Day 335, 04:05 PM

“My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt.”

― William Blake

F1, I will the Blue Screen of Death into existence while nervously pacing before our bedroom door.

[Name - Aang Ree

Class - bodyguard level 6

Health 18/18, Strength - 20, Agility 21, Physique - 21, Wisdom - 23, Intellect - 26, Willpower - 23, Presence - 20, Charisma - 23, Composure - 9

Abilities - Literate, Select Principal [selected], Initial Grappling, Bargaining, Sense of Danger, Initial Rider, Watcher, Initial Emergency Treatment, Initial Staffsmanship, Initial Spearmanship, Initial Swordsmanship, Initial Axmanship, Initial Clubmanship, Initial Throw Dagger, Initial Throw Sword, Initial Throw Ax, Initial Throw Hammer, Initial Slingsmanship

Attribute points remaining - 0

To level up, keep your principal unharmed from enemies intending to harm them. The enemy must outnumber you at least four to one

Statuses - Panicked]

Panicked seems about right. I’m freaking terrified. Manny’s been in labor for over a day, the two midwives changing shifts every four or five hours, but no matter how much Manny tries and pushes, the baby refuses to get out.

We don’t know the exact date, but Doc Thunderwax claimed Manny’s term should have been last week, maybe even two weeks ago. So he gave her an elixir to induce contractions. Manny went into labor almost immediately, but our baby decided to ignore the disturbance and weather the storm indoors.

The concept of cesarean doesn’t exist in this world, and lacking experienced physicians, I dare not suggest the procedure, lest I inadvertently kill my wife and child.

So I’m doing the only thing I can do, walking the boards in front of our bedroom ragged.

If they die, I’ll kill myself and make Thunderwax give her the elixir two weeks ago.

“Sir?” Ron approaches me.

“Ronald, stay away from me. I might slap you accidentally, and everyone except you would regret it.”

The guard takes a respectful step back followed by another.

“We understand your concern,” he speaks to me as if I’m a child, “we are all concerned for our Noble Lady’s condition and that of our young lord, but you’ve been awake for two days without eating or sleeping. You haven’t moved away from the door in over a day. We are concerned for you as well. Please, rest, eat, drink, visit the restroom.”

“What if the assassin comes?”

“There are two hundred volunteers stationed outside our Noble Lady’s window, taking regular shifts.” He says in that annoying voice sane reserve for hysterical people. “Twenty can come here and stand in front of the door. We will block the passage with our bodies. No assassin will sneak past us.”

I keep pacing, ignoring his potentially rational words.

“General! Sir! Please we beg you, take care of yourself!” he shouts, braying louder than a donkey.

“Psst! You’ll wake—”

“Aang,” a broken, absolutely exhausted voice comes from behind the door. “Go eat, sleep. Even I have eaten and drank since this started. Please take care of yourself, for my sake.”

I take a moment to realize I’m tugging my hair, staring death at Ron. The man is pale, the last time I stared death at someone, the guards carried his remains out in two pieces.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Manny?” I whine, but she has none of it.

“Do not make this situation more difficult than it already is. Please. I do not wish to worry about your health on top of everything else.”

She’s got a point. She always does. There are certain advantages to marrying intelligent, collected women. But that doesn’t make obeying her any easier.

“Fine. I will eat and drink some water. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you. Remember, whatever happens, I love you.”

“Don’t raise freaking flags!” I shout, but I think Blunt said that, even though I can’t be certain.

I wish to stomp away, but I make my furious steps as light as possible for her sake.

“We prepared a room for you just around the corner, Sir.” Ron trots behind me. “It’s the other way round. There’s fresh pastries, roasted chicken, solsus ribs in honey sauce, wine, water, tea. Everything Martha could think of is there, waiting for you.”

I rub my eyes, burning with the desire to throttle Ron, but I can tell he means well. Him and the boys are trying to help me and Manny alike, even though they are forcing me away from her.

“I can and have gone without sleep for four days, killing multiple men in the process. Unless Manny gives birth, I’m not sleeping for another two days. Got that?” I make myself absolutely clear, and Ron gives me a well-honed, ‘Yes, Sir.’ You can tell the man’s a sergeant just by the gesture.

We turn around and two dozen guards are tiptoeing down the hall, congregating before my wife’s door, two of them pressing against them quite literally.

Martha and the boys really have prepared a buffet inside a nearby room. My favorite dishes are neatly arranged, the hot ones covered with silver lids. There are pitchers of water and wine, a steaming pot of calming herbal tea, which I want to smash, but I absolutely ignore it. Instead of destroying it, I tear into the meats and pastries.

I devour enough food to feed twenty men, drink nearly a gallon of watered wine, use the lavatory, and wash myself before returning to Manny’s room. The soldiers salute and scram the hell away when they see me. I used the break to calm down and gather my wits enough to salute back.

That’s when Manny screams.

“Push! Push, my Noble Lady!” Annica, the midwife, shouts, and Manny screams again. I lose control of my legs and suddenly I’m sitting on my ass, with a dozen confused soldiers looking at me, torn between running away and running towards me to help.

Several of the older guys rush towards me.

“Don’t come near me,” I find myself saying. “I may hurt you.”

“Push!”

Manny screams again, and my spine turns into jelly. Then a baby starts crying, and I follow in its footsteps.

“Manny,” Blunt shouts, and I cover my mouth. She needs to rest, not to have a sobbing ogre shouting her name right outside the door.

I stumble onto my feet, my world a teary blur. I fumble for the door, open it, still sealing my mouth with my hand.

The first thing I see are the bloody sheets. My heart tries to escape my chest, and I almost faint. The door creaks, then snaps, and I stumble, still gripping the handle. I blink and shake my head, regaining a bit of focus and realizing a baby’s been crying the entire time.

I draw a deep breath, filling my lungs with air, and my head clears further.

Manny’s staring at me, pale and sweaty like hell, yet grinning. Her gaze drifts down, and I see I’m holding a broken handle. I let go, and the damn thing clatters against the floor, louder than a cannon.

“You’re alright,” I mumble into my hand, then repeat the words after freeing my mouth.

“I am.” Her smile grows wider and she looks to her right, at the midwife cleaning our baby. “And so is she.”

I stare at our girl. She’s huge, bigger than my other children were at birth, maybe even bigger than they were at one month old.

“She’s big,” I say.

“That she is, my Noble Sir. The biggest baby I have ever seen. No wonder our Noble Lady had such a hard time delivering her.” The midwife, whose name I can’t recall, passes the baby to Manny, and our little girl starts eating right away.

“What do we call her?” I ask, my face frozen into a smiling mask, and Manny lifts her loving gaze from our wonderful child to meet mine. She’s confused for a moment before she speaks.

“We said we would name the boy Victor, and if we have a girl, she would be Victory. Thus, she will be Victory Eagleeye, and we will destroy our enemies for her sake, for the sake of her future.” Manny pauses. “Are you certain about her surname?”

“Naturally.” I nod.

Shortly before the wedding, Manny explained that my surname is just the name of the region in which I was enslaved. I was literally introducing myself as an equivalent of a Roman Joe the Greek or Joe the Spanian, and I do not wish for my daughter to have a slave’s label as a part of her name.

“As for destroying our enemies; the king should start moving soon. So, there won’t be any immediate battles, but I will crush his armies for you, for her.” I look at my daughter, industriously suckling like a breast pump. “Just rest and relax. I will handle the affairs of the state and of the army until you are ready to return to office.”

I despise paperwork, but Manny’s been away for two days now, and I guess I’ll have to pick up the slack starting tomorrow.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You could give me a kiss.” Manny tilts her head up and wipes the sweat off her forehead.

I walk over and give her a long, loving kiss on the forehead, pinching Victory's plump cheeks with a ridiculous amount of care. I’m afraid of my own strength and have no idea when I will have the courage to hold her. I recall fearing I’d crush my firstborn daughter, back before I died, and I didn’t even have superhuman strength back then.

“Daddy will make everything safe for you by the time you take your first steps,” I promise and leave the girls to rest.

I walk out and the boys stare at me with mouths open.

“It’s a girl,” I mouth and an army of mimes cheers and air-punches the hell out of the hallway.

I’m grinning, and the next thing I know, a dozen soldiers are pushing me down the halls and out of the building to get well and thoroughly smashed.

“It’s a girl!” I bellow, venting all the pent up stress, and the castle shakes with men shouting “Oorah!”