PROLOGUE
"Before Skinnymandria was formed, there was a great war between the nations." Elizabeth began as she gently brushed the young girl's long gingery-brown hair. She had told this story countless times, yet the girl never seemed tired of hearing it. "Georgian fought Celt, Tudors battled Victorians, the entire land was in chaos. The only thing certain as that the land or its people would not be able to endure much more of the fighting; the war had to be stopped, or the land would fall into ruin."
"Then what happened?" the girl asked, her tone hushed with anticipation.
Elizabeth smiled at the girl's enthusiasm before continuing. "From the Greek armies came a commander by the name of Alexander the Great. He proposed a future in which the nations were united as one, so all the people would live in peace and harmony. Many people approved of this idea, but not so much man who proposed it. Alexander was known for being greedy with his territory and leaders of the other nations feared that they would lose control of their part of the land. With this distrust, the chaos nearly descended again, Alexander's idea almost trodden into the dust."
"But then Heph arrived to save us all!" The girl cheered, leaping to her feet and shooting her fist into the air.
"Yes, Laila, he did." Elizabeth chuckled. "Alexander had a companion, known as Hephaestion. Unlike Alexander he had a reputation for being a fair leader, kind to his people and willing to collaborate with his equals. He drew up a revised map of the land, where each nation was given an area of territory proportionate to the number of people living within it. In the very centre of the land would be a town known as MonarchsVille-"
"Where we live!" Laila interrupted with a grin.
"- bordered by all the individual nations. The leaders of the nations would all live together in this town where they would be able to meet easily and discuss the future of the land as a whole. This idea was proposed to all the leaders, and a vote was cast to decide the future of the land."
Elizabeth paused and Laila looked up at her in confusion. "Aren't you going to carry on?" she asked.
"I can't right now, I promised to visit my mother before the Monarchs' Meeting this afternoon." Elizabeth sighed as Laila gave her a forlorn look. "You're going to spend the afternoon with a good friend of mine; Ludwig van Beethoven. I'm sure you'll have a nice time with him."
Laila smiled as she took the Tudor Queen's hand and eagerly made her way towards the door. When they arrived outside Beethoven's house just outside the MonarchsVille boundary, the elderly composer was nowhere to be seen. Instead a green-clothed figure with bright flaming hair stood leaning on the letterbox, and when Elizabeth approached her she looked up with a smile.
"Ah, Boudicca. Do you know where Beethoven might be?" Elizabeth asked, while Laila sprinted up to Boudicca and was swept into her arms.
"Take a wild guess!" Boudicca laughed, pointing in the direction of the neighbouring house while giving the girl an affectionate hug.
Elizabeth turned to look where Boudicca, where great deal of loud shouting could be heard coming from the house next door. "Don't tell me he's arguing with Mozart again about who's the better composer?"
Boudicca nodded grimly. "But he asked for me to look after this little one until he was finished, so you can still see Anne Boleyn before the Meeting gets going."
Laila let out an excited whoop, always happy to spend time with the Celtic Queen. "Can you tell me the Union of the Nations story?"
"I sure can, but you know that no-one tells it better than Lizzie here does." Boudicaa grinned in response.
"Thank you Boudicca," Elizabeth nodded relievedly before hurrying back towards central MonarchsVille as fast as her cumbersome dress would allow her to go. She suddenly stopped, turned, and called back "We got to the part where the first vote was cast!"
Boudicca waved her off, before unclasping her cloak and laying it down on the ground for them both to sit on. Laila's dark brown eyes were practically sparkling with excitement as she waited for the story, so she wasted no time before continuing. "When the results of the vote were gathered, everyone was shocked. Not one leader had voted to continue the war. Every leader of every nation was willing to put their trust in Hephaestion, and therefore he was appointed the Prince of the new land. Since the original idea had been suggested by Alexander, he was given the privilege of choosing the name of the land. In honour of his dear companion the land was named Skinnymandria, a name that only reflected its leader rather than any of the nations that it was composed of. Each individual nation was named after the people who inhabited it; TudorTown, StuartVille, the Celtic District, the War Zone and the Victorian City were just some of the few newly named nations.
"But despite the pledge of loyalty towards Skinnymandria made by each leader, there was still an amount of distrust between some of the leaders. Hostility remained between many individuals even though... even though relationships blossomed between others, putting the union of the whole Council of Monarchs at a strain. Criminals thrived, taking advantage of the differences between laws in each nation. It was eventually decided that an example had to be made of one such criminal to show that the Council was strong enough."
A strange clouded look had come across Boudicca's green eyes as she finished speaking, and she looked away at the ground. "Don't be sad," Laila told her with a frown, shuffling forward until she could put both her arms around Boudicca's neck.
Boudicca gave an odd sort of laugh as she returned the hug. "I'm not," she said, squeezing her harder.
Footsteps approaching made Laila release her grasp around Boudicca's neck, both of them looking over to see Beethoven approaching. "Is that Elizabeth's little daughter I can see there?"
Boudicca tensed up immediately, shooting an irritated glare at the composer as she snapped "You know she's not Lizzie's daughter, Beethoven, she belongs to all of us in MonarchsVille."
Beethoven just smiled ignorantly; Boudicca rolled her eyes, remembering too late that he was unlikely to have heard much of what she'd just said. "Now remind me, little one, what did our Prince decide to call you again?" he asked, crouching down to Laila's eye level.
"It's Laila," she informed him with an eye roll almost equal to Boudicca's. "I've known you since I was a baby and I'm nearly six now, but you keep forgetting."
"Ah, Leah, yes I remember now." Laila giggled as he misheard her yet again, her frustration cast aside. "I do believe I'm looking after you for the afternoon during the Monarch's Meeting. Come on in then."
Laila scrambled off Boudicca's lap to take the composer's hand. "Bye Boudicca. Coming Mr Beetle-oven." She chirped with a mischievous grin, knowing that he wouldn't notice her purposeful error. "Do you know the story of the Union of the Nations?"
"I certainly do Leah, and I can tell it to you if you'd like," he said after needing a moment to work out what she'd said. Unlocking his front door, he showed Laila into the living room and helped boost her into an armchair.
"We're at the bit where the all the crinima... crimini... naughty people were being bad," she eventually settled with, face contorting as she tried to pronounce the word.
Beethoven nodded slowly as he sank down into the chair opposite. "Ah, yes, it's all coming back to me now. A plot to blow up the Council Building was discovered. This was the doing of Fawkes' Thirteen, a group of StuartVille Catholics who were unhappy with the Protestant majority in the Council of Monarchs. But their punishments were limited due to the support they received from fellow Catholic sympathisers within the Council."
"Wasn't that Lizzie's sister?" Laila asked, uncertainty in her voice.
"Yes it was; Mary Tudor and her husband Phillip," Beethoven explained patiently, "They've always been devout Catholics. They also had support from the Borgia Family, as well as a few monarchs from the Medieval City."
Laila hesitated as Beethoven paused for thought, a question at the tip of her tongue and a battle waging in her mind over whether to ask it or not. She'd begged for this detail many a time but had either been gentle rebuked or brushed off. Eventually her curiosity won over, her words tumbling out in a hasty rush as she asked "Who was it that got punished then?"
Beethoven hummed questioningly, cupping his hands around his ears. There was no going back now; Laila cleared her throat before asking louder "Who got punished?"
"Hmm? Oh yes," Beethoven nodded, and Laila listened intently as he continued. "The blame was placed on another individual, although it is unknown to this day whether or not he was truly involved in the scheme. It was rumoured that his relationship with one of the leaders – the Celtic representative, I believe – had allowed him special access into the Council Building and this was how the Thirteen were able to gain access to the cellars beneath the Council. Our Prince was faced with a difficult decision; the Thirteen had already been pardoned, yet he needed to punish one of the criminals otherwise Skinnymandria would be shown as weak. A vote was cast within the Council, and all but one leader elected for him to be banished from the Nation. He would be allowed to roam free in the forests around the land, but if he was ever caught he would be killed."
Laila's mouth was ajar as she tried to process that information. She'd never been told the story in such detail before; Elizabeth had never mentioned a supporter actually in the Council, and the thought of someone she knew wanting to help a criminal made her head feel strange. For a moment she thought hard about which of the Celts she knew it could have been, before deciding that they probably got punished too and weren't on the Council any more. That made her feel better.
After a few minutes of thoughtful quiet, she piped back up with "Mr Beetle-oven, do you know what his name was?" When there was no immediate answer she assumed he hadn't heard her, and was about to repeat the question when she looked up to see him asleep in his chair. She let out a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms, knowing her chance to find out had slipped away.
Unsure whether to wake him or not, her gaze drifted around the room until it eventually settled on an open window next to the piano. A glance back at Beethoven reassured her that he was definitely asleep, but even though she kept quiet as she slid out of the armchair and tiptoed across the room. It was just out of her reach, but after dragging the piano stool across she was able to climb up and place her hands on the window sill. With careful movements she pulled herself up to stand, before losing her balance and falling out of the window into a helpfully placed clump of ferns.
Ignoring the sting of her scratched hands, Laila brushed the dirt off of her dress and got back to her feet. There was no way she could climb back in through the window so she looked around for something to do outside. Her attention was grabbed by the sound of gurgling water, and after a second's consideration she set off towards the sound. She quickly discovered that the river that ran through MonarchsVille passed nearby, an excited grin splitting her face as she picked up her dress and started running.
In her excitement she paid no attention to what was underfoot. When something pulled taught around her ankle she screamed in fright, falling headfirst into the river with a painful splash that forced all the air out of her chest. Fear drove her to claw her way up to the surface and she thrashed her arms frantically to keep herself there.
The sound of hysterical laughter made her look up in the desperate hope of rescue. "You've been Artois'd!" shouted the man on the bank, pointing and jeering in her direction.
"Help!" Laila cried, trying to wave frantically without her head going back under the surface. "Please, help me!"
The man showed no signs he'd heard her plea; instead he cheered as he pumped his fist into the air before disappearing into the forest. A shriek of "Top of the pops!" was the last she heard of him.
Laila could feel her legs beginning to burn from the effort of kicking, her sodden dress threatening to drag her down under the water, but a branch floating nearby gave her something to cling onto. She was too exhausted to do anything other than just hold on, letting the river taken her downstream without much thought to where she'd eventually end up.
Fortunately that place turned out to be a sand bank on the edge of the river. She was too tired and cold to do anything other than curl up in an attempt to stop her shivering, wishing vaguely that Elizabeth or Charles or Boudicca would find her too. Her tired mind hardly registered a cloak being draped over her or strong arms gently picking her up, not caring who her saviour was as her head lolled onto their shoulder.
After a few minutes spent warming up, she'd regained enough awareness to start trying to figure out where she was and who she was with. Where was easy – they were in the middle of a forest – but the who was a lot harder. She twisted her head in an attempt to see his face but it was mostly covered by a black cloth, leaving only dark brown eyes and tousled black hair. He met her gaze briefly before he stopped walking, stooping to set her down on a log with his cloak still wrapped around her shoulders.
Once on the ground Laila was able to get a better look at him, noting his smart black jacket and three-pointed had as well as the two pistols in his belt. She opted to look back at his face rather than lingering on those, and was surprised to find him looking at her intently. Pulling his cloak tighter around as she shivered, she broke the silence by asking "Who are you?"
The stranger immediately tensed, eyes darting round uncertainly as if looking for someone. "If I tell you," he began slowly, "You must give me your word never to speak of it again." When Laila nodded solemnly he removed the black cloth, revealing a clean-shaven face with the beginnings of a smile. "Dick Turpin, highwayman and fugitive, at your service m'lady." He dropped to one knee in a sweeping bow and removed his hat, taking Laila's hand and kissing it lightly.
Laila giggled lightly at his display. "I'm Laila," she said, grinning brightly.
Turpin's expression turned thoughtful, letting go of her hand as he gave a slow nod. He seemed to be about to say something when they both heard the sound of someone crashing through the undergrowth; Laila stood up to get a better look but Turpin drew her close to him, crouching with a pistol drawn in his free hand.
Laila could just about make out a figure in red treading cautiously through the trees, but it wasn't until he was much closer that he recognised the familiar black moustache and black curly wig. "Charlie!" she shouted before Turpin could clap a hand over her mouth, fighting out of his grasp to run into Charles' arms.
"Laila, thank goodness," Charles let out a ragged breath as he embraced her tightly, before leaning back to take a proper look at her. "What happened to you?" he asked as he pushed her wet hair from her face and made an attempt to brush out some of the grit that remained from the sand bank.
"I found her on the riverbank." Laila felt Charles stiffen when Turpin spoke, both of them turning to see him regarding them warily. "I only rescued her. This has nothing to do with me."
When Charles frowned, Laila moved back to stand between him and Turpin with his cloak still clasped tightly around her. "He's telling the truth!" she insisted, looking Charles desperately in the eye. "There was a man who tripped me and told me I was Artois'd. Then he ran away and left me."
Charles hesitated again, conflict written across his face. Wordlessly he knelt back down and removed the cloak from around Laila's shoulders, begrudgingly handing it back to Turpin who took it without thanks. "In any other circumstances, I would have no choice but to have you arrested," he started slowly, wincing when Laila clapped a hand across her mouth in shock. "But seeing as you saved Laila and returned her to us, I won't speak of this. I suggest you make yourself scarce so I'm not forced to make that decision a second time."
The relief on Turpin's face was immense despite his visible attempts to conceal it. "Thank you Charles. This won't be forgotton," he said in a voice still somewhat stilted. He tipped his hat to Laila, not waiting to see her smile before turning and disappearing into the trees.
"Charlie?" Laila asked tiredly, breaking the quiet that followed Turpin's departure. Her words seemed to jolt Charles out of his thoughts and he bent down to scoop her into his arms. "I never got to finish the Union of the Nations story. Can you tell me the last bit?"
"Which part?"
"The bit about the girl." Laila replied, yawning widely as she snuggled into his warm tunic.
As he thought for a moment where to start with the story, he began the long walk back to central MonarchsVille. If he was to make good on his promise to Turpin he'd need to call off the search party before someone else discovered him. "Two years after the Gunpowder Plot she was abandoned in the forest bordering MonarchsVille, found by the TudorTown monarch Elizabeth and brought back to the Council. She was unique in that she belonged to no nation in particular, so every leader loved her and treated her as their own. It was decided that she would live in MonarchsVille, and that Elizabeth would be her prime carer as it was her who had found the girl in the first place. Hephaestion decided that she would receive a Greek name like him, and after suggestions were collected the Council voted on-" Hearing a soft intake of breath he realised that she had fallen asleep, the events of the day finally proving too much for her. "They decided to name her Laila, affectionately known as the Princess of Skinnymandria."
Dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead, he whispered the last line of the story. "So you could say that the arrival of you united the nations far more than any silly old pledge did."
