God cannot persecute a sinner who is immortal.

[Myroria]

The most interesting thing at the birth of who would become the richest man in Taijitu wasn't what happened, but what didn't happen. The birth of Alvar Hanso didn't have the screams of a woman and the crying of a child. It had the screams of a woman.

March 13, 1967
Belsen City, Myroria

"Is it alive? Is it alive?"

"I think it's a stillbirth."

"Nono! It's breathing."

"He's breathing."

Scattered, whispered, chatter among the doctors and nurses at Mercy Hospitale quickly ended as the doctor who delivered one Laura Ulrika Hanso's baby reentered the room, with a cleaned off baby in his hands.

"Laura, Magnus - your baby." the doctor swiftly handed the boy to her mother.

"He's certainly very...special. I've never seen a living baby that didn't cry."

"You can call him Alvar, doctor. Alvar Mogens Hanso." said Magnus.

"Well, Alvar. Alvar: elf or supernatural warrior." The doctor tapped his finger against his head.

"I suppose I'll take him to the nursery, and let you recuperate."

"Yes, thank you, Doctor."

[Myroria]

December 5, 1981

"Go Alvie!"

Alvar caught a yardball thrown by a female teammate and ran to score a touchdown.

"And that's the game! 28-14, blue wins!"

Alvar took off his jersey and threw it into a snow-covered crate before heading back to homeroom to gather his things. He walked home with his usual clique of friends, and entered his family's winter cottage. There was a black car with tinted windows in front

"Hello? Mum? Dad?" There was a loud bang upstairs. It sounded like a gunshot. Alvar ran upstairs and into his parents room. His father was facedown on the floor, and his mother was being restrained by three Loyalist soldiers.

"Get off of her!"

"Shut up, kid! You should be glad we're getting rid of this traitor!"

Alvar hopelessly ran to try to get the burly soldier off of his mother.

"What are you thinking?" the soldier shot Alvar in the thigh, and everything went black.


Alvar drifted back into conciousness several hours later. His mother was gone, and his father had no pulse. He knew what his parents had told him - "Go down the street to the plantation in case anything ever happens to us. They're good people. Just knock and say 'I know opposites attract'.". But of course, his parents never assumed he'd have to do this with a bullet in his thigh. He decided the best thing to do was to call emergency services, and ignore his parent's advice. Crawling agonizingly over to the phone, he knocked the handset off and dialed "000" aimlessly. Maybe he dialed "###". He didn't care.

"Emergency services, police, ambulance, or fire?"

"Ambulance, please."

He waited a second before a different person picked up.

"Ambulance, what's your emergency?"

"My father's dead, and my mother was taken by Belsen's troops. I'm shot."

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Click. Guess it was off to the plantation.

[Myroria]

Alvar dragged himself down the stairs, his limp leg hitting every stair on the way down. He stumbled into the kitchen, and made a makeshift tourniquet from dishclothes, and stumbled more the rough 500 yards to the iron gates of a grand plantation. It seemed funny that a huge, white building like this, with grand columns and weeping willows, could be complimented by the Hanso family's small cottage.

Alvar pushed open the huge gates and dragged himself the rough 100 feet to the doors of the plantation mansion. He collapsed on the porch, took deep breaths for several minutes, and then rapped on the door. He heard a voice from inside.

"Who is it?"

"The Hanso boy! Opposites attract! I know it! Or something! Just help!"

There was a short pause, the doors unlocked, and a man in a suit opened them.

"My God...get in, get in. What the bloody hell happened to you?"

Alvar spoke softly, crawling his way in.

"My father was shot, and my mother was taken by Loyalists, into a black car."

"Black car..." said the Lord of the House, entering the conversation after hearing the knock.

"I hate to break more bad news to you, but black cars usually only carry someone once. If you know what I mean. Here, let my butler and I help you into the parlour."

The two men picked the boy up and laid him down on a couch.

"I'll go get the nurses, sire. I suppose you'll tell him why his parents were taken?"

"Yes, I will do so."

"Son, I hate to be blunt in such a bad situation, but your mother is probably never gonna come back. Your parents were quite influential members of the Royalist side. The Civil War ended not long after you were born, but we still call ourselves Royalists. We're just waiting for Belsen to die, and then we pounce. And, by the way, these are the outskirts of Novrith, not "Belsen City".

I guess your parents' luck just ran out. They were found, and taken. Your father died a hero, you can rest assured of that. And your mother, well, she's a heroine in her own right.

They appointed myself and my wife your godparents long before you were born. They knew full well what would happen if they were caught, and they needed to make sure the Hanso line didn't end. So they made sure they were in good hands, with us. We used to go by the surname Gazsi, but since your our new...son...well, you can call us the Quarrovths. And I'm confident you'll be calling my daughter 'Her Majesty' soon enough."

[Myroria]

June 1, 1989

Alvar fumbled for the ebony cane with an amber handle next to his bed and pushed himself out of it. Not even bothering to take a shower, he went across the hall to his apartment living room, took a 45 mg dose of oxycodone, and sat on his couch. Almost as if he was expecting it, he heard a knock on his door. Walking over to it, he looked through the peephole to see who it was. She was safe.

"Come in, come in."

The woman, of about 17, walked in and sat down.

"You called me, Alvar?"

"Yes. I've been thinking, lately. About the soldiers who killed my parents. Especially that one who shot me. I want to live to see their slow deaths."

Taken aback, the women spoke after a brief pause.

"Alvar, I - I think you need to see a therapist. You've got PTSD."

"Therapist, Fredrika? Therapist? Therapists don't help. They tell me to take this prescription, take that pill. Well, the last time I listened to a doctor I got addicted to oxy! No, the only thing that'll cure my shell-shock is seeing those sons'bitches die!

But I need money. And I won't live forever. And I'll be a sinner. So, what better way to kill two birds with one stone than to start a company selling anti-aging medicine? God cannot persecute a sinner who is immortal. But, enough proverbs. I called you here, Fredrika, because I want you to be the vice-president of my company."

"Alvar...I won't be vice-president of your corporation. I don't hold grudges. Belsen is a sick, old man, but his soldiers shouldn't be punished for following orders. I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else."

"The Baltijans at Nuremburg said they were following orders. Does that make them any less responsible for what they did?" Alvar breathed out.

"But I won't force you. You can leave, if you want."

"Ok, Alvar. But, I'm telling you this not as your godsister, but as your friend - see a therapist. Don't be a murderer."

[Myroria]

October 31, 1992

"This is what you do," Hanso began, taking an orange bottle from his inside coat pocket and gulping down an indeterminate amount of oxycodone before continuing.

"Belsen will exit the Parliament building anytime now to return to his home for holiday celebrations. You, being in this window, will have a short window until he reaches the end of the path and gets into his car. I'd say you have about ten or fifteen seconds. Don't hesitate."

"I understand."

"Good. Take these gloves, and this sniper rifle -" a bodyguard handed the assassin said rifle.

"And do the deed. My vice-president, Arnold Oswiecim, will be waiting in a black Mercedita-Benz. You should be able to get away in the chaos. Now go. The 500,000 is in the car."


Hanso heard a gunshot through his open car window, and smiled.

[Myroria]

November 5, 1992

"Do you solemnly swear to protect the Original Decrees, and preserve the Unbreakable Decrees?"

"I do."

"Will you, to the best of your ability, use all forces under your disposal to protect Myroria from foreign invaders?"

"I will."

"Will you, as Guardsman of the Bishop of Pelagis, defend the Myrorian Catholic religion and love God and the Bible?"

"I will."

"Do you swear to not step down to a dictator like the animal before you?"

"I do."

"Then I, High Archbishop under the Bishop of Pelagis, pronounce you Sovereign of Myroria. Ladies and Gentlemen present, and Citizens of all Myroria, I give you Fredrika Guurith III, of Novrith."


"So, why did you do it?"

"Do what, Fr-I mean, 'Your Majesty'?"

"You know what. Why did you assassinate Belsen, Alvar?"

"First of all, I didn't. A friend did. Second of all, it was because he was a restriction on my business and ordered the murder of my parents. I could care less if it was you on the throne, but Belsen was destroying Myroria's money, and, by proxy, my money. The 500,000 I gave Nordha...my friend was what? less than 5,000 DS dollars?" Hanso gulped down more indeterminate oxycodone.

"Whatever, I can't deal with this. Just be glad your friend is getting a pardon tomorrow. And whatever happened to looking for your parent's killers?"

"Ok, I will be, and yes, I'm still looking for them. But me being rich has taken precedence. Where are you going?"

"So money is more important than your parent's lives? And I'm going to talk to that man over there. He's a bigwig plantation owner named Marcica Quarrovth. My parent's plantation could fit neatly in his!"

"That's...great."