Levro sat on the bow of the ship as it pulled into port, the light breeze in his face doing wonders to tear him from the hell of his life that had been the past five years. Well, in truth that 'hell' had been going on for a lot longer, ever since he had been engaged to that woman. He was free of her now, he supposed. His father had finally annulled their engagement after eleven long years of begging and a multitude of letters sent over the course of his five year stay at the Sanctum. 

She had problems, plenty of problems, some of which he might have been able to suffer through, but her nasty habit of sleeping around with other men was a big no for a man like him. He wouldn't say that he was an absolutist when it came to the sexual history of his partner, but there was an incredibly heavy Terrano-Nekh influence on the upbringings of himself and his siblings. Their parents practically worshipped them. No, they actually worshipped them. 

They were by no means Terranophiles, people who would do anything for just a little taste of some new form of Terran culture, but they were pretty damn close. That meant they received a hefty dose of Nekh culture as well, their race usually being what Terran culture is filtered through. Their habits of monogamy and a devoted partnership had definitely rubbed off on him more than it had on most, a veritable whore of a partner was not something he could accept under any circumstances.

"Milord."

"Sorry. I'll get out of your way."

To say that was the only aspect of recent life that had been bothering would be a lie as well. War appeared to be his father's new hobby, and while he couldn't exactly complain about the string of victories, Levro was becoming increasingly concerned with the expenses his father was incurring. It was already well below the margin he would normally consider safe, not even enough to cover the expense of a famine on one of their planets, and it showed no signs of recovering to an acceptable degree before his father started the next war, and his mother's financial habits didn't exactly help matters.

It was safe to say Levro was incredibly concerned about the future of the nation he was slated to inherit, though every day that passed made his father look like more and more of a god-favored retard, an idiot with an unspeakable amount of luck that simply wouldn't die. Levro counted at least three times in the previous and final battle he had the chance to participate in where his father really should have died. Two arrows struck the brim of his helmet only to ricochet in a strange direction away from his face and spear thrown by an enemy knight that should have had more than enough power to pierce his breastplate was deflected by the sword of a soldier who just happened to be mid-swing at the time.

Levro felt bad about his silent prayers that the man would just keel over so he would stop with his aggressive political posturing, but King Bahn wasn't going down any time soon. Levro hadn't had the time to properly check the treasury yet, but his working assumption was that two or three wars, successful wars, would bankrupt them at the current rate. Even if his father was a secret genius in the ways of winning a war, he didn't seem to realize the potential economic damages even a single loss could incur. A single misstep was all it took to send their kingdom into a spiral of death that could not be recovered from.

"Morning Lev. Enjoying the ocean breeze?"

"It is well past noon, dad."

"Is it now?" His father, seeming slightly confused at how low the sun was in the sky, pouted. "Well, I just woke up, and I am king. Therefore, it is morning!"

Levro and a few of the closer sailors rolled their eyes at the joke. They had all heard him say it at some point or another, it was his excuse for passing out after some ale.

"Have you thought up a plan to get me a wife yet?"

"You're still on about that?"

"Me? Still on about what? The most important event in my life? I don't know, maybe I am. The wars sure as shit aren't helping either. Should I be hung up on that instead? Or are you just going to leave me to dry somewhere else? Perhaps you'd like to hang me up on the ceiling? Or maybe the castle window to give me a better view?"

"Oh come on Lev! I'm trying to leave you with more than what I started with. Can't you at least appreciate that?"

"I can't appreciate it much if I can't pass it on to someone myself, and having more won't mean much if it's all run ragged from war and taxation. I'm sure grampa would agree."

". . . you're not going to bring him into this, are you?"

"What? Into what? He's already abdicated! He can't do shit unless you let him!" Levro knew that his grandfather was among the few individuals his father truly feared. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a bit of a disconnect between Bahn's impression of his father and what Levro knew the reality to be. Even if Bahn wasn't the one to implement the ministerial system or bring the kingdom to the current age of prosperity, he had been a successful king for a long enough period of time that everyone's loyalty was with him. Besides, the old man was pushing eighty, not at the end of his life but certainly drawing near.

A coup wasn't going to do anyone favors, and everyone involved was smart enough to know it.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, but I digress." Lev's father sidestepped a young sailor in the midst of pulling on a rope, patting him on the back as if to encourage him. "How was your last year at the Academy? We haven't really had time to talk about it."

"I would say it was pretty awful. Starting off the year with an annulment wasn't perfect, but to be harassed about it for an entire year? I'm not sure if there was a single person that wasn't at least tangentially aware of it."

"Blegh. I get you there, kid. I've never been too big of a fan about the rumor mill there." Levro had to imagine there was a lot of gossip about his father back in the day. His mother always called those years of his trouble. "It probably made it pretty hard to get a date too."

"Especially for someone in their last year. Everyone near my age was either taken or uninterested."

"You didn't shoot for younger?"

"And leave her alone there for three or four years? Sorry, but after that experience I'm not taking any chances. I just can't trust someone I've known for a few months to stay loyal for that long a time."

"Ah. I bet you didn't want anybody only after status either."

"At this point, I'd probably be okay with it to some degree." Lev raised an eyebrow at his gawking father. "What? I'm not unreasonable! I can't expect a woman to want me for what few desirable aspects I do have."

"Bullshit!" Bahn lightly flicked his son's head. "You think the ladies wouldn't fawn over you? You've got the looks, the personality, and the brains! I'd struggle to find someone who wouldn't want you."

"And yet here we are."

". . . I'll give you that one. I really have bungled it in the matchmaking department, haven't I?"

Levro gently nodded, doing everything in his power to make his frustration visible yet subtle.

"Did you at least try to get friendly with the Terrans? I know the Dove is a bit paranoid about sending her daughters, but I bet you could pull a favor from one of her sons to get her help. Rumor has it she loves these sorts of stories."

Levro rolled his eyes. "It's honestly terrifying how similarly minded you and mom are when it comes to the Terrans."

"Did Lezi tell you to do the same thing?"

"Word for word."

"And? What did they say?"

"They - Prince Edward - told me that he would see what he could do to convince his mother, but not to expect anything. We weren't exactly close, so I don't think he'll try that hard."

The two of them braced as the ship made contact with the dock. A few unfortunate sailors who weren't paying attention stumbled.

"Mm, I think you would be surprised. He might not put in a lot of effort personally, but there are scores of people working behind him that might. I'm sure you remember how zealous the Nekh were?"

"If by zealous you mean overprotective, then yes."

"Heh, well, Prince Edward might not be particularly interested in your case, but if he passes the message off to a Nekh they may do everything in their power to convince the Dove." His father stepped off the port side and onto the pier, already a crowd was forming to welcome their king back home from a successful campaign. "We also need to remember that we shouldn't be measuring the Dove by the metric of the common monarch. She and her husband are true anomalies in this universe, eccentric individuals even your grandfather refers to as insane."

"Insanely rational. I don't think I've heard a single story about them that didn't involve some absurd calculus on their behalf."

"A trait I fear their offspring have inherited, but enough of that. We are home!" His father began his strut towards the base of the harbor, the entrance to the capital of their glorious kingdom. Levro followed close beside him, with the ministers and officers present at the peace dealings walking in pairs at a respectable distance.

- - - - -

As they walked down the street, thousands upon thousands of people flocked to them reminiscent of a sort of impromptu parade. Some enterprising musicians and local bards even contributing to the slapped together nature of the affair with an assortment of out of sync melodies. To many across the galaxy, this display would come off as rude, disrespectful, and uncultured. The norm was that the king and his victorious army would land in some nearby city to rest for a day or two while a messenger was sent ahead to prepare the people for the celebration.

The Kingdom of Hifterg was anything but the norm.

Yes, the celebration was impromptu, but that was just the way everyone wanted it. What sincerity was there in prepared festivity? The people of Hifterg did not believe there to be much. Instead they sought the joy and panic of surprise. Even now, as they made their way towards the royal palace, Levro could see long stretches of fabric being dyed the colors of their Dynasty's pennant. Bakers, quick to their posts, brought out the recipes reserved for holidays while children crowded window sills so they could catch a glimpse of the man they hailed as king.

Everywhere one could possibly look, the truth was obvious. The glory here belonged to his father. This was an environment he was responsible for, a burgeoning in the prosperity sparked by his own father, but Levro also had the right to claim some for his own. While he might only be the crown prince, this had been his first battle, his first war, and both he and his father believed his tactical advice had been of vital importance in the deciding engagement of the war. Both of those were merits deserving of appreciation, actions that served to legitimize his place as the rightful heir and successor to the Hifterg throne.

As they navigated their way through a crowd only growing with time, they reached a spot in front of the palace that sat at an appreciable elevation above the main street to the port. This was where the palaces defensive ramparts begun, and the spot where past rulers addressed their people after a war, successful or not. As if on queue, a rapidly assembled mess of carpentry was carried to the point in question.

"My liege." A sweating woodworker struggling to catch his breath bowed before the king as he gestured to the impromptu structure. It wasn't Bahn's first rodeo, it probably wasn't the carpenter's either given the most recent conquest wasn't even a year ago, and so both understood the prestige he would receive upon having the king use his assembly. But would he even grace such an unsightly creation?

Was that even a question that needed to be asked?

Bahn eagerly stepped onto the podium, beating his chest as he did so. His little motion meant to dislodge any phlegm from his throat doubled as his signal for the crowds to quiet down. Quiet down they did. Thousands, tens of thousands of people stood with bated breath, waiting for the speech of their monarch. Bahn let them stew for a few more seconds as he took it all in, something which drew an eyeroll and head shake from Levro.

Slowly, he raised an arm, his index and middle fingers spread apart with the rest of his fingers in a fist.

"VICTORY!!!"

Tens of thousands of pairs of lungs squeezed out the air they held in synchronicity, a single thunderous cheer that broke many windows across main street. Levro had to wonder if he was capable of something similar, to incite his citizens to shatter glass out of joy with nothing but a single word. He certainly didn't feel confident with his current level of charisma, he could hardly keep a gaggle of minor nobles in check. Those thoughts were cut short when something in the crowd caught his eye, a flat face.

That would be a normal occurrence and nothing of note most of the time, but now? Levro knew something was up. Cautiously, he gripped the dagger he kept by his side, preparing to shift to his sword at a moments notice. 

A silver flash was followed by the shriek of metal sliding against metal and the patter of blood dripping on stone.