After finally taking care of my wandering thoughts, I turned the corner and saw my father, for the first time in several years.  He didn’t look anywhere near as good as I remember him.  Gone was the youthful man with pale skin, brown and a well trimmed beard, a man with a runners build.  Now was just a gaunt fellow with sickly white skin and a face that looked older than this city.  Grasbin’s Curse, no doubt.  A rare sickness which ages the afflicted with increased aging speed, his Wood-Kin blood is probably the only reason he lived the first week, and Cyrus said he had around three months left…

It isn’t infectious, more so an effect of certain poisons, unbelievably expensive poisons.  His blood would have had him look like he was twenty for almost two hundred and fifty years, and at the rate this is going, he would have had to have ingested the poison about four years ago.  There was an attempt on his life around that time in a big banquet, he used that to formally start his crusade on the nobility of this duchy, though it’s been progressing slowly on the outside duchies.

My father’s eyes are closed, fairly reasonable given that it’s still technically an early hour of the day and nobility aren’t known for being early risers like most others.  I take a few strides and sit on the side of the bed, and take my hand to lightly shake dad’s shoulder.  He had an innocent expression on his face, far beyond what the public believes to be my father.  They see him as the “Iron Fisted King of Eria,” but nothing is quite so simple.  He was always a gentle and kind man, sometimes I would smell dad’s tears on mom’s shoulder; and, after a few years of constant needling, she finally told me that he needed a shoulder to cry on, and never to tell him that she said that.  Apparently it was usually over exterminating one baronette family or sending a village of bigots or such to the chopping block.

But damn was he good at hiding his sadness.  Though, anybody could tell he was disgusted by the Old Queen, his ‘wife.’  He wasn’t the only one, though.  The Old Queen was known as the “Mad Queen,”  simply because of everything she did.  The current heirs are seen as a group of sycophants and tyrants.  Only the nobility will reject my taking the throne, simply because I’m an unknown factor and they are rather… elitist.  The commoners, however, will rejoice at my coming into power, a potential tyrant is thousands of times better than a proven tyrant, in their eyes at least.

Eventually I felt something pointy line up right behind my kidneys.  Normally, I would have done something to avoid getting into such a situation, but I was interested in finding out how he would react once he found out who I was.  Dad wouldn’t kill me before at least exchanging a few words.  He liked to get all the facts once he had everyone tied down and vulnerable, just so he could be certain he wasn’t making a mistake.  Finally, after a moments pause and him needling me a little more to make sure I understood the situation I was in, he spoke, and thankfully, his voice wan’t akin to his age.  It would be weird having dad sound like some grandpa.

“You know, it’s not really that smart to play Ranger when you’re obviously too pretty to fit the job.  Lemme guess, your boss planned on you pretending to be a maid, seduce a few guards, and then show up here and kill me, but then the rules changed and you picked the next best thing, a Ranger.  Well let me tell you here, missy, you are by no means the first assassin to come after this magnificent ass of mine, but when you try again in the next life, try seducing me first.  You look surprisingly similar to my dead lover.” Dad

I can’t help but giggle at the nostalgia that hit me as he spoke.  It was good to see Dad again, but this is simply too good.  I can’t wait to see the reaction on his face when he realizes that he just suggested to his daughter that she seduce him.  His nearest eye quirks open at me, a bit of surprise quite evident in his gaze.  You should know, his recumbent position simply made it seem like his eyes were closed as they tracked me.  A little trick I learned from mom, apparently she thought it was a funny trick to play on the male guards and servants that snuck into her room to steal some of her… feminine attire.  Still wondering where the hell she got those things, stuff like that could go for a fortune on the market, and Wood-Kin usually only made them for their significant others.

Now that I think about it, dad was pretty useful in handy crafts… let’s stop this train of thought before it goes to unsavory places.

My merriment still resided, and only grew with Dad’s confused appearance.

“I thank you for the compliment, mother always was the most beautiful person in the palace, way out of your league in my opinion, but hey, not complaining really.  Be weird if I complained about my parents getting together, wouldn’t it?” Cecilia

A look of recognition crossed his features as his mouth started floundering and his eyes bulged out of their sockets.  Eventually he let out a hopeless chuckle, dropping the knife to my back and using the same hand to run it through his hair messy, grey hair.  

“God above!  You look and sound exactly like your mother!  Haha!  It’s good seeing you again Cecilia.  My goodness, you're so much bigger than I remember you being!  HAHA!  Since when did I give permission to grow up!  HAHAHAAA!!” Dad

Been awhile since I've seen him this happy, then again, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him.  He wasn’t exactly the boisterous type.  I notice a small tear run down the left side of his head.

“I can’t believe it’s been five years… you’re already a woman now in your own right.  I… I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you… no, that’s just an excuse, I’m sorry I didn’t save your mother.  I’m sorry I pulled you back into all this.  I should have just left you the hell alone, my own damned selfishness just causes you pain, and I can’t seem to be able to take a hint.” dad

I stop him.  If he goes on like this, things will get bad, quick.

“Dad, all my experiences here were cause by the fact that I didn’t have the power to protect my curiosity and ambition.  I know that to have had the power, you would have needed to make it clear that I was your daughter, weakening your position considerably.  The only reason why I’m probably still alive, is because you had the power to protect me and others like me from the nobility.  If I had power, you wouldn’t have power, and I again would be even more defenseless.  You did all you could, and sitting here right now, I would have resented you for sending me and mother away, because at the end of the day, you kept her in balance and not wanting to disfigure herself.  You remember how much she hated the fact that every man in the castle always looked at her and never saw her mind, but I know for a fact the only reason she was strong was because she knew deep down inside, that you and her belonged to one another.  I know that doesn’t really make sense, but it's true.  You two were inseparable, not because you only liked one another's company, but because without the other, you would have ended up not much better then the Mad Queen.  You would have turned into Elyria, Mom would have turned into Elyria, and this entire country would no doubt have drowned in the shit it let stew for far too long.” Cecilia

He just sat there and stared at me blankly, before smiling weakly and grasping my hand that had gone towards his side.

“At least one of my children got the right idea.  Still wish that your mother could have conceived a sibling for you.  I know that your other… siblings, haven’t been the best to you.  And you haven’t exactly gotten to know the good apples, all four of them.  Well, I call them good apples, but that’s mostly because they aren’t as rotten the three oldest.” Dad

He then stops midway and assumes a pained expression.

“I should have paid more attention to the those three, if I had known what the hell that bitch was doing, I could have at least stopped them from getting so damned screwed up.  At least I was able to bring Jeremiah back to his senses, though I had wished he wouldn’t lock himself up in his studies to become a Rowune.  I mean, I’m happy that he found a way out of the game, but he probably could have done more good on the throne than on a podium.  No offense to your potential, I still remember how much Soren bragged about you taking his job with just a few years more study, but he’s been learning more than you.” Dad

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I just smile at him and mentally shout HAH!  Just wait until he finds out that I’ve practically been running Adria’s Pact, the Ranger Pact in Adria more specifically, for Y’sar.  If anything, I probably have more info on the current going’s on of Eria than gentle old Jerry.  Not to mention how to deal with nobles, public order, and purging those nobles who go against the law.

“So, how was your trip to the capital?” Dad

I then start regaling him with how my past two weeks have gone, from taking my first mission since finishing my most recent remeasuring, after thinking about my mothers measurements I realized the bandage was only a temporary solution.  I then told him about my time on the road to Caust, the bitchy innkeeper, my tracking down that Orc for several days, everything afterwards.  He starts chuckling at my reaction to the villagers.

“The only thing I find question with, is why didn’t you take your armor back?” Dad

“Ah that, the reason is, it’s not like I’m gonna be wearing stuff like this piece of shit armor ever again.  And realistically, I didn’t want to smell more like milk than I already did, thanks to that inn.  Also, after what I did to the straps over the shoulders… I would definitely need them reworked, and again, I don’t have much attachment to the majority of my equipment, unlike some maniacs.  There was one Range by the name of…” Cecilia

And like that, we spent an hour, at least, going over how my life for the last few years has been.  Also, for everyone’s understanding, I’m not wearing my armor anymore.  Y’sar put my clothes onto Sig--Lugurinacta.  Should I just call her Lugus for short?  I mean, it means essentially the same thing, lugus meaning swift and nactara meaning runner.  Anyways, Y’sar put my clothing into a pair of satchels on Lugus’ back, apparently it took longer than it should have.

“Well, you’re life has been interesting, to say the least.  Now, help me up, I should introduce you to your new best friends.” Dad

I stand up from the bedside and help my father raise himself from the bed.  The silk sheets just seem to clide of his nightdress, probably the softest materials in the city.  That’s right!  I’ll be living in luxury nowadays, won’t I?  Oh yes, no more flee bitten inns, stingy clerks, and tick infested Elk rides for me!  When he’s up he motions for me to grab him his cane, which I do quickly.  The cane is rather plain, simply a stick of dark, polished wood with the pommel being a deer's head with a space for you hand between the antlers.  He takes it and we start going across the room, back towards the door.  I’ve noticed that my father is still taller than me, standing proudly at six feet, size being a thing of commonality between the men of our kingdom, regardless of race, we are all larger on average than our main land and islander counterparts.

Then again, everything on Eria is naturally bigger than anything else in the world.  For example, wolves.  Everywhere else on the world, wolves are about twice as big as hunting dogs, in Eria, they’re so much larger, people refer to them as wargs.  Sometime in the past, a King of Eria brought a horde of wargs onto the mainland and set them loose on a nation that relied heavily on hunting, that had recently been undermining our trade with pirates.

Five hundred years later, that land is one of the poorest in all the mainland.  Most of it’s inhabitants fled to other countries, though they were probably enslaved.  Slavery is a fairly common practice on the mainland, despite being outlawed here.  There is another process, similar to slavery in Eria, but it maintains the natural rights of the Kinnic races, preventing them from being abused.  The system works off of a debt system, you offer yourself up for a set amount of coin, and are law-bound to pay off your debt through service to the lord.  You can only offer yourself to nobles or high ranking merchants, to keep the balance of power stable.

He asks me to grab his cloak, which I do, then helping him stand while he dons it.  The cloak, or rather the hood on the cloak, is a rather famous piece of clothing for Erians, like a turban for the Suanarin of the Suana Deserts and saucer like hats for the Kendali of the Great Marsh.  I’ll talk about them when the time comes.  

The cloak manages to hide his infirmities, something painstakingly important for those in positions of power.  We then make our way outside, my father standing tall and proud despite probably being the sickest man in Eria.

As we leave the room, I can feel Dad’s eyes studying me.  I know what he’s doing, probably trying to discern whether or not I am competent in combat.  It is important for Erian nobility, that aren’t all that legitimate, be martially inclined.  There are certain rites that have existed since the old days that involve nobles challenging others with weak claims to help strengthen the kingdom as a whole.  Usually the noble sends his champion, but illegitimate noble’s have a hard time at finding decent champions, meaning they usually have to fight for themselves.

Me, I doubt I’ll be using champions simply on principle, and the fact that it will scare most people shitless of me.  It’s good to be feared by your enemies, but it will hopefully send another message, that I like to be there to personally rip their spines out for crossing me.  And now that I think about it, all I’ll really need of the headsman is his axe, mostly for the big boys.  All those little chickenshit grunts, they can go about their merry way, well, the innocent ones.  I will only use headsmen the headsman for the quantity, I will take care of the quality.

This also works for stress relief!

Yay therapy!

We go through the doors and see four guards, the royal kind, these people are some of the best duelists in the nation.  Two are there to watch over the King while the other two are permanently stationed and look after the bedchambers.  They have all the expressiveness of stone slabs while on duty, which is for the best.  Royal Guards are specifically trained to not show an inch about their character while on guard, helps against provocateurs.  

All of them stand at attention before dad clacks his cane on the ground twice, signifying for them to stand at ease.  We then start heading down the halls towards the second ring of the palace.  Erian palaces, cities, castles, and manors are rather simple, when it comes to construction.  A series of elevated rings which go outward, signifying the authority and importance of the area.  The Throneroom is in the third Ring, and the ballroom in the fourth.  Servants quarters are in the second ring, and this entire complex is seriously huge.  The palace was built on the remains of the original capital city, and the rest of the city is  the remains of it’s former sub-urban sprawl.

Again, stories for another time.

We go through the gate to the second ring and continue down the path through one of the many gardens in the palace, they place one wherever there is an open plot of land.  I catch sight of around three gardeners, showing that not everyone is gone from the workforce.  They each of them bow and look at me in curiosity.  One of them, a Stone-Kin, oddly enough since they hate this kind of work usually, looked strangely familiar, but I have important things to do at the moment.

We continued on the path until we came to the council room, which was built from the old town haul, if I recall.  Erian’s are a sentimental folk, so when it comes to really old buildings like this one, we prefer to simply repurpose it than tear it down, making sure that it’s foundations are still working and the like first though.

Dad and I place our hands of hands on both sides of the door and open it up, a little custom that exists amongst Erians.  When a lord of a property enters it, he opens it alone, if a lord and his heir enter a property together, than the open it together.  Meant to represent that the lords of an area are the guiding hands of that area, and when together, they are one in their decisions.

We open the door and the group of people that appeared to be in the midst of a heated discussion immediately quiet.  I can see a Erass-Kin, Erass are a sort of mix between the most terrifying wolf you’ve ever met and it’s counterpart lion.  They are among the most level headed of the High-Beast-Kin and could care less if you’re a Low-Beast-Kin or the Primordial’s son himself, they only listen to achievement and ambition, which is good for me.  He had a ghastly scar running down the side the right side of his face and wore an eyepatch over it.  He also had a metal hand-ish thing where he lost a hand in some fight.  His brown fur covered features were set in a permament scowl that could drop lesser men dead with but a stare.  He stood at seven feet tall and had an air about him that demanded a savage respect found in few.  His attire was a rugged set of leather clothes, bordering on armor.  I think that this is the minister of war, Grand General Saran Cown.  His dense muscles and strong, large hands allow him to use wield a greatsword in one hand and his fake hand is usually replaced with a large pointed shield that curves slightly at the edges.

Next was a Stone-Kin with a milky white left eye and pure white  beard, meaning he has to be three hundred years old, an elder of the Stone-Kin.  He wore a nice set of sleeping robes like dad and had a furious expression on his face.  Now that I think about it, Saran probably has reason to be scowling.  Another one, a male, most likely, wearing leather armor and a blank mask is also looking at what I presume to be the source of their collective ire.  

The source is a plain looking Plains-Kin male with a tired expression on his face, he is wearing rather plain robes and something about him just makes me want to punch him.  He is dark haired and blue eyed and has tinges of grey despite looking not much older than me.  His skin is pale like a North-Kin, implying a mixed heritage, and going off of his features, he’s a pure blooded Erian.  Eria used to be ruled by folk like this man whom were something of a race all their own who had all the mental natural potential as a normal Plains-Kin and could grow as large as a North-Kin.  After the Great Upheaval, they were the ones to allow refugees of all the races cohabitate the then too-dangerous-for-settling Eria.  Again, stories for later.

All of them look at a confused me and an exacerbated dad by the sound of his sigh.

“Please don’t tell me you’re proposing that countermeasure again, Gabriel?” Dad

Countermeasure?

“You people tell me to give you a damn countermeasure to shut up all the nobles, and I give it to you!  The only other option is having her beat the shit out of every single damn champion in Eria.  And no offense to your majesty’s daughter, but I doubt the girl can take on anyone of rank eight, and too many dukes have them to make the risk acceptable.” Gabriel

This doesn’t sound good.  Before the others could start shouting, my father raises a hand and the all shut up, still glaring hotly and the helpless aggravated looking boy.

“Hahh~, never mind that, for now, you should introduce yourselves to your new boss!” Dad

As he said that, he pushed me forward and the others start studying me for an instant, though quickly hid their expressions just as quickly as they came.  The only one who didn’t stop was the Gabriel boy who never broke eye-contact and was resting his cleft-chin between his interwoven hands.  I felt some primal need to keep his gaze, something telling me not to back down.  He then grinned a devilish grin and said a few words I wasn’t expecting.

“I take it all back, she can kick their asses, fuck that other plan.  No way am I doing mankind such an injustice as to let her get taken up by some self-entitled noble son prick not even an inch long.” Gabriel