They arrived home.

Home was a house that Ronald's Father had set aside for Aunt Pan to live in. It was near the border of the Halfling lands, and Relma had always liked the place. It was a one-room cottage built of stone. But the inside was lined with wood to block out the cold. Furs lined the walls as well.

Aunt Pan was outside of it as always, tending to the garden. When she saw Aren, she blinked. Then, at once, she stopped what she was doing and made her way up to him.

"Aren, I wasn't expecting you here," said Aunt Pan.

Aren shrugged. "Of course, you weren't. I need to discuss something with you, and it can't wait."

"Very well," said Aunt Pan. "Let's discuss it." She looked at Relma. "Relma, wait here. We'll speak alone."

Relma nodded and walked some ways away. They often spoke like this. For a while, she had thought Aunt Pan was just a friend of Aren's. Someone he said with for information. That was how she tried to pass it off, anyway.

Of course, that explanation fell flat when you considered that no one else spoke to Aren as an equal.

As soon as the door shut, Relma immediately ran up to the window and listened by it.

"Relma?" said Ronald. "What are you doing?"

Relma put a finger to her lips in a gesture of silence. Ronald got the point.

"Why haven't you taught her to read by now?" she heard Aren say.

"I didn't judge it necessary," said Aunt Pan.

"Didn't judge it necessary?" asked Aren. "Do you know how important being able to write letters is? The girl may have much writing to do in her life."

"I will teach her when she is ready," replied Aunt Pan.

"When she is-" Aren sputtered. "Do you want the girl to grow up without a thought in her head? You should start teaching her now."

"We agreed that her education was in my hands," said Pan.

"Yes. We did," said Aren. "Unfortunately, it doesn't seem you are giving her an education."

"I am teaching her humility. I didn't learn to read at her age," said Pan. "And the more mundane variety of skills could be useful."

"Well, stop. You've hammered that lesson in hard enough, and she is starting to resent it," said Aren. "I want you to teach her how to read beginning now. What are the other aspects of her education?

"I assume you haven't just been giving her a humble upbringing on a farm."

Dead silence. Relma smiled.

"...You did," said Aren incredulously. "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't want her growing up believing she was somehow better than everyone else," said Aunt Pan.

"Yes," said Aren. "And as a result, she is approaching adulthood and lacks the necessary skills."

"There is still time," said Pan. "Her bloodline will make it easier. And anyway, there is no certainty that it is her destiny. Far from it, we could still be waiting-"

"Destiny is unpredictable," said Aren. "And even if it isn't her destiny, she will need more practical skills. Or have you heard nothing of Duke Vanion?"

"You said Vanion was of no concern," said Aunt Pan.

"That was years ago, Pan," said Aren. "I misjudged him. I assumed that his connection to Melchious would end his career. Instead, he used it to engineer the downfall of his enemies. He has become the governor of Artarq and will be in command of the front line against Calisha. Any victories that are won there will increase his glory. And if he is defeated, it will be an even worse disaster.

"Have you seen this, Pandora?"

"What is this?" asked Pan.

"It's an adventure story. Written by his son. It has become prevalent among literate circles," said Aren.

"His son is fourteen years old. No older than Relma," said Pan.

"Yes, well, apparently, he washed ashore in Seathorius and made his way back to Artarq on foot," said Aren. "There is probably some semblance of truth in the account. But knowing Vanion, he has doctored the truth to serve his purposes."

"Let me see it," said Aunt Pan. "The Dreaming Goddess. Strange title."

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

"At the very least, I think he met her," said Aren. "He pictured her precisely right. I suppose I'll have to meet the boy to know for sure how many lies and how much is the truth. I do know that he did see Elranor.

"William is already famous. And now my sources tell me he has taken to healing the sick and injured of Artarq as a miracle worker."

"Why is this a concern?" asked Pan.

"King Andoa's granddaughter, Ansara, is the same age," said Aren in frustration. "Elranor above, Pan, have you been paying attention?"

"I have been in Gel Carn for the last century, Father," said Pan. "I hear only what news you and others bring. People in Gel Carn are concerned about things closer to home, and Duke Vanion is a faraway name." Well, that confirmed she was Pandora the Sorceress, at least.

"Well, he won't be far away if he marries his son into royalty," said Aren. "Gel Carn is practically part of Southern Antion."

"What if he does?" asked Pan. "Dynasties rise and fall."

"He has holdings in Haldren," said Aren. "And he has a legitimate claim to the throne of Escor. If his family becomes the Royal House of Antion, they may start a war of conquest. Ambitious men try to fulfill the prophecy themselves when they are too proud.

"You know how Haldrenians get about fate. We can't let that happen."

"Then what do you propose we do?" asked Pan, concerned.

"For a start, speed up the girl's education," said Aren. "I'm taking her to the Steward's Castle for training. So she'll be taught properly there. And for another thing, I'll tell her exactly who she is and what her legacy was."

"No, you will not!" said Pan. "The first I'll concede to, but I won't reveal that to her until she is ready to bear the responsibility. You know what knowledge like that can do to people."

"The girl is stronger than you think," said Aren. "But I take your point. She'll be asking many questions, though. She's been listening to us this whole time. So why don't you come out, Relma?"

Relma blinked and stood. Then she opened the door and walked in, not bothering to look sheepish. Aunt Pan looked at her with narrowed eyes, but Relma smiled innocently and stared right back.

Finally, Aunt Pan looked away. "How did I not see her?"

"I hid her from your view, obviously," said Aren. "You've sheltered her far too much, daughter."

"Aunt Pan, what is going on?" asked Relma, keeping her smile on.

"That is a very long story, my dear," said Aren. "We don't have time to tell it all. But to make a long story short, your Aunt is actually Pandora the Sorceress, my daughter. We have worked together for many years to thwart the great enemy."

"Pandora, wow," said Relma in exaggerated wonder. "I never knew. Golly gosh, this is shocking."

Her efforts to annoy Aunt Pan worked quite well. "Yes, Relma, I know you've suspected for years," said Pan. "But so long as you didn't ask, I saw no reason to tell you more. What caused you to believe it was so?"

"I'm not blind, deaf, and stupid," said Relma with a shrug. "Everyone you talk with instantly shows great respect. You know all kinds of runes which can be used for practical effect. And whenever you speak, people listen. Lord Artor Fulsof has come to you for advice more than once.

"Plus, everyone I ask tells me you look exactly the same as you did when you first came here."

She paused. "Why are you raising me? Was it because of my parentage?"

Aren and Aunt Pan shared a glance that answered the question. "That is one of the things we don't have time for," said Pan. "I will tell you in time. But if I told you now, it would interfere with your development.

"For now, we'll have to go to Gel Carn."

"But we're already at Gel Carn," said Relma. Being literal was fun.

"I mean the castle of Gel Carn, not the country," said Aunt Pan. "I never liked how Anoa named them the same thing; it makes it all very confusing."

"Why do I have to go there?" asked Relma.

"You have a destiny, Relma," said Aren. "And you've got to fulfill it. Unfortunately, Pandora has been a bit slow in getting you ready. Something to do with humility, I imagine."

"Father, I have seen what pride does to people," said Pan in irritation. "You are only at court for a few hours and then gone. But I've had to see the arrogance of kings ruin whole nations."

"Am I related to a King?" asked Relma.

Another glance. "...You are of a very important bloodline," said Aren. "But not that of any King of the Harlenorian Kingdoms."

"I'm related to Anoa the Bright, aren't I?" asked Relma.

"What could possibly make you think that?" asked Pan too quickly.

"Well, I'm a Harlenorian, so I can't be the daughter of a King from a non-Harlenorian Kingdom," said Relma. "And there is the prophecy that one of King Anoa's descendants will kill Baltoth. Not to mention the one about the heir of Anoa creating Harlenor Reunited."

"I never said you were even related to a King," said Pan.

"Yeah, but you and Aren looked at each other in shock a moment ago," said Relma. "So something I said hit close to the mark."

Aren laughed. "The girl is much brighter than you gave her credit for, Pan."

"So I see," said Pan. "Yes, Relma, you are of the bloodline of Anoa the Bright. And that bloodline will one day reunite Harlenor and put an end to Baltoth. But that doesn't mean you'll ever be Queen. One of your or your children's children could take the throne.

"Prophecies pick their own way of being fulfilled.

"Now you had better pack your things. We have to get going in the morning."

"What about Ronald?" asked Aren.

"Ronald?" asked Pan. "You let him listen."

Ronald came in quickly. "Is all that really true, Relma? Are you the heir of the Bright King?"

"I just heard about it," said Relma. "Listen to me, Ronald, you must not tell anyone about this. If you do, Baltoth might find out and try to kill me. And he'll probably burn down all the villages in the region simultaneously."

"I think Ronald had best come with us," said Aren.

"Why do I have to leave?" asked Ronald.

"Well, you are the son of Lord Fulsof," said Aren. "Or, at any rate, your father is called a lord outside your lands. It will be good for you to go to Gel Carn and train as a knight. And good for relations between the two lands?"

"Me?" asked Ronald. "A knight of Gel Carn? Like Sir Frederick?"

"Why not?" laughed Aren. "You've been training in fighting. Though I expect you'll need to put in a lot of work to get anywhere near the most famous knight in Gel Carn."

"Yes," said Ronald, "but I don't like fighting."

"But when you get back, you'll have all kinds of stories to tell," said Aren. "You'll probably be the talk of the Farm Dwellings. Of course, we won't force the matter, but I think it would do you good."

"But will Father even allow it?" asked Ronald.

"I'll have a talk with him," said Pan. "I'm sure he'll see the potential benefits." Then she looked at Relma. "And you, Relma, have pots to scrub. We'll need at least a week now. Ronald's father will want to have time. So you aren't getting out of your chores that easily."

"Oh, come on," said Relma. "I'm the Heir of Kings!"

"That's no excuse for not finishing your duties," said Pan.

What was the good of a bloodline if it didn't get you out of chores?