Chapter 18: A cuckoo's nest is often barren.
Before Shotaro arrived in Olivedale, many years ago, when Quazo the Obsessed was still ruling, Dronster, the son of Gronstar, the magic minister, was wandering around in front of his room, as he heard cries of pain and suffering coming from behind the closed door.
"Agh—get it out, get this demon out of me, I beg you---!"
He heard the woman of his dreams scream as she was giving birth; calling his unborn child—'a demon'—didn't' sit with him right, but he understood her & her pain. For decades he has been trying to sire an heir of his blood; for decades, 6 pregnancies, the child either was dead in the womb itself or died within a week. Nor was it a great cruelty of fate; he hated how big of a toll each failure took on her body—and her mind.
He didn't blame her at all. everyone, no matter how different, in a way expected him to loath that woman that can't even bear her lord a proper heir, but he knew the reason for this fate, his wife, is a runaway from the cursed island, Shavoc Cormac, named after the above order general who cursed it. She was a beastman, with the characteristic of a cuckoo; she flew away from the island to find herself a life on Aetheria, where she resided in the woods of the great wolves, but leaving the island activated the curse on her sacral chakra, which is placed over her womb, affecting her ability to conceive.
He walked & walked until the crying stopped—completely.
He wasn't happy, though, for he knows the thunder of misfortune struck again. He went in and saw his wife clinging to a fleshy thing.
Just like before, it had no skin, no eyes, no tongue, no hair, and neither did it have any limbs nor did it have a penis; it was just a mere perversion of a baby, just like before.
His wife's mind finally crumbled; after so many failures, he can't even bring her his face of sorrow, so he left the room without consoling her, because he can't even bring himself to say, 'It's alright; we can still do it again,' like the last 7 times—can he?.
He left the room, not saying anything to his woman, as now even she knows he, just like it, had enough.
He didn't know what he was doing or why he was walking; he walked & walked; for hours he just walked until the skin of his foot's sole blackened & tore; even when his legs were swollen, he walked until he couldn't; he collapsed and woke up on the same bed he slept on his whole life.
He saw the pope of the Drakastradorn church, one of his old friends who took the cloth years ago, sitting on his armchair, hands folded, Retep.
Dronstar: "What brings my old,
He said it in a joking type of way; Retep groans in annoyance, but the hatred in his eyes was replaced with amusement almost instantly.
Retep: "The king is one obsessed motherfucker. I can't really have a talk with him, so I came here to meet my heirless friend."
Dronstar crashed out & pounced on the priest, only to not be able to reach him due to his legs. Falling to the ground, Retep takes his moment to laugh before helping him stand up after he was satisfied to the heart.
Dronstar: "What do you know about heirs, fucking eunuch?"
Retep: "Why are you so interested in the hole between my legs? If you want me to sire you heirs, why don't you start by donating to the church?"
Dronstar: "Damnit, stop joking.
Retep: "You started it first, magic minister; you know I can have you burned on a stake."
Dronstar raised his hands in the air; in a smug tone, he said, "i know but you won't, will you?"
Retep: "Well, I won't but who knows—maybe I do have myself a roasted magic minister."
Retep then sat beside his old pal; in a saddened tone, he said.
Retep: "I know you have lost your child again—I am saddened by it, dear friend; I really am. I will beg for Goddess Bhrahman to give that child a place on her lap, eternally.".
Dronstar, seeing the genuineness on the Pope's face, wrapped his arms around him in a brotherly embrace.
Dronstar: "What was dead before birth may never hear these prayers, but my wife—pray for her too, she hates herself because of the curse she had no hand in getting herself, I love her, even if I am left heirless."
Retep assured him, "The sister has my prayer, always."
After having a game of chess and a bit of talk, the pope saw his friend's sadness through his eyes.
Retep: "You know... maybe... Just maybe you can sire an heir, not a bastard, a hier, a true-blooded hier."
Dronstar can't help but be surprised, so he asked, "What—how? Is that possible?"
Retep chuckled in amusement, his hands rubbing the hair of his dear friend.
"You may not like it," Retep said, being suddenly unsure if he should tell his dear one about such a non-orthodox method.
Dronstar wasn't having it; he shook the priest again & again, "Well, we're too far for considering my liking now.".
The pope sat his friend down and gave him an orange from his basket when he was settled. "I will be back in half an hour," he said, walking out—after 36 minutes; yes, he counted that.
The Pope came back from the cathedral's library with a book that contained the accords of old ages.
Giving him the book, the pope prepared to leave.
"Open page number 300,879: section III," he said before leaving.
it was written
"if one of higher blood is unable to sire a child
from his mistress or any of his concubines
then his soul will get eternal torment
nor his ancestor's soul will ever get peace
in naraka; nor will of his ancestors
However, since infidelity is even bigger sin,
so in such cases, the man must go on a journey
to find one of the 15 golden witches & convince her to
bear him a child, son or daughter, conceive it with her
for the child will be considered as a true blood &
would be in line for all the ancestry wills & possessions
as one born out of normal surrogacy will be considered bastard
he must also have the wishes & blessings, albeit permissions
from everyone of his wives & concubines".