcon blinked.
Graygon continued, “My mother, the Lady Helen Falconis, was well-versed in the matters of the Black Falcon court before she was forced to flee. She…perhaps…well…”
“You think she would be willing to ascend to the throne?” asked the Lone Falcon.
Graygon shrugged. “Possibly. But I can’t speak for her. I haven’t spoken to her for the longest of times.”
Vanderdious was back to scribbling.
“Do you know where she is?” asked the Lone Falcon.
“Aye,” Graygon nodded, “Indeed I do. During the great wildfire of ‘04, she, along with the rest of the Wolfpack, fled to the Forestmen capital city of Delvarden Gard. Even after the fires were quenched, she decided to remain at Drullen Bell Keep.”
“Indeed…” the Lone Falcon seemed to relax, “Then I must send word to Lord Bjarn…”
The Lone Falcon rose, as did Graygon.
“As I said, I cannot speak for my mother.” repeated Graygon, “I don’t know what she’ll do.”
“I understand. But we must look at every possible option.” replied the Lone Falcon, “And Graygon, thank you, for being honest. I respect a honest man.”
“Thank you.”