I used to be an adventurer, then I became a king.
Alright, so that may be an oversimplification, but, if you cut the story down to its basic parts, that's essentially what happened; in the span of four years, I rose from common sellsword, to the king of a rising nation.
Of course, I would be leaving out the bandit lord, a troll/kobold alliance, an invasion of owlbears, an undead cyclops sorcerer, a barbarian invasion, rival River Kings, the nymph who pulled all their strings, and the Eldest who started it all. That's not even getting into all the minor headaches I had to deal with in between.
That was ten years ago; not very long by elf standards, and before all this, I would have agreed with you.
Now, I'd laugh in your face. Those four years may as well have been a hundred! Constantly running across the Stolen Lands, hiking through swamps, planes, and forests, getting attacked by giant spiders, hunting down mushrooms for a witch, tracking down a lost printing press, searching high and low for alchemical books, and acting as an errand boy for people who should have been paying someone else to track down their family armor, or a unicorn horn, or resolving a lovers spat! Ragathiel above knows I pay them enough for their services they could have afforded the services of an adventurer...
What was I talking about again? Oh yes, my life. Wait, did it write all that down? It did, didn't it. Well, I'll scratch it out later- wait, it's still writing. Stop writing. I command you to stop writing. Stop writing down everything I'm saying you stupid-!
…
…
...
Well, this was a waste of a hundred gold. Note to self, be more selective when I'm dictating to newly purchased magical clockwork scribe… or just get a living scribe to dictate to. Ahem. After all that madness, I married my two lovers, and a few years later, the first of my children was born… and that's where our story begins…
Erles, King of Alessium, Lord of the Stolen Lands, Prince of Tuskdale, and Baron of the Shrike Hills, was almost nodding off as he sat on his throne. An elf with brown hair, hazelnut colored eyes, and dressed in white doublet and burgundy jerkin, a large, golden crown upon his brow, and Aldori dueling sword laid against the throne's left armrest.
Today's session of court had gone on longer than expected, due to having to settle a dispute between representatives from the Mendevian Crusader and Hellknights from the local Order of the Rack over one of the former's recruits being a possible murderer, trying to join the Crusade to escape the Hellknights' brutal justice. It was eventually proven that the dwarf in question was a murderer, and Erles had allowed the Hellknights to take him away. This was on top of the usual business; discussing the upcoming Outlaw Council, allocating additional funds for Baron Maegar's new project, accepting tribute from the Royal Artisans…
Yes, today had been a long one, and Erles was looking forward to flopping into his oversized bed, even if he would not have the pleasure of his wives' company this night, given that Kanerah was currently in Andoran on behalf of her lucrative tradehouse, and Kalikke had business of her own in neighboring Brevoy, representing the university of magic both sisters ran in the name of their patron god, Nethys. At the very least, warm blankets and soft pillows were calling out to him, asking him to join them, promising a blissful nap!
Alas, nothing ever went as planned in his life. For no sooner had the last petitioner left, thankfully satisfied by the king's ruling, than Erles' adviser, a half-elf named Octavia, leaned over to him and whispered into his ear.
"I know the schedule says we're done for the day, but something just came up. Sorry"
Erles groaned silently, raising a hand to massage his brow, "What is it now?"
"It's the cook, Chef Pierre. He has an issue with… well, there's no easy way to say this..."
"Then just get it over with." Erles said, dreading what was coming, but eager to get it done.
"He has a problem with Mathias."
Erles looked up at Octavia, a long suffering look on his face, and an apologetic smile on hers.
"Please tell me this is some other Mathias, and not my son he's talking about."
She shrugged.
"Sorry."
He buried his face in his hands and groaned again. The nhe sat up straight, attempting to put on a regal air despite his mental exhaustion.
"Send him in."
In walked a slim Galtan man in a white jacket, walking as if with a single-minded purpose. He did a quick bow before Erles, before speaking.
"Your Majesty, this has become intolerable!" he stated, "Your son, Prince Mathias, sneaks into my kitchens, and, like a common thief, steals pastries!"
"... My six-year old steals pastries?" Erles asked, feeling a headache coming on.
"Indeed! I've tried to stop him, keeping a close eye on the baked goods, but somehow he keeps finding a way! I did not wish to bother you with something so minor Your Majesty, given I thought I could handle it myself, but-"
"Peace, monsieur, peace." Erles said, holding up a hand, "I will deal with this, and in the future, if it involves my children misbehaving, do not hesitate to come before me."
"Thank you for your understanding Your Majesty." Pierre said, bowed, and then left. Erles looked over at Octavia again.
"Any more surprises today?"
"No, just that." she replied with a smile.
"Good."
The elven king stood up, and passed her his crown.
"See to it that they put this back in the treasury, or wherever it goes when I'm not wearing it."
"Where are you going in such a rush?"
"I told Pierre I would deal with my son, and that is what I'm going to do. I'll not have a son of mine turn into a burglar of sweets."
"You know, going off the River Freedoms, if instead of sneaking into the kitchens, if he instead fought Chef Pierre for the pastries and won, then legally speaking, your son would be in the right…" Octavia began, but trailed off when she saw the irritated look Erles was giving her over his shoulder.
"I hope you and Reg aren't encouraging your children to petty banditry."
"Tis Just a joke Your Majesty." she said with a mischievous grin and playful bow. Erles sighed, and began to make his way to the royal apartments.
Knock knock knock
"Matias!"
No answer.
"Mathias, this is your father speaking, we need to talk!"
Still no answer.
"So that's how you want to play it." Erles whispered, opening the door to his son's room.
A four poster canopy bed was at the center of it, and toys were scattered across the floor.
"What a mess." he said to himself, scanning the damage before raising his head once again.
"I'm going to start counting to five now, and if you don't come out, then I'm going to tell your mother. One-"
The closet door swung open, and a small form of Mathias scampered out.
Eres resisted the urge to smirk; playing the mother card and counting had never failed.
"Hello father." Mathias said, looking at his feet bashfully.
"Hello son." Erles replied adopting his 'disappointed father' tone, looking the guilty criminal over.
Mathias was a half-elf, his red skin a clear sign of the strength of his mother's infernal blood. Erles had taken to calling his offspring 'red elves' as a result.
"Am I in trouble?" he asked.
"Yes. Do you know why you're in trouble?"
"Because I took scones from the kitchen."
"Yes, because you took scones from the kitchen." Erles repeated, "You are six years old, and a Prince; you know that stealing is wrong."
"But Isa dared me to!" Mathias shouted.
"I don't care why you did it." Erles stated, "You will not do it again; understood?"
Matias nodded somberly.
"I want to hear you say it."
"I won't do it again."
"Good. I'm very disappointed in you, you know; imagine that, King of the realm, having his own chef come to him, telling him that his son is a thief. How embarrassing. Now, as for your punishment… Yes, I believe I will leave that to Chef Pierre. That would be fitting."
"What?"
"When you are not studying, you will go to the kitchens, and you will do any chore that Chef Pierre tells you to do; peel vegetables, wash the dishes, anything, for two weeks. And if you ever steal another pastry from his kitchen again, then I will add another week to your punishment. Do you understand?"
"I… yes father."
"Good."
Elres looked at his son, and saw that the lad was crestfallen.
Did he go too far? Was his tone too harsh? The boy needed to be disciplined, but still…
He sighed, and knelt down, putting a hand on Mathias' shoulder.
"You know, when I was your age, I used to sneak cupcakes from my mother's, your grandmother's, kitchen.
Mathias looked up at him, shock across his face.
"You did?"
"Yup. I got caught every time too; except your grandmother prefered spanking me."
Mathias winced at that. Erles laughed at his expression.
"Oh yes, I was quite the little troublemaker back in my day; I grew out f it as I got older though, just as you will.
"I want you to know that, even though you've done wrong, I still love you. You know that right?"
A little smile crossed Mathias' face, and nodded, "I know father."
"Good, now give me a hug."
The boy did, wrapping his little arms around his father's neck, Erles returning it, patting his son on the head. They stayed like that for half a minute, before Erles stood up.
"Now, come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"To the kitchens; you are going to apologize to Chef Pierre in person, and I will inform him of the new arrangements. Who knows, if you do a good enough job with your chores, he may decide to teach you how to bake scones…"
This is by far the fluffiest thing I have ever written, and it's for a game that made me want to pull out my hair at times.
Anyways, before some Pathfinder purists come raining down on me, some things to point out:
Erles' kids are half elf, half tiefling. Now, since I couldn't find anything concrete on what exactly the offspring of such a pairing was supposed to be (most said they would just be tieflings) I decided to take some creative liberties. The kids look like elves, and have skin as red as their tiefling mothers. Hence why Erles called them 'red elves.' In-game, they would just be half elves, who have red skin for flavor reasons, but otherwise are your standard half-elves; maybe they know how to speak infernal.