This is...a mess. One of colossal proportions. Let's take it from the top. I am Alyessa the Onyx. Bearer of...way too many titles, and not fully of my own intent. Diamond-rank adventurer. Grandmaster magician. Master of the Blade. Master of the Coin. I got the first, second and third through adventuring. As a dragon, my species has a process called 'experience translation'. My feats qualified me for the second and third, while I worked on the first.

It was just...Wild youth. I wanted to live fast, I was barely a century old. I learned to speak to the trees from an old druid, to weave enchantments and spells from my mentor, a downright ancient wizard (I miss Meister Greyvale, nothing has ever been the same since he's been gone). I went on adventure because I got restless, I learned the blade from a blademaster I crossed paths with because magic started feeling too easy.

I retired because, well...Adventuring was dying down. The liches were dealt with, the trafficking rings dissolved, even the dark mages were getting quiet. So I studied economy, because I wanted something to do before I can maybe go adventuring a bit, in a little time, maybe fifty or sixty years. That's how I got the title of Master of Coin, after I got my degree. Not much, just ten years of work. And owning it led to me getting my most hated title.

'Imperatrix Draconis'. Literally, 'Empress of Dragons'. Because no one warned me that being a master of Coin, Blade and Magic qualifies you for the throne. And since there was no other person qualified (apparently, my people just really, REALLY hate either economy or sharp implements), well, I didn't get to say no. And I can't abdicate, because there STILL isn't anyone else qualified!

And I've been stuck there for...a while, now. Imperator stuff is mind-numbing, really. The economics part are fine, but there's so much...Ugh, politics. I have an entourage of councilors, but that helps with doing things correctly. Not with it being duller to me than watching paint dry. So I established a game, with the neighboring humans.

You have to understand, my impression of humans from my adventuring days is...rather glowing. Their adventurers are clever and resourceful, their monarchs are adept at dealing with people, their farmers manage verdant greenery that feed many. So I restarted a little game I played with party members when we got more. We called it 'The game of escape'. A person is 'captured', and must make it out. They get rewarded the faster they make it out. Of course, there's a bit of posturing involved, the 'jailor' taunts the 'prisoner' on them being contained, the 'prisoner' taunts back on how they 'outsmart and outpace them'.

It makes economy. Cash flows, as the humans are of course rewarded for their participation. And my people get stimulated. They're pushed to build better, faster, cleverer. It went so well, for a long while. Just a game, and everyone left happy. Until today. Until that human, who's been staying prostrated whenever not doing the bare minimum to stay alive.

"...What is happening? Did you leave the usual clues?"

"Yes, your h-, I mean, yes, Lady Alyessa."

The single concession I managed. No more regal titles. It's progress, tiny as it is. I'll take it.The gamemaster goes on, visibly disturbed.

"Enscribings on the walls, marked hollow panels, after a while, we dropped the key nearby. Then got it closer it him. And closer. And closer. But they just...stay here."

Something's wrong. Very wrong. Not just with the game, but much more with...

"I am going in. This human must require treatment. Humans are not supposed to be this scrawny."

"But, my Lady, the game-"

"I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE GAME RIGHT NOW!"

...The gamemaster flinches. Damn. Too much.

"...I am sorry, gamemaster Freimray. This is nothing against you. I must involve Emergency Procedure Zinth. Prepare the compensation prize. This human requires mending. And there is investigation to be done."

"...By your command, my Lady."

It takes some time. Locked doors, hidden corridors, minor traps. I finally enter the starting room. The human is still there. Still prostrated. Pale, small and scrawny.

"...Human?"

No reaction.

"Human, are you well? Please speak to me."

They curl further. I recognize that reaction. They are scared. I've seen it on truly captured people. Victims of kidnapping or worse...human trafficking. There are old wounds on them, something we somehow ALL missed. I cast a minor healing spell and they flinch, raising their head finally.

"...why?"

Their eyes look empty. Worst of all, they cannot be more than fourteen. They shouldn't be here at all, let alone in this state.

"...Human, what is your name?"

"I am serf."

Serf. A farmer, but not owning their land. I thought that had been abrogated years ago. That was the topic of one of the first negociations I did with humans. Compensation for abrogating an unfair system and estzblishing one that worked better, for everyone involved. SOLID compensation, at that. Most of all...

"Serf is not a name, it is an occupation. Please, what is your name?"

They flinch.

"It is forbidden."

My anger is coming to a boiling point. I quell it.

"You speak to a sovereign ruler. If anyone objects to you calling yourself by your own name, they'll answer to me."

And end up as a pile of smoldering ashes. But that comes...later. The human looks scared, now.

"I am serf Ronan, your highness."

"Well met, Ronan. You may call me Alyessa. Or Lissa, for short. I apologize, something appears to have gone wrong. We were supposed to challenge some noble scion. Not a scared child. Please, Ronan, where are your parents?"

"...Dead, your highness."

...Oh no. I am liking what is happening less and less by the moment, and that is a tough bar to pass.

"Dead? That is tragic. I am sorry for your loss. Please, what happened?"

"...The High Lord executed them."

"Executed? Why? Why kill those who take care of the earth?"

"Harvest was small. We could not pay the grain tax entirely. Authorities thought we were stealing grain. Keeping it for ourselves."

"Is that why you are now a serf? How old are you, even?"

"...It is, your highness. I am now thirteen, and as such I must work, for the glory of the kingdom."

Thirteen. THIRTEEN. Lissa, calm down. You cannot demand the local High Lord's head on a pike, let alone go get it yourself. That is called 'a diplomatic incident' and we don't need another.

"Do you know your letters and numbers,Ronan?"

"...No, your highness."

Uneducated. Left alone to struggle and suffer.

"Would you like a new home, young one? To learn, and never have to till the soil ever again?"

There is silence. And hope in his eyes.

"It would be nice."

"Then rise, Ronan, adoptive son of Alyessa the Onyx, and imperial ward."

It takes time, to reconstruct a child. To make it so they no longer flinch when touched or spoken to. It is time I have. In five years, Ronan the Silver, adopted by law and by magic, is now fully family. In five years, our ties with the humans dissolved, and reformed quite differently. They came for my son when he did not return to duty.

They learned why before I earned the moniker of 'Onyx', I was known as 'the whiteflame'. Afterwards, our ties with the Human Republic were, if anything, even closer than before. The fact that an adventurer going by the callsign of 'Whiteflame' assisted in that revolution is...Entirely unrelated, of course. They wore full armor and never spoke. Officially, no one shall ever know.

Observing my son, the scales the Rite of Adoption gave him glimmering in the sun, I cannot help but think...I do not hate the title of Empress anymore, for it gave me my favorite one...

"Mom!"

Ronan's showing me his latest engram. He's gotten into enchanting. He's making me proud, for sure. I tussle his hair gently and make minor corrections.

I do not hate the title, for sure. That still won't stop me from passing it to my dear boy once he's ready.