The King, St. Klaus IV, is dead, at the age of 114. He has Fathered No heirs. He has named No successors. His Wife, Queen Majesty Gertie II, has not been seen in the public eye for 2 months. There are rumors she has contracted Peppermint Rot, A ghastly plague, That makes bones brittle, Movement difficult, and death, certain. St. Klaus IV was a robust man, a fearless warrior, and a beloved king. His Subjects adored him, and his enemies, At worst, respected his ability to rule. He is to be given the sobriquet, The Uniter, for his deft hand in war and diplomacy.

However, with the king dead, and the Count of Jollyforst, Edwin Gumdrop, A kind, but weak elf, next in line for the throne, the Empire sits at a precipice.
Speak of secession billows through courts like a Highwinter gale.
Grilla, High-Chief-Matron of the Ogre Clans, Sallies her forces.
Grinch bandits, Sensing the weakness, plunder from merchants crossing the Plum Road.
Rogue Sorcerers Dominate isolated who-villages and Craft-Warrens
The High Krampus is calling for another crusade.
Tomten Holds Bar their doors.
Kallikantzaroi, like vultures, begin to appear, watching the goings on with unspoken malice.
All manner of monster ebb from the Snow frosted Forests
And more...

Naughtiness shall prevail, unless...