Minutes later, the dust settled. All was well in the [Empire] and the people celebrated the birth of the thirty-eight [Prince]. If they only knew.
The [Healer], whose name was Amina, changed my mother’s bedsheets and clothes before she took me with her as she left Rhiannon, my mother, sleeping. We went through a side door and through the maze that was the [Concubine-Queen]’s apartment into a servant’s quarters where I could hear babies cry.
Once we reached the room and entered, we found the milkmaid breastfeeding two baby girls at the same time, one of them my twin sister. I couldn’t tell which.
“I present you [Prince] Percival. Thirty-Eight in the line of succession,” Amina declared stiffly. “The [Prince] needs to be fed.”
I rolled my eyes. No, I didn’t but they would indulge in the old rite of nipple-in-mouth-shoving anyway. I considered refusing for a moment but I was pretty sure these murder-hobo weirdos would probably jeopardize my sister’s already clandestine situation if I rejected the milkmaid. I’ve seen enough stupid deaths for one day. One needed to learn from day one (literally) how to tip-toe around the murderous everyone-is-replaceable culture of the Imperial Palaces.
The milkmaid removed one of the babies from one breast and let me latch onto it. I sucked once, twice, then stayed attached.
“Is he feeding?” Amina asked.
“Ouch! [Prince] Percival is such a glutton,” the milkmaid lied.
“he’s not sucking,” Amina accused.
I started to pretend to suck but I never actually pulled the milk out. The girls needed it more than me and I had my fill for a whole day already. But that seemed to calm Amina, and several lives had been saved because this [Prince] successfully faked his Imperial duty to feed.
Ugh.
After some ten minutes as the milkmaid almost literally juggled three babies on two breasts, changing sides a few times to let the girls drain the teat I was just latched to, Amina took me back. I still didn’t know which one was my sister but I got a good vibe from these baby girls.
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Fast forward a couple of days.
I had a problem. A poop problem. It was a huge problem, inversely proportional to the amount of the stuff I put out. The level of detail of their rulebook to raise Royal scions was crazy. They had to weigh the poop to see if I was feeding correctly. And if I wasn’t, someone had to pay the bill. Guess who would go to the chopping block?
I couldn’t poop. Or pee. My large intestines were made absolutely useless ages ago as my System-enhanced metabolism used everything I ate and vanished the rest.
Fortunately, I had lots of poop. Tons upon tons of the stuff. Fresh poop still warm inside the dead bodies inside my item box. Fresh poop still lukewarm inside the pants of the dead bodies inside my item box. The loops one had to jump to keep the household murder-free in this Empire, I swear.
With Nenandil's help… I mean, I was a baby with limited mobility. Nenandil did the whole dirty job of taking a body out of the item box at night, opening it up to extract fresh poop, and stuffing my cotton diapers with it. Then after the evidence was removed, I would cry and summon Amina to clean me. She would take the dirty diaper with a big grin and carry it to the [Royal Poop Weigher] for measurement.
No, you heard it right. I wish I was joking.
They had a Class named like that and each palace with an infant scion had one such guy. The guy who got my single-use diapers was a [Royal Poop Weigher], and they kept a rank of which baby [Prince] shat the most. After Nenandil spied the rank, we strived to stay in the middle.
Everything was controlled, measured, accounted for, and tested for poison. The food, the water, the trash, the laundry, the clothes. I was happy they didn’t have DNA tests otherwise my ploy wouldn’t work.
After a while, it became part of our nightly routine. And all was well in the [Empire].
Except for the news that the troops really did burn, salt, and wholesale slaughter everyone in Raswaria, even the foreigners, traveling merchants, and visitors. Even with a hush order, we heard of it.
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I started walking eight months old. I used each moment I could spare playing with the milkmaid daughters. One such day, we were left mostly alone in a wooden playpen.
I toddled to the cushions and shoved my hand between them, feeling for the coin. I found the neck chain and ran it in my hand until I touched the coin. With some mental goading, I activated it.
The two girls were named Madge and Mona. I could do little regarding their mother’s taste in naming. Feeling the coin’s response, it tugged me in their general direction. I dragged it underneath a pillow to the other side of the playpen thinking I wanted to get closer to them. It tugged again, changing directions. It was vague and I couldn’t pinpoint who it was hinting at. But this misdirection was almost intentional. Toying with Fate showed it was both fickle and vengeful. One had to tread carefully.
I learned that while one of them was my biological twin sister, one of them was Lorna’s reincarnation. Confusing but the same person could fill both roles or they could be each one of them. It was another big reason to keep the milkmaid, Marion, alive. The girls would be kicked out of the palace if the mother died. Or worse, killed. Or even worse, given as toys to some decadent noble or another unsavory character.
I thought of ways to impress people that these two were important to me. But I gave up on this course of action after pondering for a while for one simple reason. I was just a cog in the [Empire]’s bureaucracy. A tool they would train and mold, from what I heard them talking around me. Anything that got in the way of that goal would be removed as unnecessary or detrimental. Until I could wield my power once again, I had to be careful.
I mean, if I started throwing tantrums when they took me away from the girls, they would not bring me back. And probably “remove” them as nuisances. I couldn’t let them.
Once again I jumped another hoop, and all was well in the [Empire].
Except that everyone was a control freak. The people working at the palace were so full of themselves for landing such a “dream job” that they often forgot who they worked for. And so long they could keep the impressions and opinions of their superiors and peers positive, they thought they could get away with anything.
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I started talking not long after I walked. I mean, I could talk from the moment my mouth muscles were developed enough to articulate words, which happened around three or four months for most babies, even on Earth. But I couldn’t rush things.
It was one of those precious moments where I could spend time with my mother. Yes, mother. I won’t call Rhiannon anything else, as we formed a bond between us, despite the apparent efforts of an entire [Empire] to keep it from happening. I may be exaggerating, but Rhiannon’s was a complex case.
“Mama!” I squealed and grabbed her cheeks. Rhiannon smiled back and rubbed my head. My hair was kept short as it was usual with the Imperial military. Of which we [Princes] were officers from birth.
“My boy! Yes, it’s mama!” She said back.
“Boy!” I parroted.
“That’s right! You’re so smart, Percival. You are a boy, a man among men. Remember that. You must be twice as manly as any of your brothers.”
Her throat caught halfway in her sentence. I knew why. Biologically I was a girl even though I had the graft from the [Fleshcrafter]. Which while caused some problems also solved other problems. Like staying alive, huzzah!
“Mama! Boy!”
“No, I’m a girl,” she corrected me.
“Rhy!” I pointed at her.
“Yes, that’s me! Rhiannon is my name, but you can call me Rhy.”
“Mama!”
Her eyes were sunk, her body lacked fat. From the gossip I heard, Rhiannon was never the same since the day of my birth. The maids whispered it was because she gave too much of her lifeforce to me at birth, but I knew the truth. She held a deep regret aimed at herself for what happened. She felt guilty she had given birth to not one but two daughters. She didn’t wish to die as the [Emperor] would surely murder us all. But she regretted the price others had to pay for our life.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Fair Raswaria was no more. The head mage gave his life and went down History as a madman who murdered his own master to keep her alive. The country was destroyed in a most cruel and wicked way on the whim of the most powerful man in the world. And she dreaded each and every waking moment that it was in vain. That one day someone would find out I was a girl and then we’d be dead anyway, invalidating and throwing all the sacrifices down the drain.
She was under constant stress. Sometimes she would cry out of nowhere as she reminded herself of something. She stared east out of a window as if she could see the ruins of Raswaria.
“Mother” has always been a complicated word for me. I think this is the fourth time I got to spend some time with a mother after my birth. Out of almost three dozen existences. In all of the three times here in Yznarian, it was convoluted. I was proud that I could elevate Eathelin to the rank of [Queen] and provide her with a good life and purpose.
I knew I had to do it for Rhiannon. And that meant playing the [Empire]’s game. Like a good cogwheel, I would make the empire spin and prosper. I would make Rhiannon happy whenever I could. I would take care of Madge and Mona, and also keep Marion close by.
I would grow to be a man among men. Someone that other men would look up with admiration and envy. Someone that the women would covet and like. I had the perfect background to do both as I understood both sides of the gender equation. Thanks to Loki’s machinations, I still remembered my life as a man in New York.
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> >You are one year old. Twinkle, Little Star granted you 5 Attribute Points but you already are at the cap. Withholding points.
>
> >You are two years old. Twinkle, Little Star granted you 5 Attribute Points but you already are at the cap. Withholding points.
>
> >You are three years old. Twinkle, Little Star granted you 5 Attribute Points but you already are at the cap. Withholding points.
As I grew into my third year of life, I started setting things in motion. I walked the halls of the [Concubine-Queen]’s palace as it was my own. I ordered the servants and sprung upon the gossips anytime I wanted and they couldn’t do anything to me.
I’m ashamed to admit that in my third year of life, I caused a lot of people to be executed. I also changed a policy and saved a few lives, but it was a drop in the leaky bucket.
We didn’t have much staff rotation but it happened every now and then. One of the new maids was a wicked, envious miser who stole food from the pantry. As everything in the palace was measured and accounted for, such thefts didn’t go unnoticed for long. Guards were posted at the pantry and the servants were severely questioned and censured. Especially the cooks and others that had access to the pantry.
This girl had a [Rogue] Path she kept hidden. During the night, she would switch Paths and sneak in the pantry, steal expensive food, then smuggle it out of the palace before returning to her room and switching to [Maid] again. A [Fence] would get the food outside the palace and sell it. On the rare occasions, she had leave to go out of the palace, she would get her share of the money from the [Fence].
One such day she grew careless. The [Rogue] girl was seen climbing the palace walls by a sentry, who couldn’t identify the person but recognized Class, gender, species, and level with {Appraise}. Unfortunately for everyone, the woman could disguise her level. And she had set it to the same level as Marion’s.
When the investigators added two plus two, three out of four pieces of evidence pointed at Marion. She only had the wrong Class but everyone knew people could change Paths. She wasn’t dragged out of the palace to the chopping block because Amina intervened. I didn’t see what but she said that unless the investigators were so certain Marion was the food thief they could bet their lives on that, they should keep investigating.
I couldn’t let anything happen to Marion.
That’s when I initiated my own investigations. Sending Nenandil to watch the pantry, we caught the new [Maid] taking one of the pantry guards to bed. She would fuck the guard senseless, adding a contact poison to her genitals that she was immune to but the guard was not. The poison caused unconsciousness and only a mild HP damage that would be recovered with the natural regeneration. With the guard sleeping, she had both an alibi and a clear way to the pantry.
Following my keen sense of smell, I entered the maid’s bedroom and found the sleeping guard.
Nenandil flew to the maid’s room and we rubbed the antidote paste on the guard’s dick, nostrils, and gums. Any thin mucous membrane worked but we avoided the asshole for obvious reasons. Slapping the cat-transforming bracelet on my wrist, I vacated the premises with my fairy companion before the medicine kicked in and he woke up. Meanwhile, the [Maid] turned [Rogue] was busy jumping the wall with her ill-gotten gains.
Before we went to the private wing of the palace, I had an idea.
I hid behind a potted plant and laid my feline form low. Less than a minute later, I heard the sound of metal crashing on stone, and the whole palace went alive.
I dashed to the private area of the palace. Alas, guards had already blocked the way and I knew they left little openings for something, even a small kitten, to enter. It was all warded and I didn’t have the confidence to bypass them.
Not without my crutch.
Damn Dallas visitor.
I froze for a moment as a platoon of guards marched past me. I knew I had minutes to think of something before they noticed the [Prince] was missing. That’s when I had an idea. As the guards moved to defend the private wing, the path back to the [Maid]’s room was clear. I dashed back and called Nenandil. Once we were inside, we checked on the guard. He was stirring awake but still unconscious. Although the antidote helped, flushing that poison out of his system wasn’t fast and usually, the maid would be already back and in bed with him when he woke up. If questioned, she would admit the carnal relationship, throw the guard under the bus and use that as a smokescreen to distract investigators.
I removed the bracelet and gave it to the fairy.
With the precious [Prince] bound and gagged, Nenandil hid inside my soul. Then I started screaming and crying.
Amina recognized my voice and rushed to my aid. She was the first one to reach the door.
“Your Highness!” She shouted. “GUARDS! I found the [Prince]!”
The rest was history. The guards came and found me on the ground. Amina didn’t enter the room out of caution once she made sure I wasn’t bleeding or dying. If the guards arrived and found her with me, they could accuse her of being a kidnapper. Just like some bad cops back in America that would charge you of anything if you were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Selective hindsight for evidence wasn’t exclusive only to Earth and lazy law enforcement wanted only to keep the appearances.
The [Empire] was corrupt and wicked like that.
As the soldiers entered, they saw one of them waking up in bed. One of them took me out of my bindings and another slapped the pantry guard fully awake.
“Are you hurt, Your Highness?” The guard asked.
“No. I want Amina! Hand me over!” I demanded all brattish.
After I was safely on Amina’s lap, the guards started kicking the truth out of the pantry guard, quite literally. The [Healer] cast a spell on me but didn’t avert my eyes from the brutal display of violence. In her mind, I had to be weaned into it as surely as I was weaned out of Marion’s teats.
The [Empire] treated their children and criminals like that. Even the Royal ones.
“Good,” she cooed as she saw I didn’t flinch away from the bruising guard. “That’s justice,” she explained.
“Justice?” I asked in mockery but was misunderstood.
“Yes, Justice,” Amina agreed and glowered at the scared maids around her. With the task of holding the [Prince], she outranked momentarily anyone in that place even her boss.
“Whose room is this?” She demanded.
“Eunice’s the new girl. I saw her bring several guards to her room. I think she took money from them.”
A thief and a whore. How low the recruiting office had fallen.
“Where’s Eunice?” Amina asked to the wind.
“Guards!” I shouted. I couldn’t imbue my voice with a {Royal Order} yet, but I knew how to sound imperious.
Guards approached, answering my summons. “Yes, Your Highness!”
“Eunice. Where?” I babbled.
“His Highness demands you find the whereabouts of the maid called Eunice,” Amina interpreted it for me. “Now!”
The guards turned with perfect military discipline and rushed out to spread the order. I heard the particular sound of sabatons clacking on stone throughout the whole palace.
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Half an hour later, Amina brought me to the prison near the barracks. Eunice the [Rogue-Maid] was gagged and chained to the wall, locked up next to the pantry guard. They had been flogged and beaten up as I could see the purple bruises and angry red welts all over their naked bodies. From the smell of it, Eunice had another punishment imposed on her by several guards of the male persuasion, to be clear. Something I had to rectify.
But the [Empire] was cruel like that. A prisoner had no rights, especially one people knew would be executed soon enough.
Along came someone who looked like a very grumpy and sleepy judge.
“His Highness is here, magistrate,” Amina said. “You can proceed.”
“For plotting to kidnap Royalty, you are sentenced to death, as commanded by His Highness [Prince] Percival,” the magistrate declared. “For such a capital crime, your families and known associates will receive the same punishment.”
The [Empire] was prejudiced like that. They put great emphasis on bloodline and believed that one bad apple was reason enough to uproot the tree.
I waved my hand to get his attention. “Your Highness, do you have something to tell the prisoners?”
“Remove their gags,” I ordered. Looking at the prisoners, I said, “If you scream or beg for mercy, I’ll kill you two myself with that guard’s dagger.”
At least that might give me an Emergency Activation. Unfortunately, both of them nodded. With the gags removed, they uttered not a single chirp.
“Pledge loyalty to me even in death,” I demanded. “And your families will survive.”
“Your Highness, you can’t,” The Magistrate fearfully rebuked me. “The laws...”
I glowered him into silence. “I didn’t learn the laws yet,” I stated. “What do they say?”
“That the families need to be punished. Otherwise, they won’t do their utmost to educate their children to become good citizens.”
Instead, they educated their children to not get caught. I could imagine a commercial for this place. “In the Empire, what makes you a criminal? It’s getting caught!” Maybe in Keanu Reeves’ voice. But that was a lie. Also, getting accused by your peers, Witches of Salem style.
“So the children that still hadn’t been educated aren’t liable for their elders’ fault. Fine. I decree the children under the age of majority will be spared if they pledge their loyalty to me even after death.”
What I wanted was both to flex the limits of what I could do as a [Prince] and the soul of the crafty [Rogue-Maid]. She clearly had good connections in the Empire underground and even though I could dig them up later without her help, it was useful to have her around even if it was as a backup plan.
The magistrate agreed. They pledged, the children in their families were spared death but subsequently thrown in the uncaring streets of the Empire because the bureaucrats seized all property of those condemned to death to line up the magistrate’s pockets. Between a quick death by the executioner's axe and a life as an outcast street urchin, it was hard to see any good in the changes I've caused.
“You’ll make a public statement,” I told the magistrate. “Marion is a good milkmaid. If anyone slanders her again, I’ll hold you responsible.”
The magistrate understood clearly what I was saying. He could keep doing his corrupted practice if he stayed out of my radar. Marion was quickly cleared of all suspicion by the sleepy magistrate because I demanded.
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And all was well in the Empire.
If one wished to believe in blatant lies.