“I would like to remind everyone that I will be taking a leave of absence. I encourage you to do the same. The day I decide to content myself with written accounts and forsake the outside world is the day one of you should probably put me out of my misery. I recommend blunt force trauma through the medium of a large, leather-bound tome; the irony of it all would spice up the accounting, at the very least.”

~Unknown

Oftentimes, we overlook the obvious until someone points it out. It is a contradiction rooted in anecdotes, but one prevalent enough to appreciate for its absurdity if little else.

A beat of silence followed my announcement, providing the opportunity to watch realization dawn on the face of every adult present. Tulos’ brow grew heavier, Tina’s eyes widened, and Figuello contracted his facial muscles such that his mustache shimmied. Like me, they’d been so absorbed in their own circumstances that the truth, until now, eluded them.

Presumably, Rual visibly reacted as well, I just didn’t care to note his appearance. Instead, I heard him, for it was Rual who delivered us from the increasingly pregnant pause.

“That is a mighty shame, that,” he remarked solemnly, as if offering condolences. “Best I be on my way then. No sense lingering while you all deal with what needs dealing with.” He turned to leave, only to stop mid-step just long enough to speak over his shoulder. “I should also probably check in on the old man - I doubt he will be able to delay them Crown folks for long.” Parting words given, Rual easily resumed his earlier jog and retreated the way he came.

Dick though Rual may have been, I couldn’t help but appreciate the warning.

“What is everyone talking about?” Bella chimed in before people could properly organize their thoughts. “Am I in trouble?” She looked up at her father, whose furrowed brow betrayed his continued struggle with the situation.

“No one is in trouble,” Tina replied reassuringly, almost reflexively. “You have done nothing wrong, Bella.”

“That… does not sound right…” Bella trailed off and frowned, as if tasting Tina’s words and finding them sour. “You do think we are a little bit in trouble, Aunty Tina.” Her face scrunched up in frustration.

“Little Sunflower, remember what we talked about?” Figuello had finally found his voice and offered his daughter gentle admonishment. He flashed a reassuring smile, or rather, he tried to; even I could tell it was a brittle facsimile of the real thing as he turned to face my parents. “I am sorry, but we should really head home so-”

“No, you should stay right here.” Tina cut Figuello off before he could get too attached to the notion. “If we are going to plead our case, best to do so with a united front, see?” She, too, could barely conceal her growing distress. Already, one of her feet was bouncing to an increasingly rapid tempo.

Frankly, I was amazed Marco had been able to sleep through it all.

Little dude must really need the rest… either that or Tina’s fidgeting is effectively rocking him to sleep. My memories of infancy were shrouded in the fugue, and rightly so, but I remembered that simply existing was exhausting. At least he’s not doing the baby-banshee thing.

Figuello frowned at Tina’s suggestion. “You and I both know that will not change anything, and Lianda deserves to be part of this, she… she…”

Poor guy is on the verge. Gun to my head, if I had to say something about Figuello, it was that the man loved his daughter more than anything. In hindsight, his tendency to endlessly dote on Bella suddenly made a lot more sense; he always knew their quiet days together were limited. The realization added another armful of heavy stones tumbling into the growing pit that used to be my stomach.

Tulos had been quiet for a time, as he was want to do. When he moved, it was to place a massive hand on Figuello’s shoulder, practically holding up the man who stood on increasingly shaky legs.

“We understand.”

Gravitas came easy to Tulos, though I doubted it was intentional; the bass tended to resonate in such a way that everything he said had a weight to it. Sometimes, mere gravitas was not enough, though. Without looking, Figuello reflexively moved to brush off Tulos’ hand - and his words along with it.

The muscles in Tulos’ arm tensed, stretching the fabric of his shirt as it desperately clung to integrity. A half-step, a slight crouch; every ounce of Tulos’ impressive mass seemed to anchor itself to the ground. Tulos was a mountain, and he refused to be moved.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Since I was an infant, my parents knew that, some day, The Crown would come for me. That looming threat, the tragic inevitability of it all, loomed over our lives for years. Carry kind of burden leaves its mark, and I’d seen the myriad small ways it impacted Tina and Tulos.

Even then, I knew I didn’t see everything. I just saw the cracks. The depths of their fears and concerns were not for me. Instead, they were reserved for their private moments, the brief windows they allowed themselves to be vulnerable so that their child might be shielded - if only briefly - from the unfairness of the world.

The hurt. The hardship. Somehow, Tulos conveyed it all through his simple words and sincere actions. When Figuello craned his neck to challenge Tulos, something he saw in the larger man’s gaze drained him of all defiance. It did not always take a Skill to see the truth in someone’s expression. Nods were exchanged, and Tulos’ free hand swung around to give a supportive clap on Figuello’s shoulder.

There was a simplicity to the exchange, really, but oftentimes it was in simplicity that we found significance.

“If we are to do this, we cannot leave Lianda out of it. It concerns Bella, so it is a matter of mothers and daughters.” Figuello straightened his posture, making his stance on the matter clear.

“Then we just need to get her here.” Like me, Tina had been patiently watching the pair of fathers. When I glanced her way, the briefest hint of a smile tugged at her lips despite the broader, more dire situation. I had my suspicions as to why.

After so many months of shared supervision, it makes sense those two built up a solid rapport.

“Will we have time for that?” I was the one who asked the obvious question. “It might be easier for us to go to her.” I normally took care to curate my words in front of company, but given the circumstances I dropped all pretense. Figuello raised an eyebrow thick enough to rival his mustache, but didn’t otherwise comment.

Given that I practically admitted to having a desirable Skill, I don’t doubt he’s come to a conclusion close enough to the truth.

“Without even taking into account how that might jostle Marco, we do not want to give the impression that we are running. Rual said they will be coming here, so here is where we need to be.” She leveled a deliberate stare at Figuello to punctuate the point.

“That does not answer the boy’s first question,” he added stiffly, prompting a scowl from Tina.

“I was getting to that,” she replied through her teeth. Nearby, I heard Vigil growl low in his throat. I frowned. People were on-edge. Emotions were flaring and firing in all directions. It was a clusterfuck of problems and I didn’t have an easy solution to any of them.

It wasn’t as if I was unaffected, either. Nerves chewed at me like a swarm of tiny piranhas; if anything, mentally assuming the role of ‘the sensible one’ was my lifeline in the veritable shitstorm we were facing down.

I mean, fuck, what am I going to do, be that one dude who tells a room full of tense people to ‘calm down?’

Tina whistled, summoning Vigil to her side.

“We will send Vigil, see? It will not be the most comfortable ride, but-”

Marco grumbled, the newest noise finally enough to stir him from his nap. That grumble quickly turned into a whine before steadily escalating into a full-blown wail that demanded everyone’s attention.

“Here. Love. Let me.” Tulos was quick to respond and scoop Marco into his arms, the growing baby still looking positively tiny compared to his father. As the pair retreated to the house, they took the cacophony with them.

“Apologies,” Tina muttered politely but Figuello waved the words away, deeming them unnecessary. “I will try not to waste more time. We send Vigil; Lianda rides him back; she is here. Okay?” Tina listed off each point with her fingers. Without Marco occupying one of her arms, she was free to resume her usual level of gesticulation.

I’d once likened Vigil to an Irish Wolfhound that made Irish Wolfhounds look small. Tina wasn’t exaggerating the validity of her plan. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but an adult could almost certainly ride Vigil like a horse; well, less like a horse and more like a sporty motorcycle - hunched over and with their legs bent backwards.

Someone Tulos’ size might be a stretch, though.

Figuello looked like he was about to object, but caught the words before they left his mouth.

“The more I argue the point, the less time we will have.” He leveled a stare at Tina, and spoke with an intensity I didn’t know he was capable of. “Do it, but know I am trusting you with everything in this, for Bella’s sake. Do not break that trust.”

Tina just nodded before closing her eyes. She rested her hand on Vigil’s head and furrowed her brow in concentration. To what end, I could not say with any certainty, but when her eyes snapped open again Vigil exploded into motion. A cloud of debris scattered into the air and I had to rapidly blink to stop dirt and scraps of shredded grass from temporarily blinding me.

By the time the dust settled, Vigil was already out of sight.

“He will not be long,” Tina said with utmost confidence. “In the meantime, I think we are each owed a brief explanation, yes?” Figuello just nodded, but evidently not everyone was satisfied.

“I still do not understand what is going on,” Bella whined, shaking her arm that still clung to the hem of Figuello’s shirt. “Why does Will seem to understand? I am older than him!” She pouted, and I lamented that her ignorance was on the verge of being shattered.

Hopefully her innocence fares better. I didn’t like its chances.