A lone figure sat silently upon a steed. The frigid, grey morning air seemed to crackle as the sun that casts no heat, rose. A forlorn castle in the distance slowly disappeared as mists snaked up from the warming moat to smother it.

The horse snorted and shifted its weight from side to side, anxious to be on its way. Its hot breath misted in the winter air, and tiny, sparkling tendrils of ice formed on its whiskers. The ground was covered with a light powdering of snow, shimmering in the newborn sunlight across the valley, and across the cliff upon which the horse and rider stood. The heavily cloaked figure stirred in the saddle, the leather squeaking. At the movement there was a telltale chink of steel armor beneath. Quick, intense eyes peered out from the hood, and a wisp of breath condensed in the frigid air, then dissipated.

Although the rider spoke no word, nor urged with its body, the steed began clopping along the icy stones, across the cliff and away from the valley. The rider's task was at hand.

***

It had been 7 cycles of the moon since the pretender had ascended the throne. The weakling boy and his devious vizier were in power. They had squeezed the life from the dying king and assumed his place, to the dread of a few lonely patriots. The withered, dying king, knowing death was clawing at his bed linens, sent his few trusted followers and knights away. He sent them on counterfeit quests and fraudulent missions to have them gone when he faced the traitors. In his arrogance, or perhaps in fevered disillusionment, he concluded that by divine right of his kingship he would defeat any wrongdoers - even in his decaying state.

The king had been wrong, and now his putrefying corpse was secreted away in the catacombs 'neath the chapel.

Atas'Cosita was in turmoil. The populace had not in anyway mourned the death of their unmerciful and corrupted liege, but the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. Ubreckt had been a poor king, but he had been predictable at least. His many slovenly wives: crusty, haughty old women and vindictive, nasty young tarts had raised him an army of equally loathsome heirs. Unfortunately, depending on whom you asked, those young heirs had killed themselves off in a gouging, scraping battle to assume the throne after Ubreckt. Many had been assassinated, some had dueled and died, some had suicided, and more yet had died of bawdy diseases too grisly to mention.

With no heirs to fill the throne, the lords had scrambled to place themselves as ruler of Atas'Cosita. The royal vizier, Menubrius, plotted against the withering king and placed himself in a position to snatch the monarchy from Ubreckt. Menubrius was a greasy, manipulative weasel and had selected the most pliant, most gullible, and most dim-witted young lord he could find. Plucked from his blubbery mother's clammy embrace, and slammed into kingship, Frederigar couldn't have been happier. He slept, gorged, and lusted his days away and cared not for the matters of state. Menubrius had assured the play-king that everything was being taken care of. And so it was.

Now, taxes were too high to pay - even for the rich aristocracy. There was no business or trade being conducted as Menubrius had slammed a wall up around the kingdom that was kept heavily guarded. He filled the ranks of the king's army with greedy mercenaries, and banished all forms of government, save the monarchy. He had slain all of the king's personal guard, and had slammed the gates to any that had been loyal to the empire. Citizens were starving, and riots had ensued. Menubrius thoroughly enjoyed squashing rioters and leaving their tortured, ruined bodies in the streets to serve as a warning to other would-be challengers of his laws.

***

Heroh Ti'Mouse rode away from Atas'Cosita with little more than a tentative plan in the back of her mind. She squinted at the glare of the morning sun off the frost-covered ground, and pulled her cowl low over her head. She was chasing a rumor, a whispered story of an indiscretion.

Heroh was an idealist, and guarded the throne with her life. She had not liked Ubreckt, but he had been king, and as the King's Guard she had sworn to protect him. She had faithfully done Ubreckt's bidding, and gone of on what had been a false mission, and upon her return had found chaos. Now, she knew that as she had failed the king of Atas'Cosita, she must do what she could to right that. She knew the only way to rid the kingdom of the play-king and his puppeteer was to come up with a blood heir.

As the horse moved swiftly through the woods, snapping its tail in the cold air, Heroh mused. Long before she had become one of the King's Guards, there was a disturbance in the castle that sent hushed rumors and anxious giggles throughout the kingdom. Such a tale had lasted, and been joked about amongst the king's men for some time. As rumor had it, a young, female servant employed in the castle had been swiftly discharged from service after the king had taken a fancy to her. The kings wives had been especially harsh in their ejection of the poor girl, their time in the kings favor having waned. She had been ushered out the back tunnel of the castle, and had fled the hurled rocks the king's many wives were entitled to pummel her with. For, no one is allowed to harm the king, especially claw his face and gouge his cheek - even if his majesty is forcing himself upon you.

Word is that the poor scorned woman had given birth to a bastard child, but no one could support this claim.

Heroh snapped the reins, dug her heels into the horse's lean flank and leaned into the wind. She had an heir to locate.

***

Heroh's quest took her far and away, following rumors and her hunches. She had been turned away from many doors, and met with hostile stares as she made her way through the many small hamlets and villages. Few had aided her, as the populace had their own problems to deal with. Most wouldn't welcome a walking symbol of the ruthless monarchy - a knight.

It had been one cycle of the moon before she had stumbled upon some encouraging news. An old crone who had worked in the castle years earlier was familiar with the story. After much cackling and gesticulating, the crone related how the whoreling who had seduced the chaste and benevolent king had gone into hiding two towns from there.

Urgency gripped Heroh as she spurred her steed faster and faster to Capus`Cayzing.

She wandered the dingy, ramshackle streets of Capus`Cayzing, asking whomever she came upon if they knew a woman who had worked in the castle. Most leads ended up dead ends save one. There was a family that lived north, deep in the forests, and was totally reclusive. Rumor had it that they came from Atas`Cosita 19 years ago. Heroh knew the time frame to be correct, so she set out on foot, leaving her horse in the stables.

She walked northward for hours through the woods bordering Capus`Cayzing. As dusk neared she happened upon a small shack, hardly big enough for even a single person. A line was stretched from one tree to another, damp laundry hanging from it. A scattering of chickens and goats walked about the shack, scrounging for food. A plume of smoke rose from the derelict chimney. A man who was as equally dingy as the cabin greeted her. She explained herself, and her quest. Without saying a word the man led her into the house and there she saw a feline femme sitting at a rickety table.

This was the very woman she had searched for! Cast from the palace, she had retreated to Capus`Cayzing. She had borne the child deep in the woods, in the very shack Heroh had found. The man was a hunter, taken in by the beauty of the woman, he stayed with her and lovingly served as father to the king's bastard child.

The weary couple insisted Heroh stay for the night. They offered up the single room's only bed, which was shabby, but clean. Heroh graciously declined and slept on the wooden floor. When the sun finally crested the trees in the morning she had long since taken her leave. The woman was whom Heroh had been searching for, but there was no child within the house. The parents had told Heroh they had received word from the girl only two weeks past. Filled with a curiosity of the world outside of their tiny shack, the girl of 19 had left her tiny wooden castle and ventured off into the world. She had traveled to the small island of Allegria. She had befriended, and then fell in love with a furre there. They quickly married. With the name Allegria whispering in her mind, she stepped out of the forest and looked with horror upon the village of Capus`Cayzing. It was devastated! Heroh looked upon the torched houses and the beaten citizens. The few furres that remained alive were huddled near the town well clinging to each other, shaking and sobbing.

Menubrius, the play king's adviser, had seen to it that Heroh was followed. He, along with a small platoon of his hired mercenaries, kept pace just behind Heroh. They razed the village after finding that she had passed through, asking about an heiress.

She was a knight of the throne, and in trying to find the bastard child, was betraying that very throne she had sworn to protect. She walked through the town, towards the tent baring the kings' standard. She gripped her sword and ground her teeth in fury. Menubrius was a fool! He did not expect her to boldly confront him and therefore left his canvas tent unguarded. The mercenaries were out looting the paltry spoils of the ravaged town. As she tossed the flap aside and entered, the greasy weasel glanced at her in petulance and smiled. With eyes of fire, she closed the distance between them. Quickly and ruthlessly Heroh dispatched of the adviser, doing what she felt was best for the throne and the kingdom. She left him slouched at his table, a deathly red grin across his neck that pumped the blood of the already dead royal vizier.

She slipped from the town silently, unheard and unseen. She mounted her horse and sped off towards the ocean, towards the boats that would take her to Allegria Island. Two days later she set her feet down upon Allegrian soils. It took her no time at all to locate the girl. Not many furres possessed the name Zaboo. A day of searching passed before Heroh found her. Zaboo was walking along the shores staring out at the sea. Her large, tufted ears swiveled, her fur was the same dark grey as her mother's. Heroh saw the dead king in her sea green hair and bright sapphire eyes.

They had a short conversation. Zaboo's husband had disappeared and the young femme fretted. Heroh finally told Zaboo why she had come for her. They left word with a friend for Zaboo's husband and together they left for Atas`Cosita. Zaboo was unsure if she wanted this or not, but the knight Heroh made it plain enough to understand - the people needed a leader, and she was the rightful heiress to the throne. She had been upset when she found that the furre she thought was her father had not been, but she understood why the secret had been kept from her.

The return to Atas`Cosita was uneventful. Heroh explained to Zaboo most of what had been happening and Zaboo expressed to the knight her reservations about leading the people. Heroh tried to reassure the girl the best she could, but indeed it would prove to be a daunting task.

The castle was most unimpressive. It was a two-story building of dark red brick. The façade was usually tastefully plain, but the play king had made a mockery of the respectable structure by hanging gaudy trimmings and tasteless decoration outside and in. Zaboo stayed in the main hall while Heroh strode to the audience chamber. In the throne slumped Frederigar. He had several grungy, scantily clad servant girls attending him. They laughed anxiously at his paltry, bawdy jokes.

Heroh marched boldly up to him and sneered. The time of the play king was at an end. She gave him his ultimatum: stay on the throne and die like Menubrius, or flee Atas`Cosita with his life and remain exiled. With no advisor to protect him, Frederigar ran for his very life.

***

And thus Zaboo was named Queen of Atas`Cosita, through the boldness of her Captain of the Royal Guard, Heroh. Zaboo rules benevolently, wisely and mercifully. A council attends her, and she hears their thoughts and ideas. Her husband has returned to her once again, and the citizens are filled with a renewed hope. Atas`Cosita has entered a time of peace and prosperity.

We hope…