Lordrin POV

“Crown-Son.”

A familiar voice roused me from a dozen sentences buzzing about my skull like irritant flies on a hot day, and oozed an unwanted chill down my spine. I was almost thankful for the work I was expected to go through, which would give me a good excuse not to devote as much attention to this voice as it may typically demand. Though it addressed me by an honorable and polite title, the tone of voice did not match the formality of the words. Exasperated and almost condescending, it was a voice I rarely wanted to hear, yet was too familiar to me.

The throne room of Gresha’s palace was spacious and resplendent. Dozens of plants lovingly tended to, both exotic and mundane, crowded the large throne in a cloud of greenery. The walls were awash in the colors of both brightly painted murals depicting important scenes of history and myth, and impressive trophies from the days of my forefathers, still proudly displayed.

In the center of the throne room was a large expanse of carpeted floor, cleared of seats, so that guests and visitors may stand or kneel as they gave their reports. That space was now occupied by Head Priestess Forya. Though she was an aged woman with a frame that wasn’t particularly large or impressive, her commanding presence loomed above most guards and priestesses. Having had a career of several decades in Gresha’s temple and politics, she knew precisely how to stand as if she owned the whole palace, how to arrange her face to hide her innermost thoughts, and did so now, drawing the attention of a half-dozen or so scribes and other attendants, even as they sat in seats on the edges of the throne room.

She acted as though she were the one on the throne. She always did. Such actions were terribly insulting, especially from the woman who birthed me. Which of us was the Crown’s son, after all? Certainly not the female priestess.

“Crown-Son,” she repeated, her eyes narrowed and expression grave. “We have much to discuss.”

“Forya,” I responded, deliberately sounding distracted by my work. Foregoing her official titles and epithets should have nicely needled her, though she never showed annoyance. I didn’t look up from the report on the clay tablet I was reading, pretending it had engrossed me more than her pleas for my attention, as I lounged on my throne. “I have much to catch up on. What is this regarding?” I finally asked, when I felt I had toyed with her patience long enough.

She was as serious and stern as ever—and just a little condescending. “You should know very well what it is regarding. It should be detailed in your reports, as well.”

“The Crown-Son receives much information to sift through. Running a city-state is no meager feat. Indulge me.”

She gave me a mildly disappointed look, and I had only a moment to realize I had made a mistake in providing her an opportunity to treat me like an infant. When she spoke, it was with the most pitying and lowly of tones, as though giving basic lessons to a particularly slow toddler.

“As any good Crown-Son should be well aware, the temple’s most important duty, aside from supporting its most beloved Crown-Son, is to pray to Crown Naruune and Hallow Zaya for favorable weather and good harvests. The most important rituals to them, of course, are at the beginning of the Moon Season and at the end, during the Harvest Festival. However, weekly lesser prayers for things such as these are an ongoing event throughout the year. Such is their importance to our society. Pleasing the Crown and her daughter are among our chief duties, and takes a great many forms, which we must both do our best to sate,” Forya spoke. I placed my reports to the side, giving the appearance of diligence and attention as she lectured. The scribes and attendants in the room glanced between us, but all knew better than to gossip or murmur in our direct presence.

“But there has been a disturbing pattern as of late,” Forya continued, still speaking slowly. “The weather has been growing hotter, the Ter’s banks have retreated. As a result, reports from farmers state the harvest may be reduced. This may also impact one’s ability to travel up and down the Ter, among other things…”

She rattled off a lengthy list of other side-effects, seemingly from memory. When she finally concluded her lecture, I asked her, “Are you suggesting that Mother has rescinded her favor as of late?”

A corner of Forya’s mouth twitched. Several of those watching began to exchange glances at the weighty suggestion.The Head Priestess forged ahead, before any had a chance to let their minds wander regarding the implications. “Wrong. I am suggesting the Sun Fiend—or one of her children—is here.”

Another round of fervent glances, accompanied by a few hushed whisperings. I tolerated them for a moment, waiting for them to die down, then said my piece. “Oenne, when was the last time the Sun Fiend was sighted?” I asked one of the attendants.

The young attendant leaped slightly in their seat, to be addressed so directly, then nervously tugged at their clothes. “Crown-Son, the Sun Fiend has not been in Gresha since the time of the Reparation Cycle. Reanne and Onaiga’s age. The efforts of Crown Naruune and the Sun Falcon and the sacrifices of the Rite of Sunset made yearly keep her far away,” they finally replied.

“And what are the signs of her arrival?”

“Well…heat, the harvest’s failure, the Ter drying up…” they began, only to wither under my gaze. “Also wildfires, a red sky and ocean, clouds of ash, the flight of local animals, the Ter becoming undrinkable, plague…”

“Perhaps not the Sun Fiend. But some of her children are just as dangerous,” Forya said. “The last time one of the Great Dragons was seen was just under a decade ago. It was spotted flying above us, headed west, and was not seen again. Crown-Son, with all due respect. Even a rumor of their presence is a very serious issue, and requires your full attention.”

I withheld a sigh. When she phrased it like that, now I truly did have to give it some attention, else I would come off as a negligent king. “Then what would you propose, Head Priestess?” I asked.

Forya spoke succinctly and confidently. Clearly she had been practicing. “Prepare Gresha for war. Evacuate Gresha’s most significant persons to secure and fortified locations, cancel the Harvest Festival, and raid Angra for additional sacrifices.”

I burst out laughing. My laughter echoed from the walls, and then more quietly as a few attendants nervously joined in. The grave air in the throne room seemed to ease somewhat. “Head Priestess Forya. Though you are a wise and experienced Priestess who has sacrificed her years serving the people of Gresha, it appears you do not understand them,” I spoke pridefully through the dying echoes of laughter.

“I’m certainly concerned for the safety and livelihood of our people.”

“As am I,” I snorted, “But I have to worry about more than just their state of being. I must worry about their hearts and souls, as well. The Harvest Festival, which is fast approaching, is a very important occasion. Not only is it an important time of prayer for the Temple and a season when Greshans celebrate as siblings and renew their bonds with one another, but when our close allies are invited to Gresha, our alliances renewed. If the festival were to be canceled or scaled back, they would take great offense, and may even cut trade with us. Not to mention the impact it would make on the morale of our citizens, and our ability to secure next year’s harvest…”

“The Ter is an important trade route linking us to the prosperous Heishan Mountains, and we are a significant port city built where the Ter meets the sea. We’re too important for them to do such a thing,” Forya said.

I waggled my finger. “Perhaps. But other countries and kingdoms are prideful, and us becoming an isolationist city-state will help no one, especially not ourselves. I refuse to close our borders. The Harvest Festival will go on.”

“But—the harvests,” Forya said.

“Your list earlier. It cited predictions, not reports,” I retorted. “It’s true, we have reason to suspect a diminished harvest from the fields. But we only have a small amount of the signs that the Sun Fiend has arrived. And if we evacuate the civilians now and go into siege, there’s no telling when the siege will end. We will have to contend with a number of miserable and starving civilians who were denied the festival they were so anticipating, and who now believe that their Crown Naruune has failed to protect them from the Fiend. They will lose faith in her emissaries, the priestesses you are mistress of, and will turn on a major pillar of Gresha. Or were you intending to have the civilians out braving the danger, so they could feed your Priestesses and the nobles as they hid in the temple?” I smiled pleasantly. “Either way. While the Head Priestess’ concern for her citizens is admirable, she is perhaps…over-zealous in her fears.”

“We would not be hiding,” Forya hissed, “but praying for the assistance of the Crown and the safety of Gresha! Your mundane soldiers would not be able to even scratch the Sun Fiend, we would be the most critical fighters in this war! Of course we must be kept protected!” Briefly, she composed herself. “Regardless, holding the Festival is a fool’s errand, Crown-Son. You will burn through our much-needed stores.”

“But the Harvest Festival is the time when alliances and trade is negotiated with foreign ambassadors,” I pointed out. “As it stands, we don’t know how long a siege would last, and may have a slightly below average harvest. Before we do anything so drastic as evacuation or siege, it would be wise to secure shipments of additional food from places not affected by the drought. Either through negotiated trade, or perhaps a tax paid in grains.”

“That’s…” Forya considered my proposal a moment longer, then bowed her head. “It is a risky plan, Crown-Son. If the Sun Fiend appears before the Festival ends—”

“The reward offsets the risk,” I cut her off. “And besides. Should we allow our people to celebrate their Harvest Festival, they will enter the siege with their morale, and their faith in their Crown, recently boosted, having just been reminded of why we hold gratitude for her. Would it not make them more amenable to small rations or cramped confines?”

“I still must insist you create some more solid preparations in defense of your City, should the rumors be rooted in truth,” she pressed. “And furthermore, if you are so intent on going ahead with the Harvest Festival this year, then you must fulfill all your duties without complaint; including the rites for a bountiful harvest. Remember, you were the one to be so insistent on proceeding with the Harvest Festival this year.”

Despite the flatness of her expression, I still felt the smugness of her gaze. Even when I won the argument, she still found some way to get something she wanted out of it. I opened my mouth to respond, when an unexpected arrival interrupted our discussion. A messenger burst through the door, and all eyes quickly focused on them. They sweated a little under the unexpected attention, but knelt down in a practiced bow in the presence of both the Crown-Son and the Head Priestess.

Forya looked down upon the messenger, a cold fury in her eyes. The messenger, despite their healthy figure, suddenly appeared a great deal smaller. “You were not given permission to ent—”

“Let them speak,” I interrupted her. “If they are here, then there is clearly some urgent matter requiring my attention.”

“Yes, Crown-Son!” stammered the messenger. “There is such a situation, on the west side of the temple!”

I exchanged a glance with Forya, noting the slight incline of her eyebrows indicating confusion, then nodded once. “Very well. Guide us.”

The Crown-Son and his Priestesses shared a very close relationship. Therefore, not only were the palace and temple situated right next to each other, but multiple corridors and courtyards connected them. With the messenger guiding us, it was a swift trip to the area of the incident. As we walked, Forya rounded on the unfortunate messenger. “What has happened?”

“Honored Mother, ma’am,” the messenger said, their face growing ashen. She tended to have that effect on most. “It appears a Priestess Candidate was injured.”

“An attack? On who—how? Which Candidate?” she asked. Her words gave the impression of panic, but her expression lacked urgency. Still, the natural intensity of her presence sufficiently flustered the messenger.

“I-i don’t know—it’s up ahead!” With a trembling hand, the messenger gestured at a crowd ahead. Not only were guards and healers already on the scene, but a number of citizens were attracted by the growing crowd. As we drew closer, one of the temple guards noticed us and saluted. It didn’t take long for the rest of the crowd to open a path after that. At last, I could see for myself what had happened.

On the ground was a young woman, around my own age, with pale skin and red hair. A faint memory stirred in my mind. Though her head was faced away from me, it was clear she was unconscious. Above her knelt one of the temple’s healers, dressed in a rich red and brown meant to hide bloodstains in its dye, dark wavy hair tied back and out of their eyes, was already on the scene. I gestured for the messenger to remain on standby, and approached the healer.

“What happened here?” I asked. The healer did not look up or bow, remaining focused upon the Candidate. In this situation, such disrespect could be quickly disregarded.

“She fell from high up, Crown-son,” the healer stated.

“She was pushed? Or…?” I looked up. There were some windows above this alleyway, was it possible?

“Perhaps. No one is certain. There were no witnesses, Crown-son, but it could have been foul play,” the healer stated, tone level. Clearly this one was quite experienced, not to be flustered in my and Forya’s noble presence. How interesting. It did mean the Candidate was in good hands today.

“How badly is she injured?” I narrowed my eyes, looking at the body again. No blood, though her skin was darkened by bruises, and one foot seemed awkwardly twisted. The Healer turned their attention back to the Candidate.

“She is not dead. She should recover well enough to walk within a few weeks, if she continues receiving care. She’s safe to be moved right now,” they pronounced.

“I recognize that girl,” Forya muttered darkly. “Candidate Nania.”

I remembered her. After catching my attention a few years ago, though I had largely been occupied by my duties and other matters, I had occasionally tried making the time to observe her. I had little luck in that way, Forya had never been fond of her and if she wasn’t in a lecture or practice, then few ever seemed to know her well enough to guess where she might be. Still, she was a Priestess Candidate of my temple. It was common knowledge that, though the Priestesses of the Temple were allowed to take lovers from the city, their priorities always were to their city and to their king. Any other man would only pale in comparison. Besides myself, these priestesses held the highest statuses of the city. While others could borrow them, share of them, praise them, admire them, honorarily they were as to my wives. They were mine. Seeing her like this a simmering irritation brewed in my gut.

What was even worse was that, with Forya’s clear disdain for her, this girl was not one of hers. She was only a Candidate right now, only perhaps a few months younger than myself, but unlike a significant faction of the Priestesses, this girl was, or could be, well and truly mine.

Someone had attacked a woman who was mine.

“It is possible that she was not attacked at all,” Forya stated.

I tried to cool the simmering anger. “Do you have proof of this?” I asked.

“The girl is both lazy and impudent,” Forya explained. “There have been multiple occasions where she snuck out of the temple and into the city without permission. Even occasions where she was found wandering the Deep Woods, and had to be brought back. It was her own foolishness that brought this upon her.”

“Perhaps,” I mused, “Or perhaps it is proof that rather than your radical theories, Crown Naruune has rescinded her favor upon seeing how your Priestesses bicker and feud like maidservants.” I carefully lifted Nania up in my arms. Her body was light and I expected her to feel fragile, but I found some firmness in her body. Calluses and muscles. How…curious. Of course that old fool knew little of the Candidates and Priestesses under her own watchful eye. I addressed the healer, who seemed unwilling to take a side in our argument. “You. Her health is your top priority. Understood?”

They nodded without debate. Whether it was loyalty or altruism, I couldn’t care, but I did appreciate it.

“Crown-Son Lordrin—” Forya began, but I did not allow her the chance to continue. Swiftly I began to walk back into the temple complex, making for the infirmary. My swift pace meant that Forya, the priestess, and a small accompaniment of guards had to scramble in pursuit, and it was only when we had all reached the infirmary that Forya successfully caught up. I openly smirked at her windedness.

“Crown-son Lordrin!” she snapped again, and I allowed myself to take some small pleasure in her frustration. I continued to ignore her as I placed the girl down on a bed, and gave one final nod to the healer and guards. At last, I led Forya back out of the room and finally gave the Head Priestess my attention. By now she was red in the face from annoyance. A rare look on her.

“It is unwise for a King to ignore his Honored Mother. She is his closest ally and wisest advisor,” she said pointedly.

I feigned ignorance of my rebelliousness. “But I do not ignore my Honored Mother. When Crown Naruune calls me, I heed her words. Head Priestess is mother to the Candidates—or she should be. Either your Priestesses are attacking each other, or you’ve let an intruder who wishes them harm into their midst. If you fail as a mother to them, perhaps it is time for you to step down.”

In truth, it was an open secret that, while many Priestesses and Candidates were content with a life of duty and luxury, those more ambitious amongst them who sought the role of Head Priestess would clash amongst each other. So long as they didn’t kill each other, that they fought so hard to be by my side was only natural. But it was another fault of the Head Priestess’ to throw at her feet.

“Wh—but I have not selected my replacement! It is I who decides when I step down, none other!” she sputtered.

I smirked. “There are protocols for a King to choose his own Head Priestess. They are used quite often when love becomes a factor.”

Forya scoffed. “You are not in love. You are being disobedient. Again. You will not last long at all as King if you refuse good counsel.”

“The previous King now lives in Mother’s house. I am the Crown-Son. The only thing which can remove me from the throne now is Mother’s favor,” I said dismissively. She shook her head.

“Regardless…now that this incident has been resolved, in regards to our earlier discussion—”

“It is not resolved,” I said stubbornly. “We don’t know why she fell. Or, if she was pushed, who pushed her. If a Priestess-Candidate more beloved to you were to be attacked, would that spur you to action?”

“Yes, yes, fine! I’ll instruct the guards to investigate! And the preparations for drought?” she said, with no small amount of irritation.

Finally, I acquiesced with an annoyed tut, and turned my mind to the matter of preparations. I decided, “Before the Harvest Festival arrives, I shall go and dissuade the Angran tribes from assaulting us or our guests, and perhaps invite some of them for…later festivities. Once the Sun Season passes, the Rite of Sunset will be a grander affair than usual. I am unwilling to sacrifice them before, because more sacrifices will mean the proper preparations will be larger and take longer.” I sighed. “And of course, as Crown-son, I know what is expected of me in the rites and rituals. But I will be selecting who I fulfill them with this year. It is my right as king.”

“You complain much for a Crown-son,” she noted.

“Is that amenable?” I pressed.

She glared down coolly, her arms crossed, then gave a short nod. “It will do. For now.”

“Of course it will,” I said. Whatever she thought of me, I took my duty as king seriously. It was her and her alone who thought herself the power behind the throne. “Now leave me be. I have a raid to prepare for.”