Tsulikthinroe

Disclaimer: No, you've got the wrong person. Akira Toriyama is that-a-way. (Watches lawyers go in the wrong direction, then shifts to peer at unconscious person behind her) Toriyama-sensei? Are you okay? I didn't mean to kick so hard...

Thanks to Lov3the3vil for reviewing and beta-ing! (And also telling me to stop worrying and update already. Sheesh, Panther.)

:-:-:-:

GOHAN HAD been in the Banquet Hall for all of four minutes before anyone noticed his presence. Even then it was not Pan that bore down on him but one of his Majestic Court, a Duke by the name of Ttleta Sasumo Sinague Wyvern. She was not so unmannerly as to seize his arm and drag him from the room, but she did start in a voice that was only just appropriate for the mood of the Banquet Hall:

"Will you believe the nerve of that upstart? Claiming a rank that is far too good for the likes of her, much less that of Regal! Really, Faull, you must stop this nonsense before it gets all out of hand." She nearly pouted—yes, pouted—while snapping open her fan and fanning herself.

Gohan raised his eyebrows at the Majestic. "Your Grace," he responded mildly, subtly reprimanding her for using his first name in such a formal setting, "you know very well that as Regnal, I cannot do that. I must accept the claims of those who declare themselves Regals and test them in some form or another. If said claimants do not pass the test, and I do not have an Heir borne to me, then I must bequeath the Regnation to one of the Majestic Court when I die. As such, I cannot simply dismiss this young woman out of hand, whatever opinion other persons may hold."

Ttleta Sasumo would have liked to glare at Gohan, but his authority as Regnal and the reasonable tone of his voice quelled the urge. Instead she smiled at him, her handsome face lighting up, and opened her mouth again, but before she could go any further than, "My Regnal," someone cleared a throat behind them.

"My Lord Earl," Gohan greeted the Steward amiably, while Pan and her black and cream dog—Wyvenshire unexpectedly informed him acerbically that the Familiar's name was Fulunke—stood behind him, looking disgruntled for the former, the latter radiating solemnity.

"My Lord Quivenwood," Enrt responded with a bow. "My Lady Sinague," he addressed to Ttleta Sasumo, also with a bow. "Her Ladyship behind me requests a word with His Majesty."

"Very well." Gohan bowed politely to Ttleta, who cast him a look just this side of a glare, but curtseyed in return. As she whisked away, snapping her fan shut, Gohan turned to the Steward and his guests. "Thank you, my Lord Earl. I shall take Her Ladyship from your hands now." He smiled as Enrt bowed a third time, relief and worry commingling in his ki. "Before you return to your duties, I would like you to look in on Sulyild and see if he is ready for myself and Her Ladyship."

"I have done, my Regnal. Sulyild awaits you both eagerly."

"Well done," Gohan smiled with genuine appreciation. His daughter's ki flickered sharply for a moment, to his utter confusion, but it steadied into its familiar determined pattern when he turned to her. "Please follow me, my Lady; we shall remove this to a setting more private than the Banquet Hall."

Gohan barely felt it as Wyvenshire launched from his shoulder, for he was concentrating on Pan's nod and the satisfaction creeping into her ki. He merely offered his arm instead of commenting, and away they went, sweeping out of the Banquet Hall with all the dignity as if Pan were already established as a Regal, and they were simply two Majesties on a stroll.

Gohan hoped very much that they would be two Majesties on a stroll soon. It all depended on what choice Pan, his daughter, made when Sulyild was done with her.

He dropped his daughter's arm from his when they passed a certain door. Stepping toward it, he gestured for Pan to follow. Even with Gohan's confident step, Pan still wavered when the lights abruptly darkened on the door's close. It was possibly only Gohan's hand on her shoulder and his gentle command to follow that started her forward again, and Gohan had his first clue as to other aspects of his daughter's personality besides her fiery nature and apparent ability to hold a grudge. Yes, and her sense of humor as well.

Perhaps because Gohan knew the path so well, but the end of it did not come as a surprise to him. Pan's ki, however, flickered anxiously more and more by the second, and the shoulder that he had his hand on was a knot of tension. Gohan knew that Pan would not accept any verbal reassurances from him, but every so often down the darkness-filled path, when it was not unreasonable, he squeezed the shoulder he held and lingered it there for as long as his daughter did not seem to notice. He wished he had thought to bring Pan's Familiar along, before he remembered that Sulyild did not allow the heaven-sent creatures in with their Bonded, not when he was testing them, the both of them. The only thing that the Bonded were allowed was their weapon, and it seemed that Pan had not yet found her Blue Dragonfly.

With only half a year's training, if even that, Gohan was not much surprised. It would not be impossible for Pan to survive, but it would be some time before she was in a fit state to make decisions as large as the one she'd face after Sulyild.

And Gohan was under increasing pressure each year to produce an Heir.

Well. He had held them off this long. He could do another year at least, if he needed that long. Somehow, he didn't think he would need to—but that was hoping for too much. He did not know Pan anymore and had no right to make guesses as to what his daughter would decide. Heart-wrenching, but true.

At last they stumbled onto the end of the path. Gohan, and Pan too, could tell when the narrow corridors widened into a soaring cavern, for the air was fresher, they could no longer touch the walls, and they could sort of see. Low, flickering lights fluttered into life at their feet, spreading from there to the walls and around, until the entire place was lit. Then they slowly brightened, until they were at full power, but had not destroyed either Gohan or Pan's night vision.

That was when the black figure in the middle moved.

"My Regnal," it boomed, nearly flattening in the volume of sound after the silence of the path. "To what am I indebted for this pleasure?"

"Sulyild." Gohan inclined his head toward the Guardian of the Succession, whom all Syr'nthan Regals had to conquer before they were considered established Regals, and therefore eligible for the Regnation. If Sulyild declared a Regal challenger unworthy, then the challenger would not rule. If said challenger did not agree with said judgment, then he or she was allowed to try again after one year.

They were only allowed another chance.

"I bring a challenger for the Succession," Gohan continued, pushing Pan forward and releasing her shoulder at last. Pan bowed, the form of a challenger to an incumbent; Sulyild's eyes (oddly placed), glinted in the glittering lights. "Please test her as far as you are able."

"As you wish, my Regnal," Sulyild replied, then addressed Pan directly. "Do you know me, challenger?"

"You are Sulyild, the mystical Guardian of the Succession," Pan rattled off. Gohan watched his daughter's hand tighten upon her Blue Dragonfly Spear. "I am to fight you."

Though Pan's voice was steady, her last statement was more of a question. Gohan turned as Sulyild answered, "Yes," in a measuring tone of voice and began circling in a wide, slow circle. He did not see how Pan reacted, but her ki was only determined again, and confident. Gohan could only hope that she remained this way, and was able to grow even more than she had for the past year. Maturity was a hard taskmistress; not everyone was able to bear her yoke.

Heart heavy, Gohan listened to the clashes of metal upon claw, flesh upon flesh, wood upon flesh. He was almost at the beginning of the path again before the darkness swallowed the sounds up, but light was there to greet him, light and chatter, wineglasses tinkling and rustling cloth, the steady gaze of his Steward, the cares of a politically-driven world, and he blinked as the mask of the Regnal settled over him once more.

He could do nothing more for his daughter now, but look to his own affairs and prepare for the outcome. Whatever the outcome was, life as a Regnal had become both easier and harder. If Pan failed, his conscience would be clear to select a Majestic as his Heir and test that one in turn. If Pan succeeded, then he need only teach her how to be a Regnal. Of the two, the first would cause discontent to rise amongst the Majestics. Of the two, the last would be the harder to do.

He took a deep breath, released it. Meeting the Steward's eyes, he smiled slightly and said, "Shall we return to the gathering?"

Enrt Quain Numan Peregrine, Earl and Regnal Advocate, nodded and turned away. Gohan moved without hesitating, sliding smoothly into the role he'd held for the past eleven—no, twelve—years, and something inside of him, a small flicker that had burned quietly for a year, died.

Yes, his life as a Regnal had changed indeed. How much so depended on how much one girl was willing to sacrifice in order to fulfill her destiny.

:-:-:-:

THE BANQUET Hall had just emptied when Gohan felt Pan's ki drop dangerously. Instantly he tensed and reached for Wyvenshire, who immediately croaked one single time. The Banquet Hall buckled and collapsed, but Gohan paid no heed. Zhais was unsheathed in his hand even as he snapped it out and shouted, "Ter!"

Pan's back jerked straight in a spasm; the Blue Dragonfly Spear dropped from her hands and clattered across the floor to Sulyild's feet. Sulyild turned upon his Regnal with wild eyes, but Gohan swung Zhais into its sheath, stepped into a stance, and withdrew again his Red Firefly, moved both it and him in tune with the words, "First dance, first dance, Sonador, Sonador!"

Sulyild immediately stopped and stood there, eyes glazed over, breath stuttering. Gohan pointed Zhais down at the ground, hands wrapped around the hilt, and shoved his arm forward and back, clasping the sword at his ear, even as out rolled, "Second dance, Konsui!"

He didn't wait to see how this second incantation affected Sulyild, but whirled around and spun his sword down to the ground when he faced forward again. He bellowed, "Third dance, Cente!", and Zhais awoke abruptly in his hands, thrumming loudly. Glittering sparks burst from it and revolved wildly around Gohan like miniature planets, lighting up the caverns in bright blue streaks and deeper shadows.

Sulyild was completely paralyzed now, not that that mattered when he was not even aware to resist. Sonador had sent him into a walking sleep, and Konsui had relaxed the body until it could not move, but it was Cente which had removed the Guardian completely out of his mind into the welcoming—and cold—arms of forced insanity. Cente, besides decommissioning the mind, also bound the soul for the next and final dance.

Gohan, breathing calmer now, rose from his crouch to settle back on his most rear-reaching leg, which was his right, and sighted down Zhais' blade laid straight out from his ear. With two forefingers of his left hand sweeping down the metal, he aimed carefully at the prone form of Sulyild and murmured, "Fourth dance, Pth."

The glowing globes of light rushed from him to spiral up Sulyild's form. They gyrated ever faster and faster, emitting streams of light in their wake, until Sulyild was encased in a slowly spinning cylinder of blue—

That, by some unseen signal, scrunched suddenly in on Sulyild and exploded outwards. Gohan stood solidly before the gust, but in the back of his head he could hear from behind him a gasp and a struggle to get free. Then the energy swept over him, and it was over.

Sulyild was no more.

The ring that Zhais made when it slid home into its sheath could not have been any louder. Gohan turned to Pan then and told her calmly, though his pulse still raced, so his tone was a little harsh despite himself, "Only the Four Sacred Dances can quell Sulyild. Clearly you have not learned them," Gohan breathed in and out, "Your Highness."

He smiled grimly at Pan's shock, decipherable through her continued paralysis. "Oh, yes, you have proven yourself a Regal despite the lack of the Four Sacred Dances. Sulyild told me of his approval of you before I dismissed him." Indeed, in those wild eyes had not only been a demand to stay out of the fight, but also nearly a command—as much as a Guardian of the Succession could give to an already established Regnal—to instate Pan as his Heir.

One problem solved.

"However," he continued before anything could break his rhythm, including himself, "it is not yet over for you. You have one final obstacle to overcome, and it starts now." A gesture of his fingers, an odd twisting flick of them, and the ground beneath them glowed. The peculiar arrangements of the lights explained itself when revealed were the lines running to and from all of them, and how they formed into a particular pattern.

Pan, her limbs spread akimbo still due to her father's spell, was directly in the middle of it.

One look, half-horrified half-weary, was all she could level at him before he snapped his fingers and said a single word:

"Ifrin."

Then the pattern gleamed brightly, flared up; Pan sunk rapidly into it, her shout swallowed by the glyph as it closed liquidly over her head. The runic circle flared again, bright blue and complicated to Gohan's vision, then blinked out and was gone.

The Ifrifor had just swallowed Gohan's daughter, and Gohan himself did not know when, or if, it would give her back.

:-:-:-:

HE DID not know how long he meditated in the Kino'shun Gardens each day that passed after casting Pan into the Ifrifor. He had gone into the Gardens that first day to seek some relaxation, but the glittering lights had swum together into an image of Pan gaping at her mother—whom she was the spitting image of, only taller. Gohan's throat closed at seeing the two of them rush together into an embrace, tears forming as Pan babbled out something he could not hear.

Videl's shocked expression had him submitting a guess, especially when she seized their daughter with a desperate look. Their faces fell when Pan continued; Gohan had no doubt that it was because of his pretended ignorance of Pan's true identity. They embraced again, the first tears streaking down his wife's face, and turned to stride inside the house that had been Gohan's home before Typhol Isanaon summoned him away.

The scene shifted again to present him with all the members of the Z-senshi stuffed into Videl's living room and staring at Pan. No, not staring, Gohan realized, listening, for Pan was speaking, her hands sketching out a story he could as easily hypothesize. Her Blue Dragonfly Spear was laid on the low table before her, and Fulunke coolly looked at each person in the room, brown eyes inscrutable with quick judgment. He watched Pan pick up the Spear and light it up, the blade shining a faint blue while various reactions occurred around her.

A familiarly blue-haired Bulma leaned forward to study it with excitement; his brother Goten had no reaction other than that of restraining their mother from screeching about weapons (though Gohan wondered what would happen if she touched the Blue Dragonfly; would there be a reaction to one lost to the Succession as Chichi was?). Others were exclaiming in surprise, while Vegeta and Piccolo both had disdainful and stoic looks respectively, as was their nature.

The third and last image the Kino'shun showed him was a gradual procession, where he watched Pan slide from excited to be home to relief the next day, and then quiet and alert. Gohan could nearly see the gears of her brain grinding, and it did not alleviate his unease when Videl said over breakfast, the first words he'd heard so far, "You've changed quite a bit, dear. You're quiet, and you jumped when Uncle Goten came in yesterday. Are you sure you're all right?"

Pan's eyes snapped to her mother's face, but whatever she saw relaxed her. "Yeah, Mom," she forced out, smiling tiredly, "I'm fine. I..." She paused, scanning her mother's face again before rushing on. "I just don't feel like I fit in here anymore, y'know? I've gone through so much, but none of you understand, and—"

Videl waited for more, but their daughter had no more words. Sighing, Pan's mother placed her chopsticks down on her plate and regarded Pan steadily. Finally, she said, carefully, "You've only been home a week. You have to give it more time than that."

Pan's rejoinder was quick: "How much more time, Mom?"

Videl pursed her lips; Gohan inferred that she had expected this answer, but had offered the advice anyway. There were several reasons why he loved her, even after all this time, and this was one of them. Nevertheless, she had no answer, and Pan's mouth twisted cynically.

Her answer matched her face. "That's what I thought."

"Don't do anything rash, dear," Videl urged, leaning forward as though she hoped to drive the intensity of her plea through their daughter's thickening skin. "Give it some more time, another week."

"And then what?" Gohan would wince at Pan's tone, so acerbic it was. But Videl, never one to give up, rallied and said,

"And then, then we'll take you to a doctor or somebody else who can help."

Even Gohan knew not to say something like that to his daughter, who had proven herself to be a survivalist. As he thought, Pan stiffened on her cushion, but not so much that Videl noticed. Her voice, moreover, was admirably steady, when she asked,

"You would take me to a shrink? You do not believe me?" Ah, there was the hurt in Pan's tone; not all of her training was able to prepare her for this, the ultimate betrayal.

Videl appeared weary. "I do," she responded. "I just don't want you to feel out of place here, Panlet. If it takes therapy..."

Pan did not answer.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Videl said, worry creeping into her tone. "I didn't mean to." She peered across the table at their daughter, who sat still and stiff like an inactive Syr'nthan toy. Nonetheless, she did return a nonsense reassurance, her voice a tiny spark of animation out of place in a person so cold. Gohan didn't need to read ki to know what his daughter was feeling; shock, fury, and betrayal, amongst others, outlined themselves in the rigid posture of her body.

Another week passed, as Videl requested, but Gohan knew it would not help. Pan was already colder, her eyes calculating as she looked at her family, or whom she had thought was her family. Now they were only people she could not trust, and Gohan recognized the expression in her face as estimating which of said people would be likely to help her, and which would only hinder, one of which was her mother. He was briefly sad, and wry, that it was her family on Earth that had finally taught her the suspicion he had tried to drill into her for the last year—and he could not take the blame from himself, either, for he had begun the process which the Z-senshi had finished.

The stealthy escape Pan made from Mount Paoz was not a surprise. She and Fulunke were standing in front of an unfamiliar pool of water with an odd shimmering above it when they suddenly, slowly faded into black. Gohan arose from the trance instinctively knowing that days had passed and that his Regnal Advocate was asleep on the border of the Kino'shun Gardens. Enrt's ki was as close as it could get to the edge without falling victim to the hypnotic effect of the Flowering Stars—and perhaps he had already, considering how deeply he was sleeping when Gohan knew how Enrt could stay awake for days at a time if necessary.

Shaking his head at his Steward's loyalty, expressed time and time again with nary a word or extra embellishment, Gohan simply breathed for several seconds. As it was now, here in the Kino'shun Gardens, he was not just a Regnal, or a father, or a husband, or a son. He was merely himself, a person with doubts, fears, joys, and a reason for existing—in his case, his family, Earthian and Syr'nthan. He did not have many opportunities to just be, and he relished the opportunity to do so.

Soon enough, he pushed himself to his feet. The Kino'shun most likely would not mind having him sink into another trance, but Gohan had work to do. His daughter had chosen to return to his world, and as much as he would like to, he could not realize his reaction—hope, anger at his wife, anticipation—until there was time for it.

In the time he had before Pan returned, he had several matters to arrange, not the least of which would be an exhibition match between the two of them. The Ifrifor was excellent for more things than otherworldly travel—its original purpose was, in fact, as a training tool, a way to slow down time until the inhabitant learned all that she had to learn using an externalization of her inner self, which should be the true form of her Blue Dragonfly. If so, then she would not only learn how to fight properly, using a wide range of resources such as her Blue Dragonfly, herself, and her Familiar, but she would also learn the Four Sacred Dances of the Spear, which were far more important than anything else.

The Four Sacred Dances would prove without a doubt that his daughter was a true Syre Regal.

Not even Enrt and his ability for denial would be able to refute the evidence. This was, of course, without mentioning the uproar the Majestics would cause, the fuss they would stir up, especially if it ever came out that Gohan had known all along the upstart Son Pan's real identity—

Thus why he had to arrange an exhibition match. The match had an added effect of finally bringing the conflict between him and his daughter to a head, but that was, in Earthian terms, merely a bonus. If Gohan worked it carefully, then Pan would emerge from the fight knowing everything she'd ever wanted to.

He only hoped the shock did not kill her, or him.

:-:-:-:

ELEVEN DAYS after she chose to return, Pan exploded outwards from the glyph that was the portal into the Ifrifor. Gohan was there to catch her, ki as helpful as ever in sensing shifts in the ki landscape, and to carry her out of the Chamber of the Guardian of the Succession. Brisdain Iony was the first to see him proceeding down the hall with his bundle (who, even in sleep, was flexing her hands as if around an imaginary spear). He hurried toward them, alertness sparking in his gaze.

"My Regnal," he greeted perfunctorily. "This is the challenger, yes?"

"It is indeed, Regal Advocate," Gohan responded. Even as Brisdain Iony's eyes widened at his new form of address, he nearly stopped moving, so surprised was he. Gohan nudged him patiently out of the way and strode on toward the infirmary, his original destination. After a moment, Gohan sensed Brisdain Iony pull alongside and pace silently by his Regnal's (and now his Regal's) side. His ki, while still with an edge of surprise to it, had almost an air of ceremony about it, even as they stepped side by side. The Apprentice was already accepting the role he had been slated to fulfill; pride, proprietary for all that Willgait was not his, momentarily lifted one corner of Gohan's mouth, the side Brisdain could not see.

Then Gohan turned his head towards the Querche Palace Healer, Hatron, and handed over his daughter's unconscious form. He did not need to fabricate the grimness to the outline of his ki, or the more formal solemnity that accompanied it; he truly did not know how his daughter would fare after so long in the Ifrifor, only his concern went beyond merely ensuring that his Heir would survive.

He did, however, modulate the intensity of said emotions so that anyone reading his ki would not be suspicious about the depth of his concern about a person that he did not know, other than as an intruder, as an unknown daughter, and finally as his Heir, his Regal.

"Stay with her, Regal Advocate," Gohan ordered. "When she wakes, send me a message." His look to the newly-made Advocate was meaningful.

Brisdain nodded, ki flickering with comprehension, and marched after Hatron into the infirmary. Gohan remained where he was for a few moments, eyes nearly closed, then straightened minutely and strode off.

:-:-:-:

LATER THAT night, he stepped into the infirmary with his hands behind his back. Ki'ilin Icti startled at the sight of him, while Brisdain on the opposite wall sketched a bow.

"Regal Advocate," Gohan greeted. "Ki'ilin Icti Legea."

"Your Majesty," Brisdain smoothly rejoined, with Ki'ilin Icti stumbling afterwards.

"How fares Her Highness?"

"Sleeping still, my Regnal," the Apprentice informed him. "The Healers tell that it may be some time before she awakes."

"Very good," Gohan said, both praising and dismissing. Brisdain bowed once more, then saw himself out the door and past the stoic-faced and –ki­ guard just to the left of the door.

When the door itself slid closed, Gohan regarded the prone form on the bed silently. She was breathing unassisted, which pleased him immensely, and her ki was stable. He had been reassured by Hatron, the Healer for Palace Querche, that Pan would be in a deep unconsciousness for several days still (which Brisdain had confirmed just now), and not to worry. Pan had been through much in the Ifrifor, and now, nearly four weeks in the suspended subspace that was the Ifrifor, her body and her brain needed a chance to settle.

That did not mean Gohan did not have care for his daughter.

Ki'ilin Icti Legea broke his reverie with a hesitant, "My Regnal?" When Gohan turned to him, the young man's face was tense.

"Ki'ilin Icti," he responded gravely, raising his eyebrows slightly. Legea went even paler, but he visibly bolstered his courage.

"Do you know how Pan came to be like this?" He gestured to Pan unconscious.

"She faced the Guardian of the Succession, and, upon gaining his approval, was placed into a site called the Ifrifor to help her evaluate her place in this world." Now Gohan motioned to Pan. "She has evidently made her decision."

"You...you made her face the Guardian of the Succession?" Legea had turned from hesitant to disbelieving. "Did you tell her what you planned her to do?"

"She knew what was expected of her," Gohan returned, retaining his grave face. He had been expecting something like this, from Pan actually, but Ki'ilin Icti seemed an acceptable representative.

"That is not good enough!" he shouted. The guard by the door started out of her post, lifting her blunt, short weapon, but Gohan waved her away and kept his eyes on the slowly-flushing young man before him.

Ki'ilin Icti breathed heavily, eyes darting from him to the guard, but did continue, more slowly, "That is not good enough. Pan does not know the Four Sacred Dances yet. She could not have—" He gulped. "She could not have defeated him, the Guardian of the Succession. She—"

"Gained the Guardian's approval," Gohan said gently. "There is more to pleasing the Guardian than merely having the right skills, or enough strength, and knowing how or when to use them. I know not what else Sulyild looks for, but I assure you that he was most emphatic about instating her as my Heir."

The giant of a boy trembled and looked so torn and lost. Did Gohan look so at one time? He must have, but had had other people and Zhais and Wyvenshire to ease his pain. Ki'ilin Icti did not seem to be so fortunate.

Just as Gohan was wondering if he should call for the Healer, Ki'ilin Icti was silent so long, the latter spoke up again. "Pan looked up to you. At the beginning, when she was just newly-inducted, she was so haunted, so guarded from what you had done to her, but she would always talk about how she just wanted to find her father. It was like she had this glow to her whenever the subject of her sire came up, and she would actually speak in sentences with more than six or seven words. It was so...different, when she was like that.

"But then when she found out that her father was the King of Syre, the very person who had put a bounty on her head, who had made her fear for her life, she just...deflated. And..."

He struggled for more words. Gohan let the seconds tick by without comment, then said, "I believe Pan has had an ideal of me as her father that no man may stand up to, much less I. This ideal may exist even now, as she sleeps, if in changed form. I cannot do anything about this ideal except act as I am and do what is my duty, which is all I may ever do."

He inclined his head, grave as ever, to a stunned-appearing Ki'ilin Icti Legea. Taking one more glance at the steadily breathing Pan, he nodded at the guard, left.

:-:-:-:

STANDING IN the only room of Phaves, the third Palace of Syre, Gohan waited, tall and erect, for the seething mass of Syr'nthans to settle into the recessed seats lining the walls. He had been there since the first of the spectators had trickled in, so for the moment he was, ironically, ignored as tens of his subjects chattered with each other, their kis bright with anticipation, excitement, and life in general.

Every so often Gohan just had to appreciate the sheer vitality his Syr'nthans had, and which was in everything they did. Sometimes, as right now, he was even grateful for it. It told him that he had done something right at least, when else his day was riddled with doubts and frustrations.

Like today very well could be.

Enrt caught his gaze and nodded; Gohan inclined his head a fraction of a centimeter, and cast his eyes once again over his residents of Syre. He felt his most Regnal at this moment, in ceremonious yet practical dueling clothes that, as was to be expected with Enrt as his Advocate, fit him perfectly; never before had he ever felt quite like the King his title claimed him to be.

What vanity. Snorting to himself, Gohan gradually built up his ki until it was a tad bit higher than the highest ki in the room (other than his), then flared it bright in one blinding split-second. The chatter died as heads swung towards the King of Syre, patient in the center of the giant platform, ready for all of Syre to listen.

"Syre!" he began, moving nothing other than his mouth and his head. "As most of you know, a month or so ago, the College of Syre Arts was attacked by the infamous pirate Dreadnought, Rebel's Melee. However, the students and the teachers of the College rose admirably to the defense of Syre's oldest institution, and one in particular stood out. For then, while in battle against the Pirate Captain Ingu Rhoat himself, Son Pan declared herself the Regal of Syre, and my daughter.

"Over the last few weeks, Lady Pan has been presented with various tests of the Succession to prove her claim." He paused and swept his eyes over the ranks of people sitting below and around him, then announced, "She has passed all of them."

The resulting clamor was not as loud as it could have been; nearly all of the Syr'nthans in this audience had expected it. Gohan waited it out, however, before speaking once more.

"Now, she is here to engage in an exhibition match with myself, your Regnal, to prove to all that she is worthy of the title of the Regal of Syre. Remember, the Syre Regal must be in possession of four things: A fighter's byname, an Energy-Infused Weapon, a corporeal Familiar, and mastery of the Four Sacred Dances of the weapon of choice. Remember also that the Regal is not required to defeat her predecessor, as I did with the previous Regnal, King Tsulikthinroe Typhol Isanaon Quivenwood Wyvern. Instead, she must demonstrate any attribute she wishes: cunning, strength, speed, awareness, as long as such attribute proves her worthiness, and that she uses it wisely and does not abuse it."

The people of Syre remained in captivated silence, all eyes on him. Nodding slightly in approval, he stepped back and looked to his right behind him.

"Regal Advocate," he called to the alertly waiting Brisdain Iony, "please admit Her Highness."

The Advocate bowed. The doors he stood by swung open to his strong voice proclaiming, "Her Highness the future King Tsulikthinroe Aodh Pansengir Quivenwood Wyvern!"

Son Pan stood with her head held high in the doorways bracketing her.