James Jordanson - After the Changes I

Time passes.

Arma and her mother - Artelle, it seems - are surprisingly competent rulers when they're not being driven out of their minds by their own magical aphrodisiacs, which happens less and less as their bellies swell and necessity forces a break to their favorite pastime. Regarding this, I'm not sure what to think. I was kind of caught in the moment and the throes of passion and power but... I'm going to be a father soon. Twice-over.

My own father basically wasn't, so I think to search the castle one day as the weeks went on only to find a shocking lack of other men. The lacking presence I thought perhaps was just the Princess and her mother wanting to avoid some kind of scandal, was much more widespread than I though. The various knights and soldiers Arma and I passed on the trip to meet her father? All gone.

Instead, the halls are filled mostly with maids and other female servants, as well as - I occasionally find - ahem, women of a similar profession to the ruling caste. These, I learn, are actually lesser nobles, and it's barely a heartbeat of me stumbling across some entertaining one another before the Princess' favorite maid is suddenly there and pulling me away by my ear.

"You can stop that now, I wasn't seeking them out. I was already on my way out of the room, I promise!"

"No sir," The green-haired woman - Cheryl - answers, "Her highnesses were clear, sir; I'm not to let the lesser nobles take advantage of their hospitality, or your own."

"I swear, I was just looking for... nevermind. What's with this castle, anyway...? Aren't there more guards, and where are the men?"

Cheryl doesn't pause in her walking, although her hand slides from my ear to my bicep. I try to break her grip, but it's firmer than expected.

"Armelia's people have a good affinity for magic," Cheryl says, with a nostalgically familiar tone of lecture. I want to say it reminds me of the Prof back home but, uh, she's never been the type for this kind of instruction. "and we're near to the border of the demons' lands. We've long been the first to be assailed when they mass enough troops to attack, and so many of our men in times past were expended in these battles."

Around the corner we go, and into a rarely-used side corridor. There's dust, even, and as the walls close in on one another behind us I have a hunch why. Cheryl gives a dismissive sniff, but says nothing about the scenery as she continues her lecture,

"Of course, previous rulers have known not to send too many men to war. However, demons are clever, and after the last war... Fewer and fewer men have been born, and those who remained have grown ill and frail. We've attributed this to some manner of bloodline curse, placed upon the men who went to war and then spread to their partners when they coupled."

I blink. Wow. I, um, seem to have screwed the country more than I bargained for. "So the reason I can't find any other men in the castle...?"

"Is because there are none, yes." Cheryl affirms. "The few men we've left are kept secured at home and jealously guarded by their spouses and parents, with sons only leaving once an 'ideal' match is found. Through various other circumstances, the disparity only becomes more exaggerated the higher you go in society, and so it is that with the passing of her highness' father there were no men left within the castle, and no noblewomen willing match with the royal family..."

We step into a side-room, disused and filled with various furnitures covered in drop-cloths. Cheryl stops beside one that is thin, tall, and rectangular, and removes the cloth to reveal a crib. She inspects it closely as she continues speaking.

"...well, things were looking rough until, as if by providence, you appeared. Young and, ahem, healthy. Untouched by politics and spellwork alike until... Well, you may not have noticed her highness inoculating you before she got down to business, but she did. Ideally, you should not suffer from the same curse and so..." Cheryl sighs, "...congratulations! You are not only by default the new King-to-be, but a national treasure! You see, this is why we cannot allow ourselves to risk you gallivanting with the lesser nobles, treacherous vipers that they are."

I take that in, letting the severity of the situation I've caused measure itself against the twisted ego-boost it nurtures, "And the royal duo couldn't explain any of this because...?"

"Sentimentality and romanticism," Cheryl answers with a fond smile and a roll of the eyes, "Artelle should have known better, but she's quite occupied and lets Arma spend most of the time with you, no? Arma is a sweet girl. Perhaps too sweet. She doesn't want to make you worry, she has some silly idea that your 'innocence' is cute enough it , and for some strange reason she trusts you so... as ever, the result is we loyal retainers must clean the resulting mess.

The green-haired maid sighs, and then glances my way, the light catching her eyes peculiarly as she glances my way, "Or prevent it, as case may be. Not that you'd do anything that would surely result in the doom and... husbandry... of the family you have only just created, right?" The hand gripping my arm gives it a gentle, ominous squeeze as my isolation from the rest of the castle sinks in and chills tickle the back of my neck.

I have a feeling I know who the Castle's guards are.

""Of course not,"" Cheryl says, in time with myself, as she gives me a thin smile.

I'm taken aback, and so do little as Cheryl stands and releases my arm, stepping boldly close to me as she does, "So... please do us all a favor and keep everything in those pants of yours to yourself until our good ladies have given you leave, alright?" Wait, is she referring to-- "Yes, even that. Whatever it does, we can feel it. It's tied strangely close to the mana of the world. There must be some purpose for your ownership of such a thing so... perhaps don't take the blessings of the world in vain."

I take a step back, hand drifting to the phone in my pocket despite - because of - the warning, and Cheryl continues her measured, thin smile all the while. Then she blinks, her eyes dart about the room, and she gives a small and polite cough. Politeness and affection paint themselves over her face, as if to erase the entire intimidation play she'd just enacted from history as she turns slightly to the crib.

"So, um," She tilts her head just slightly, "it will take some work to refurbish, but we'll have it ready - don't worry! Shall I..." She looks almost shyly to... the space just over my shoulder, "...shall I escort you back to her highness now? I..." A blink, and I feel like I'm not the only one confused by this sudden turn, "...definitely didn't think the tunnels were so untidy. I'll have to apologize properly later, for taking you through such a place. Your clothes are going to be all mussed and..."

...and she rambles on in the tone I expected her to be using earlier, leading me away and back to the chambers with far too many questions and concerns in my mind.

[A combination of stress, fatigue from work, and external obligations whombo'd me right at the mark I intended to release this. Work is still itself as well, so I can't promise I'll have time to post every day as before, but I'll try. The biggest stumbling block was writing the new branch.]

[I intend to create a multiple-choice branch here, with much more info regarding the other prompts in a reference so that others may gen if they want to, although I still intend to lead the first branch to be chosen. I'll set up those branches later though, as I've just run out of time. Cheryl kind of stole the chapter this time.