Scheming Princess Quest

You are the princess of a magical kingdom. Your family has ruled for eighty years, a minor dynasty that has weathered the storms of plague and war. Your current situation is almost minor compared to that, though you still think it’s pretty important. Following the early death of your parents, your twin brother is first in line to become king upon his eighteenth birthday. And you suspect he will find you … inconvenient at that time.

You see, you know what he is.

But until that time, your uncle rules as regent. You are only ten years old, and your eighteenth birthday seems far away. Far away, and yet, all too soon to change the course of a kingdom. Until that day you have full access to the palace and considerable status with which to enact your plans, though you are almost always watched.There are some that see your brother as unsuitable for the throne, and whisper that perhaps primogeniture should be waived just this once… but quietly, quietly.

You must oust your brother from his destined throne and take it for yourself through popular acclaim, or reveal him to be utterly unsuitable to be king (preferrably with your own puppet candidate ready to make a bid for the throne), or even find a way to kill him before his coronation and attempt to ride the wave of outrage to the top. But such thoughts are treason, and the punishment for them is death.

​

• Character
• Blessings/Curses
• Advantages
• Skills
• Equipment
• Contacts
• Companions
• Your Brother's Companions

• 
  Mysterious Princess Zinger X, age 10
  Noble of Caelis Valera, the City of Magic
  
  Your parents met with a Tragic Accident. The Regent's feelings toward you are Negative, and his outlook is Liberal and Overbearing.
  
  Your brother's secret is due to his Playboy nature. He suspects your plotting in kind, and if he gets the opportunity you will have a 'Terrible Accident'. He is a Heart-stoppingly Handsome Blood Knight with Prodigious Magical Potential. His Magnetic Personality and Regal Bearing can Galvanize his lessers to action.
  
• 
  Beauty of the Ages [20 + 10] – Even at a young age, your beauty is heart-stopping. Your every movement is one of impossible grace that haunts the dreams of all who look upon you. Your suitors are without number. Your betrothal is a prize beyond price, for which men would gladly kill or die. They would battle demons and topple tyrants in your name. To gaze upon you is to know love.
  Charming [20] – You can bring a smile to almost any face. You are never without friends.
  Mature [20] – Serene and unshakeable, you inspire confidence in your abilities. People will come to rely on you.
  Inspiring [20] – You are a born leader and a stunning orator. Something about you inspires men and women to follow you.
  
  Battle-Lust – You feel alive with a blade in your hand, and seeing someone fall before your skill and power gives you an intense thrill.
  Arcane Ancestry – You come from a long line of talented mages, and their skills have bred true. Magic that others struggle and strive for comes naturally to you. What others might call impossible is merely extremely difficult for you.
  
• 
  Auspicious Birth [0] – You and your brother were born under auspicious stars. People believe you are both destined for greatness. Your abilities will be better acknowledged, but your brother’s claim will also be considered more legitimate.
  Female Diety [10] – Your religion’s god is personified as a woman. This will naturally make a female monarch easier to accept, and ensures your talents are not overlooked or belittled due to your gender.
  Royal Retainers [10] – Caelis Valera has a tradition of gathering the most capable administrators and mages close to the throne. Though their loyalty is to the reigning monarch first and other members of the royal family second, these retainers are a bulwark against foreign aggression and native uprisings. This also raises the number and quality of potential tutors and contacts available to you.
  Lesser Title [20] – The noble inheritance laws of your kingdom are complex, and your family’s standing in them is equally difficult for any but a specialist to understand after many generations of marrying back into your own nobility. One of their effects is that even at your young age, you have already inherited a small barony, and hold it in your own right. Its resources are modest, but you are the sole ruler of its lands by law, answering only to the crown.
  
• 
  The many skills that led you to gaining the lofty post of hereditary noble at your young age.
  
  Necromancy (Modest) – You can sense souls and (mostly) converse with them, but tearing souls out of people and molding them to your whims is even harder than it sounds. Rather, you are capable of somewhat... gently adjusting souls, primarily for the purposes of slipping through wards. Sophia claims it feels awful, the big baby.
  Clairvoyance (Amateurish) – You require tools to perform your Clairvoyance magic. Rolling the bones, reading the tarot, things like that. Your magic works much better with a ‘sympathetic item’ that your target has touched or – ideally – cared for before.
  Combat (Poor) – You’re entirely capable of dueling other children to the death, if necessary.
  Athletics (Awful) – You’re fit enough to jog around the castle. This is more impressive than it sounds, the castle grounds are very large!
  Engineering (Awful) – Your scores in mathematics are excellent, but you’re not entirely sure how to translate that into actually building things.
  Logistics (Awful) – Your studies haven’t yet left the realm of the theoretical. In theory, you could absolutely train, equip and move an army!
  
• 
  Weapon: Enchanted Fruit Knife (Ever-Keen)
  Perfume: Rose Water
  Dress: Elegant Dress
  Underthings: Comfortable
  
• 
  Granny Wither – Ex-head mage among the Royal Retainers, specializing in Clairvoyance and Alchemy. Bitter and spiteful. Appears to be getting gradually younger. Likes you quite a lot, possibly even for more reasons than social climbing!
  [Master Clairvoyant and Alchemist]
  Gregory Blackstone – Avid collector of mysterious, possibly evil artifacts. He likes you because you are not a dolt and 'taught the Princess magic' will sound good when he brings it up during his next appearance at court.
  [Master Necromancer, head of House Blackstone]
  
  Jill Chaser – The daughter of the head groundskeeper. You have entered into a friendship pact of secrecy and danger with her, together with Sophia Hill. Difficult to read.
  [Knowledge of grounds and falcons, some nature magic]
  Bolf Baxter – Makes scrumptious pastries. Just delightful. Do be careful not to become rotund, no one likes a fat princess.
  [Cook and baker extraordinaire]
  Roddey Forester – Stable boy at the castle. Writes home to his sister religiously. Has a certain quaint country charm (muscles).
  [Knowledge of beasts]
  
• 
  Alice – A maid you've had since you were young. Appears just when you want her and disappears when you don't, just as a good servant should. Is taking the death of your father the king very hard.
  
• 
  Sophia Hill – A girl who has decided she is your rival in magic. She’s the last of some old bloodline (maybe), and seems to be besotted with your brother. As far as rivals go, she’s not very threatening.
  [Necromancy and Clairvoyance magic]
  

 

Now, before we begin this fairytale of intrigue and (possibly) murder, a few points of note. The next few updates will include a number of choices to be made. Until the prologue is over, you will have 100 ‘fate points’ which you can use to strengthen our princess’s abilities, talents, or resources. These will decrease when you pick options that are favorable to you, and you can also add more fate points by taking disadvantageous options as well. There will always be enough options labeled [0] cost (which neither increase nor decrease your store of fate points) to get along with, if you run out of fate points early. Fate points left over after the prologue may be used to influence later events, and some may be gained during play for that purpose.

The first choice, naturally, is to choose the kingdom which you might someday rule, if you are quick and clever and at least a little lucky.

The Kingdom
The Highlands [0] – A relatively prosperous nation with a strong warrior tradition and a professional army, though its navy is very small. Also very traditional in other ways. Convincing the highlanders to break with tradition and appoint you over your brother will be an uphill battle.
(Necromancy and Demonic magic are banned and Illusion magic is disliked in the Highlands, while Nature magic costs are at half price)
Callanrod [10] – The center of religion for the region. Defended by a grand army of paladins and battle-monks, while inquisitors and missionaries undertake missions on local soil and in foreign lands. Faith is of great importance in this land, and the priesthood would prefer a pious queen over a degenerate king. The church does have significant influence over the monarchy, which is a curse more often than a blessing – but one you may be able to work with.
(Nature, Illusion, Necromancy and Demonic magic are banned in Callanrod, while Holy magic costs are at half price)
Caelis Valera [20] – A remote city of magic, built of magical ice during the last age. Though the talents of magicians today are somewhat less than it was then, Caelis Valera remains a great center of learning and magic. Valerans value arcane skill and showing great talent might garner the support of the powerful mage houses. The nation relies on spellcraft and its small army of mage-knights backed up by war golems for safety. All non-demonic magics are accepted and valued here, even for women.
(Demonic magic is banned in Caelis Valera, while all other schools are at half price)
Baruna [20] – The jewel of civilization. Baruna is a rich coastal nation at the heart of the world’s trade network. That gold flows into the coffers of the king. The nation is protected by hired mercenaries, both the king’s and retainers hired by the noble houses, and its navy is the greatest in the world. Everything has a price here, and making the right deals could see you on the throne. Just remember that the Barunese always extract what they are owed…
(Nature and Clairvoyance magic are disliked in Baruna, while Alchemy and Enchanting costs are at half price)

A few Advantages that can be chosen now are listed below. This category covers a broad range of advantageous circumstances and useful items you may have acquired. These include choices you spend fate points on now, and items you may acquire later for free. Of these, Companions are probably the most useful and can only be acquired through quest lines:

Auspicious Birth [0] – You and your brother were born under auspicious stars. People believe you are both destined for greatness. Your abilities will be better acknowledged, but your brother’s claim will also be considered more legitimate.
Mandate of Heaven [0] – Your culture believes that successfully deposing a monarch grants the right to rule. You have only to slay or depose your brother, and you will be hailed as queen! You will not be the only claimant hoping to use this belief, however…
Female Diety [10] – Your religion’s god is personified as a woman. This will naturally make a female monarch easier to accept, and ensures your talents are not overlooked or belittled due to your gender.
Jewelry [10] – All princesses are expected to possess jewelry, but your dowry is exceptional. Bequeathed from your parents and other deceased relatives, you have so many baubles that no one would notice a few pieces going missing. Gold and jewels make a fine payment for services without having to explain yourself to the palace treasurer or your uncle.
Royal Retainers [10 or 20] – Your kingdom has a tradition of gathering the most capable administrators and specialists close to the throne. Though their loyalty is to the reigning monarch first and other members of the royal family second, these retainers are a bulwark against foreign aggression and native uprisings. This also raises the number and quality of potential tutors and contacts available to you.
The type of retainers available depend on the level of Advantage and specific kingdom chosen.
Lesser Title [20] – The noble inheritance laws of your kingdom are complex, and your family’s standing in them is equally difficult for any but a specialist to understand after many generations of marrying back into your own nobility. One of their effects is that even at your young age, you have already inherited a small barony, and hold it in your own right. Its resources are modest, but you are the sole ruler of its lands by law, answering only to the crown.
Heirloom Treasures [20] – Though your line is relatively young, your parents possessed a wide variety of potent magical items acquired through conquest, diplomacy and inheritance. The purpose and power of some of these artifacts even they did not fully understand. Each has its own strengths and legend, well-known enough to be recognized with some research. They are to be used only by the royal family or designated champions, and represent an exceptional amount of social capital and practical power. Actually gaining control of this windfall will be difficult.

Your parents were well liked in the kingdom they ruled, and their deaths were a tragedy. As for the specifics...

Parents’ Death
Assassination [0] – Unfortunately, no king can be beloved by everyone. They fell to an assassin’s arrow one year ago now, leaving the kingdom in the hands of your capable but unimaginative uncle. This tragedy has resulted in an upswelling of support among the lower classes, but it was never proven who had hired the man that slew them, and the murderer was never brought to justice…
Terrible Accident [0] – Foul play was initially suspected, but your mother’s carriage crash did seem to simply be the result of a panicked horse and a road system that was perhaps not as well-funded as it should be. Your father wasted away over the next few years, and in the end grief and illness took him.
War Leader’s Death [10] – Your parents fell in battle against the barbarian hordes of the northern steppes making their once-in-a-generation push south. Though the pass into the northern lands was held, it was at great cost to the kingdom and yourself personally. Your uncle, the Regent, blames himself.
The Witch’s Curse [20] – Your parents are not dead, but are instead trapped in magical stasis. The greatest mages that could be found were unable to break the curse, and the Regent eventually ordered their petrified forms moved to a room where they would not frighten the ambassadors and worry the courtiers. ‘Hasn’t been done’ doesn’t mean ‘cannot be done’, though… (Adds a new potential winning condition)

Regent’s Disposition – Your uncle is a wise and honourable man. He is not always the most canny ruler, being raised to lead armies rather than balance law and trade. Still, he has ruled the kingdom well enough since the untimely death of the king even if he has no taste for it.

On the matter of his brother’s children, however, the answer is not so clean cut. Who has his favor?

You [10] – You and your uncle are very close. He will rule in your favor as often as the law allows, although you and he may not always agree upon just what is in your favor.
Both [0] – Lacking his own children, the Regent has all but adopted you both as his own. He will independently move to crush any threat to either of you.
Neither [-10] – The Regent sees his lost brother each time he looks upon either of you, and cannot bear it. You are both inferior copies of something precious and lost to him, and suffer for it.
The Prince [-20] – Your uncle has often wished for a son of his own to carry on his legacy. He sees the best in your brother, and pays no mind to the flaws.

As Regent, your uncle is responsible for seeing to the proper raising of the royal heirs. Of course, what is proper according to one might not be so beneficial in another’s eyes; what sort of education does your uncle favor?

Traditionalist [0] – With a traditionalist Regent in charge, you will largely be restricted to ladylike training (courtly behavior, music, dance, and theology, among others), though there will be some regional differences. A princess of Caelis Valera will still be allowed – indeed, recommended – to pursue magic training. Likewise a Highlands princess is expected to know enough of battle to defend her home and children, a Callanrod princess to study Holy magic, and a Baruna princess to navigate the labyrinthine processes of the law.
Liberal [10] – A more liberal Regent will allow you to undertake any training, even those not generally open to a woman. These range from the war-like to the magical to the merely unusual.

The ruler of a realm has many demands upon their time, and one such as your uncle who was not expecting to take the position even more so. Yet the education of the kingdom’s royal family is a critical affair of state; how much involvement does your uncle have in it?

Overbearing [0] – Your uncle cares, and attempts to ensure your success in life. He does this by ensuring that you are taught all the things a princess should know. The Regent will attempt to dictate your studies as much as he is able, though his agenda will change depending on previous choices.
Hands-off [10] – Your uncle’s training was martial rather than political. His focus is pointed outwards, his gaze set upon foreign powers that might seek to take your kingdom from you in this time of upheaval. Affairs of state have suffered somewhat, but at least your study time is largely your own.


So, vote away! Character creation will continue.
[ ] Kingdom?
[ ] Advantages?
[ ] Parent's Death?
[ ] Regent's Disposition?

 

Winning Plan: [X] Plan Dreadis

Spoiler

[X] Caelis Valera [20]
Advantages
[X] Auspicious Birth [0]
[X] Female Deity [10]
[X] Lesser Title [20]
[X] Royal Retainers [10]
Parents’ Death
[X] Terrible Accident [0]
Regent’s Disposition
[X] Neither [-10]
[X] Liberal [10]
[X] Overbearing [0]

Your younger years were pleasant enough, and you wanted for nothing. You and your brother had been born under a lucky sign, and your births were celebrated across the kingdom. The astrologers and clairvoyants agreed that yours would be a great and prosperous rule. You lived your life in the sun, and the kingdom flourished. Caelis Valera seemed to you to be the greatest kingdom in the world. You lived in a wonder crafted during a previous age; three of the world’s Five Great Colleges rest on Valeran soil, and scholars and mages flocked to the City of Magic to unravel the secrets of the world and its wonders. Magic itself was easy and plentiful and always around you, breathing joy into life. Tragedy was an abstract, something that happened to other people; you were not heartless, merely… young, and a little selfish.

It seemed like it would last forever.

Until your mother’s death tore the heart out of your universe, and you saw that life was not all sweetness and light. That there was darkness hiding beneath the gilding, even in the royal palace. You were inconsolable for some time, and your uncle and even your brother grieved in their own way. It was a dark year for the kingdom as a whole, for your mother’s passing had broken something in your father. Once so tall and undefeatable and happy, the Mage-King of Caelis Valera took to his bed more and more, leaving the work of running the kingdom to your uncle. No feat of magic or expensive alchemy could rouse him, nothing you or your brother accomplished could sway his heart. It was as painful as your mother’s death in some ways, acknowledging that your father wasn’t strong enough to live for you without her.

In the end, he turned his great powers inward. The last months of his life were spent in fantasy. Illusions of your mother walked the halls, so real and lifelike you could almost forget what it was when you talked to one, or received a hug that smelled of her favorite lavender perfume, that felt so warm and safe and just right. But it wasn’t, and it never would be again.

Your father died on a misty morning, simply refusing to wake again. Your uncle took over running the kingdom in title as well as truth. Your brother moved on, composed and cold. You did, too. You had mourned your mother once, and your father had not truly been with you for an entire year. Just a weak, sad person with his face, that answered to his name if one were lucky.

Now the joys of childhood and the grief of the last year of mourning must be put aside. Your brother stands to inherit the kingdom, as is the right of the first-born.

You would not allow it. Why?

Prince’s Secret –
Direst Cruelty [0] – He hid it well, but you have seen what he does to the palace pets now buried in the royal forest. Perhaps he enjoys it, or perhaps he’s just curious, but the truth is this: your brother is an unrepentant kitten murderer.
Playboy [10] – He secures his popularity in the oldest way. This is fine, but he has made promises to the matriarchs and daughters of several noble families. At the same time. It is blackmail, but dare you use it? Such a thing would tear the kingdom apart.
Mark of the (Old) Gods [10] – Your brother’s flesh has been marked. Though it is innocuous enough when covered by clothes, you know the mark of the Old Gods your family used to worship. Even fifty years ago, such a mark would have ensured his kingship as the child chosen by the gods. In modern times however, it is almost a certainty that the New Church will not cast its support upon a heathen.
Power At Any Cost [20] – Your brother has made pacts with dark powers, and such deals are never free. You cannot hand your kingdom over to one of the Demon Princes!
Buggered [-10] – While not enough to see him removed from power, his fondness for his same gender is a weakness that would cast aspersions on his ability to produce heirs. Can you allow the king of the kingdom to be such a deviant?

Though if you are honest, he might be a decent king despite that, for he is talented as well as degenerate. Your determination to see him fall from power is rooted in a more personal reason. He has let hints slip as to his own plans, and you care for them not at all.

Your Eventual Fate –
Married Off [0] – Your brother has promised you to a libertine older man - a local noble - the moment you are both of age in return for certain favors now.
Convent [0] – Kept out of the public eye, safely enclosed in a nunnery. Kept away from all danger and political power. It’s not such a bad life. You’ll get to catch up on your reading.
Kept Close [10] – Your brother will not allow any man to have you. You will still have a chance to succeed even once your brother has assumed the crown, though the stakes will be greater and the odds of your success far worse.
‘Terrible Accident’ [-10] – You know too much, and he suspects your own ambitions. You will need to die.

Princess’s Disposition – Your line is one of kings and heroes, and your generation is proof of this. Both you and your brother are extremely intelligent, and unusually talented. To further bulk out our princess’s character, you can choose any of the below Blessings or Curses which affect our princess physically or mentally. Blessings cost 20 Fate, while Curses give you 10 or 20 points for use in other categories. Likewise, you can grant your brother great talents in exchange for additional fate for your own use. Some of these traits will take some growing into; a Beautiful or Handsome trait might initially reveal itself through incredibly pinchable cheeks, for example.

Due to the nature of your bond, your twin will receive a half measure of any Blessing you gain, and vice versa. If our princess is Beautiful, then the Prince will be more attractive than the norm. If the Prince’s Blood Knight Blessing is chosen, our princess will find herself with a talent for the sword – but not to the extent of the other.

Choose wisely.

People’s Princess [20] – You are beloved by your people. Your charity and kindness is legendary among the poor and working class, and on feast days people gather and crowd for a mere glimpse of you. Be wary of disappointing your adoring public.
Charming [20] – You can bring a smile to almost any face. You are never without friends.
Beautiful [20] – You are the jewel of the kingdom. Your suitors are without number. Men weep at the thought of your eventual marriage, and when it comes, your bride price will be astronomical.
Mature [20] – Serene and unshakeable, you inspire confidence in your abilities. People will come to rely on you.
Inspiring [20] – You are a born leader and a stunning orator. Something about you inspires men and women to follow you.
Plain [-10] – Beauty is a useful crutch; without it, you must rely on talent. Shallow people will not see all you have to offer.
Childish [-10] – You are cute and energetic, but not thought particularly reliable.
Dull [-10] – You lack the talent to sway people verbally; you will need to lead with actions rather than words.
Impassioned [-10] – It is more difficult for you to play the long game, and your moments of triumph show on your face.
Abrasive [-20] – You rub people the wrong way. People will only help you if you have something significant to offer in return.

Prince’s Disposition
Dark Charisma [-20] – Your brother is gifted with words, and can sway people to his side almost without effort. Even those that see his true self might be brought around in time, and people do not wish to believe the worst in him.
Handsome [-20] – Your brother has never had trouble inviting people into his circle or his bed.
Blood Knight [-20] – Your brother has a great talent for the sword, and is a fan of honor duels. Those that slight him may find themselves trapped into public blood duels and cut down without mercy.
Magical Prodigy [-20] – There is talent for magic in the bloodline, and its expression is particularly strong in your brother. Your brother gains some skill in two paths of magic at random.
Long Live the King [-30] – Your brother’s talent for politics has blossomed, and a number of noble houses have fallen under his banner. The coronation upon his eighteenth birthday is almost a formality at this point, barring a revolution or coup.


The lion's share of character creation is over, but we're not done quite yet. After this is what classes to take for your first year controlling our princess. But that's later. For now, please vote!

[ ] The dark and terrible secret?
[ ] Your fate in case of failure?
[ ] A blessing or a curse?

 

[X] Plan Darkened (mostly)

Spoiler

Playboy [10]

‘Terrible Accident’ [-10]

Charming [20]
Beautiful [20]
Mature [20]
Inspiring [20]

Handsome [-20]
Blood Knight [-20]
Magical Prodigy [-20]

You have 20 fate points remaining.


You have some years yet, but it is time to begin building the foundation of your rise to power. Your tutors are excellent (uncompromising, really; your uncle was very clear) and your will to learn is strong. Your future will depend on it, after all. You have some small amount of leeway in what you shall learn, and you will continue to learn over the years, but what you learn earliest will become your greatest strength.

You will be schooled in six subjects, which can be changed yearly of your own initiative (or at the Regent’s behest). You may also choose to occasionally skip classes, reasoning that real life experience teaches better than the classroom or simply to avoid burnout. Skipping gives you opportunities for events you cannot gain otherwise, and may produce other benefits. It will likely displease your uncle, who is keeping a gimlet eye on your training.

Speaking of, your uncle will be directing the course of your classes just as he will your brother. You may contest his will, but it is always difficult, and will cost fate points. The way this works in practice is that you can choose classes to spend fate points on, and your Uncle will fill up the rest of your itinerary according to his own agenda. Spending fate points on a class indicates a subject near and dear to your heart, and will produce better results.

Some advanced subjects are gated behind the subjects listed below, and will only be made available in the event those are picked.

Ladylike Subjects – A princess is generally expected to be able to navigate a dance floor, manipulate a noble, orate a speech, learn an instrument, strike up a conversation or strike down an adversary, whether through words or proxy. Choose wisely.
Courtly Behavior [10] – The ability to move in court circles without committing social blunders. Lessons in etiquette and noble customs. A princess without Courtly Behavior will find the nobility less forgiving of her other faults.
Medicine [10] – Your physician is not a priest; he will teach you the mundane arts of dressing wounds and other battlefield medicine, as well as the common symptoms and cures for poisons. He will attempt to impart his creed of ‘First, do no harm’ as well, but that’s a little more hit and miss.
History [10] – Those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it, the historians say. You don’t know about that, but it does give you a good idea of what has or hasn’t worked in the past. These include the broad strokes of famous military maneuvers as well as social reform and the way economies and nations rise and fall.
Economics [10] – You will learn in detail how to administer funds, raise taxes and enter negotiations over money. The kingdom is relatively prosperous, but a good grounding in economics will could only help you keep it that way… or to skim off the top with no one the wiser.
Theology [10] – Taking a greater interest in religious matters will highlight the contrast between yourself and your brother. The priesthood will look charitably on you, and pious nobles are also somewhat popular with the common folk. Even visions from God might be possible for a pious royal, or at least, religious folk believe so…
Your uncle has no love of the New Church, but women make up a disproportionate number of followers of the Goddess, and therefore he will not contest your course of study as much as he might otherwise have done.
Music [20] – Learn the harp, the flute and how to sing. Music lessons will make you popular at festivals and are looked well on by the church. Salons with music are also in vogue among the nobility at the moment.
Dance [20] – Given the number of balls and festivals that will be thrown in your honor, learning to dance may be wise. Your suitors will increase in number, and dancing is a good way for a ladylike princess to remain fit.

Liberal Subjects – Many of these subjects are nearer and dearer to your uncle’s heart, and therefore likely for him to include in your schedule even should you not request instruction in them.
Law [10] – You will learn the law of the realm. Typically, royals employ barristers and lawyers to handle such things. However, you may have certain precedents to look up that you wouldn’t want people finding out about before the proper time. Law gives you a thorough grounding in what the kingdom finds most important, and helps in the event of nobles trying to slip advantageous rulings past a young ruler.
Engineering [10] – Knowledge of mathematics, of building and architecture. From monuments to war machines, you can understand them and even build them. These include war golems popular in the army of Caelis Valera.
Horse Riding [10] – Horse riding gives you a way to move quickly or outrun bad news, and would allow you to look fantastic at the head of an army. Slightly scandalous compared to travel by automated coach.
Athletics [10] – A way to keep fit for a princess who dislikes dance. In addition, being flexible and able to run like the wind may come in handy in various ways.
Military Strategy [10] – Learn to lead and direct an army, and triumph over your foes.
Logistics [10] – Logistics is the study of how to move large groups of men. How to set up camp, keep an army supplied, pay and equip them. More useful for a general than a princess, but there is some crossover.
Combat [10] – You may learn the sword, the bow and the firelance. To wear armor and redirect a blow. If all else goes wrong, being able to fight may save your life more than any silver tongue.

Magic – Magic is in your blood. Over the years you’ve picked up some minor cantrips through simple exposure. The creation of light or sound or fire, some telekinesis. With the basics of the arcane known to you, you may advance your knowledge with more focused study of the magical arts or even become directly apprenticed to one of the Royal Retainers, to learn a style of magic at the feet of one of the world’s best.
Evocation [10] – Unlike Nature magic, Evocation focuses on the creation of natural phenomena at the user’s will. Balls of fire, arcs of lightning, and so on. The flashiest and most immediately deadly form of magic, evokers are terrors on the battlefield. Their ability to defend with their magic is poor, however, and evokers tire more quickly than most magic users.
The legendary application of Evocation is a matter of scale rather than type; where normal evokers might decide the course of a battle, a legendary evoker decides the course of entire wars.
Your uncle is quite fond of ‘battle-magic’ such as this. He will take a hand in your evocation classes personally.
Nature [10] – The manipulation of the natural world. Crops grow faster, water may dance or drown under your command, and communication with animals is possible.
The legendary application of Nature magic is to gain command of the world around you down to the smallest detail. Within the sphere of your influence, you would be almost impossible to surprise and nearly as difficult to defeat.
Clairvoyance [10] – Clairvoyance allows one to divine the future and scry upon the present. Scrying requires a piece or sympathetic item of the thing or person you wish to see. Information divined about the future is often cryptic, confusing or even occasionally – infuriatingly – in rhyme.
The legendary application of Clairvoyance is a matter of breadth and scope; a miracle of multi-tasking. Legendary clairvoyants are capable of seeing… everything.
Holy [10] – Magic which destroys demons and the undead, and the most powerful defensive magic available. Healing and the curing of poison or disease are also within its purview. This magic is granted by a god, however, and can be revoked.
The legendary application of Holy magic is the true manifestation of the Goddess; heathens are smote, the weak succored, and the just and righteous rewarded.
Holy (Old Gods) [10] – Though the New Church would disapprove, there are methods to learn the ways of the Old Gods. It is a magic of ritual and bargain with beings as old as the world. Dangerous, for in the offering Old God magic calls on beings which care nothing for human lives. But it is an old and powerful magic, one which your family wielded with prowess in older times. For the royal embodies the kingdom, and the god embodies the land…
The legendary application of Old God magic is to become a ‘rider’, to call an ancient being into you through incantation, or sacrifice, or even dance. For as long as the rider’s strength and will lasts, she is all but undefeatable.
Enchanting [20] – Enchanting is the process of imbuing an object with magical properties. Minor forms of any magic the enchanter knows is simple enough, but powerful enchantments require vast amounts of time and expensive reagents. Another use of Enchanting is that one material may be used to grant it’s properties to another, permanently.
The legendary applications of Enchanting are found in every epic tale, legendary weapons and armor which will last millennia as the treasure of their nation.
Illusion [10] – Magic which may fool the senses of others. Twisting light, shadow and sound, an illusionist can produce convincing visions of things which do not exist, or hide things which do. Between two practitioners all else being equal, illusions do not defeat Clairvoyance magic.
The legendary application of Illusion is true creation; illusions with heft and weight and even minds of their own. Your father’s talent was on this level, or as close as you have ever seen anyone come.
Alchemy [20] – The art of potions, poultices, salves and tinctures. Potions to heal illness or alter the human body, the creations of poisons or acids.
The legendary application of Alchemy is a stone which transforms things into their purest possible state, be that lead into gold or a man back into his most youthful and potent form.
Necromancy [10] – Magic which interacts with the dead; the communication, summoning and binding of souls. An unpopular branch of magic banned everywhere except Caelis Valera.
The legendary application of Necromancy is the recombination of body and soul – true resurrection without blemish or flaw.

Will you seek a formal apprenticeship under one of the crown’s archmages?
Yes [0] – Accepting an apprenticeship under one of the royal archmages will give you a nigh-peerless instructor in your master’s path of magic, and will tie him close to you politically – perhaps even personally – in the years to come, if you handle things properly. However, other archmages will have less reason to look upon you with favor and being caught studying magic outside your master’s realm of expertise will be seen as a dire insult to him.
No [0] – Avoiding an apprenticeship allows you to freely study multiple paths of magic without negative social repercussion, and leaves open the possibility of seeking apprentice under someone more politically advantageous than one of the crown’s retainers in the future, should you find one. Even the hint that you might seek instruction will make most mages more inclined to give you their favor.

Even at the age of ten your class schedule is demanding, but you still value that time which you can spend on your own. Of course, your uncle has assigned guards to see to your safety- and report back to him on your activities, likely- but they are courteous enough to give you a small measure of privacy should you request it, as long as they’re not too far off.

How much time do you spend outside of classes?
None [0] – You take only that tithe of free time which the regent has planned in your schedule. This means that your life is a near-continuous stream of tutoring, but surely the skills you gain under their instruction will be of more value than anything you could manage on your own.
Little [10] – You press your tutors to allow you additional precious free time as a reward for good work, or to accompany you elsewhere to hold lessons in other settings. This does not buy you a great deal of additional free time, but it is some and will not raise your uncle’s ire.
Some [20] – You are meant to be free, not trapped with a teacher! At any opportunity you will beg off from class, slip out from under your guards’ eyes, turn in half-completed work, or do whatever else comes to mind to escape to your own concerns. This will allow you much more latitude in how you spend your time but will rapidly gain you a reputation as willful and difficult to control and may affect your rate of learning.

When you do have time on your own, where do you spend it?
The palace gardens and grounds [0] – The beauty of the trees and flowers soothes your heart, the servants are unfailingly polite, and it is a chance to speak with nobles from time to time without being observed too closely.
The palace libraries [0] – A chance to have near-solitude and quiet while seeming respectable and productive, with the opportunity to investigate documents on nearly any topic; even esoteric or forbidden lores such as ancient artifacts and demonology are well-documented amongst the esoteric tomes of the Caelis Valeran royal library, and no one questions what you read.
The nearby city [10] – To see the people and be seen reminds you of what you will one day rule, gives you a chance to see and experience things which would otherwise remain wholly alien to your experiences, and of course reminds the people that you exist. It even inspires your lessers to humbly approach you from time to time.
Your barony [10] – It is more difficult to arrange trips here than you would like and your uncle feels that its steward keeps matters well enough in hand that you should not concern yourself, but you are within your rights to oversee it personally. There are certain opportunities available in a place where your word is law, it provides a convenient place to meet others away from most eyes, and knowing the people there personally will be vital to any serious use of the place in your future plans.


How will you assert yourself (or not)?
[ ] Classes?
[ ] Apprenticeship?
[ ] Skipping class?

 

[X] Winners: Necromancy and Clairvoyance, Apprentice to an Archmage, No free time

Spoiler

[X] Necromancy [10] – 9 redaeth, Seventeen, Pipeman, Ct613hulu, DarkLight140, LeoAbogos, Bobs Beard, TMIoverload, Mrttao
[X] Clairvoyance [10] – 9 Darkened, Arkeus, Bobs Beard, inverted_helix, Tetsurō, mrttao, Jiven, TMIoverload, Arkeus

[X] Yes [0] – 10 redaeth, Xicree, Seventeen, Pipeman, Ct613hulu, Cassiemouse, DarkLight140, LeoAbogos, Bobs Beard, TMIoverload

[X] None [0] – 16 redaeth, Darkened, Arkeus, Xicree, Seventeen, CptTagon, Pipeman, Ct613hulu, Cassiemouse, DarkLight140, LeoAbogos, Bobs Beard, inverted_helix, TMIoverload, Tetsurō, mrttao
[X] The palace gardens and grounds [0] – 10 redaeth, Darkened, Seventeen, CptTagon, DarkLight140, LeoAbogos, Bobs Beard, inverted_helix, TMIoverload, Tetsurō

You have 0 Fate points.

There’s a lovely little walled courtyard in one of the gardens that you retreat to more often than not when you have the time to… essentially, stop thinking. To sit at your comfortable table and take tea beneath the spreading branches of a crystalline tree, and read a little of one of the absolutely mindless romance novels that somehow snuck their way into the royal library. The tree is a particular treasure, like an exquisite glass sculpture that somehow continues to grow, and spread its flowering branches wide. It’s quite a trick. All the gardens are beautiful, of course; the royal groundskeeper Tom Chaser and his men keep the grounds in excellent condition. The north garden in particular has a very nice bed of red and white flowers coming into bloom in the shape of a compass rose, and the south garden has a topiary maze you’ve seen your brother disappear into now and again. Perhaps you’ll follow up on that sometime.

Studies this year occupy so much more of your time than they ever have, you haven’t found the time for it yet.

You thought Uncle might have liked you once, but he’s been cold and distant lately. Aside from his sudden surprise appearances that seem more like a sergeant making parade ground inspections than a man checking on his niece. Depressing. The courtyard has some power to revive your flagging spirits, though. “It’s lovely, isn’t it, Alice?” you muse. They bloom year-round – you’re pretty sure Tom has someone with inclinations towards Nature magic – but the trees interwoven with the walls themselves seem to put special effort into blooming in spring.

You gently reach out and touch one of the riotous pink and purple flowers covering the tree-like branches that serve the courtyard as a ceiling. Nature magic would have been a tempting field to go into, if things were different.

“Yes, ma’am,” Alice says simply. Your maid companion is easy to overlook, clad in soft whites and blues that a face that could only be described as incredibly ordinary, standing off to the side of your table and keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I do wish Uncle would find himself a hobby other than riding me,” you say casually. “Perhaps he could find some other woman to ride, and produce a few cousins for me to spoil.”

You check to see if the surprisingly bawdy comment causes the guard stationed at the only doorway to the courtyard to get huffy or embarrassed. The armored man in red with the full-faced helmet – you think it might be Titus today, but perhaps not – doesn’t move or react, leading you to believe he is actually giving you some small measure of space. It’s good that they’re respecting your space, but you’re also a little sad you don’t get to tease them. It would be even better if they left you alone entirely, at least within the palace, but Uncle had made it very clear what he would do if that occurred. There had been demonstration dummies.

When he was done, there were no demonstration dummies.

You moodily sip your tea, waving away Alice’s wordless offer of more milk or lemon.

You’ve found yourself with less energy for play of late. Rather than allowing the kingdom’s other noble children to pay court to you and bestowing rare smiles as payment on the cleverest, you find them vapid and uninteresting. Perhaps you lost the talent for joy during that long year of mourning, when the noble families came to court less and less, Uncle became busier and busier, and your father retired more and more to his rooms. You’ll have to relearn the trick to it. Practice would probably do it.

You’ve even seen less of your brother, whose once-frequent matches of wits with you at least always promised to be interesting. He’s been spending less time with you or his pack of male ‘friends’ – sycophants, really – in favor of chasing after the girls at court. You suspect he may have discovered puberty, loathsome beast that it is, in spite of his youth. He’s always been the sort to dive headlong into things which interest him, and this has all the hallmarks of him finding a new hobby to devote himself to. You rather dread the idea yourself. People have always paid attention to you; how could they not, being who you are? But it all seems dreadfully dull. At least time chasing maidens is time your brother isn’t spending productively.

Despite this odd apathy that has infected you, your little courtyard has some sentimental value and serves to recharge you. You can remember reaching out to touch the ever-blooming blossoms with a child’s chubby hands, smelling the heady sweet scent with delight. Your mother read to you beneath the crystal trunk set seamlessly in the center of the courtyard, right where you sit now. Not that such was common, as your mother was often busy with affairs of state, but the memory seems sweeter for the rarity. You swore to put aside the memories and move onward, but perhaps you can be forgiven a few childish things.

“Do you remember the years we spent here, Alice?” you wonder idly, for she had been present even then. They had been good years, mostly.

Your maid pauses, then nods once. A quick bob of the head. “Yes, ma’am,” she says dutifully.

Alice is waiting attentively to see if you need anything, but says nothing more. You pay her no mind. Alice practically raised you while your mother and father were away or busy, and she helped keep you alive and grounded during the long year of mourning, but she hasn’t been the same since Father died.

When you had expressed a desire to learn, Uncle had gone overboard as he often did. You suspect it suited his own plans perfectly, whatever those may be. Uncle brought tutors and masters of all sorts to the castle this year. Men from the army, from the artisan quarter, from the mage retainers on staff. Dozens of them. He’s drafted up a lesson plan crushing in its scope, and no amount of gentle persuasion is moving him this time.

“Where are all the new tutors staying?” you wonder aloud. That seems like information you should know.

“I don’t know, ma’am,” Alice responds.

You sigh. It’s not like you even dislike most of what the old man is planning, but not being able to choose yourself is grating. The servants are bound to follow your commands of course, but in your experience a quiet word or smile tends to get peasants to obey you of their own will; even nobles bend for you if you devote attention to them. It’s not even that you have a taste for power, exactly; perhaps you’ve simply gotten used to it.

But if the regent – or your brother, were he king – gives an order, you must obey the letter of that law, if not the spirit. Your new tutors don’t have that absolute power, but it seems more polite to pretend that they do. There’s no need to upend the game table, as long as you know that you could, if you had to.

Your mornings are blocked off to be spent exercising in the west courtyard followed by learning the more popular army weaponry; the sword for now, although you’ve seen archers and fire-lance specialists drilling with the palace guard as well. There is a certain thrill to be had in taking up a length of steel – properly enchanted, of course, you are not barbarous Highlanders – and trying to beat other children with them while grown men stand around and offer pointers. It would be more fun yet if your brother was not also taking the class, and if he didn’t seem to be stronger than you. He still looks like you, pale, slender, and fair of hair and face. That doesn’t feel fair at all.

Early afternoon is taken up by classes in mathematics and logistics.

Your mathematics tutor is a flighty young man in his late teens. His hair and clothing are habitually disarrayed, but it seems more a matter of forgetfulness than aiming for ‘charmingly disheveled’. His face is fairly appealing and he is certainly brilliant, but you believe you prefer men that actually care what they look like. From him you are learning applied mathematics and introductory engineering. You suspect this will somehow end with a focus on golem-working; Uncle is a bit mad on the subject.

Your uncle is a bit mad about many things.

The logistics tutor is an affable man, Barunese by birth you suspect, although he has no accent. His frame is that of a warrior though his dress is flamboyant, including a quite dapper three-corner hat with a nodding peacock plume. His lessons take the form of thought exercises. Socratic, you think it is called, after some great thinker from southern lands. How do you set up camp, how do you keep supplies coming in, how do you handle discipline problems.

It seems fairly interesting, and ought to have at least a little applicability outside of a war setting.

“I don’t know whether to be grateful I’m not the only one buried in work, or not,” you confide in your maid. You sip again and make a face, gesturing at Alice with your teacup. Spring in Caelis Valera is rather nippy.

Aside from your morning classes hitting things with swords, your uncle is loading your brother down with quite a different course-load. You’ve seen that dark-skinned exotically-colored mage Roshan stalking about with your brother in tow. Roshan’s specialities lie in Evocation and Illusion though the man apparently knows a little of everything. It’s really the best outcome you could hope for; Roshan steadfastly remains above court politics, and if anything seems to hold a bit of a grudge against the aristocracy. You also hear he’s a tremendously troublesome teacher, and nobody particularly enjoys learning from him.

You’ve also heard stories of the prince being buried in law books and forced to attend history classes, and something your uncle has been working on with him has got one of the ambassadors in a tizzy.

You set aside the hand-scribed novel in your lap. Something about a prince and a barbarian queen or some such. It just isn’t holding your interest. You let your fingers trail over the ice-stone table – clear as blue crystal, but not cold like the name suggests – and finally give up the pretense of not thinking. Your mind is simply refusing to still today. So you think, and you remember, and you plan.


Time Passing
As the years go on, you may find you have a plan or a plot or a strategy that you think will see you to victory and the throne. In that case, if five voters agree to the plot you can switch over to a weekly or event-type format instead of the usual ‘lesson-based events’ yearly format. Should you succeed, then no more needs be said. Should you fail (and if events do not go too grievously wrong), you may return to the usual format and try again another year. Note that in the latter case, your brother may well step up his own moves against you.


You consider how you should move…
Subvert your guards [0] – Your guards like you well enough, but they are still paid by the regent. To truly call them your own, actions must be taken.
The servants know much [0] – They are everywhere, and they are all but invisible to the average noble. They would make acceptable pawns.
Acquire a suitor of your own [0] – Men are paying you more and more attention lately. It would not be hard to sort through the vacuous nobles that have been trying to pay court to you for a likely candidate.
Strike at his support [0] – The boys your brother once hawked and hunted with are restless, at loose ends. You could work to make them yours – or simply break them.
Investigate your brother [0] – What is up with that maze? You have to know!
Lull them into a false sense of security [-10] – Do nothing, and save your strength. [Forgo the event and gain Fate points for later endeavors.]

And while we’re at it, how should you run your barony? The seneschal will handle most things while you are busy in the capital (and you are), but a little direction may not hurt.

Focus on providing a steady, if modest, flow of funds to put to use here in the capital. [0]
Focus on building up its limited resources and increasing prosperity. [0]
Focus on ensuring that it can defend itself in spite of its small size. [0]
Your seneschal has his job for a reason; leave him to it. [0]
Write-in any other single directive. Complex or ambitious directives may require fate points to avoid failure. [0+]

 

Only 13 months since the last update? Perfect.
Anyway, I think I'll try for a minimum of two updates a week. That seems sustainable, even for me.

Winning vote from before:

Year 1, Update 1b

Your plotting is interrupted by an older, heavyset woman briefly speaking to your guard, who stands aside. You frown in annoyance at having your personal time so easily interrupted. Her outfit marks her as an alchemist; most of the well off in Caelis Valera adore the bigger-on-the-inside belt pouches that the journeyman enchanters sell, but few mages go in for alchemically-treated leathers like the ones the woman is wearing. You can’t think what errand an alchemist would be on that would be so urgent your guard let her past without even checking with you. And there is always the chance she is here for some nefarious purpose. Your hand drifts over to the little enchanted knife you were using to peel oranges, the one your uncle gave you for your last birthday. She looks a little familiar, not the stout and matronly figure but the sharp eyes like chips of ice-stone… but you don’t quite recall…

“Come over here and give us a hug, child,” the woman demands imperiously, hands on her broad hips.

Oh. The voice is familiar even if the rest isn’t.

“Granny Wither?” you ask a little incredulously. You stand and allow her to sweep you into a powerful hug that leaves your toes dangling over the stone cobbles. She’s younger than you’ve ever seen her, looking more like someone’s spinster aunt than the wizened crone you knew her as. She must have discovered a superior youth potion to her usual batch. She smells the same as she ever did though, something sharp and actinic and quite unpleasant. You allow your nose to crinkle where she can’t see you.

“I swear you get prettier every year, even if your face will get stuck like that someday,” the older woman croons, petting your long hair like a cat. You don’t know why you bothered trying to hide your distaste, she always knows. She doesn’t care enough to change herself, and people just have to learn to live with her. You can admire that sort of mentality, from a distance.

Granny adds conspiratorially, “You won’t be needing my love potions, that’s for sure. Maybe some of the poisons to kill a man’s ardor. What do you think? For you, child, my prices would be very reasonable.”

While destroying your brother’s libido is a little tempting, it also seems like the kind of thing that would have unforeseen consequences. You shelve the thought.

“Then what brings you here, Granny Wither?” you wonder.

She sniffs. “I don’t like coming back to court where I might run into that young brat Roshan, but your uncle said you were needing a Clairvoyance teacher. And of course I’m the best we have. Naturally, tracking you down was simplicity itself for someone like me!”

You’ve known Granny for much of your life. Your family’s retainers don’t really have a leader or a court mage position, but if there could be said to be a first among equals of that group, then Granny had viciously defended that title for longer than you’ve been alive. Most look to Roshan these days, though. Even though the dark-skinned foreign mage stays meticulously above politics and seems to you fairly unpleasant in person, he is always fair in his dealings and he has your uncle’s ear for reasons you’re not entirely clear on. More importantly in Caelis Valera, his genius for magic is undeniable. He had already mastered two branches of magic when he came to the Caelis Valera’s Great Colleges! It had been something of a shock, when you heard. You hadn’t actually been aware the greedy Barunese or the barbarous Highlanders could produce mages of his caliber.

“Uncle did say he was having trouble finding a mage tutor for me,” you muse leadingly.

“Necromancy, pah,” Granny waves a thick-knuckled hand dismissively. “Why would you even want to learn it? It’s still not popular even now, and pretty or not you know life is a popularity contest.”

“I had reasons,” you mumble. Which you’d had to explain to your uncle, at some length. He hadn’t been precisely pleased, but tradition was on your side in that instance. Allowing a mage to choose her own discipline was common sense in Caelis Valera.

“At least you understand the benefit of Clairvoyance for a ruler!” Granny sighed in defeat. An affectation, of course; you’d never known Granny Wither to give up on anything of her own free will.

“... I’m not a ruler, Granny Wither,” you prevaricate.

“Ha! Of course not, yet. You’ve got the ruthlessness for it, though,” the old bat says conspiratorially.

You allow yourself a smile that means nothing.

“Of course, of course. Well, we can get started before whatever necromancer your uncle found under some rock appears. Come along, child.”

You find Granny patting at your shoulders and arms firmly and then you are hustled off. For such an aged… voluptuous woman (you refuse to even think the word ‘fat’; the woman is your Clairvoyance teacher, after all), Granny bustles everywhere she goes like a motherly force of nature. Your guard allows your pair to proceed him before bringing up the rear, his long stride letting him keep up with Granny's determined bustle. Alice has vanished somewhere, as the best servants do when they are no longer needed.

Granny natters on about star charts and tarot cards and reading the bones as you walk. It is tempting to pay more attention to the lovely blooming roses than to the impromptu magic lesson, but you need to know these things. Your force yourself to pay attention to Granny discussing the reading of live entrails, a traditional form of divination still used today, though thankfully not by you. You might have found a certain unprincessly enjoyment out of hitting other children with sticks, but blood is still icky.

You are nearly to the cluttered little laboratory/cottage that she still owns on the palace grounds (or was gifted to her, you’re not quite sure how she installed herself there so many years ago), when a rapid tap-tap-tapping of metal against ice-stone interrupts you.

You turn to find a man in somewhat ostentatious, cloudy blue robes with silver threading and black geometric designs along the sleeves. It was the sound of his cane tapping as he moved with alacrity to overtake you. To his left was a slightly huffing and puffing girl of about your age in a rich maroon dress. You carefully don’t smile. She was clearly not being made to run about the castle the way you were of late, and was out of shape.

Her slightly wild, wavy dark hair, rather large nose and habit of lining her eyes with kohl allow you to peg her as Sophia Hill. A foundling that your father had sent to be raised by the same nannies and tutors as you and your brother. Your father had called her the last of an old bloodline, and his duty to keep from dying out. But considering the peasant-like last name, you had your doubts. You’d privately assumed her some by-blow of his, and given no more thought to it.

You had never been friends, due to an inferiority complex she had developed early – it was no one’s fault you had been better tutored than her, but she had taken it so personally! You’d occasionally put some minor effort into drawing her into your camp, but she had been adamantly opposed. In fact, she somehow had gotten it into her head that you were her rival. She was rather dreadfully embarrassing, at times.

She huffed at you and began trying to fix her hair. The nobleman with her – the richness of his dress, immaculately kept long hair and goatee, and eccentric use of a cane suggested no less – looked at Granny Wither like she was a species of bug. She returned the look with no less venom.

“Gregory Blackstone,” Granny said with deep dislike. “I had wondered if you’d pulled your head from your old tomes long enough to remember what day it was.”

“And leave you to poison young minds against me?” was his urbane reply. You’re not quite sure what he’s getting at, there. Picking at some old wound, perhaps.

“Ah, does this mean that Uncle has found a second magic tutor for me?” You interject neutrally. The name ‘Gregory Ludo Blackstone’ would almost certainly make him the head of House Blackstone. That was supposed to be a powerful – if eccentric – noble house, though you couldn’t recall what they focused in. You’ve never actually met a noble head before, just the younger generation. Being unsure what respect his rank allows him compared to you, you default to a slight bow of the head towards him. That seems safe enough.

Gregory Blackstone offers you a thin-lipped smile. “Indeed. You and the Hill girl.” He tapped his cane upon the ground to punctuate his sentence. “Now, if you are done playing games, Wither, perhaps we should adjourn to my laboratory and begin lessons for the day?”

“My lab is better stocked, and just around the corner,” Granny points out in a pleasant voice that was somehow… not.

And Sophia is glowering at you like this was your fault. Lovely.

“Perhaps, since we are so close, we could attend our first lesson in Granny Wither’s?” You offer, in the interests of moving this along. As interesting as whatever this is, your focus is learning magic. Your suggestion causes Granny’s smile to widen and grow rather smug.

The whole event rather reminds you of playing with the other noble children when you were younger, and their steadfast determination to claim you as their ‘bestie’ over the others. This seemed like the grown-up, somewhat more dignified version of that old game.

The only thing you learn on the rest of the trip – which is undertaken in strained silence – is that Lord Blackstone’s cane was not actually an affectation, but rather his right leg seems somewhat withered.

Granny Wither’s cottage is a modest affair. The lowest floor is devoted to wide, sweeping racks of shelving with many jars of unguents and pastes and potions, multiple cauldrons set in niches, and what actually looks like some kind of climbing vine trellising its way across the ceiling and hanging down here or there with heavy white blossoms. Papers written in Granny's elegant script rustle and jockey for space along the walls. When your group arrives, Granny Wither tells you sweetly, “Come in, dears. Would you care for tea?”

“Not if you told me you had the rarest Barunese black in stock,” Lord Blackstone said calmly, leaning on his cane and looking around the place with a certain patrician tolerance. That is, making it obvious that he is tolerating the cheerful clutter, and no more.

“I was not offering any to you, Lord Blackstone,” Granny said, smiling with teeth.

“Of course,” he said blankly, before making his slow way to a slate board that looked almost new compared to everything else’s worn, comfortable appearance. “Then, while the witch makes tea, I shall begin. The first task of any budding necromancer is the ability of soul sight. Before one can touch the souls of others, one must first understand them…”

---

Your choice to get the staff on your side is locked in, and will be next. Choose one more event to follow.

[X] Pay a call on the Blackstones. Lord Blackstone did say you were free to call on him whenever you wished.
[X] A day trip into town. Supplies are necessary for a good Clairvoyant.
[X] A dare from Sophia Hill. The girl is flourishing in your shared magic class, and you suspect she wants to show off her new powers in a less… structured setting.
[X] Your teachers are at each other’s throats! It would not be wise to favor one over the other. Abide, and wring from them what you can without getting involved. [+10 Fate points]

 

Winning vote from before:

Year 1, Update 2a

Your classes this year are challenging in a way you are not used to. Not that your previous teachers ever intended for their studies to be easy, but you do not think it is boastful to say that you are simply… smarter than many people. You are used to learning even supposedly difficult subjects easily, and that this is not the case now is frustrating.

Your schedule is quite full, as well. You’ll reach for the low-hanging fruit first you think, and even that is cutting into your already reduced relaxation time.

Lacking time for more elaborate plans, you seek out the most convenient option; reaching out to those you see in your everyday life but have never really invested effort in. The ones who sew your garments and cook your meals and generally undertake the maintenance of both nobles and the castle itself; the invisible yet omnipresent army of servants the royal family maintains. It’s never taken much for you to charm the people around you, least of all the common folk. Sometimes it seems like all they need is acknowledgement of the good work they do, and they will fall over themselves to thank you and love you. It’s not really worth remarking on, simply a fact of life; the little people are easily led as long as you put in just a little effort. Where nobles would demand guarantees and favors to align themselves, the common folk need only to be loved to adore you in return.

The cook is the first. How easy would it be for a disgruntled cook to slip something into your food? Alice serves as your food taster, of course, but it would be a waste to lose an excellent – if quiet – maid to something as foolish as that. She knows exactly how you like your tea, how you like your books placed just so when tidying, when to bring you delightful snacks when you are distracted by other concerns … yes, it would be a shame to lose Alice.

Personally – and effusively – praising his cooking is all it takes, really. Having Alice usher him into your private sitting room and watching the heavyset salt and pepper haired man squirm from nerves is somewhat funny. The way his eyes glisten with tears as you tell him how much you enjoy his delicacies – he has a particular artistry with pastry that belies his thick-knuckled, burn-scarred hands – is less funny. Has no one ever sent their compliments to the chef? You suppose you never have. Food has simply always been available whenever you desire it

His own gratitude for your simple thanks has him bowing nearly horizontally. But when you think about it, isn’t that natural? To be good enough to serve royalty, he must have dedicated his entire life to his craft. To receive praise from royal lips is an honor. You talk for a short time with him, but you know absolutely nothing about cooking – you've never so much as boiled an egg – and you're beginning to suspect there's no room in his head for anything else. You send him on his way after a handful of minutes of his rambling.

His name is Bolf. You'll remember.

The lion’s share of your new, hmm… conquests? That sounds bad.

Your new friends are the castle maids. A princess needs a lot of attendants beyond the constant company of your Alice, for cleaning and dressing and primping and bathing and delivering meals and so on. It isn’t hard to reach out to them just a little. You are cute, after all. Devastatingly so, actually; a fact which, while convenient, is mostly just another fact of life to you like the sun rising each day. Like a perfect, living doll, you’ve heard it said. Which sounds a touch creepy to you, but you’re sure they mean well.

To the more motherly ones, usually the ones of a proper age that they could be your mother but not always, you only have to show just a touch of helplessness. They fall over themselves to provide for you and look out for you. To the younger ones, the teenagers and young adults who have romance in their soul, you simply play the part of the royal. Greeting them with kindness, but being a little distant, as though affairs of state have weighed you down. It makes them feel special, part of the elite, to be the confidant of such a person.

The ones who see their position as a job and nothing more are a little harder for you to charm. But they are exactly the sort that might be paid to move against you, so you feel it necessary to put in the effort. Taking an interest, showing you remember them, asking after their families and little lives. Proving you care, at least a little.

You cannot afford to win them with coin; no matter how much you are hypothetically worth, all your purchases and funds are looked over and signed off on by the Regent. But you take notes. Which have family that could be threatened, which have obvious vices to use as a handle. Not to use them yourself, of course! But making it quietly known to each that you remember your friends, and that can be a great blessing.

Overall, there is quite a bumper crop of sympathetic ears among the maids.

A trip to the stables leads to another rather fortuitous outcome. Though the convenience of automated carriage or the physically impressive domesticated magic beasts are the popular conveyances for nobles in Caelis Valera, the castle does keep a small stable of riding beasts for couriers and retainer knights not wealthy enough to afford their own mounts. One of a couple boys who care for the beasts is receptive to small kindnesses. You send him stationary to send letters home which he has a hard time affording on his pay. He has the most ridiculously country accent you’ve ever heard, and you sometimes wonder under what rock or living in which cave they found him, but he seems to know his trade and he is somewhat charming in a provincial bumpkin way. Surprisingly good muscular definition as well, from pitching hay or wrangling horses or whatever it is he does all day.

The last sphere of peasants within your reach are the gardeners of the castle. They, you conclude, are a peculiar bunch. You realize this when the first one you ask to join you completely forgets your appointment. It is further reinforced when you later find him carefully monitoring an extremely localized raincloud over several patches of pink, purple and red flowers planted to resemble pinwheels. Nature or Evocation magic, presumably; there’s some overlap depending on whether he created the rain himself or is harnessing a natural phenomena.

The flowers are peonies and amaryllis, as well as more magical plants like kingsblood and mageroyal. You did not actually know all the names, but the commoner mage was happy to inform you. You suppose that would be a good metaphor for this whole project. Looking at the pretty little pieces that make up the elegant whole you have always taken for granted.. And realizing that even if you don’t really understand them, you can still admire the tiny individual flowers working to prop up the whole.

He was apologetic when you reminded him, so thankfully he wasn’t being intentionally insolent, just… dedicated, and forgetful.

Simply trying to talk to these people leads to a wealth of knowledge on the grounds and the often magical means by which they keep the place lush and beautiful. You try to steal a few moments here and there to admire the flowers and show an interest as they go about their business, but gardening is a surprisingly dense subject. There are specialized tools; techniques, both magical and not; literature; some kind of guild and certification is involved as well. You suspect it’s a little beyond you without putting much more work in than a stolen hour here and there.


The end result is even better than you planned. Not just a cook, a gaggle of maids, a stable worker or two, and some of the groundskeepers; rather, most of the servants seem to have developed a certain warm regard for you. Word seems to have spread among the sculleries and back ways of the castle, about the princess being an ally of the common folk.

Who have you spent the most effort pursuing?
[X] Bolf Baxter, a renowned chef and baker. You are not entirely sure to what use he can be put, but your association is already proving delicious.
[X] Roddey Forester, a stableboy who is a deft hand with bird or beast. Steady and stolid rather than clever, but he takes direction well.
[X] Lily Turner, a quiet and somewhat mousy maid not much older than you, who is quite a fan of yours – and a conveniently unobtrusive member of the cleaning staff.
[X] Jill Chaser, the groundskeeper’s daughter. She’s helps with the gardening and taking care of the falcon mews. She is more than a bit willful and nosy as well, but she is kind and loyal to her friends, and daring in the face of danger.
[X] Tom Chaser, the head groundskeeper and gamekeeper. A powerful man among the staff hierarchy, Tom is kept busy with the demands of his position. He is also unlikely to follow your lead unequivocally the way those your own age might. But he is a master ranger and knows most of the ins and outs of the area around the castle.

Obviously, some Companions are more difficult to acquire than others. The tale will now turn back to the previous event, for which Sophia Hill is three votes ahead. That vote’s still open, by the way, because I’m lazy about closing things up.

 

Year 1, update 2b

You are once again attending to the portly Granny Wither in her comfy little lab with the patched armchairs and wooden tables. Your magic lessons are sometimes conducted here and sometimes on the Blackstone estate, at seemingly random times of the day or night. The times never conflict with your scheduled classes, but wherever and whatever else you might be doing, Granny will simply appear with Sophia Hill in tow and lead you to where the day’s lesson would take place.

It is possible there is some magical or traditional significance in the times chosen, but honestly you suspect it’s just Granny showing off.

“Finish personalizing your bones in a way that makes sense to you,” Granny is saying, snapping up her own set with a practiced flick of her hand and slipping them into the little velvet bag she carried with her. “You’ll be the only ones using them. Use a plain tarot deck, but don’t try using another mage’s carved bones. Try using them to divine the answer to a question before next class.”

You’re not entirely sure why a mage shouldn’t use another’s set of bones, but Granny’s ghoulish grin had been clear enough.

Sophia is staring down at her own set of bones intently and asks, “Miss Wither, how are we to know if we divine the correct answer?”

Granny smiles toothily. “It’ll be my homework to divine that.”

You get the feeling she was hoping someone would ask that question.
Long before you have the skill for true scrying, Granny had lectured, the basics of Clairvoyance are seeking answers from intermediary items. Tarot and bones are common, but fire, the movements of wild animals and other things can be used.

You sweep up your own bones. The instrument you both are practicing on is a concession to your shared classes; surprising, since trying to get Granny to compromise on anything is as graceful and effortless as squeezing blood from stones. Bones that specialize in reading spirits are especially potent in the hands of budding necromancers like Sophia and yourself, and make for a good learning tool. At some point you’ll want to get a set comprised of many different magical creatures, like Granny’s, but at the moment you’re casting with a handful of chicken bones.

Not even magical chickens. Bolf was going to use them for soup before Granny had her way.

You smile at Granny Wither, putting enough effort into it that it slides onto your face as smoothly as glass, and thank her for the lesson. Just because you’re a bit tired from balancing classes and your little extracurricular project is no reason to be rude. Particularly to someone who could probably make your life hellishly difficult.

Outside Granny’s homey little bungalow, you stretch until you hear a pleasant pop. It’s still early, and though you should probably be looking up old battles in the library for Logistics in the morning, you’re considering a nice nap before dinner.

That’s about when Sophia Hill – your opposite in height and color scheme, and to hear her tell it, your rival – grabs you and whispers into your ear, “Come to the rose garden this evening, if you dare,” before sweeping away grandly.

You ponder going along with her wishes. Ordinarily you would – a walk through the garden is hardly a trial.

But you really did want that nap…

---

Sophia appears just as the dessert tray rolls out, almost bowling over the poor maid. You wonder briefly how she got inside without being accosted by guards, riled up as she is. Connections on her part, slacking on the part of the guard – you should look into that sometime. Amidst the myriad and ever-replenishing others in your itinerary of course.

She slaps her hands down on the table with a bang; it’s a liberty whose origins may stem from your long – if rocky – acquaintance, or just Sophia being Sophia. You raise an eyebrow, and she huffs and removes her hands.

“You never showed up,” she says intensely.

Feeling refreshed from your nap, you watch her with a certain zen serenity.

“Try one of these little cakes,” you offer. “Bolf does this thing with chocolate and Barunese caramel, it’s wonderful.”

Sophia drops into the chair opposite you sullenly. “I don’t want cake,” she says rebelliously.

You are almost certain that is a lie. No one could possibly dislike this cake. She’s just being difficult.

You sigh. “What was it you wanted, Sophia?”

She looks around in a cloak and dagger sort of way, as if you might be hiding people behind the drapery.

“Not here,” she said tersely. “Somewhere where we can’t be overheard.”

You gesture expansively to the room, empty save for the two of you. Not that it’s impossible that there are eavesdroppers, of course, but that is true of every aspect of your life.

“Just come oooonnn!”

You mournfully devour your cake in three quick bites. It’s almost a crime to bolt down one of Bolf’s creations, especially since you’re pretty sure this is going to be unimportant in the grand scheme of things. But there is a small chance Sophia is going to reveal something important or attack you or confess to you or something.

Perhaps more crucially, she isn’t going to go away until you join her, so you might as well agree.

---

A double line of ancient herbal topiaries tower like trees, some wattled and bulging with tree-fat and others as slender as blades beneath a canopy of horse-sized leaves. The light does not dapple but stripe as it passes through, a visual effect that you quite enjoy. Occasionally the topiaries move very slightly, through some enchantment or quality of their creation. That, you find a fair bit unnerving. Particularly the shrub animals, which have a bad habit of turning to look inquisitively as you walk by. Slanted between the stripes of shadow and light, orange glow birds serve as light sources in the early evening to banish shadowy nooks from existence.

The sun would soon set enough to send a brilliant explosion of color through the ice-stone walls of the castle, but for now the vivid flowers – starflowers and dragonsbreath, and deeper in you know that a carpet of red roses await – hold pride of place.

The frigid, white-shading-blue starflowers cluster along the winding trails down to the rock-edged pools, while the bright yellow-red dragonsbreath are scattered around comfortably sweeping blackstone benches that seem to have grown from the ground itself. Perhaps they are. Dragonsbreath also clusters around and below more green topiary, thankfully more normally sized. The gardens are largely empty at this time of evening, though you do garner a few looks from tarrying servants or visiting noblemen. You greet them and are considering how best to move them along when Sophia bluntly asks them to leave the two of you alone.

You sigh. Really, Sophia? The whispers as you move on seem very loud in your ears.

"What?" She asks defensively.

"Never mind," you mumble.

You're grateful your guard for the evening is willing to give you space, compromising by staying within sight but out of hearing range. You assume he has some magic that could cross that distance in an instant, or he wouldn’t be a very good guard. Either way, it’s convenient for you.

Sophia eyeballs the guard in red and white balefully, but the full-faced helm just looks back at her, and crosses his arms.

“Fine,” she says finally, spinning around and crossing her arms so that her back was to the fully armored man. She leans into your personal space insolently. “So. You think you’re pretty good, huh princess?”

“... Yes?”

It’s true, after all.

“Then how about you prove it?” she challenges you with a crafty smile. “I rolled the bones to find the biggest source of necromantic energy on the grounds. I tr– it probably has a necromantic ward on it to prevent people walking in. But surely a too-talented princess would be able to break it?”

“So, before this goes any further,” a voice says lethargically from the short rose bushes to your right. Just the right height to hide a person lying down, you realize, mentally berating yourself. “Points for originality, using the roses instead of the forest for your secret rendezvous. But you might want to check around a little more.”

An older girl, 13 or 14, rises from among the roses to a sitting position. She looks lanky and fit, with short, light brown hair splitting the difference between your fair hair and Sophia’s dark brown curls.

“Spy!” Sophia shouts accusingly.

The older girl rolls her eyes. “Like I care about whatever you kids are talking about,” she says from the lofty height of two and a half years. “Might wanna to check for napping– that is, for gardeners doing their jobs first.”

The larger girl finally makes it to her feet. “Jill Chaser,” she introduces herself in a friendly, unassuming way, holding out a hand for a handshake. “You’re the princess, right?”

“They know! Run for it!” Sophia reacts like that slightly grubby hand is a magelight shining in her face, demanding she confess all her crimes. She grabs your hand, spinning and dragging you into an awkward clasped-hand run. It’s either keep up or suffer the indignity of being dragged. Or you suppose you could trip her and watch her faceplant into a rosebush, but she’d probably drag you in too.

So instead you wave off your guard – who continues to trail behind you at a steady ground-eating lope – and the gardener girl Jill Chaser trotting along beside him. Sophia races through the footpaths of the garden, periodically glancing back to see if you’ve lost them.

The pair of you leave the roses behind and stampede across the expansive grounds of the castle, through halls of precisely laid ice-stone and green gardened terraces. Sophia tugs at you insistently so you allow her to curve west and take you through the stables, upsetting the animals. Your legs are starting to hurt and breath coming shallowly from the exertion as you swing around the servant quarters and into the less-traveled areas of the grounds. Sophia is worse off, panting and blowing like a racehorse after a win.

But you are, apparently… here?

“‘S it,” Sophia puffs happily, slapping a hand against an arched doorway emblazoned with a heraldic seal. It’s not yours, the heron with wings outstretched; it’s a lidded eye with three rays springing from it like the dawn. Her hand rebounds off the door with a flash of pale lavender, the girl giving a muffled yelp.

Jill and the guard have been – to all appearances – left behind. It’s a shame all your guards wear full-face helmets, making fun of him for being outrun by a pair of 10 year olds would be entertaining for at least a week. It is possible that he is just hiding out of sight somewhere, but you don’t see how that’s relevant to teasing opportunities.

You look around. It puts you in mind of the funeral service held for your parents, a certain sharpness to the memory that still stings. A small aperture of bright red columns and benches leading the eye down a narrow path of silvery square stones, each inscribed with a complex eight-pointed design on them, to the opening in the earth. Twisting, warty vines with naturally designed interlocking thorny leaves crawl along the ground and must be stepped over. The overgrowth is excessive. You may wish to have a word with the gardeners. The vines that flow like waterfalls over the obscured stonework are growing wild above a carpet of ashen, dead undergrowth. Blackish-green lichen has crept up the walls itself in symmetrical patterns, though the door is perfectly clear. There’s a certain smell in the air… sweetness. Pleasant enough, though perhaps a bit cloying.

“Pretty cool, right?” Sophia preens, as if taking credit for the… whatever it is. Catacombs, maybe.

“Sure,” you agree absently, still looking around. Necromancy, huh?

This is… probably kind of dangerous. Surely someone knows this is here? No one just puts up magic seals for no reason. You have no idea how long the seal has been up, but the difficulty your uncle had in finding a teacher for you suggests there is no royal necromancer on staff, putting seals up everywhere. You ask slowly, “Is there really some abandoned – yet extremely convenient – source of necromantic power right here in the castle? We’re a five minute jog from the gardens!”

“I don’t see why not,” Sophia says with optimism. Which… okay, there are a lot of mages around the place, many mages are secretive by nature, there probably are a few secret labs left lying around when their owners spontaneously ascended or combusted or turned into a newt. But still.

She cheers, “Let’s pop this thing open already!”


Sophia is not going to let this go, is she?
[X] A powerful source of necromantic energy, Sophia believes. It could be some powerful artifact or buried soul, a locus of energy. And you just so happen to be in the market for more power at any cost. Break the seal and enter.
[X] Or for all you know it could be some guardian beast or spirit inside. This little jaunt could end with the flesh flensed from your bones, how embarrassing. Try to convince her that having your soul torn from your bodies by some ancient evil is a good look for neither of you.
[X] Working on the hypothesis that it is not impossible this thing contains an ancient evil, perhaps you should check the castle’s extensive libraries for clues to its origin rather than freeing whatever might be inside. Not that you need another research option...
[X] How much do you trust Sophia’s divinations, anyway? This could be someone’s favorite meditation nook, or where they bring girls. Break the seal to assuage her curiosity and let her go.
[X] Do your best to convince Sophia that opening the tomb is the work of a madman! Who knows what could be in there! Then come back tomorrow and open it by yourself. Yes, two budding necromancers may be able to handle whatever is inside better than one, but one necromancer alone needn't split any profit that may be hiding inside.

 

Year 1, update 3b


Since Sophia proved it safe, you touch the barrier stretched across the door yourself. It really does repel your hand like two magnetic forces, although not as violently as it did Sophia. You sink in just a little before bouncing back in a way that you don’t think you would admit aloud is pretty neat. Like pressing a finger into one of Bolf’s sugared fruit jellies.

You activate soul sight, the standard unearthly blue tinge emanating from your eyes. A glance aside shows that Sophia has done the same, her eyes like lights through blue fog.

“Well? You gonna put that big brain to use or just stare like a poleaxed cow?” she prods.

Without a word – flipping her off would be satisfying but unprincessly – you turn back to study the lavender light, glowing much stronger now. Under your new sight, products of necromancy – like this thing – are more obvious than ever, but that’s more of a side effect. Where something like Enchanting might use runes you could read, necromancy is both simpler and more complex. Almost every application of necromancy is manipulation at the most basic possible level, that of the soul. It’s somewhat like training your soul to have more metaphysical weight, so that you can bully other people and the world around you at an unconscious level. There’s something of an art to it, which makes it much more personal and less rote than Enchanting or Alchemy. Or so your patrician teacher Lord Blackstone claimed, smirking at Granny in a superior sort of way all the while.

So yes, it definitely has the feel of a necromantic ward. You agree with Sophia on that. You think it’s pushing all souls that try to pass it away, and taking your body with it. Convincing your soul to unconsciously convince your body to stop, or some kind of sympathetic body-soul connection, or something like that. Simple in function, but smooth and seamless in the way that makes your brute force applications look like one of Sophia’s tantrums. If not the work of a master, then at least the work of someone better than you.

“So what do you think?” Sophia asks, poking the stretch of glowing magic and watching it push her back each time. “I figure if we team up and hit it at the same time, we can just bust through!”

That is one of the accepted methods of bypassing a ward; be stronger than it. But facing this work of art, it feels so... inelegant. Like a northern barbarian smashing ancient, beautiful statuary because he worships something else.

“Or we could smash up the walls,” Sophia rambles on, still on a distressingly ‘smash everything’ train of thought. “It’s probably anchored on something to save time and effort, if we knock it down...”

That was another common method; anchoring a ward on nothing but air was generally harder, so people tended to anchor them to walls or the ground or something. Then you could – in theory – just tunnel around it.

“Did you bring a hammer and the muscles to swing it for a few hours?” you grumble. “Just… give me a minute.”

You try to get a feeling of the echoes of himself the caster left in the ward, the imprint his soul made in forming it. You slowly think out loud, “I think there’s some kind of trigger. Maybe an item that would let us pass, like a secret password. Whoever made this probably had someone else regularly coming in and out and didn’t want to be bothered every time they wanted to enter or leave.”

The caster, of course, would be able to pass through it as though it weren’t even there, being of the same soulstuff as the ward itself.

“Unfortunately, I left my magical password in my other skirt,” Sophia points out almost smugly. How much do you want to smash this thing, Sophia? You wonder.

“That’s why we need to trick it,” you point out patiently. Not that molding your soul like clay is a good idea, generally, but just a LITTLE bit… should be fine. To be what the ward is looking for, just for a moment. What’s the harm?

Your arm slips through the ward with a triumphant lack of resistance. Your smile back at Sophia Hill.

“Don’t rub it in,” she mutters.

You’re definitely going to rub it in.

Of course, doing the same trick for Sophia is harder. You’re less familiar with her than yourself, for one, and also she’s being very ungrateful about it. Squirming and complaining that it ‘feels weird’ and ‘only the Prince can touch me there’ and similar nonsensical complaints.

It’s not like you’re cutting pieces off or anything. You’re not even sure how to do that. You’re just… squishing her soul into a different shape, a little. Like dough. Or what you imagine dough to be like, anyway. You’ve never baked, but you’re familiar with the idea from Bolf’s natterings at least.

Despite Sophia’s waffling, you eventually make it through the ward.

Beyond the ward is a tunnel into the earth. The entire tunnel glows a gorgeous, watery blue that is almost certainly at least partly magic. Water being the most apt part of the comparison; the glow shimmers and scintillates through the entire spectrum of oceanic blues. The pure dark blues and blue-greens of deep still water, the light blues and blue-whites of the ocean on a clear day. It dazzles in the subtle way of a wet opal, but with a wider spectrum of sea colors.

You’re struck by the difference from what you’re used to. The inner keep of the castle you grew up in is built primarily of the magical material ice-stone processed into great sheets and blocks, just like the outer walls. The effort necessary to carve ice-stone makes reliefs infeasible, but mosaics of pale alabaster and eye agate are popular for their properties to confound certain magics. You’ve heard that the Barunese think you learned the trick from them, rather than the other way round. The buildings built later – the stables, some of the servant quarters, Granny’s cottage, things like that – are of enchanted stone and greatwood harvested from the quarries and forests of Caelis Valera. Dark burgundy woods and charcoal dark stone picked specifically to compliment the icy white of the original structures.

This is something else entirely.

If the castle is ice, then this has the appearance of water in more than just color. It looks neither hewn nor built, even the sections that are as smooth as a quiet lake. The only decorations are waves and whirlpools and eddies that have formed on the surface of the stone. The meandering paths craze their way across the elegant walls, like labyrinths born from the sea. Thankfully such decorations are kept to a minimum on the floor of the tunnel, or you’d likely roll an ankle tripping on something.

“Woah,” was Sophia’s awed contribution. “Kind of makes you want to hit it and see it ripple, huh?”

“Quite,” you roll your eyes. “Now come along, we may be missed if we tarry for too long.”

As you walk, the ambient light gets brighter, casting rainbow auroras across the strange natural-looking stone. It’s not just illumination; it’s power, drawn from you know not where. You think it’s rising up from the earth… and being drawn from the castle itself above.

At the end of of the hall is an archway, again with the eye icon prominently displayed. And –

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Sophia complains.

Another gently glowing ward.

“I am not getting my soul squished again,” she proclaims firmly, shuddering theatrically.

“I don’t think it would work on this one anyway,” you acknowledge, studying the ward with soul sight. Not repelling, but rather drawing in. Like a hungry void.

“Oh yeah?” she asks you, reaching out to touch it. “Guess I can’t expect you to know everything–”

“Yes, I think this one just kills you.”

Sophia snatches her hand back like she’d just touched a hot oven. And then takes a few steps back, just to be sure. She turns an outraged look on you.

You shrug innocently. “I didn’t design the thing.”

“Right,” she sniffs, inspecting the ward again. With her hands clasped behind her back. “So what do we do?”

You pause, hoping something will come to you in a brilliant flash of incisive insight, allowing you to cement your dominance and expertise over Sophia forever. Nothing comes to you, unfortunately. You finally admit, “I have no idea. I don’t think I even want to touch this with my magic, do you?”

“Eehhh,” Sophia makes a nonsensical sound as she eyes the ward disappointedly. She admits, “I guess no easy ultimate power today.”

“Probably not today,” you agree. “We may have reference books in the library. But in any case, now we need to go back out the other ward,” you add matter-of-factly. “Here, let me just adjust–”

“Noooo,” she whines pathetically. She glances back behind her, and considers.

“Don’t you– Sophia! Stop running! Where do you even think you’re going–”

---

You did catch up to her eventually. The outer ward worked to keep things in as well as out, which she found out when she hit it at full speed and reflected with what by all rights should have been a hilarious ‘boing!’ sound. From there it was easy enough to get your hands on her soul and remold your little group like before and get out. The outside looks somewhat less overgrown. You share a look with Sophia, thinking hard. The underbrush has been pushed off the main walkway, and some of the vines have vanished from the walls. Could it be some feature of the wards, releasing necromantic energy that killed the greenery? Some esoteric power reacting to–

“Hey,” Jill Chaser says placidly, making you feel vaguely cheated. She is busy wrestling some thorny vine off the stone with her bare hands. And not bleeding all over the place. You suspect her hands have the consistency of leather. “You guys done in there?”

“Where did you come from?” Sophia says, puffing up in an outraged way. Like the older girl was trespassing on her find.

“... The garden?” Jill reminds her, as if you’d forgotten where you’d seen her last. She points out, “It was just a run.”

Right, she probably didn’t get a job as an outdoor servant solely through her father. You look around, but the guard is nowhere in sight, at least. You’d rather keep this find quiet for a while longer.

“What are you doing here?” Sophia demands protectively, ignoring you.

“Clearing up,” Jill points out. “Gotta do it weekly, or it still gets like this.”

“The weeds and stuff grow really fast around here, and a lot of them have weird, interesting properties.” She shrugs. “Arch’ Wither says so, anyway. Not really my field, alchemy an’ all. Ugh, that lichen’s going to be gross, always makes my hands all wrinkly.”


Well, she doesn’t seem particularly interested in the tomb itself, at least. How do you play this off?
[X] Offer to assist Jill in her work, and get Sophia to join you. Jill should forget soon enough and you can convince Sophia to keep this your secret together. As long as the excitement of secrecy lasts, Sophia will be less likely to go to your brother until she has something concrete.
[Work closely with Sophia.]
[X] Offer her Sophia’s help instead. Look at Sophia meaningfully, and claim that you have reading to do. This has the side benefit of not having to deal with Sophia on a regular basis.
[Work separately towards the same goal.]
[X] Send Sophia off to get started with a meaningful look. Once she’s gone, request Jill’s assistance – quietly – with keeping an eye on the place. You don’t trust Sophia not to try to defeat the protections without you, and that would be dangerous. … In various ways.
[Entrust the gardener with watching over Sophia.]
[X] The best way to be sure Jill won’t talk is to bring her in. It is unlikely she has necromantic talents, but she almost certainly has her own talents and viewpoint which may be useful.
[Work together with Jill and Sophia. … Surely you could find some way to interest her in the spooky necromancer’s tomb, you’re you!]
[X] Leave Jill to her work. If you have a hope of figuring this out quickly and safely – ideally before anyone else is made aware of the find from either girl – it lies with Lord Blackstone. He may expect favors in return, but that is simply the nature of business.
[Work with Sophia and Gregory Blackstone]


This marks the end of Sophia's arc; the tomb will be a longer term project. How much longer is influenced by various factors, including what you pick for this last vote. We'll be heading into Jill's mini-arc and then the end of the year segment.

 

It's late, and not very long, but at least it's not back on hiatus, right? I'd like to at least reach the end of Year 1 before the move, but we'll see how that goes.

Winning vote:

Year 1, update 3a


The falcon mews of the castle is a large, airy space, some thirty feet long and half that in both height and width. Some ancestors of yours clearly cared about the birds a great deal; no mere clean space with perches thrust into the ground, this. The entire space is a recreation of a scrubland. The walls are natural-looking crags with hollow areas for the birds to nest. The whole area is as hot as a dry savannah, alleviated only slightly by a strong wind that waves the brush and grasses about. Where the wind comes from, you’re not entirely clear on. The roof – painted or enchanted to resemble the outside sky – contains a graceful curve of gold, a mosaic of sunstone and actual gold that is enchanted to produce something like a day and night cycle for the birds.

While you are of the opinion that royalty should be free to pursue their passions, this looks like a bloody waste of money and time. You’re not much of a hawker or hunter.

Jill has been flitting about, calling the birds down to check them over and feeding them strips of meat, for nigh an hour. You have taken this time to settle on a rather unpleasantly hard outcropping of rock yourself, attempting to build a rapport. Learning about her work about the castle, asking after her parents and the birds, and so on. A more normal servant would be tremendously flattered that you care enough to spend your valuable time with them, but you’re not entirely sure how well it’s working in this case; the gardeners are a peculiar bunch.

You don’t really having the time to spare her your full attention, regrettably. You have been attending to magical homework of a sort in your head:
[X] Attempting to read the future in the random meanderings of birds.
[X] Reminding yourself of the steps to the basic forms, now that they have started you on swords in your classes.
[X] Trying to remember the arcane details of the Three Kings War, which some – wrongly – claim was settled in Baruna’s favor some 80 years ago. You have begun to notice Holguin’s examples are suspiciously pro-Barunese propaganda.
[X] That necromantic ward keeps returning to your thoughts. You wish you had your reference books and a few uninterrupted hours, but you do recognize that you can’t become a recluse over it, either.

Jill flings her hand upward, one last bird of prey – chocolate brown and cream colored, with red tipped wings – flapping away to settle on a rocky outcropping. It settles in and fluffs itself while eying the girls with one sharp yellow eye, looking vaguely pleased and self-important. Jill ambles over and throws herself into the scratchy scrub grasses beside you, ignoring what must be at least a few rocks digging into her butt.

“You must be bored,” she says amiably.

“Not at all,” you demur, lying at least a little bit. You feel no shame in it, since lies are the currency of social interaction anyway.

“Uh huh,” she says, thinking before visibly brightening. You briefly wonder why all the girls you know are so open and honest. It’s a little bit creepy. “Hey princess, wanna come check out the forest?”

“Why would I do that?” you wonder.

You’re familiar with the place in a theoretical way, having never been inside. ‘The forest’ is a warded off section of greenery on the palace grounds that is used for hunting and hawking purposes by bored noblemen. It’s maintenance is another job entrusted to the royal gamekeepers.

“What, the forest is fun!” Jill pouts, sensing she’s losing you.

“Aren’t there a great many beasts inside?” you point out dubiously. That is the point, is it not? You’re given to understand it’s quite an impressive construct inside, but you’re not a nature mage who can talk for hours (and they do) about the properties of plants or beasts. Animals are just animals, no matter how impressive their strength or pedigree.

Jill wobbles her hand to illustrate when she says, “A few. Dad mostly keeps them penned to certain areas unless there’s a hunt on.”

“But seriously, it’s great!” she adds, picking up enthusiasm again like a horseless carriage gaining steam on even roads. “You see all kinds of interesting people in there.”

“In… the royal forest?” you repeat slowly.

“Sure! It’s not like you guys use it much. The wards are pretty simple, some kind of spatial warping thing. So you get people looking for trysts and meetings and all kinds of weird stuff.”

By ‘simple’ she presumably means ‘permissive’, since spatial warping sounds by no means simple. You are aware that some parts of the castle are larger on the inside than they would appear thanks to such spells – it’s actually kind of a problem, given a few centuries of various archmages enchanting this or that section to suit their purposes. But you weren’t aware the forest was one of those.

As for people using a restricted area for something as meaningless as romantic assignations, you’re not sure how you feel about that. ‘Stupid’ comes to mind, but you have made peace with the fact that people can be that very thing all too often.

Jill rolls over so she can look up at you.

“Or we could go to town?” she inquires. “Dad usually lets me run his errands, it’s a nice break.”

How long has it been since you last walked the streets of the castle town? Years, you think; not since well before your parents died. And even in those warm, sun-lit memories, such visits were quite uncommon. Commoners came to the king, not the other way around.

It is only a few minutes’ walk from the castle proper, but it might as well be another world, far removed from your everyday life. Of course your every need is met and exceeded by your competent serving staff. There is no need for a princess to run errands. The whole idea is faintly ludicrous, like naming a peasant a king for a day, or simply trusting that food given to you is not poisoned.

But you can’t say you aren’t a little curious.

Which course laid out for you do you choose to follow?
[X] The forest. It seems to contain secrets you did not expect. Secrets which others know but you do not are dangerous secrets.
[X] The castle town. Commoners in their natural habitat. You suppose you will need more guards, but a visit could be manufactured.