The Only Son Amongst The Daughters Of Eros

The Knightguards moved swiftly, obsidian armor glistening as they erected a sturdy canvas tent near the castle courtyard.

"Hold the rods!"

"Pull!"

"Get the stones!"

"One my word! Lift!" Their words of actions rang through the evening as The tent finally stood from their success.

Even though it was only a temporary one, the tent was made with fine materials, having the Region's colors, lined with silken banners and bearing the sigil of Starlight in its top most center.

Inside, a simple wooden table was placed at the center, flanked by chairs and stacks of parchment for notes and decrees. Lanterns were placed in case the darkness took over, creating an intimate yet official atmosphere.

After thanking the men who had done this job so quickly and efficiently, Aeric sat at the head of the table, his fingers idly drumming on the wood.

The cool night breeze drifted in, ruffling his cape. He glanced toward the entrance of the tent, where Ilyon, his mother's second-in-command courier, stood at attention.

He was a middle-aged man with dark hair and a long spiky mustache, that fell at both sides of his chin. He was also training under Jontel, to take over in case the courier got too old to carry Mother Guinevere's tasks.

Being by Aeric's side in times like this was a good way to train. However, Ilyon already had a reputation for efficiency and loyalty. Being from Tavert, one of the branching families that supported the royal family, everyone knew he would make a great courier.

It was one of these branching families that Delva also came from. Selvadez to be exact, but that was a topic for another day.

Outside the tent, the crowd at the back of the line murmured in confusion as the Knightguards redirected them to the tent.

"What's going on?" one man asked with honest confusion.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

When they were told that the Prince Aeric, Son of Starlight, would attend to those in the back of the line, there were mixed reactions.

One man barked, his voice tinged with irritation. "I've been waiting all day to see the queen, not some boy!"

A gaunt woman with a shawl pulled the man tightly, who she seemed to know personally. "What are you doing, you idiot! Show some respect! That's our Prince. He rides the land himself to speak with us. A boy his age could be doing anything else, but he's here to help us."

"Help us?" the first man scoffed. "What can a child do? I want the queen, not a pretty face who plays at being noble."

A third voice, gruff but firm, cut through the argument. "Watch your tongue. That 'boy' has done a lot for us in his short time here. Have you ever since the Daughters grace us with their presence on the roads?

"No. They rather fly over us because they believe us to be dangerous. Son Aeric has ridden through storms and dangers to see the state of our villages. And he listens. The beggars of Gulydurk and neighbouring villages love him. Now he's doing this? There is so much hope for our Region with him in the Royal family."

After many of them had heard that man said that, the murmurs of dissent quieted. All of them in the line began to nod in agreement. Slowly, they turned around and started to file one by one into the tent.

Inside, Aeric tried not to let this overwhelm him. It was his first time doing something like this, but he was eighteen. He was old enough and also man enough to handle such responsibilities.

So, he straightened as the first citizens approached.

Ilyon introduced each one with clipped precision, guiding them to stand before the table. The concerns varied — a merchant seeking relief from high taxes, a farmer requesting aid after a flood destroyed his crops, a mother pleading for medicine for her sick child.

Aeric listened intently, taking notes on parchment and issuing orders for follow-ups where he could.

Of course he couldn't satisfy all of them, and he knew how to not take their curses and words to heart when he gave them the sad news. But seeing that he could help the few, and listen to all was more than gratifying for him.

As the hours wore on, darkness was fully taking over now, the lanterns glowed and the crowd thinned. But around the end, one man's presence caught Aeric's attention.

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He was tall and broad-shouldered, his face weathered and scarred from years of hard labor or battle. His clothes were patched but clean, and he carried himself with a quiet dignity even though his appearance was very rough.

Ilyon announced him. "This is Jerothicus Gainly from Gulydurk. Jero used to be a well known farmer from that land, he has come seeking aid for his town."

Jerothicus stepped forward, his boots thudding against the ground. Then, after letting out a deep breath, he raised his head, and his eyes met Aeric's, steady and unflinching.

"My Prince," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. "It is a remarkable thing you have done here tonight. Making sure all of our voices are heard and we do not go back home without speaking."

Aeric inclined his head. "Thank you for the nice words, Mr. Gainly. Speak freely. What brings you here?"

Jerothicus took a breath, his hands clenched at his sides. "Where do I start, your Highness? You have been to Gulydurk yourself, you have seen what have become of that once great land. After many Wave Wars, we are now barely surviving. Mursbridge, our neighboring town has been plagued by beasts, these beasts also travel to our land, devouring our crops before they can grow. Our fields are barren, the rivers run red with filth, and the skies... the skies are dark, as if Eros himself has cursed us."

Aeric's expression darkened. "Yes, you are right, Mr Gainly. I have been to Gulydurk. Mursbridge is the town on top the dark mountains, the one suffering from beast attacks."

Jerothicus shook his head, his face grim. "They are not mere beasts from what I hear. These are the Wave Beasts. Half Drakes, Faceless Lizards, Corrupted Orcs. They come in the night, they slaughter livestock, people and they ruin the soil. Gulydurk can not get better if Mursbridge remains in ruins, and we desperately need to return to the town we once was.

"Our wives, our children. They are suffering. We've sent pleas to the Knightguards, to the Awakened Players, but no one comes. We're abandoned."

Aeric leaned forward, his hands tightening into fists. "Do you have a count of how many have died"

Jerothicus's voice broke. "Killed by the beasts? Or by the famine?"

Aeric froze, body in shock from that question.

"My prince. Children starve in their mothers' arms. Men who stand to protect their families are torn apart by these creatures. Those who kill any, return home to no food, only finding satisfaction in the embrace of their wives and children."

He shook his head. "And still, no one comes. I've walked for days to reach you, Your Highness. Please, if there's anything you can do — anything at all — help us."

The tent fell silent.

Aeric's mind had been racing for moments now and it was yet to stop. He already knew of the troubles in Gulydurk before and had planned to send aid in the name of knights and grains, but when he asked the Treasury and the Defence Guild of Starlight, nothing could be dispatched because of the incoming Wave War.

On whose name was this law made? His very own mother, Queen Guinevere.

Even more, The beasts Jerothicus described sounded unnatural. Except for the Faceless Lizards, he had not seen any of those other beasts before. What could Half Drakes and Corrupted Orcs look like?

Where they the kind of beasts to expect in the incoming Wave from the Snake Queen?

He turned to Ilyon. "What resources do we have? Could we send a force to Gulydurk?"

Ilyon hesitated. "Our forces are stretched thin, Your Highness. Between the border skirmishes and the defense of the Realm, we don't have many to spare. And if these creatures are as Jerothicus says, we'd need experienced Awakened Players, not just knights."

Aeric rubbed his temples, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He really could not do much here. He had no power over the Regions Treasury, the Farming Families, or the Defence Guild of Starlight.

He could not force them to deliver aid to Gulydurk. Even though he was the prince. Mother Guinevere had all the power.

Politics and governance was not straightforward. He knew that but he was seeing it now. It wasn't just helping people that needed help. There were certain things that had to be cross checked, rules that had to be met.

Jerothicus watched him, his eyes filled with both hope and desperation. "Please, Your Highness," he said softly. "Gulydark has always been loyal to the Starlight Region. Don't let us die forgotten."

Aeric looked back at him, his jaw tightening. "Your town was not taxed this year, was it?"

"Thankfully not, your Prince." Jerothicus answered. "Mother Guinevere offered us her kindness in that aspect. Although, we had nothing at all to give."

Aeric's eyes narrowed. "Listen to me, Mr. Gainly. I won't forget you. I swear it."

Jerothicus saw that resolution in Aeric's eyes and nodded his head. For some reason, he completely trusted this boy. He bowed, thanked the Son and left the tent, allowing another to come in.

Aeric stared down at the parchment before him, and his thoughts began to churn.

This was the weight of leadership, and it was pressing down on him on his very first try.