The Royal Sage

By Kenneth Anthony Van Zellen

The Royal Sage is a superhero who is at once like a “Sage to the King,” spewing Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. By day he is a property lawyer and when a rescue is vital he becomes The Royal Sage. His alias is Theodore Baxter, an eccentric child who used to wear a cape at nine and quoted Greek philosophers at ten. But he noticed inequities in the world so his Dad had said, “Theodore why don’t you become a lawyer.” So he did. As the lawyer, Theodore Baxter was putting together a historical botanical garden project for tranquility and Ataraxia, but the project suddenly revealed a ring of embezzlers from the Tiber & Nash Investment firm, the Athalon Hospital, and a stolen diamond necklace. Turns out they were financing a communist takeover, run by a descendent of Mussolini, in team with a German Hitler sympathizer. Athalon was in great peril, as was Italy, as was the whole United States, and then the world. Can the Royal Sage stop it in time? And then there is The Falcon. An American Indian shape-shifter who betrayed his people and wanted to destroy Athalon’s population. But The Royal Sage was tipped off by the local Cherokee tribe. Can he save the day again? From Michigan to Italy, from Greece to the Michigan coast off Lake Huron, The Royal Sage has his hands full. And then two boys who would soon become homeless, can he rescue them too? Find out in this action packed tale of a superhero who can do it all. His cars, his boats, a personal submersible, and his horses get him there in good timing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781663209634

Kenneth Anthony Van Zellen

Kenneth Anthony Van Zellen is in Interior Sales, and Design. His mother was from Prague and his father being from the Netherlands, was an inveterate sailor who dedicated his life to boating safety through the USPS (United States Power Squadron). This organization teaches free boating safety to the public. During WWII they were called in to help train new navy recruits as the navy was short staffed, they also may be called in as auxiliary Coast Guard. Growing up, Mr. Van Zellen cruised all over the Great Lakes with his family, and had horses on their forty acre farm. Boating scenes, including the type of craft, are a big part of this novel. At one point The Royal Sage is searching for a sunken German shipwreck off the coast of Thunder Bay which is now an infamous underwater marine preserve for shipwrecks. He currently resides in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. writing more action adventure stories.

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The

Royal

Sage

KENNETH ANTHONY VAN ZELLEN

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THE ROYAL SAGE

Copyright © 2020 Kenneth Anthony Van Zellen.

Cover Art by K. A. Van Zellen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-0962-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-0963-4 (e)

iUniverse rev. date:   09/25/2020

The Royal Sage

By Kenneth Anthony Van Zellen, © 2020

Contents

Chapter 1    The Beginning

Chapter 2    The Residents

Chapter 3    Manor Two And Three

Chapter 4    The Last Two

Chapter 5    The Financiers

Chapter 6    The Doctor Visit

Chapter 7    Thursday

Chapter 8    The Reservation

Chapter 9    Diamonds

Chapter 10    The Yacht Club

Chapter 11    More Plans

Chapter 12    Thunder Bay

Chapter 13    The Plane Ticket

Chapter 14    The Kawkawlin River

Chapter 15    The Ziibiwing Center

Chapter 16    Rom, Italien

Chapter 17    The Baxters

Chapter 18    The Goose Has Flown

Chapter 19    Greece

Chapter 20    He Returns

Chapter 21    Another Sail

Chapter 22    Monday

Chapter 23    The Ceremony

Chapter 24    The Falcon

Chapter 25    Winding Down

Chapter 26    The Boys

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning

T heodore Baxter skipped down the stairs onto the sidewalk. It was a sunny breezy day in Athalon. Athalon was one of those cities where anything could happen. There was the theater, there was the city’s renowned Art Institute, the Athalon Zoo, and Butterfly Gardens. There were the glass-clad buildings for commerce, for investments, for people involved in certified public accounting, and corporate insurance. There was the glamorous shopping district with Saks Fifth Avenue, Macy’s, Nordstrom’s, and many high end boutique shops that ran down to the water’s edge, where quaint little restaurants stood with outdoor tables on their sidewalks accompanied by large urns brimming with colorful flowers. There was the waterfront, where large mansions stood stately and proud, built in the 1920’s when architects knew no bounds and created homes with carved gables, balconies, towers, multi-paned windows, catwalks, and wraparound porches; they could be Tudor, Classical, or Baroque styled architecture. They could be Art Deco, Italianate, or French, it was a time of the rebellion to the Machine Age when buildings were hand drawn, hand wrought, and anything goes. They faced the Great Lakes of Michigan on a drive that usually would be called Lakeside Drive, or Lakeshore Drive, but here it was called Waterfront Pointe Drive, a prestigious area with a population of about 18,000 people.

You could drive across a bridge and discover the island of Sturgeon Pointe, surrounded on three sides by the Saginaw Bay. On the southwest side, the island faced the Shawnee River and the mainland. There, rows of fishing shanties lined the river, and on the northwest side, where the harbor formed a cove, was the Lac Vieux Yacht Club. Across from Yacht Club Drive, was the island’s peninsula which stretched toward the east. There, forestation seemed to be covering most of the acreage of this island but unbeknownst to most, there was a small drive leading to the enormous chateau of Mr. Skipper Baxter. His revival chateau of mixed Gothic, Tudor, and Italian Renaissance style architecture was a place few people knew about as it was surrounded by woods. They were warned of poison ivy in those woods, or wild dogs that were said to attack people. Here grew up a young boy in a world of his own with a private tutor and many trips to Europe with his parents. His father, Skipper Baxter, originally from Chicago, was a fabric merchant dealing in silk such as imported silk shantung, taffetas, damasks, jacquard weaves, some matelassé’s, refined velvets, and the like. But Skipper was retired. He had built his fortune in the days when everyone in New York or Chicago was buying silk for fashion, for interior design, for parachutes, for anything. If it was made of silk it was his business.

But now he was retired and liked to keep secluded in his mansion. He had a 34-foot sloop at the Lac Vieux Yacht Club, was popular at the club, and was a fairly recognized social figure in the town of Athalon, but he rarely invited anyone to his mansion. He had a lovely wife named Florence, and the son they both doted on, was called Theodore. The funny thing about Theodore was that he was an imaginative child who used to wear a cape when he was nine, used to like to stroll about with big glasses and pretend to be a philosopher when he was ten, and was into all kinds of machinery. He especially loved botanical gardening, and used to stroll through the mansion informing his parents of all the edible flowers there were. He loved the American Indians and their folklore about certain spiritual ceremonies, and nature spirits, and forests. In addition, he was an all-around fine sailor, and even learned Karate, and the art of fine horsemanship in France.

As this child grew up he began to see inequities in the world and he wanted to right all the wrongs. His father finally told him one day, he said, Theodore, why don’t you become a lawyer. Then you can be sure there are no wrongs in the world. So Theodore studied law at Harvard, and came home with all kinds of wonderful case studies and theories to tell his parents about.

At the age of thirty, Theodore had an office in one particularly tall green glass building in downtown Athalon. This day he was eager to leave at five o’clock to run home to tell his parents about a big deal he was going to assist in and help so there could be a wonderful new historical district of manor homes, unusual small stores for sundry items, and for little sidewalk cafes, bordering a park with nice gardens, in a little cozy haven with an arbor and park benches.

As he tripped down the stairs he suddenly was struck with the site of a lady wrestling with a man who apparently was trying to steal a brown paper parcel she had wrapped and clutched under her arm. Fortunately, there was a phone booth close by. Theodore vanished into the booth, slipped off his suit, and instantly changed into a red tunic with gold trim, a sapphire sash, a fine red cape, gold breeches, and tall black Hessian boots, and he became The Royal Sage, a Philosopher to the King.

As such, he leaped in front of the perpetrator and said, Hail, you! Unhand this fine lady, and leave her packages alone!

The perpetrator was Caucasian, had greasy long hair, gristly stubble, a loose dirty jacket, and wrinkled jeans. He stared at this fine example of a Royal-Pain-In-The-Butt and said, None of your business!

With that, The Royal Sage whisked his right arm over his left, and quietly but effectively extracted the package, shoved the assailant across the sidewalk, and withdrew from the scene as if nothing happened. The lady saw she had her belongings back and scurried away to the nearest clothing store to hide.

Mere moments later, Theodore Baxter descended the same stairs a second time within the same ten minute period, wearing the same business suit and tie, carrying his brief case, and anticipating the same ideal of going home to inform his parents of his fine business endeavor.

He slid into his freshly polished, latest addition, the 2015 burgundy metal-flake, Buick Envision with the 256 hp, 6-speed automatic, and AWD features, he glided carefully through the streets of Athalon, over the metal industrial bridge to Sturgeon Pointe Isle, through the forests of tall trees at his drive, and neatly parked the Envision in the five-car garage.

Guess what? He announced to the pleasant looking couple in the drawing room. I am going to guide the construction of a botanical park downtown in the historical district so we can restore the row of those turn-of-the-century homes, the Dickensonian store fronts, and create a botanical park for Epicureanism!

My Theodore, what a delight! Skipper looked to his wife, we might go there my dear, wouldn’t it be fun to have ice cream in the park?

Yes, but what is the Epicureanism part going to be dear? She looked inquiringly at Theodore.

Oh the Epicureanism is where one could achieve Ataraxia by intense study of nature, and what better than a botanical park in the city proper?

But, but dear, prevailed his mother, what is Ataraxia?

Oh why that is unperturbedness, equanimity, and tranquility, that can be reached in a nature setting. We could also include a water feature!

It sounds very nice, Theodore, said his father.

Lovely! agreed Florence.

That night, after a nice chat with his parents and a pleasant dinner, Theodore became The Royal Sage once more. He wore the same uniform as before, the red tunic with gold trim, a sapphire sash, a fine red cape, gold breeches, and tall black Hessian boots. Except this time he also wore a mask like Zorro, except Theodore’s was a sapphire blue silk with gold braided edges, and his blond pompadour rose up above it and gave him even more height than his 6’3" stature.

This athletic individual then slipped quietly down the stairs to the first floor. He tapped a button next to a niche displaying The Thinker, and a wall panel smoothly slid open. The Royal Sage crept through and tapped another button to close the portal. The cement stairs were narrow and curved but in a thrice he landed on the lower level and headed for his vehicle. There was a rotating perfectly round platform, where crouched a dark sports car, which became instantly illuminated as he flicked more switches. It was his favorite ride, the 2008 Morgan Aero 8 Cabriolet with the BMW engine, 282 hp, 4.4 liter V8 engine, with 324 lb-ft of torque. He slid into the bucket seat on the driver’s side and pressed a remote.

The circular dais buzzed and rotated, pointing the Morgan toward the garage door. Simultaneously the paneled door rose and the dark burgundy roadster with black curvaceous fenders growled and spit gravel as it lumbered through the opening into the dark forest. The Royal Sage headed for downtown Athalon.

He steered his grunting beast through the path, over the bridge and picked a quiet side street that led to a downtown building called the Serpent Center. An ever present green serpent, with a curling mustache and smiling eyes, continually hovered above the front entry doors, but The Sage crept among the shadows in the back lot.

He deftly pulled his equipment from the Morgan’s front seat and proficiently slipped into his building climbing gear. Behind a Serbian Spruce and a White Pine tree his figure mounted the side corner of the glass structure and scaled upwards toward the roof. Part way up, he pulled out a small but secure grappling hook and sent it flying. It caught. He pressed another tool and was hoisted to the roof.

The Sage quickly entered the locked door using his King Metal Tools, and sped down the stairs to suite 803, The Scheffield Group. Skillfully managing this lock he pressed through and quietly slipped into Mr. Bruce Scheffield’s office. The files. He pulled on drawer fronts scanning the alphabet. Aha! He found