"I'm fine, Lev. It's just a scratch."

"A scratch?" Levro looked down towards the bandaged gash in his father's forearm before returning to eye contact with his father. "I don't think people usually call an inch deep incision from wrist to elbow a scratch, dad. Mind you, it would have been your neck if I hadn't been there to stop it."

"Wasn't it your sword that cut me?"

"Only because your stupid ass decided you wanted to punch an assassin with unknown capabilities." Levro stuffed his mouth with a forkful of spaghetti. "Sheriously, ish there anyfing in that shkull ov yursh?"

"Don't speak with your mouth full."

"I cooked the damn meal. I'll do whatever the fuck I want with it." Levro watched, somewhat incredulous, as his father attempted to use his bandaged arm to lift his fork. "How many times do I have to tell you!"

"Eh, sorry." Bahn dropped the fork, splattering some marinara sauce, before picking it up with his other hand. "When did you learn to cook?"

"Field rationing and survival course, something Edward suggested I take. Covered the basics of cooking, nutritional intake, how to check various ingredients for freshness or rot or pests, honestly just anything related to food. Turns out that cooking your own food is the best way to make sure you aren't being poisoned, such as when you have assassins after your life."

"An excellent decision. What did you say this dish was called?"

"Spaghetti and marinara sauce. Damn near impossible to tamper with or poison without damaging the packaging, and can be cooked with nothing but a pot, a fire, and some water."

"I'll have to add this to the regular menu."

"Oh, for sure. I didn't have any of the premade ones with me, but you can add some meatballs to the mix and it truly becomes a work of art."

"Mmm."

The two men sat and ate in silence for the rest of the meal, either savoring the new flavor or letting their frustrations about the current situation subside.

". . . I want you to be honest with me, dad. How long has this assassin problem been going on?"

"Can't we just enjoy a meal in peace for once?"

"No, dad, no we can't. I won't lie and say your death isn't at minimum vaguely within my interests, but I have no intention of letting you die until I feel fit to lead. Besides that, I've got mom and the girls to worry about. The assassination attempts are the reason you started sending them on trips to the Sanctum, isn't it?"

"Hm? What are you talking about? They just wanted to see you!"

"I'm not an idiot, dad. Not anymore. The Sanctum is too damn expensive for them to be living there full time with a war going on." Levro looked up at his father, seeking to make eye contact. "What the fuck happened while I was gone, dad? Who could possibly be bold enough to attempt assassination in broad daylight and assume they could get away with it? Who did you piss off?"

"Who didn't I piss off?" The remark wasn't a surprise to Levro. His father could be frustrating to work with, and infuriating to work against. "Don't worry about it Lev. I'll figure it out, I just need a bit more time."

A creaking door interrupted their little chat, Lev immediately reaching for his blade.

"Calm down, kid. I ain't here to hurt ya." The tocking of walking stick on marble announced the arrival Lev's grandfather, the previous king. "What you need is a break."

"Dad?" Bahn glanced down at his ruined arm. "Can we please not do this now?"

"Do what now?" The hobbling old man made his way to his son's side, immediately beginning to inspect the wound. "No poison, which is better than I expected. You still ruined the rest of it though. Good job keeping it patched up until I got here Levy. I fear he would have screwed it up beyond repair." sniff sniff "Spaghetti, eh? That brings me back. Whatever, enough of that. Bahn, take that damned bandage off would you?"

"Yes sir . . ." Bahn began to peel away the cloth, the dried up blood causing a considerable amount of pain. The impromptu stitching Levro had performed being ripped out from the flesh was definitely the worst of it though. 

"Geh, I'm going to have to clean all that gunk out. Levy, get me some hot water, will you? I'll get ready to close this thing up for good."

- - - - -

"Here." Levro had gathered the water from one of the palace's reservoirs, heating it up with Split as he made his way back. "Is there anything else?"

Lev was looking at a dinner-turned-operating table, his father sprawled out atop it. Blood trickled at a fairly consistent rate from a freshly mangled forearm, the work of his grandfather 'cleaning' the wound. 

"Can you open the- actually never mind. I should have more than enough light for this. I'm going to need you to be a second pair of eyes though. Should you spot anything unusual with your father's forearm, I need you to tell me immediately. Muscle knots are a sickening pain to deal with, and I would rather not have to cut my son open a second time."

"Yes sir."

"Cut it with the 'sir', schtick. I only have him do it because he's a moron."

"Hey!"

"You decided to deal with assassination attempts by waging wars. If that doesn't make you a moron I don't know what will." Steaming water was then poured into the open wound, inciting a blood-curdling scream from Bahn. Lev's grandfather immediately got to work scraping away what could only be described as 'filth' with a tool that had a triangle on the tip. "Oh quiet down, pussy. It's just some water."

"BOILING WATER!" Bahn screamed once more. "IN AN OPEN WOUND!!!"

"Eh, you'll get over it. Here, place this on the table." Lev was handed the tool, which he dutifully placed in the region 'above' his father's head. "Did that to remove all the dead tissue from the living. Can't heal the living while clinging to the dead or something like that."

Another tool was produced, this one flatter but without a sharp point. It was swiftly inserted into the cut, and began to glow. Well, the tool wasn't glowing, the flesh around the tool was glowing. That flesh was also wriggling and swelling. 

"Isn't it pretty?"

"Isn't what pretty?" Lev wanted to know what about this could be classified as 'pretty'.

"New flesh is being grown in front of your eyes. The very essence of man being extruded from its source into itself." The tool was removed, the flesh sealing itself as it left. "It's not perfect, not even close to what I saw him do, but it'll be more than good enough for an idiot."

Several more times, the tool was inserted and removed. Every time it did so more of the wound seemed to disappear. 

"How he did it so quickly without the assistance of a tool will forever be a mystery to me, but then again so is the rest of him."

"Who is 'he'?"

"Just some guy I was at the academy with during my youth. By the time he graduated, he could do what I'm doing here to an entire missing arm, practically in the blink of an eye. Some of us called him 'the Zombie' for it."

"That sounds insane! How didn't I hear anything about him?"

"There were much more interesting things in that time than a guy being able to regenerate limbs and whatnot. It wasn't the most useful ability in a duel anyways. They end too quickly. Group battles though? So long as his teammates didn't die immediately he could keep them up and in the fight long enough for it to be a big issue for your average opponent. I must really emphasize that 'average opponent' part there. Some people he had to fight could handle it without issue."

Levro continued to watch the operation unfold before him. His grandfather's work wasn't perfect, the proof being a noticeable scar, but there wasn't a gaping wound to worry about anymore.

"So how did you learn to do this?"

"He taught me, kind of. I damn near lost my dick one time during a spar, and he offered to teach me how to fix it myself so he wouldn't have to touch it." Lev's grandfather spared a glance in Lev's direction. "Would you like to see the scar?"

"I'd rather not see old man junk so soon after dinner, or ever really."

"Hehe, smart kid. Now that I think about it, he should still owe me a favor. Maybe I could cache it in to help solve this whole mess." Lev's grandfather finished up the operation, hesitating a moment before pouring the rest of the scalding hot water on his son's now perfectly fine arm. "I left you with a perfectly functional, prospering, and stable kingdom. How did you manage to not only get assassins on your ass, but also end up in debt?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

"What a pansy."

"You just poured a kettle of boiling water on him."

"He deserved it."

"I mean, kinda, but he also paid for it with the gash on his arm."

"No. I needed to punish him." Already tools were being put away. "There are some things only a father can teach to his son. Responsibility, I fear, is one of them."

"I was responsible!"

"Assassins and debt do not a responsible ruler make! Have you learned nothing from what I taught you?"

- - - - -

"Hmm." Levro's grandfather scratched his chin, contemplating the information revealed to him from a panting Bahn. "It's a tough situation, I'll give you that. Not enough to justify your actions, but I can definitely see how you would struggle with it."

"Pirates? Really?" Levro for one was not convinced. "Can't we just go out and hunt them all?"

The source of the problem was, apparently, a coalition of pirate lords with territory surrounding the Hifterg Kingdom. One of them had been intercepting a trade route vital for the capital's glass industry, and Bahn had retaliated by attacking and conquering this pirate lord's planet from another nation. Naturally this pissed off the rest of the pirate lords, and a sort of domino effect occurred with more and more pirate attacks being directed at their kingdom's trade routes. In turn, Bahn attacked more of these pirate lords, some of which were nominally under the domain of larger kingdoms, leading to a chain of offensive wars that were really more defensive in nature than you'd expect.

The most recent war bucked the trend, Bahn identified a moment of weakness in one of their historical rivals and capitalized on it to secure a better strategic and economic position moving into the future. 

If this had been any other kingdom, they probably would have been fine, but this was a kingdom headed by a man incompetent in the art of politicking and diplomacy. None of them were completely convinced that he had been on the offensive because of the pirate lords, and they almost certainly wouldn't be easily swayed now that he had pulled off this latest stunt. The majority of them simply didn't feel like taking him on fresh off a streak of victories. They were more than happy to send spies and assassins though. 

"If it was that easy, there wouldn't be any pirates. They are only allowed to exist because its impossible to hunt them all down." Lev's grandfather began to walk towards the door. "Come, come. There are other things I wish to talk about besides war and conflict."

"I feel like this is a fairly pressing issue, gramps."

"Pressing, but not urgent. After the latest stunt, I imagine any assassin will wait for things to die down before making another attempt. It would be too difficult to get close otherwise I, on the other hand, am not long for this world. Do me a favor an oblige an old fart's desire to see how his grandchild is doing, will you?"