A young man sat at the desk in the spacious office that he utilized to take care of most tasks given to him. He had his hands arched together, pinching the bridge of his nose with his index fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. His sand-colored hair was slightly frazzled, as it had been for the last several days due his constant messing with it. As the prince and heir to the throne of Sengar, his appearance at the moment did not offer what would typically be considered a royal facade.

Quinn Sengar, the prince in question, was still reeling from the shocking statement made during an official ceremony the other day. A hero had appeared in the world, specifically in the Kingdom of Sengar, and Quinn had convinced her to work with the kingdom. Since heroes were considered such important people, it was inevitable that nobility and leaders from across the world would seek to win a hero’s loyalty. Quinn had, for the moment at least, secured her loyalty to Sengar, but wanted to further cement that loyalty through marriage.

None of the nobility within Sengar opposed this new hero’s involvement with the royal family, but already there were requests from ambassadors to hold meetings with the hero. New requests from other nations that had previously had no diplomatic contact with the kingdom were even starting to arrive with rumors of more on the way. Heroes were just so valuable to the countries of this world that, to each other, they could not hide any desire to recruit the hero. All of this weighed on Quinn’s mind, but was irrelevant to him compared to what the hero had said.

“She wants to be the only queen! No secondaries, no consorts, no concubines!” he blurted out yet again.

There was a snorting laugh from a small table over by the entrance to the office. The wolf beastfolk with gray fur sat in a wooden chair which he had leaning on two legs against the wall. He was lightly armored for a knight, and his sword was resting in its scabbard on top of the table. He had his arms up, with his hands clasped behind his head as he continued to laugh at Quinn’s despair.

“Hey, you picked her,” Fang, the beastfolk knight, replied.

“I feel that it is a sort of poetic justice for the task I’ve had for years now,” added the elven occupant of the room.

The last sat on one of the two sofas that took up the center of the office, scanning documents to assist Quinn in managing the kingdom. His light brown hair was tucked neatly behind his long, pointed ears, a signature feature of the elven race. His smooth words and features were second only to the prince himself. It was his mind, likewise second, that had vaulted Wyen Silverwing from the son of a count’s butler to candidate for prime minister.

It was kept a secret from the general public that Quinn had a tendency to act in an undignified manner befitting royalty around members of the opposite sex. That the secret was as contained as it was was itself an impressive feat. Wyen, in addition to being a close friend to Quinn, acted as a final line of defense to control Quinn’s behavior when the prince was around people who were not in the know.

“But it doesn’t make sense! It’s important to continue the bloodline. What if she can’t…” Quinn faded, his mind temporarily distracted by the thought of what he just said implied.

Wyen, recognizing the tangent Quinn had just gone on, loudly, and unnecessarily, cleared his throat.

“It is something you need to discuss with her. But you should have remembered from the stories of heroes that they don’t often hold the values we do.”

“But many change their views!”

“Many of the men,” replied Wyen as he shifted uncomfortably.

It was a complicated topic, because it did paint such men in a questionable light. It was generally the case that, despite its legality in Sengar, poligamy was not practiced. Those of higher social stations, notably the royal family, were the only ones to more openly practice it. The predominant theory was that it offered a greater chance, and greater number of backups, for successors to the head of the family line while reducing potential strain for the individual mothers. However, the reality was that many men used it as an excuse to legitimize their extramarital activities. Frequently, the results were familial strife and chaotic succession battles within said families, negating both of the theoretical purposes.

For Wyen, he could see the chaos that Quinn was either ignorant of or intentionally choosing to ignore. Quinn was the sort, given his weakness, to take advantage of the frowned upon aspects of poligamous relationships. As such, Wyen’s opinions of the hero had grown even more with her statement.

Despite her statement, it was likely inevitable though that such a thing would come to pass. It was still common practice to forge key international alliances through marriage ties. If the situation called for it, Quinn would likely have to potentially take on at least one diplomatic marriage if he did not have an eligible successor at the time. The reason that Quinn had such flexibility in his own marriage prospects was due to the lack of demanding diplomatic ties Sengar faced.

“We just have to convince her that it’s for the best!” Quinn stated.

“The best for who exactly?” Wyen murmured to himself.

A knock on the door, coupled with speaking softly to himself, obscured Wyen’s response from Quinn. Fang got up from his relaxed position and checked the door. A servant entered and gave a steep bow towards Quinn.

“Your Highness, the hero has come to speak with you,” he said.

“Bring her forth,” Quinn replied, shuffling paperwork that he was too distracted to do anyway to the side.

Just as quickly as he had arrived, the servant left. A few moments later, the door was opened by a pair of knights.

“Your Highness, presenting Lady Rebecca, the hero,” said the previous servant.

Entering in was a young woman. Her blonde hair was pulled back and loosely braided today, draping over one shoulder. There were a pair of spectacles pushed up onto her forehead and leaving her hazel eyes unobscured. Unlike when she had visited the palace for the formal audience, she was not in an elegant dress. Instead she was wearing simple clothing which was reminiscent of commoner styles, something that had caused confusion several times already at the castle gates. Over top of the outfit, she was at least wearing one of the jackets Quinn had commissioned for her in a style she had described as a ‘lab coat.’ Of all the clothing that the palace, specifically at Quinn’s request, had sent Rebecca already, she only had kept these lab coats. It had been a little frustrating, and somewhat expensive, to send attendants to fetch the clothes sold off to nobles and other wealthy persons so that the palace could hold onto them for Rebecca’s eventual rise to queen.

Supposedly she had been using the funds to secure materials and personnel for the development of the revised physician program at the Royal Academy that they were going to introduce. She had also been starting the establishment of an orphanage as she continued her medical services to the commoners in the city.

“Bring us some refreshments. Otherwise, you may leave us,” Quinn said dismissively towards the servant and knights.

Fang shut the door to the office and returned to his casual pose in the chair.

“Is it too much to ask that you dress for coming here?” Quinn asked.

“You care that much?” Rebecca asked.

“No, but everyone’s eyes are upon you. Like it or not, you now have extensive judgments being placed on you. Projecting the proper image of a future queen is important.”

“You’re one to talk about image,” Wyen quipped.

Both Fang and Rebecca nodded in agreement.

“Besides, I am not the future queen yet,” Rebecca added, emphasizing her stance on her potential position.

Rebecca took a seat on one of the sofas, across from Wyen. Quinn came over to join the pair, sitting next to Rebecca.

“Actually, there’s something we need to tell you about regarding your position,” Quinn said.

Rebecca’s gaze turned stern.

“I was quite clear…,” she started.

“This is not about that,” Wyen interrupted.

“Then what is it?”

Quinn let out a sigh. There was a knock, and after a quick check from Fang, refreshments were brought in and served to everyone. After the servants departed again, Quinn resumed the conversation.

“You probably aren’t aware of the ramifications of the changes since we came back from the Isles. Remember the Households faction we talked about?”

“The territorial nobility that indirectly opposed the crown, right?”

“Precisely,” Wyen picked up, “The faction has splintered and collapsed with the fall of the Azurals. They were something of a unifying force in the faction.”

“It means that the only two factions worth considering among the nobility are the Loyalists and the Nationalists,” Quinn finished.

While the two factions had similar goals, it was the methods that the two sought to achieve them which differentiated them. The Loyalists, as the name implied, were devoted to the crown and royal family. They ultimately sought to keep the kingdom strong by supporting the royal family. Nationalists, on the other hand, put the needs of the country above devotion to the crown. While such actions could be considered treasonous, the royals, and subsequently the Loyalists, and the Nationalists frequently worked together to find compromises in decisions so as to benefit everyone.

Since the assembly where Rebecca agreed to aid the kingdom, the Nationalists were scrambling. They had viewed Rebecca’s rejection of the engagement to Quinn to mean that she felt him unworthy of the crown, despite her words which stated other reasons. As such, they were speaking openly about how she should be handed the throne, not Quinn.

While Quinn and Wyen had theorized that even if Rebecca were to technically take the throne they could still likely get her and Quinn married, it was a matter of perception to foreign nations then. If the royal family was usurped, then the potential formation of an alliance sealed with a marriage would drag Sengar into being declared a vassal state or even annexed.

The issue was that while Rebecca was still relatively unknown to the Nationalists, they were making plans that revolved around her. They could force her onto the throne to meet their plans and end up using her as a puppet ruler once they realized she had no interest in ruling. Compounding the matter was that few Loyalists could speak against the Nationalist’s burgeoning narrative, since they likewise knew little of Rebecca.

In short her statement, while not intending to do so, had started a chain effect of political moves that threatened the country’s stability. Rebecca seemed confused about all of this as the pair explained the situation.

“But I don’t want to rule,” she objected.

“Yes, we are aware,” Wyen said.

“So just tell the Nationalists that,” Rebecca said.

“They won’t accept the statement coming from us. Already they’re at the point where they’re unlikely to accept the statement coming from you either. You’ll have to speak with them so they get to know you personally and…,” Quinn started.

“And?”

“And it would be best if you decided to at least be engaged to Quinn,” Wyen said.

Rebecca stiffened at the comment, turning slightly to glance at Quinn.

“It would be. I know that you mentioned taking things slowly, and there are things we have to discuss, but slow doesn’t create stability here. Quick action is required. It would just be the engagement for now, but it would signify that the marriage is coming within the next couple years at the latest.”

“If you don’t agree to this now, Quinn will need to take another as queen,” Wyen said.

“I’m not making Rebecca a secondary queen.”

“But you would need to start towards your own heir. Frankly, you’re late at starting already.”

Given that the average life expectancy for humans here was low, being in one’s fifties was considered on death’s door. Those of higher social status could perhaps hit their sixties, which Quinn definitely qualified as, but he was nearly twenty already. Rumors had already existed about a connection between Quinn and Lady Adelade Ghele, his future court mage, and suspicions were starting to pile up. Soon Quinn would have no room to choose as he pleased because of the pressure, which would only increase when he took the throne in less than a year.

The sound of Fang spitting his drink in surprise at Wyen’s comment snapped both of the others out of their somewhat lecturing mode. They noticed Rebecca had turned a rather bright shade of red.

“I… I need to think about all of this,” she stammered.

Rebecca practically leapt up from her seat and rushed to the door.

“Wait! There’s other things we needed to discuss!” Quinn called out.

However, she wretched open the door and darted through, slamming it behind her.

“Well that went well,” Fang commented with a laugh.

“Shut up,” both of the others snapped back.