It's The Thought That Counts

Valentine's Day fic. It's sorta a tradition for me by now that each year I write for a new game… Sacred Stones will not be spared, mehehehehehe… Ahem.

Anyway, enjoy, hopefully, and please review after reading.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The shout resounded throughout the hallways of Castle Renais, causing General Seth to glance up from his progress towards his quarters. Without missing a beat, he pivoted in midstep, heading towards the throne room from which the yell had originated.

Pushing the doors open, his slightly widened eyes was the only indication that he was surprised at the sight of Innes', Frelia's Prince, sitting on a chair clutching his head. A thin trickle of blood flowed out from between his fingers. Next to him was Tana, recent Queen of Renais, fussing over her elder brother.

Several feet to the left of the wounded prince stood Prince Ephraim, bearing a wooden sword and a sheepish expression on his face.

"Did you have to hit so hard?" The silver-haired prince demanded as he glared daggers at Ephraim. "The point of a sparring match is to improve one's abilities, not to knock your opponent senseless! Is this how you always fight when training with the Obsidia – For Latona's sake, Tana, stop fussing over me! It's a scratch, not a gash. I'll live."

"Sorry, sorry." Ephraim held up his hands in a placating manner. "I know we're supposed to rein ourselves in a bit when we spar, it's just… I was distracted, is all. Besides, if you don't go all out, you'll never know how good you actually are in relation to your foe. Am I right, Seth?" Ephraim turned to face the General.

"I am decidedly neutral on the subject, your Highness." Seth intoned calmly. "Save for the fact that sparring in the throne room is most definitely not kingly behaviour."

Ephraim flushed slightly. "Well, yes, there is that, but… but…" He pointed at Innes. "He started it." The king finished lamely.

"Excellent comeback, Ephraim." The Frelian prince growled. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to point me in the direction of your castle's infirmary, I can deliver what my father's message to you and be on my way."

Seth half-turned to point behind him. "Third right down the hall, past a marble pillar that has a chip in it."

Without another word, Innes slammed a sheathe of letters on the table beside him, then stood and stalked off. Tana followed, only pausing to give Ephraim a helpless look before leaving the throne room herself.

"…" Seth turned back to face his king and liege lord. "Innes…"

"Challenged me to a sword duel." Ephraim shrugged as he tossed his wooden sword onto the aforementioned table. "He still hasn't gotten over losing to me at the last jousting tournament."

"You have a natural affinity for close-quarters combat, just as Prince Innes has an affinity for the bow."

"I know that, you know that, and he probably knows that but simply can't accept it. He wants to be the best at everything." Ephraim grimaced. Then, as if a new thought had struck him, he turned to regard Seth. "So… what is it you wanted to came here for?"

"I heard Prince Innes' cry." Seth sighed tiredly. "Other than that, nothing, I suppose."

Turning to leave, he halted as he heard Ephraim call out to him. "Seth…?"

He halted. "Yes, milord?"

"…No, it's nothing. As you were."

"Understood, milord."

Once Seth was gone, Ephraim slumped onto the throne and let out a deep, heartfelt sight. Being a king had more than it's fair share of duties and expectations, not the least of which was ensuring dealing with political intrigues.

With Grado's restoration progressing speedily in the wake of the war and the massive earthquake it had suffered, it had somehow surfaced that it was now Renais' turn to host the yearly Grand Ambassadorial Ball. It was also universally agreed that, in wake of what had just transpired over the continent, that this would be one of the more important meetings in sight. Castle Renais could expect to be jam-packed with ambassadors and dignitaries.

Which was unfortunate for Ephraim, a man for whom courtly niceties had never been a strong suit. The prospect of having to spend an entire weekend with people who seemed utterly convinced of their personal superiority over all other living things was quite frankly, insufferable.

That, however, was not the main object of his current concerns. The restoration efforts for both Renais and Grado, coupled with what thieves and rogues had made off with during the war, had just about drained the castle treasuries. Add to that the fact that many good men had been killed during the whole affair, and the castle was barely scraping through each day by the skin of their teeth. The servants and workers that still remained loyal even through Orson's nightmarish reign were stretched to their limits as it were, to say nothing of the knights who seemed to be fighting tooth and nail to reclaim a single inch of monster-infested land. The entire castle was dreadfully undermanned. And now, having to tell all of them that they would have to redouble their efforts in light of the upcoming meet certainly did not make for a pleasant proposition.

The trouble with this was that the nobles simply hadn't the faintest idea what war was truly like. They simply thought it as simple as sending off soldiers to some obscure, hard-to-pronounce location to duke it out, and the army that had the most knights still standing would be declared the winner. The truth of how any war would invariably wreck the country's economy, the suffering the common folk had to endure, to say nothing of the blood and dust and grit and thirst of the battlefield itself, were all simply lost in those who wrapped themselves in the protective blanket of their manors and parties and titles.

So naturally they would expect conditions of the ball to be up to the standards of all those hosted in happier times, when funds and staffing were plentiful. Any reasons given for unmet expectations would be received with a cordial 'I see' and 'of course', while behind his backs they would be already judging the new king to be an incompetent.

Not that he much cared for their political bear-baiting and thimble-rigging, but Seth, who knew far more of courtly proceedings than he did, had warned him that how he was assessed as a king by the nobles and dignitaries would be pivotal to the future success of the nation – after all, they were the only ones left who had anything in the way of a decent amount of funds. Where those funds would flow would depend greatly on their image of the king, and in turn it would depend on functions and events in which he was supposed to run the show. Much as he hated to admit it, the living conditions for the common folk would depend greatly on the lords.

"How on Magvel did father ever deal with this sort of thing?" He mumbled to himself.

So engrossed was he in his reflecting that he failed to notice soft footfalls coming up to him. "Ephraim?" His sister's gentle voice floated up.

"Hm?" He gazed up into her worried eyes. "What is it, sister?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing… just thinking."

"About the Ball?"

"What else?"

Eirika frowned. "I know you aren't going to enjoy entertaining those nobles at all. Why don't you let me handle them? We could tell them you're off fighting the monsters or something."

Ephraim snorted. "Yes, and have them think I'm a foolish, irresponsible romantic out only for adventure." He sighed again and shook his head. "I never had to worry about how people would view me when I was Prince. But now that I'm king… I can't even host a party without every lord on the continent scrutinizing my every move. You should have been Queen in my stead, Eirika. I can't deal with this."

"And what makes you think I could deal with it any better than you? These few months after the war, you've been great. Leading with a firm yet gentle hand. The people aren't exactly comfortable yet, true, but they trust that you'll be able to pull them out of this." She paused a moment before a light smile graced her delicate face. "Besides, you know the rules. Firstborn son rules the kingdom."

"Yes, yes…" Ephraim held up a hand. "The peasant's needs are the whole reason I'm worried right now. How receptive the nobles are going to be to my requests are all going to hinge on this Ball."

"… I get it. You're worried about the ambience and preparations not being up to par."

Ephraim was silent for a long minute, as the faint threads of a plan began to come together in his mind. Although it probably wasn't going to endear himself to the castle staff, it would go a great deal farther to getting their preparations ready in time.

"Eirika?"

"Yes, brother?"

"Would you mind sending a message for all available members of the castle staff to assemble in the throne room? And makes sure the advisors and whatnot get no hint of this. I don't need their input, I know it'll be negative. Okay?"

"…Alright. But wh-?"

"You'll see soon enough." Ephraim let out a wan smile. "Just go, okay?"

Ephraim gazed over the sea of faces standing before him. Some looked bored, some confused, some downright apprehensive, as if knew what was coming next.

"Alright, everyone, I have an announcement to make." He started, ending the murmuring across the hall. "I'm sure that by now most of you would have realized we're the hosts for this year's Grand Ambassadorial Ball. I'm equally certain that most of you would have realized we're already stretched to the limit as is in terms of just keeping the country up and running."

He gazed around the crowd, seeing confusion melt away as the brighter ones were already figuring out what he would ask of them. Everything in those people's faces were begging him not to say what they already knew.

Ephraim could sympathize. Most of them had dealt with the increased strain and responsibilities extremely well, but now… Nevertheless, duty was duty.

"I'm terribly sorry." He continued. "But I must ask that all those already involved in preparations to double their efforts. As for those not directly involved with the process, such as the knights of Renais, I have to ask that you to switch duties for a time of two weeks. I will be frank – we need all available help we can get."

More and more faces were becoming resigned, Ephraim noted. Not unexpected, but certainly unpleasant.

"I expect, and demand, that all of you, from the knight commanders down to the pageboys, take part in this. And yes, this includes Eirika and me. This is the only way we're going to be ready by the time the Ball comes round."

Pointing towards chart set up to his right, he continued his announcement. "I've created a schedule such that the knights will still be able to maintain a fairly regular patrol around the castle and the surrounding area. Of course, this means that more time is going to be demanded of you…"

Silence. Complete, utter, silence. He was certain he detected a couple homicidal glares his way. This continued for several minutes.

"…Right. Dismissed. Your new duties and tasks will be assigned to you before tonight." Ephraim blurted out, as glad as the rest of them that this conversation was over.

As the last of the castle servants filed from the room, Ephraim slumped back onto his throne, and let what had to be the mother of all sighs escape his lips. A minute later, his lowered vision caught three pairs of boots heading his way. Two of them were armoured.

Glancing up, he looked wearily at the trio that had come to talk to him. "Yes?" He asked.

His sister spoke first. "Ephraim… are you sure about this? It's going to put a massive strain on all them, the soldiers especially. And you, you're going to collapse under the stress soon if you don't do something."

Ephraim managed a comforting smile. "It's just two weeks, Eirika. After that we can all rest for a bit. Yes, General?"

"…While I personally have no qualms about devoting more of my time to the preparations for the Ball, I have to request information as to how we're possibly going to be able to keep a patrol on both the country while we're working at the same time – to say nothing of the physical exhaustion for the less… robust knights."

"Well, yes, that's one reason I wanted to talk to you. Could you send out runners to the trainers for the recruits? Tell them to bring all the trainees and greenhorns back to the castle."

"You're going to interrupt their training?"

"Only for two blasted weeks, General, and if they insist on kicking up a big fuss over it, tell them we'll compensate them for the lost time."

"King Ephraim, you must keep a check on your emotions…"

"Yes, of course." He slumped back onto his throne once more and closed his eyes. "I liked it a lot better when all of my problems could be solved by stabbing it with a lance." He mumbled. Then, as if remembering he had a third person requesting an audience, he turned. "Yes, Forde?"

The red-haired knight let out a wan smile. "We're entertaining dignitaries from all over Magvel, right?"

"…Right."

"They'll be sure to see what kind of king you look to be, correct?"

"…Yes."

"We need to be on our best behaviour?"

"Yes, so that means no getting drunk and throwing up over Kyle like at the celebration party when we defeated the Demon King."

"Yes… um, has he mentioned that incident to you recently?"

"Personally, I'd steer clear of him for a few more days. But you didn't come here to ask me that, did you."

"Well, no. I was wondering if you could use some paintings."

"Paintings."

"Yep. You already know I paint as a hobby, and I figured I could, y'know, frame a couple of them over the parts of the walls that suffered damages during the wall. Cover it up a bit, and add to the atmosphere."

"You'd be willing?"

"I offered."

"In addition to the other duties I'm going to assign to you?"

"… Yeah, see, I was hoping to talk to you about that. Say, about fifty percent of the workload as compared to other knights…"

Ephraim's eyes narrowed. "Nice try, Forde."

"Drat."

Ephraim shook his head, then swung his legs forward, and used the momentum to pull himself into a standing position. "Elsewhile, I'm pretty sure we're going to have a fine time planning who does what. Eirika, Seth, would you help me? You understand the temperament of some of the staff better than I do…"

"Of course, brother."

"I'll help in any way I am able."

Discussing slowly, the three of them left the room, leaving Forde to shrug and head over to study the chart on the wall.

Alright, this is going to be a three-part story, with the final chapter hopefully posted on Valentine's Day.

Thank you for reading, please review.