Quinn was sitting in his office the day after returning to the capital. Despite not yet being the king, he was frequently given large portions of the king’s daily tasks in efforts to prepare him for his own rule. Having been away from the capital for nearly a month, there were several tasks that had fallen behind and so here he was catching things up with Wyen.
"That's the Graywolf paperwork complete," Quinn muttered as he moved to the next task.
There was a knock on the office door. The guard keeping watch today, as Fang was given the day off since he had not been able to since recovering from his poisoning, answered the door and allowed the messenger in.
“Your Highness,” said the messenger after taking a knee, “His Majesty requests your presence to discuss several important matters.”
“I see. I suppose it was inevitable that he would want to discuss the hero after we left the capital so suddenly.”
“His Majesty also said to allow your prime minister to attend,” added the messenger.
Both Wyen and Quinn were shocked at this. It was not that Wyen did not usually attend such meetings, but that the king was making sure Wyen was there this time that was surprising. Quinn dismissed the messenger with a reply that they would be able to meet after lunch.
“Please stand guard outside,” Quinn ordered the guard.
Sensing that the prince and prime minister candidate were discussing something critical, the guard knight obeyed. After he had stepped out, Quinn let out a sigh.
“What could he be wanting to discuss other than the hero?”
When was getting a nervous feeling in his stomach, “I’m not sure exactly. It could be a number of things.”
Wyen actually met with the king fairly frequently. It was the king who had given Wyen the task of being the last buffer against Quinn’s perverse tendencies. Therefore, he routinely gave reports to the king about Quinn’s behavior. He had met with the king just last night, giving him insight to the events that had unfolded in the Graywolf territory. Little did Wyen know just how much worse his aching stomach was about to get.
Lunch came soon enough, but for the two administrative types, they had a simplistic spread that even a commoner could expect, even if the quality could not be matched. It enabled them to keep working through lunch and get more tasks out of the way. Quinn wanted to be prepared for when the hero suddenly departed again, as he suspected she might.
Shortly after lunch, Quinn sent word to the king that he would be arriving for the requested meeting. He was prepared to discuss what he knew of the hero thus far, as well as the situation regarding the Graywolf house. Together, Wyen and Quinn entered the king’s office, which functioned very much in the same way as Quinn’s own, but with a vastly different feel, setup, and size.
In the king’s office, a selection of half a dozen desks were arranged in a space equivalent to Quinn’s office where the prime minister, Owen, and his assistants toiled away at the day to day governmental affairs. A large space was also left open, and though currently unused, functioned as a personal sparring ring. Numerous trophies hung on the walls and included things like preserved monster heads and ceremonial weaponry. Personally, Quinn found his father’s obsession with his trophies distracting.
The prime minister, Owen Sengar, was Quinn’s uncle and the king’s younger brother. Despite their relation, there was little tension between the two. This was mostly because Owen was, more or less, the one truly in charge of the kingdom while his brother the king dealt with what he considered to be important matters. Of course, Owen had little in the way of political ambition, so he tended to resent his job and had repeatedly mentioned to Quinn how he could not wait to retire.
Owen had sandy blonde hair, similar to that of Quinn, which he kept long but wore tied back so as not to obstruct his face. His brown eyes carried a sharp and analytical look, which when coupled with his keen mind had helped discern intentions in numerous international negotiations. He was on the taller side, but was rather thin, which had earned him the joking nickname of the Skeleton Minister.
“Ah! Quinn! You have finally arrived!” shouted the king, who was himself working at his own desk today, “Everybody except for Owen, clear out for now.”
Owen’s assistants and the handful of guard knights in the office cleared out. Though they were unseen, there were surely a Shadow or two hiding nearby who likewise slipped out.
Quinn’s father, King Christoph, rose from his desk and moved to the lounging sofas for a more relaxed conversation. He was a muscular man, despite now being in his early fifties, which given the Earth equivalent time period was a minor miracle. He preferred to keep his dark hair extremely short, but also let his beard grow out a little. Both hair and beard were speckled with gray at this point, but Christoph paid it no mind. His dark eyes were both fierce and kind. Many, including Quinn, considered the king to be more of a musclehead, but he was a capable leader who took little nonsense from others.
Owen joined his brother, while Quinn and Wyen sat opposite the pair.
“I believe there are several things you wanted to discuss, but which interests you first?” asked Quinn.
“Indeed there are. First, tell me your side of the Graywolf incident,” said the king.
Quinn launched into the story about how the hero had left for the territory after reports of a mining accident and the subsequent support that Quinn had personally led to aid her. Much like Quinn and Wyen had been aware going in, both Christoph and Owen were aware that the former baron was corrupt, but lacked the evidence to arrest him without causing a stir amongst the nobility. Quinn mentioned how the baron had kidnapped the hero, but she had escaped with the evidence that they needed and handed it over. Wyen added that after just a quick precursory analysis, there was enough to arrest the baron immediately and they moved to do so.
Continuing the story, they mentioned how the baron did not surrender and Fang had been injured, then that the hero had answered their call for aid and saved him. They mentioned the decision that the baron’s daughter would inherit the title of baroness and would be supported for the next year until she came of age, making sure to emphasize that she would be loyal to the Crown.
Christoph had a stern look in his eyes as he asked Quinn, “And did you do anything to her?”
“I did not! I wanted to, but I did not!”
“She said as much to verify that,” Wyen added.
“That’s good,” sighed the king, “It would complicate things.”
“What are you implying?” asked Quinn.
“Later. First, tell me more about the hero. I received the initial report from Count Ghele and several of your updates, but then you ran off for nearly a month.”
Quinn, with Wyen’s occasional interjection, mentioned again several of the incidents that occurred while they were in the Graywolf territory. They concluded that these actions they witnessed for themselves were enough to verify that this woman was indeed a hero. He went on to describe how they attempted to recruit her using Adelade as a bait to draw her in, but that she did not fully take the offer and left to visit the Wethra territory. They followed and found more evidence of her work amongst the elves, which Quinn concluded meant that she would likely accept an offer to aid the kingdom in time, but that they could not rush her.
Christoph and Owen understood the delicate nature that Quinn was taking when approaching the hero, since being too hasty would undoubtedly push her away rather than draw her in. They were well aware of the unwritten rules amongst the nobility when it came to heroes.
“What is her name?” Owen asked.
Quinn was silent as a look of frustration crossed his face.
“We have not been able to conclusively determine that,” Wyen said.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” the king asked.
“She uses the title of ‘doctor’ frequently. Since she insists that she is not a hero whenever anyone calls her one, she calls herself that. As such, she has not revealed her name,” Quinn said.
“One of your updates said she purchased property in the city. She would need to have given a name for that,” said Owen.
“Yes. But that name she gave seems to be a fake. Ascle Pius does not match the letters she left in place of a signature on a letter she left,” Quinn replied.
“What were those letters?”
“DR, RH, and MD”
“We believe the first two, the DR, are a reference to her ‘doctor’ title,” Wyen said, “If she is like other heroes of the past, she has a family name. The RH could be either letters of her first name, or of both names. If it is the first, the MD could be part of her family name. If it is the latter, we are unsure what MD means.”
“If it eludes even the two of you, then we certainly won’t know,” Christoph said.
“You really shouldn’t be proud of that,” Owen sighed.
“So that is the situation,” Quinn concluded.
Christoph nodded in understanding and was silent for a moment.
“Is that all?” asked Quinn, despite the air indicating it was not all the king had to discuss.
“Wyen, I must start this next topic with an apology to you, since it will place a significant burden on you,” Christoph said.
Wyen felt the nervousness in his stomach flare up again. He was grateful that he kept his own lunch light.
“Quinn, I will be abdicating the throne in a year’s time. You will be king then,” Chirstoph said, “With that known, you must take a wife very soon.”
While Quinn was not exactly surprised by his father’s decision to step down, the time frame was much sooner than he was expecting. That said, the second point the king mentioned excited him.
“Since you do not have a fiance already, something I admit to having a part in, we are holding a courtship party in two days. You will find a suitable candidate there.”
Wyen felt nauseous, and started curling up at the mere thought of reigning Quinn’s behavior in during the party and whatever came after. Quinn meanwhile was confused.
“Father, I have already found a suitable candidate.”
“You did?” the king eyed Wyen questioningly, “Who?”
“The hero. Who else is worthy of being brought into the royal family than a hero that is here? Who knows when such an opportunity might present itself? Not to mention, she is incredibly beautiful.”
Owen and Christoph glanced at each other. The points Quinn mentioned were valid, but the delicate nature of politics meant that an heir was usually produced quickly. Christoph himself had faced harsh criticism for not having an heir until after he was thirty. It had split the nobles house into several factions that even today were vying for more power.
“Can you win her affections before you take the throne? Heroes tend to not favor political marriages if I recall,” Owen asked.
“I will certainly be trying. Once we are alone, there will be no way for her resist my charms!”
Wyen had nearly passed out by this point. Both the king and prime minister looked at him with sympathy at Quinn’s declaration.
“Well. You can certainly try,” Christoph said, “But I suggest you find several candidates for supporting queens at the party. Perhaps the young Lady Ghele might be one?”
“Doubtful,” Owen interjected, “Count Ghele mentioned that she will continue to boost the magic within their family line. Unfortunately, Quinn has little magic capacity. It is good that they are part of the Loyalist faction.”
Wyen’s eyes snapped open in shock, though none of the others noticed. He had little magical capacity as well. If Count Ghele was forcing her to marry for magic, then the possibility of his future with Adelade was at great risk. He would have to speak with her.
“It is fortunate that we decided to hold the party so quickly. Most of the Household faction houses will not be able to send their daughters fast enough to make it. We should only need to focus on the Nationalist faction trying to seduce you. Of course, it would be best for you to choose from the Loyalist faction,” Christoph advised Quinn.
“They will not remain with those factions for long if they meet me. I will seduce them and their house to the Loyalists.”
“Right…,” Christoph replied with obvious skepticism.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That evening, two figures stood embracing in the shade of a cherry blossom tree in the palace gardens. Because of the garden’s location deep within the palace, the evening light was greatly diminished through the open air above, making the garden fairly dark already.
“What should we do?” asked Adelade.
“Both of our attendance is guaranteed, though in different capacities. We have no choice but to attend,” Wyen replied.
“I mean about us. We can’t wait like you want to. Father won’t let me wait for you like I would.”
“Nor will he accept me. I have no magic.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. You know that.”
“Yes. But his approval is somewhat necessary.”
“Who cares what he thinks? I choose you.”
Wyen thought in silence.
“What would he do if you selected nobody?”
Adelaide looked confused.
“At the party, I mean. Though I guess you could threaten him with ‘at all’ as well.”
“If I choose no one at the party, he would probably just choose someone for me.”
“That’s what I thought,” Wyen sighed, “Since you already are set to be the next court mage, we can’t use an elevation of your position either.”
“You aren’t prime minister yet either, but I understand.”
Wyen thought in silence, then let out a small chuckle.
“What?”
“I was thinking we could just run away. Forget everything but each other and go someplace else. But we both feel responsible for the future of the kingdom.”
Adelade laughed, “True.”
“We’ll figure something out. But speaking of the future of the kingdom, can you please help me get Quinn straightened out for the party? And maybe help me oversee him? I think the effect you had in Graywolf wore off.”
“That’s not exactly the most romantic way to court a woman you know?”
“Yes.”
“But it is you.”
Adelade leaned in and kissed Wyen.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two days later as the evening drew in, numerous horse-drawn carriages were arriving at the palace for the courtship party. The function of such an event was similar to that of a single’s mixer, so that potential marriage arrangements could begin amongst nobility and other highly influential persons in the kingdom such as wealthy merchants. As such, though the biggest attention of attendees was the fact that the prince was present, it was a function for many sons and daughters alike.
It was unsurprising that the prince was the talk of the party, since rumors had been making rounds amongst the nobility for some time that Adelade was currently Quinn’s fiance. While the presence of both at the party quickly dispelled those rumors amongst attendees, it was still suspicious that the two remained in close proximity.
Certain attendees were obviously more popular, and lines had formed to meet with them proportionally. In Quinn’s case, there was a line of both young men and young women, though the purposes were not the same. The men who came to speak with him were hoping to build relations so that they might be considered to join Quinn’s government in time while the women were vying for the position of queen and the influence that came from it.
Quinn was in a position where, should the need arise, he could be escorted to safety promptly, but this unfortunately was a ways from the various food samples that were being offered to the guests. As such, he felt a slight rumble after a time.
Quinn was dressed more regally than was usual for him. Silver embroidery, to an extent that truthfully was excessive, lined the red, suit-like ensemble he had on. A cloak of orange, the national color of Sengar, with the golden bear that was the Sengar crest was draped over his shoulders.
Just behind him was Wyen, wearing a black suit and appearing very much like an attendant. Wyen was functioning as a final filter should Quinn start to embarrass himself, but so far had been impressed at Quinn’s composure. He supposed that the rigorous training he and Adelade put Quinn through the day before might have had an effect.
Fang was also in attendance, serving as Quinn’s personal guard knight but also was here for the party as well. He was stationed just a short ways to Quinn’s right, but kept the prince in his line of sight even as he spoke with the women who came to meet him. As a knight at such a party, he was wearing a formal armor that was more ceremonial than functional, but also displayed his station as the prince’s guard.
Adelade was on the opposite side of Fang, just to Quinn’s left. She and Wyen had decided during the social training yesterday that staying within Quinn’s line of sight, and keeping him in hers, might serve as a harsh reminder, which seemed to be working. She was wearing an elegant lavender dress this evening that incorporated more frills than was practical, making it somewhat cumbersome. As such, she was grateful that those attempting to win her affections approached her.
“Thank you for coming to this party and for gracing me with your presence,” Quinn repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
Standing before him was a young human woman who he had met previously during his time at the Royal Academy. Though like every woman he found her physically attractive, he had always despised her personality. She was, to put it mildly, a bully and certainly lived up to the worst aspects of nobility. However, as the daughter of a countess, she was immune to most repercussions of her actions. It did not help that her family was considered the head of Households faction.
“Lady Cindra Azural,” Quinn continued, hiding his inner thoughts, “It has been some time. I am a bit surprised that you are here, given the Azural territory is among the islands.”
She rose from a clearly half-hearted bow and plastered on a fake smile.
“I just so happened to be in the capital on business for my mother when I heard of this party. I suppose I must have missed the invitation that has surely sent to our estate here in the capital.”
Quinn could read between the lines of her statement. Clearly his father had purposefully not invited the Azural family, knowing that they would not be considered for queen candidacy. However, as it would likewise be rude not to invite them, he had probably sent the invitation to their territory instead.
“I was not privy to who and where the invitations were sent. I am certain that you received one though as it would be unfortunate to purposefully excuse any noble house from attending. Such a thing would be unbecoming of the Crown.”
“Indeed,” Cindra replied, sensing her attack had failed, “I also heard that a hero has been located within the kingdom. It would be most fortuitous for the kingdom to acquire their knowledge and talents. It is a shame that I see no one matching her description.”
Cindra glanced about the room exaggeratedly with a smirk. It was, of course, inevitable that information about the hero would come into the other nobles hands in time. As the leading family of the Households faction, it was even more likely that the Azural’s held more information than any other within. Clearly they knew what she looked like. Cindra was practically challenging Quinn to acquire the hero before the Azurals did.
“The hero has agreed to assist the kingdom when such is necessary. The cost was to not limit her freedom, which would stifle her cooperativeness. Such is the way of heroes, would you not agree?” Quinn challenged back.
While what he had said was a bluff, providing false information to the Azurals could backfire and push the hero away from the kingdom if they acted on it. Instead he was betting on the bluff, coupled with the knowledge about heroes of the past, forcing the Azurals to not make any moves while believing that the hero was already on the Crown’s side.
Cindra’s fake expression cracked for just a second before she recomposed herself. If she believed Quinn, then her family could not move to acquire the hero. But it could be a deceitful boast. It was unclear to her which to believe.
“Such is their way,” she nearly growled, “I shall take my leave, Your Highness. It seems there are others that desire your attentions.”
With another half-hearted bow, Cindra left Quinn behind. A sharp jab from behind drew his gaze from her entrancing, retreating backside back to his next guest.
Talk continued with his guests until a break in talk was announced for dancing. As rhythmic music took hold of the room, attendees paired off and took to the central floor. Quinn took the opportunity to dance with several young women who had caught his attention that he knew were on the safer side politically to select, if such a situation arose. Eventually, between the talk and idle dancing chatter, Quinn had grown quite exhausted. With one final dance to go, he selected a particular woman who he wanted to discuss something with.
“How has your evening been?” he inquired as they slowly began.
“As exhausting as yours,” replied Adelade.
“Find someone worth your time?”
Adelade slipped up on a step, but rapidly recovered.
“No,” she said a little too forcefully.
“So you did find someone?”
“Yes, and no,” she said after a moment.
“Meaning?”
“I found the person that father is going to choose, who is not the person that I choose.”
“That is unfortunate. But such is the life of nobility.”
“You get to choose.”
“Unofficially yes. But she is expected to be from among our nobility. And what if foreign politics were to force a wife upon me? Oh, the horror of such a situation!” he said.
“You're slipping," Adelade squeezed his shoulder tightly to bring him back, "Plus, you’ve chosen the hero though already. So any of the nobles or foreign princesses would become secondary queens, if you make it work with her.”
“I will,” he said, “I know it is presumptuous of me, given the statements I’ve made in the past to you, but can I ask for your help?”
Adelade looked at him in silent surprise as they continued dancing.
“You’re growing,” she said finally.
Quinn shrugged.
As the dance concluded, the party continued for a while longer before everyone departed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“She was great! And we felt a connection for sure!” Fang said excitedly, “She’s a baron’s daughter too, so with my place as a guard knight it won’t cause a great issue.”
Quinn, Wyen, and Adelade were sitting in Quinn’s office listening to Fang go on about the party two days ago for perhaps the twentieth time as they were working.
“Who is she again?” Wyen asked.
“Victoria Novus,” Fang replied.
“Novus,” Wyen contemplated, “Southern coast. Loyalist faction. You should be fine. Which daughter is she?”
“Uh, first I think?” Fang said.
“You talked but didn’t find out that kind of information?” Quinn asked.
“Hey! I got to know her! She’s more than just her name and family.”
“Did you fluff her tail?” Quinn snickered.
Fang blushed a little, something barely noticeable through his fur. The Novus family were beastfolk, and Victoria was a fox kind.
“You should find out. It could be important before her father might agree,” Wyen said, ignoring Quinn’s remark.
“Well, what about you two?” Fang retorted, trying desperately to divert the attention from him.
Since Fang had just rambled almost nonstop since the party, Quinn and Adelade had not mentioned anything about their own prospects at the party. Quinn seemed especially eager to share, now that he was being given an opportunity. Adelade seemed less than inclined to do likewise.
“I want to start by saying the hero is still my first choice, but there were some beautiful women there. I couldn’t just choose one though, so I made a list of all ten.”
“Ten?” Wyen asked in disbelief.
Adelade and Fang looked just as shocked.
“I take back what I said during our dance. You still have a long way to go.”
“Let’s hear it then,” sighed Wyen.
Quinn went on for the next hour going through his list. Once complete, he beamed in satisfaction. The other three looked on in blank amazement.
“It really is like nothing about what we discussed stuck in his head,” Adelade whispered.
Wyen stood up and violently snatched the sheet of parchment away from Quinn. Taking a quill he fervently crossed out an entire section that Quinn had written down.
“Never say that again. About anyone,” Wyen stated flatly.
“Of course he would have such things to say about Hannah though,” commented Adelade, “I mean she was turning every man’s head at the party.”
Hannah Serbine had indeed turned not just every man’s head, but every woman’s as well. If everyone at the party were to have been asked who made the biggest impression, they would have said Hannah before even the prince.
It was a multitude of factors that played into the attention she drew. As a noble’s daughter, to be sent to such a courtship party that the prince was also attending, she was a beautiful woman. She had just turned sixteen, thus making her an adult, and it was her first public appearance since doing so. To describe her as extremely voluptuous for her age was perhaps being too restrained. The dress she wore was not filled with the excessive frills and pompousness that tended to dominate noble affairs like the party, but rather worked with her figure to both show off and provide a tempting allure. In a sense, it took more from the dresses that commoners might wear, yet brought them to a noble level that was sure to be the talk among the women of society for weeks to come.
“Wyen, you took out my impressions of Hannah,” Quinn commented after receiving the list back.
“Exactly what I said you should never say again.”
“”Agreed,”” both Adelade and Fang said in unison.
“Just write the names down and we can send it to the king,” Wyen said, “That is all he wants to know for now.”
“Fine,” Quinn replied, “But first we need to hear Adelade’s take.”
Adelade leaned back into her seat.
“We really don’t,” she murmured.
“You don’t have a list too, right?” Fang asked.
“No. My father asked me to test magical capacities and report who had the greatest. One stood out among everyone, so that’s who father will choose. But he’s not the one I want.”
“Who was it?”
“He’s not a noble, so it’s even better for our family. His name is Arcoron. He’s a dragonoid.”
Dragonoids were a type of beastfolk who, like the name implied, possessed draconic traits. They were one of the more extreme examples of beastfolk, since scales covered them from head to toe, they had a more reptilian head, and boasted a tail.
“How does he compare to you?” Quinn asked.
“Imagine magic capacity on a scale of zero to one hundred. One hundred would be hero level. Father is roughly in the low eighties, while I would be the high eighties. Arcoron is around seventy-five without the training I have. If he received it, perhaps he could break ninety. But you can’t accurately measure capacity with numbers, so it’s just a feeling.”
“And who is your choice? What capacity does he have?” Quinn continued.
Adelade started visibly blushing and fidgeting.
“His capacity is far below what father would even look at. He’s not even a mage. It’s …,” Adelade said.
Of course she said the name of the young elven man in the room, but the pounding on the door to the office was so loud that it drowned out the name to the others. Now, everyone’s attention was drawn to the door as Fang checked.
Phillippe entered, looking flustered.
“She has left again.”