Charles Arthur Renault's Questionnaire

Las Vegas, Nevada. A city undeserving of its epithet. The city of Sin. A land of vice, gambling, merriment and good times. A place of weddings, festivals and unbelievable sights, the year round! It is a holy and marvelous place. A city of treasure. A city of chance. A land where any man might become a King. Yet, I was born royal. Such a thing is assured to me. If I am to be King, it shall be in this: the city of my fortune. The city of my birth. Ne'er shall I move elsewhere -- at least, not for long. For tell me: How could a King ever abandon his Kingdom?

My wealth is earned from The Gilded Castle's treasury. It grows each day, swelling with coin and fortune, as the peasantry take part in the games of chance. Many win. More lose. The kingdom grows and prospers. A fat slice of the earnings are spent to maintain the kingdom's splendor. Taxation must have its purposes, after all: and I most assuredly apply more than my fair share of taxes.

Actors, waiters, staff and workers. Bodyguards. Performers! Pit Bosses and Technicians! Maintenance, catering -- it would be too much, but thankfully: I also spend a chunk upon mine accounting staff, who are able to handle the great minutia.

Las Vegas is, alas, merely a city. Such a grand and prosperous city it is! But, she is no country. She is Nevada's greatest jewel. Perhaps, dare I say it, the United States' greatest city bar none. Yet, it is bogged down by the Bureaucracy of it all. Weighed down by the contemptable 'democracy' meant to benefit it. They act too slow. They sanction too much! They tax and take far beyond their fair share: and yet, maintenance is mostly left to those who wish to keep business prosperous!

No. It shall not do. I was born to rule these lands. I was given my Gilded Castle by right of birth. In turn, I am held accountable by mine Noblesse Oblige:

I must liberate my kingdom, and all those connected! I shall conquer these lands, and segregate them from this contemptable democracy! I shall do all that is required of me, to ensure success! Murder is expected! Death is a possibility! Yet, I shall carry forth: for DESTINY guides mine hand, most assuredly.

At the tender young age of Twenty-Three, mine parents meet a fate most tragic. They were slain for the mere contents of their wallets, blown apart before my very eyes by a crazed drunkard prowling the darkest corners of Vegas. Where then, were the constables? The enforcers, upon whom we ought rely? Unable to act? Unwilling? What force drove this man to such unthinkable acts? Why was he so desperate? So lesser, and poor? Lost even further below the typical dredges of peasantry. For he bore a suit of arms! A marking, showing that he once served this land as a Veteran! Yet, there he stood, alone. His country had failed him. Abandoned him, left him to fester and rot -- his talents for killing leaving him only banditry to survive.

I pitied him, for all that I despised him. When I bashed his skull open with a nearby pipe, I ensured that it was done quickly. As painlessly as one might be able to bludgeon open a man's skull, I imagine.

This act left me to inherit a Castle. To begin the rise of a Kingdom.

If only I had the means to act upon it...

I've many important men in my life, yet there are three whom hold an especially dear place within it.

My lead treasurer and accountant, Bartholomew -- Though he oft assures me his name is simply 'Bart', I shan't stand for it! His is a name deserving of proper respect, especially given his position! He oversees my wealth, conducts payment and support of mine many denizens and servants. Without him, I would likely have lost my fortune, for I've no clue how to manage such extensive coin!

Second to him, my Brother, Prince Reginald Maximus Renault. Young Reggie still lives with me, and I care for him as best as I am able. At fourteen years of age, he inherited a great deal of our parents' wealth -- but was not yet old enough to inherit the businesses. He made some poor investments in some manner of 'crypto' currency. Perhaps it was related to the CryptoLeak app? I know not. All I do know is that he has lost his savings quickly, so I shall allow him rest and comfort through my own. It would do me no good, leaving my only remaining family to himself.

Finally, my dearest and most loyal servant: Duke. He is a Borzoi, a Russian Aristocrat -- a gift to my parents, if I remember correctly -- and I have raised him well. He is a loyal beast of burden, a stalwart companion of mine. He is two years old. He is a very, very good boy. Yes he is! Yes, he is.