Inverportshire.— It has now been more than three years since Count
Rythor, the ambitious and oft-controversial nobleman, first unveiled his grandiose plans for the Borough of
Enmerson. His vision promised wide boulevards, sumptuous hotels, exclusive restaurants, fashionable shops, a grand opera house, and a stately promenade along the sea. Crowning it all was to be the so-called “Column of Victory,” a towering pillar surmounted by a gilded angel, bearing no small resemblance to the renowned monument in Berlin.
From the outset, this extravagant enterprise—accompanied by a staggering expense—was not without its critics. Indeed, the Boroughs of
Rythor and
Enmerson have for years been at the heart of a bitter territorial dispute between
Inverportshire and its neighbouring jurisdictions. The contested orchard lands, in particular, have sparked fierce debate regarding the rightful sovereignty over
Rythor. While the Count’s family name is, of course, entwined with the borough’s own, owing to their historic possession of vast tracts long before
Inverportshire arose, lineage alone offers no legitimate claim to annexation under law. The presence of long-established farming communities in the area has further complicated matters.
As for
Enmerson, it must be noted that the borough has never lawfully belonged to
Inverportshire.
Originally intended to resemble its neighbouring quarters, with orderly rows of workmen’s dwellings, it was Count
Rythor’s first act upon assuming office in 1885 to erect a curious memorial pavilion—widely interpreted as a symbolic stake of his territorial claim. Thereafter, for nearly a decade, little of consequence transpired until, in 1895, the
City of Pilegron commissioned the construction of workmen’s houses on the borough’s eastern edge—an act Count
Rythor viewed as an unmistakable provocation.
In response, the Count, in 1897, declared his bold campaign to transform
Enmerson into a modern quarter of unrivaled splendour. Broad avenues were promptly laid, and the first hotel, the
Grand Hotel Inverportshire, rose with remarkable speed. Yet today, the project languishes in a state of arrested progress. The once-proud hotel stands deserted, its windows largely vanished—believed to have been pilfered—and the streets echo with emptiness.
When approached at his offices for comment, Count
Rythor assured this reporter, “The project remains underway. We have encountered certain difficulties with our investors, but we are presently in promising negotiations with a new party. In a few years’ time, you shall scarce recognize
Enmerson.”
However, sources close to the matter suggest otherwise. Our correspondent has learned that the principal financier, the
Inverportshire East India Trade Company, is presently beset by grave financial distress and stands perilously close to insolvency. Thus, the bright and shining future Count
Rythor has so fervently promised for
Enmerson may prove considerably dimmer than he would have the public believe.
As for how the
City of Pilegron will respond to these unfolding developments, time alone shall tell.