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Inile did not eat anything as he laid on his bed fighting for sleep. Every now and then, he would get up and visit his fathers room right around the corner. This went on for a week. On the seventh day, one of the Gyer sages, named Hwefu, climbed to the great balcony. The Gyer sages were ambassadors of the family, their uniforms were red and appeared similar to terran catholic cardinals. " I come to see the ministers son."

The guards stepped aside and opened the door for the elder. He entered and began searching the rooms, every room. Then he reached the ministers room. Inile stood at the balcony dangerously close to the edge. The sage called, " Inile". As he did, Inile started to lean off the cliff. As he did, the sage lifted his arm and telepathically grabbed him, only a small example of Gyer power. Then he pulled Inile toward him. As he tiredly lowered his arm, with his raspy elder voice, he said, " no need for that, I am here to help."

He opened the door and said, " come."

The two went to the meeting room to talk over a meal. " I heard you recently lost your father."

" Those Oeyig bastards shot him."

" Tell me, how old was he?"

" Eighty six."

The sage grunted and continued, " then if it was not that arrow, nor his sickness, nor age, he may have ran a sword through."

" Sickness?"

" Oh, you haven't heard? He had a condition of brittle joint giving him fragile joints. Why do you think he stayed out of war?"

" I didn't know everything about my father?"

" Yes well, the election is tomorrow, and you are the candidate. Come now, you see it only once, why miss?"

" Fine then, I'll go."

After that, the sage returned to Gyer keep and Inile went upstairs to sleep.

Now, the election was not as much about the peoples choice as the worth of their soldiers. Each family had a team. They would gather at an open area and partake in a brawl. Once a team loses their last man, that family was lost for that age. These fights were never meant to do true harm. If any man caused a true damaging blow, whether it be a head shot or a bone break, that man would be disqualified and that team would be that farther away from claiming the Weicfu throne.

The overseer went over the rules as the men stood crouched facing each other. " Ready."

A while later, he went into the longhouse that was in the area and blown into the competitors horn. As he did, the warriors got up and rammed each other. Throughout the fight, Inile kept a look of forlorn. He could not get over the death of his father. His childhood friend, Wuefhi, seeing his mild depression, leaned toward him and said, " come on, buck up."

Then he looked, pointed and said, " look look, something's about to happen."

Inile looked and there were two warriors facing each other crouched, snarling, sizing each other. They were an Oeyig and a Gyer. Suddenly the Oeyig shot his leg up and kicked the Gyer in the head sending him flying two feet. Then the overseer ran out shouting, " hold it! Hold it!"

He examined the Gyer and said, " he has a concussion."

Then he stood up and called, " concussion. Harm shot, disqualified."

Distraught, the Oeyig threw down his marker, which he had to defend from other warriors seeking to take and putting him out, and stormed out of the area. The Gyers were the first ones to lose every warrior. This was understandable since they used magic more than combat. The only Gyers that did use combat were their spell swords. " No matter, we still have alliance with the minister" the arch mage reassured his warriors. When it was down to one Oeyig and one Numetsun, the overseer walked out and called, " last two, final duel. May the best man win."

As he left the Oeyig charged into the Numetsun. He was nearly pushed down, but held his ground. Then the Numetsun grabbed the Oeyig by his armpits and flipped him over his head slamming him on the bloody snow covered ground. The Oeyig rolled away and got up. However, a rib was broken when he was slammed into the snow hindering his rise. He kicked the Numetsun in the stomach, something the weic elites were not unprepared for, and shoved him to the ground. As he leaped toward the Numetsun, the elite quickly rolled out of the way and hopped up. As the Oeyig got up, he grabbed him and tossed him across the camp, while also grabbing his marker. The Numetsun thrust his hand into the air and howled in victory. As he did, a crowd began to form to congratulate him, including the chivalrous Gyers.

That evening Inile still sat on his bed with a forlorn expression. Then Wuefhi came in and said, " come on Inile! Your team won."

" And for what? Some damn throne?"

" Well, if it makes you feel better, the Gyers asked me to give this to you."

He held out a note and Inile curiously took it and read. He couldn't believe it. It was a note from his father. It read:

Dear Inile,

Bless those Gyers, they have revived me long enough to write this. However, I only have so much time. Well, from what the Gyers have said, you are confused, sad, angry. I now believe it is time for me to tell you.

When was the last time that you remember that I fought? I do have reason for not fighting. Maybe they have told you, but I have had brittle joint for a number of years. And with no ability to fight, I was simply wasting away, sitting on a throne. The only productive thing I did in my elder years was call for bounties and call for the construction of the weic wall. I would have ran a sword through myself if the Oeyigs did not shoot me. I was ready, my work was done. You however, you are young with much potential. You would not accomplish anything if you performed suicide now. You must take the throne and guide the people. You will miss me, and I will miss you, but keep me in your memory and you will find comfort.

With regards, your father, Numetsun

P.S. your grandfather has spoke of a constitution. You could start by writing one.

As he read the note tears welled in his eyes. It gave him comfort knowing that his father rested in peace. He turned to Wuefhi with tears in his eyes and stammered, " you don't know how much this mean to me."

His friend patted him on the back and said, " I wish I did. Family can be a powerful thing."

Indeed he did not know. His mother died during childbirth and his father abandoned him defending the town. His fathers old trainer took custody of him after that and he has been trained in the art of war ever since. He knew Inile from when they would practice, Wuefhi always outdoing Inile.

At the rise of the sun, Inile attended his fathers burial at a small rift at the base of the mountain. They built a tomb out of the rift, set his coffin inside, and began covering it all the while a piper droning powerful funeral song. Before they covered the tomb, Inile set a small wooden totem he carved years earlier on the coffin in respect. As he returned to the manor with contempt, one of the soldiers was waiting at the door. " Sir, we have a situation."

" Go ahead, tell."

" Someone has disappeared, we think Calemdorian slavers."

The Calemdorians were one of the few civilization that had kidnapped slaves. Where servants served by choice, slaves were either abducted from their homes or taken as prisoners of war. With the dirty Calemdorian minds, they also occasionally stripped their abductees. " Evidence?"

" Some of his clothing was left behind, and there was no note. Nothing was stolen, there were leather boot footprints in the snow."

Many soldiers in the realm were trained in scouting, which included identifying footprints. " Very well then." He stormed inside up to his room and slid into his armor. As he stormed out, Wuefhi asked, " wait, where are you going?"

" Rescue mission, getting a brother out of slavery."

" Why aren't you sending any soldiers?"

" My father didn't get this chance, and they crossed a line, so they must face the consequences."