the haunted kingdom by Charles E.J. Moulton (best detective novels of all time .TXT) 📖

THE TALES OF THE HAUNTED KINGDOM PART ONE


SHADOWS
OF
THE
REALM


By Charles E.J. Moulton


© CHARLES E.J. MOULTON 2005


For my loving wife Tanja
and my loving daughter Mara Sophie.
My two pretty girls
whose love I cherish and
without whose eternal love
this work would not be possible.


Acknowledgements
This trilogy is dedicated to the Lord God and his angels.
The heavenly spheres play a great part in this book and their inspiration was vital in the progress of my work. I have come to the conclusion that the interaction between the Heavenly Father and the mortals is more complex than we ever can conceive and yet simpler than we ever can imagine. This is the paradox that inspires us all. I would like to thank him, as well, for leading me to the love of my life, Tanja, by letting me click on to her homepage – www.engelreich.com - where I found wonderful material about the archangels.
The appreciation, more than anything, of course goes to Tanja herself for being such a strong person and for forcing me to be honest and make the right decisions about my efforts. Tanja, I love you. My gratitude also goes to Michele Davis as well as other proofreaders for reworking and proofreading this novel. Thanks to my colleague Daniel Coninx. He found the time to read passages and give me useful tips about good publishers. I want to thank my father Herbert Eyre Moulton for being a wonderful inspiration to me in my life. If I can be half as good an artist as he was, then I have reached my goal by more than a long shot. I also owe the deepest of gratitude to my mother, Vocal Professor Gun Kronzell, who has read the entire trilogy and kept her deepest devotion in believing in my literary capabilities. She is equally high on the list of the most wonderful of role models. Mom, thanks for being a wonderful friend.
This is a so-called “what-if”-book. What if the Roman Empire never had fallen and what would the 15th century reality with that infrastructure look like? What if the angels really would interact with us? It is my vision of the alternate reality. The information in this book is partly derived from reality. Roman names, Latin names, actual weekdays of the 15th century and kings that lived in our reality are all accurate. The alternate reality was of course modified to fit its’ own world. My trilogy is a fairytale, although it is one where the characters are people like you and me and this in spite of the fact that they are royalty. Therefore, this work of eight and a half years of hard labour is dedicated to the men and women who shape our history: Human beings who just happen to be brilliant artists. They are sculptors, thinkers and diplomats. They were people, they lived and fought and cried and laughed and slept and made love and had to deal with the drudgery of daily carnal existence, hoping one day to achieve greatness in spiritual form. Therefore, this book is dedicated to Beethoven, Debussy and Verdi. It is dedicated to Plato and Socrates, to Brahms and Mozart, to Ghandi and Galileo. Of course, mostly my thanks go to the master of all masters, Michelangelo Buonarotti, without whose genius we would not be here.


MAP OF THE EMPIRE


THE 11 MEMBERS OF THE MEDATLANTIAN MERGER 1422 A.D.:
Olandus, Hengestonen, Danalus, Hurtia, Vindobon, Alliland, Neapolonia, Hispania, Jamburee, the Regal Matron of Margetania and the Regal Patron, the Wandiffian successor and heir of antique, Roman splendour: the Empire of Prosperania

The two goals of the allience: 1. Bringing peace to the continent
2. Bringing stability to Margetania


MAP OF THE ROYAL GROUNDS

EAST ROAD TO PAQUTSHUR WEST ROAD TO SHUSHIENAE VALLEY


The Memorial for the burned down West Road to the countryside
summer mansion of 1392 Riverbank pathway to the guesthouses


Birch Meadow POSEIDON STATUE Rose Garden
The Royal Theatre of Ovid PALACE Royal Palace Chapel

Main Entrance

Garden
The Guesthouse “The Tulip”
The Guesthouse “The Anemone”
The Guesthouse “The Forget-Me-Not”
TALL HILL

Road To The Waterfall Lake
Clurafar

The Guesthouse“The Orchid”
The Love Oak The Guesthouse “The Rose”

The Poppy Field
The Guesthouse “The Rosemary”
The Sunflower Pasture The Guesthouse “The Orange Blossom”

The Guesthouse “The Lily”


Simon the Great Memorial Entrance to the Royal Grounds


Store Rooms
View, Lookout
Attic
Representation Rooms
Study Rooms and Tutoring Rooms
The Grand Hall
Second landing leading to several ballrooms
King Alexander’s and Queen Sieglinde’s Private Quarters

Belinda’s and Steven Private Chambers
Throne Room and Lucinda’s old room
The Alexander Room
Patrick and Erica’s Rooms, Additional guestrooms
The Ovid
Royal
Theatre

Royal Kitchen
Main Entrance Hall
Small Entrance Hallway
Lookout toward backdoor gardens
Porch and Balconies Palace Chapel
Family Memorial
Sepulchre Chapel
Meditation Chapel
Servant’s quarters, Stables Boy’s quarters, Messenger’s quarters
Thermal Bath, Cold Rooms, Steam Rooms
Wine Cellar and Food Storage


THE ROYAL PROSPERANIAN PALACE OF
IUVENTUS SACRUM


Main Characters

The Kingdom of Prosperania

King Alexander Winsletenna, Ruler of Prosperania and patriarch
Queen Sieglinde Winsletenna, his wife
Princess Maria, their eldest daughter and former crown princess
Princess Eleonora, the second eldest daughter
Princess Patricia, their third eldest daughter
Princess Morgana, their fourth eldest daughter
Prince Patrick, their only son
Princess Belinda, youngest and smartest daughter, new crown princess
Prince Steven, the prince regent and Belinda’s future husband
Prince-Count Martin, Maria’s husband
Prince-Count Marcus, Eleonora’s husband
Richard Landstorm, Morgana’s fiancée
Erica, Patrick’s wife
Lancelot, Patrick’s son
Fabian, Maria’s son
Bantrard Silvermoon, the court composer
Roberta, Pamela, Joseph Ringingstone and others, his orchestra
Geena Johnstone, the housekeeper
Rolf Svanskiöld, the head butler
Ruby, the maid
Louis, the gardener
Zedrick Ronkenshire, General of the army
Archbishop Bernardus Paul
Henricus Balthazar, the medic and his family
Nomed Snekawa, a mysterious visitor

The Kingdom of Nocturania

King Adnicul, the king of Nocturania
Princess Lucinda Winsletenna, King Alexander’s estranged and evicted sister
Eric, King Adnicul’s main assistant and the Hispanic son of a friend of King Adnicul’s
Rebecca, Eric’s girlfriend
Zeekha, the widow of the old king
The Rumzils. demonic creatures of the dark forest

Eden

St. Lucifer, the Archangel of Light and Darkness
St. Michael, the Archangel of Protection
Their Archangelic Brethren
God


P R O L O G U E :

BLOOD BROTHER
OF THE VANITIES

Anno Domini 1430
Forest of Western Callenia, Nocturania, Continent of Medatlantia

The black-cloaked rider pushed his mount through Callenia’s Nocturanian Forest, his silk cape fluttering in the breeze. The one healthy eye of the rider peered at the oblivion before him, wincing by the attack-wind from the galloping horse's acceleration. The unknown adventurer tried not to be distracted by the old stallion’s nervous hooves as they left a trail of mud and dust behind that, in the light of the full moon, looked like dark waves spilling across the leaf-covered path into the Rumzil territory. The rider’s other eye, or the hole where its orb should have been, was covered with a patch that bore a gold-and red, upside-down crucifix on its black surface. Against a canvas of bleak, naked trees that spoke of nothing but death, the forest looked hollow. The moon shone upon the trees, creating shadows upon the ground that seemed topsy-turvy, strange and ghoulish to the rider.
As the horse galloped past the grey-blue foliage a creature popped out from behind a tree. The rider recognized the giggling creature as one of the demonic Rumzils. Soon, a wave of giggles came from behind the foliage. The leader looked no different from the others, but his eyes and the shy behaviour of the other Rumzils showed this one’s prime position. The rider pushed his mount harder, knowing that once the creatures waddled toward their victims there was no chance of survival, their long arms stretched to incredible lengths and their fingernails buried deep into the sufferer’s throat. Just as they’d done to another human, a mere girl, who now rested without peace in the pits of Rumzilian bowels.
Trying not to think of the girl, the rider tried to see where the twisting path led, but the darkness was almost complete, and the foliage rushing past confused his restricted vision. Yet his ultimate goal was indisputable: Yambalah. The cave of original sin was named after God's original son’s Land of Beauty and Light. No one knew what the cave really was, more than the rider, or the irony of the grotto’s name.
The man's bony grey fingers moved constantly, clutching the horse’s mane. Their muscles moved in unison with the beast’s galloping hooves, yet the rider’s leather, metal-studded uniform stuck out against the steed’s blue fur and the Callenian Woods light-brown, bluish-dark surfaces. Both rider and horse’s nostrils flared with effort, but they must somehow move faster. The man waiting for him in the cave had arrived earlier, not foolhardy enough to enter the forest unarmed as he had. Yet both knew that Rumzils’ awakening meant peril far greater than any puny weapon they could carry forth.
Memories of his past returned, such as Lucifer smiling gently and patching him up with the Antichrist, handling his one eyeball. The good man standing next to the lake had been pointing a sword at him, his own flesh and blood crying on a stone floor. The rider’s face winced as his knees bumped against the stallion's ribs. He wouldn’t stop his horse to give himself up to the Rumzils, they couldn’t catch him if he didn’t willingly give himself up. The slow munching of the beast seemed far more soothing than the painful, still wrath of the devil.
More Rumzils jumped out from behind trees as they passed, and the rider clutched the horse’s mane in anger, realizing that his master had deceived him. He had only been a tool. Maybe, after all, the man by the lake would trust him after their encounter. Lucifer would be there to stop him, but he would not back down, or give in.
Centurion rode through the forest like an eagle flies through the night, the hairs on his neck flapping, his master’s desperation mirrored in his eyes, as if they were just the human and animal side of each other, as though made to ride together, their black, muscular bodies glittering as one. In truth, the rider was riding toward a war. A war against his master. War against betrayal. At stake was his soul. His uninjured eye winced when he wondered if there still was time ... remembering his master's original anarchy.


A FALLING STAR RISING
Once upon a time there was a falling star, a comet