Erik
Genosha
“All rise for the King Over All the Monarchy, Erik Magnus, First of His Name, Lord of Genosha, and descendant of the First Mutants.” The bald Hand of the King turned to face Erik, having just announced him. Charles Xavier was a man of great repute. A wise man, no doubt, but an old man, as well. He was of an age with Erik, or near enough as made no matter. The king's councilors rose from their seats, and waited for Erik's approving glance. The king was quick to give it, eager to begin the day's session.
Though Lord Magnus was as old as his Hand, he bore his age with a certain boldness that Xavier lacked. Charles had entered his sixtieth year with a quiet grace, whereas Erik had done so with a great strength. His snow white hair touched his shoulders, and a purple cloak flowed behind him as he strode into the throne room. Beneath his arm was his great helm forged from steel the color magenta. As the king took his seat, so did his councilors. He placed the helm on one arm of his throne, and faced his council.
“What news have you for me today?” the king began. “I would hear first from our Lady Commander of the Genoshan Shield.” A young woman straightened in her seat. She had brown hair, close cropped. The look would have been most unusual for a woman of noble birth, but for a woman of the Shield, it made no matter. In fact, it gave her a bit of an edgy appearance, which no doubt would have been useful in her line of work.
“Your Grace,” Maria Hill began, “the Genoshan people are in no more peril than they were when last we held council. I have no new threats to report, only old ones.”
“Threats you have eliminated, I should hope,” the king put back to her.
“All but for the Punishers,” replied Hill. “They continue to elude the agents of the Shield.”
“I have said so before, and I shall say so again,” began Lord Samuel Wilson, also of the Shield, “the Punishers must be dealt with in the same manner that they treat their victims. That is the only thing they understand – mindless violence.”
“My Lord Whisperer, the Falcon, has the right of it,” chimed in Xavier. “I would not be the first to say so, but they have been plaguing us for some time. We cannot have lords and ladies being dragged for their homes and left dead in the streets. What does that say about our leadership?”
“I believe their leader is a man called Castle,” Wilson, the Falcon, put to them. “A bastard's surname.”
“How apt. A bastard-led movement. Nothing but villainy can come from a base born creature,” spat High Evolutionary Von Doom.
A robust man seated across from Von Doom sounded his disapproval. “Your own son is base born, as is the king's second daughter.”
“Both were legitimized by royal decree, Shaw,” Von Doom spat back from beneath his hooded cloak of deep green.
“This talk of bastards does naught to rein in these Punishers, my councilors,” the king silenced them all. At that, a slender, but well-built woman garbed completely in white silks, smiled as sly a smile as Erik had ever seen. This one is dangerous. A smile comes to her countenance only at her command. It serves her as a weapon, as does everything else. She is one to watch.
“Your Grace,” the platinum haired Mistress of Coin and Strategies spoke up from beside Shaw, “I do believe these Punishers made be put to good use.”
“And how is that, Lady Frost?” Erik inquired.
“These men believe they are servants of the innocent. They believe that by brutalizing those they deem corrupt and evil, they are protecting the innocents of this great city,” the woman replied. They say she can see deep into a man's mind with but a glance, the king thought to himself. Let us see how well she has read these vile men.
“My Lady has the truth of it,” the Falcon stated. “My little birds whisper many a secret into my ear.”
Your damned birds are everywhere, yet no one seems to know where to find the Punishers. The king was never too fond of Samuel Wilson.
“Just so,” continued Lady Frost. “Give me but a fortnight, and I shall not only find these Punishers, but I shall also put them to good use.” The woman sat back, one leg crossed over the other, and took a sip from her goblet, clearly pleased with herself. Maria Hill was not so pleased.
“And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that, Emma?” the woman asked irately.
“A lady always keeps her secrets,” Emma replied with a smirk. This woman is an enigma. Useful … but all the more dangerous for it.
“Very well,” decreed Charles. “With Your Grace's leave, Lady Frost shall deal with the Punishers.” The king nodded his consent. “And what is next, my lords and ladies?”
This time, it was Shaw who spoke up. He smoothed his hands over his doublet, and spoke with an easy confidence. “My lords and ladies, Your Grace … there is a most serious matter that needs be discussed.” He paused for effect. As he looked about the chamber, his black hair fastened behind his head began to sway. “The lands to the east have never before presented a threat to the Monarchy because they have always been at war. I am afraid that is no longer the case. Chandilar, Skrullos, and Hala have all made peace.” When he paused this time, the silence spoke volumes. There were concerned looks on most every face, save for that of Erik, Charles and Emma who undoubtedly already knew, and the Falcon who had been the one to pass this information along in the first place. “The Majestrix of Chandilar, the Queen of Skrullos, and the Supreme Intelligence of Hala have all gathered together and forged a peace that seems quite sound.”
“That is … unsettling,” the king admitted. “Any one of them turning on us would be cause for great concern, but all three together … that would mean much bloodshed, and doom.”
“You know naught of the doom that we might bring about ourselves, Your Grace.” It was Von Doom who had spoken. “Shaw is our weapons master, the Lady Selene our mistress of war. I have no doubt that the Lords and Ladies of Hellfire Keep will find a suitable way to ensure our safety.”
“We already have.” It was Selene Gallio who had spoken, Black Queen of Hellfire Keep, and the Lady of Nova Roma. She pushed aside a lock of hair black as jet from her face, and spoke again. “Shaw has devised a masterful new plan to ensure the safety of all you nobles.” Whenever the Nova Roman spoke, others listened. Some respected her, but many more feared her. Fear can be useful.
“Aye,” said Shaw, “The Sentinels. Armored men sworn to House Magnus, to the council, and the king.”
“And Hellfire Keep, no doubt,” added the Lady Commander.
“Only to those of us who sit on this council. The idea is not to stand by the king and ward away any who might wish him ill,” Shaw explained, “but rather to prevent such things from happening.”
“Explain,” demanded the king, though he knew full well what Shaw intended.
“The Sentinels will be dispersed among the realm. They will work openly and in secret, just as the Masters of Disguise from Skrullos. They will seek out those the king deems potentially threatening … and they will kill them before the fools even realize they are threats to the realm.” Shaw smiled with satisfaction.
“A preemptive course of action … or a cowardly one?” asked Xavier.
“You needn't trouble us with your conscience, Lord Hand,” Emma said, her face a mask.
Erik raised a hand. “Enough. Shaw, do what you will. Von Doom, with me to the Sorcery Conservatory. We must treat with Strange. He must have a good reason for not attending this session. Emma, you will deal with the Punishers. As for the union of our eastern enemies, we will require more information. Whisperer, I will leave you to it. This meeting is at an end.” The King's Councilors took their leave, save for the Lord Hand, bowing courteously on their way out. “Charles, my friend, a word.” The Hand of the King grinned before stepping closer to his king.
“Yes, Your Grace?” he inquired. The king scoffed.
“Enough of that. I am Erik to you, Charles,” he declared.
“Of course, Your Gra – I mean, Erik,” the Hand replied. “What would you have of me?”
“Nothing. Rather, I would prefer to give something to you. My congratulations.” The king smiled at his old friend. “I hear the Lady Grey is to be wed to the gallant Lord Summers.”
“You have the truth of it, Erik,” the Hand replied. “They spent much time together when they were younger and Summers was my ward in Westchester, along with the Lady Grey.”
“I look forward to attending,” Erik stated. “Lady Grey continues to pray for me, I hope.”
“But of course,” assured Charles. “She is as devout a priestess as any other. She asks the Phoenix to grant you long life and prosperity, Erik.”
“We can only hope it hears her prayers,” the king responded, his tone more grim than before. Charles picked up on the change.
“Is something wrong, Erik?” he asked the king. His voice was soothing to Erik. He always had a way of making him feel stronger, more confident, and reassured.
“The Empires of the East have found common cause, which will undoubtedly prove to be our downfall. My agents in Madripoor have turned against me,” the king confessed.
“The east need not concern you, Erik, and as for Raven … I was shocked to hear what she'd done,” Charles said. “Subterfuge is one thing. It is what you trained her for. But this was wholesale slaughter disguised as loyalty.”
“She sent me the heads of the crime bosses of Madripoor. Men and women who led the Hand and Hydra. Powerful people,” Erik explained. “She has installed herself as the new Crime Lady of Madripoor, and no longer responds to my ravens.” A Raven who responds naught to my ravens.
“Erik, surely there is some explanation. She is a loyal woman,” Charles attempted to soothe the king.
“Loyal to a point, and ambitious.” Erik clearly had lost hope in his agent. “And a potential problem for us. Aside from her, neither New or Old Atlantis respond to my summons.”
“King Namor and Queen Susan rule their respective domains from without the Monarchy. If it is their choice to not respond, what can we do?” Charles asked. He knew what it meant. Erik could see it in his eyes. Ill omens.
“Atlantis, both Old and New, has always been an ally to the Monarchy, no matter who has reigned. That they do not respond bodes ill. Darkness gathers in Egyptia, Charles. Clan Akkaba has ruled for as long as anyone can remember, always grooming a new Lord Apocalypse. Their latest has remained a mystery until recently,” the king explained. “A man by the name of En Sabah Nur.”
Charles frowned. “This is not necessarily troubling news, my king. Such is the tradition of Clan Akkaba.”
“The clan preaches against the crown, Charles,” Erik interjected. “They do not support us. If the Empires decide to attack, who is to stop Egyptia from joining them? And if Atlantis senses weakness, they shan't come to our aid. Who will help us then?”
Charles actually looked troubled. Finally. “It will not come to that, my king. The realm is strong.”
“Aye?” Erik thought differently. “Genosha remains strong, even with these Punishers. The same cannot be said for Muir.”
“Muir is one of the most powerful isles of the Monarchy, my king,” Charles was quick to point out.
“There is truth in what you say, Charles,” the king agreed, “but there are stirrings.”
“Stirrings, Erik?” Charles had to ask. What sort of ill-informed Hand are you? Or do you merely choose to act ignorant as some ploy?
“The Muirish folk do not worship the Phoenix as we do. They worship the Morrigan, a deity of many aspects and faces. Lord Cassidy's daughter is one such devotee and the High Priestess of the Morrigan,” Erik told his Hand. “This has never been a problem, until now. The worshipers of the Morrigan have been getting very aggressive of late. A family of Phoenix worshipers moved to Muir from Avalon. They were torn to pieces, Charles. To pieces. Father, mother, sister, brother, and babe, all torn asunder. Bad omens, Charles.” The Lord Hand was silent, pensive.
“My king,” he began after a pause, “these wrongs will be righted. We need only time.”
“Time,” said Erik bitterly, “is something I fear we have very little of.” Both men remained in silence for a time. “There is one other thing, Charles.”
“Yes, Your Grace?” asked the Lord Hand.
“I know of your past with Lilandra of Chandilar,” Erik answered.
“Yes, my king, it was an indiscretion, no more,” admitted Charles.
“Bah,” Erik waved his hand at his Hand, “I do not look to shame you, Charles. I do, however, need to ask you to use your past to save our future.” It did not take Charles long to understand the implication.
“… You wish me to treat with Lilandra?” asked Charles, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, Charles. After the wedding, go to Lilandra. See if you cannot reignite the flame of your love. It may be the only thing that spares this realm from the harshness of the east.”