Inga never understood how people could get excited for the New Year. All that happens is the year number goes up by one. It's not like the second the clock hits midnight on January first, the universe starts anew and the issues of the previous year just up and disappeared- the Defiant dragons were still active, Rayfa had been more self-conscious on account of her not making much progress in terms of spirit channeling, and he was still married to Ga'ran.
But it wasn't like Inga was some sort of New Year Scrooge who didn't feel any positive feelings about the season and had quite a bit going for him- the Defiant Dragons hadn't launched any sort of attacks or protests recently and Ga'ran hadn't violated him as of yet. So, as of this point, 2028 was shaping up to be a good year for him.
But it wouldn't last; nothing good in Inga's life, with the exception of Rayfa, ever lasted. It was only a matter of time before something, whether pertaining to Dhurke or his banshee of a wife or something equally as migraine-inducing, sensed his joy and put an end to it. And sure enough, on January eighth, 2028, this was confirmed in one of the worst of ways.
It was a typical Saturday for Inga- sitting in his private quarters, doing papers while he hid from Ga'ran. Suddenly, the Minister of Justice flinched upon hearing the front door creak open and the person not announcing themself.
Inga's eyes widened. Oh no! Is Ga'ran trying to be spontaneous again!? But I still haven't healed from the last time! Inga thought with much terror, recalling that horrid DC Act Day, as he spun around in his chair and pulled out his trusty pistol, which he always carried on his person for just such an emergency, and aimed it towards the doorway and the unexpected visitor. "Who's there!? You wanna mess with-" Inga lowered his pistol, a pang of guilt rushing through him, upon seeing Rayfa, her arms raised in front of her torso, staring at him with a look of terror in her eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, Father. If it's not a good time, I can come back later." Rayfa nervously stated. However, as Rayfa tried to leave the room, she was stopped by Inga, who had practically leapt out of his seat, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and turning his daughter around to give her a hug.
"I'm sorry, Rayfa. I didn't mean to scare you just then. It's just that I get a bit nervous when people don't announce themselves when entering my private quarters. After all, we've got those Defiant Dragons roaming around the country thinking that they own the place."
"I understand, Father." Rayfa replied with a forlorn tone.
Knowing that something was bothering his daughter, Inga broke off the hug as he got down one knee, making sure that he was at eye-level with his daughter, and put his hands on her shoulders.
"What's the matter, Rayfa? Are you still upset about me accidently pulling a gun on you? Look, I didn't mean to do it. Honest! I love you with all my heart and couldn't live with myself if something happened to my little girl. It's just that when you normally enter my private quarters, you announce yourself, so I thought that it was someone else."
"It's not that, Father… It's… something else." Rayfa sullenly replied, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"Did your mother belittle your spiritual powers again, saying how useless you are!?" Inga growled.
"Father…"
"Listen to me, Rayfa. I don't care what your mother says, you're a good priestess. You do a heck of a Divination Séance!" Inga comments as a proud grin spreads across his face. "Why, when I go to the High Court, I constantly hear the Magistrate going on about how he fears that your Divination Séances are so good that he'll get the boot. So what if you can't channel spirits yet? You'll learn how to do it soon enough and then you'll show your mother!" The Minister of Justice patted his still-glum daughter's shoulder. "So ya feeling better?"
"Father… I appreciate your kind words, but that's not what's bothering me. You see, I… I have a question, but I'm feeling conflicted about whether or not to ask you."
"Rayfa, I'm your father. If you have a question, any question at all, I'll be more than happy to answer it for you."
Rayfa's gaze shifted slightly upward, allowing Inga to see the worry in his daughter's eyes. "Well, from what I have heard, this question makes people feel uncomfortable… I love you, Father. I don't want you to suffer."
Inga let out a hearty chuckle. "Rayfa, I'm the Minister of Justice. I've seen and dealt with things that would drive a lesser man to tears! So whatever question you have, I can take it no problem!" The Minister of Justice boasted, puffing out his chest in pride.
A small smile spread across Rayfa's face as she breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, Father: How are babies made?"
Upon hearing that infamous question, Inga's puffed out chest deflated like a punctured balloon as his face paled. "W-W-Why do you… Why do you ask, Rayfa?" the Minister of Justice sputtered out as he tried to maintain his composure, but judging by the frown spreading across his daughter's face, he was doing an awful job at it.
Rayfa's gaze shifted once more to the floor. "See? I knew that this would only make you uncomfortable! I'm so sorry Father!" Rayfa said as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Don't cry, Rayfa! I'm not uncomfortable. I was just caught off-guard, is all. I just want to know what put that question in your mind at this point in your life."
"Well…" Raya said, twiddling her thumbs. "Since Abbot Inmee's wife has been pregnant for some time now, it's got me thinking about how babies are made? Do the parents do something, or does the Holy Mother do all the work and it's spontaneous?"
Inga cocked his head and scratched the back of his neck. "Well… yes and no… Did you try asking Nayna about it? She'll probably give you a way better answer than I could." Plus, Amara still owes me for leaving me alone the first time Rayfa's 'monthly visitor' arrived.
"Well, I tried asking Nayna, but she told me that it's Khura'inese tradition for a parent to answer that question. And since you're much nicer to me than Mother, I figured that it would be best to ask you!" Rayfa chirped in hope of winning her father over.
Inga flinched. Damn it, Amara! If you're pissed about your life's situation, take it out on Ga'ran; not me!
"So Father, how are babies made?" Rayfa asked.
"Well, you ever hear the old saying, 'the warbaa'ds and the yaks'?"
Rayfa nodded her head. "Yes, Father. Are warbaa'ds and yaks involved in the process?"
"Not really. It's more of a metaphor, see?"
Rayfa cocked her head. "How so?"
"Well…" Inga stroked his beard as he tried to think of a good reason. "You see, you got the yak doing yak-stuff- eating grass, plowing fields, and the like- minding his own business, when the warbaa'd swoops in outta nowhere and screams in the yak's ear with that roar of hers and yells at the yak for being such a pushover before giving him a big ol' smile and gently stroking his fur. The yak, fearful for his own wellbeing, tries to run from the warbaa'd, but no matter how fast he runs, she can fly, so she'll always catch him. Then, pinning the poor yak to the ground with her talons, the warbaa'd, she… she…"
Inga took a few steps back from Rayfa and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Rayfa. I can't do this. Not because I don't want to, but because I'm not prepared. I've gotta talk this over with your mother to make sure that you learn all the right stuff."
"Alright Father, I understand. Take all the time you need."
In Ga'ran's audience chamber, Inga stood before the golden steps leading up to Ga'ran's throne, looking up at his wife as she sat upon her regal chair, staring down at her husband and the members of her royal guard that lined both sides of the long purple carpet that covered the center of the room.
"Husband, it is unlike you to come to my chamber at this time of day. What brings you here? Approval and funding for a plan to eliminate the Defiant Dragons…" A sultry grin spread across Ga'ran's face. "or something more?"
Inga shuddered internally at the thought, knowing from experience that rejection only served to rile up Ga'ran. In fact, rejection was the driving force that started their relationship; but that's a story for another time.
"It's about Rayfa, Ga'ran. She asked me how babies were made and-"
"You floundered about like a pitiful carp and failed to provide her with an answer?" Ga'ran groaned and rolled her eyes. "Typical."
What? Couldn't spit acid in my face, Ga'ran? Or would that be too merciful? "In retrospect, yes. So, since she's your daughter as much as she is mine, could you help me give her the Talk?"
"Yes." Ga'ran replied with a nod.
Inga flinched in shock at the notion of his wife actually agreeing to help him with something not related to his position of Minister of Justice.
"You will?" Inga cocked his head in confusion, unsure as to whether he was hearing things right.
"Of course, Inga. This is a matter of great importance if the royal family is to live on for future generations. However, as the ruler of this country, I do not accomplish tasks with mere words, but actions. That is why we will be teaching Rayfa…" Ga'ran flashed Inga a come-hither look and licked her lips. "through example."
Inga took a step back, breaking out in a cold sweat as his face contorted into an expression of pain at the thought of Ga'ran not only giving him wounds, both physical and mental, that would take years to heal, but also traumatizing their adoptive daughter, who would surely have nightmares about it for the rest of her life.
"Er, actually, on second thought, it would be better if I handled this all on my own, see? You're the queen, after all, and probably have a lot of important queenly stuff to do."
Ga'ran leaned towards Inga. "Are you sure, Husband? I can always put aside our duties for-"
Before Ga'ran could finish that statement, Inga had already stormed out of the audience chamber and was making a mad dash back to his private quarters.
"Typical Inga- fleeing with his tail between his legs before I can have my fun." Ga'ran huffed. "Lah'kee, we require a shoulder rub." The queen commanded with a snap of her fingers, prompting the royal guard/shoulder rubber to rush over to her.
"Yes, Yooour Eminence!" Lah'kee shouted as he proceeded to massage the queen's shoulders.
"Will you stop shouting like that? You are giving us a headache." Ga'ran growled.
"Sorry, Yooour Eminence!" Lah'kee shouted again.
15 minutes later, Inga was sitting in his private quarters, after having sent Rayfa out so that he could think, talking on his cellphone to the one of the few people that could help him with his current problem.
"Hello, this is Abbot Inmee speaking. May I ask who is calling?"
"Hey Abbot Inmee-" Inga said before being cut off by a growl from the high priest.
"Minister Inga, to what do I owe this displeasure?" Tahrust bluntly asked.
"Well aren't you in a foul mood today? Twist a muscle with those fancy pants poses of yours?" Inga snidely commented.
"Well, you would be in a foul mood as well if you were called by the man who had left you and your pupil to die a most-gruesome death."
"Whoa now, you're still angry about that whole, 'locking you in a room with my menstruating daughter who beat the tar out of you' thing? Man, I thought that you holy people were supposed to be above that."
"Even the Holy Mother has limits, Minister Inga, and after you forced Prosecutor Sahdmadhi and I to buy feminine products for Her Benevolence after being bludgeoned, we reached ours." Tahrust stated matter-of-factly.
"Well, you mind putting that incident behind you and coming over here and talking to Rayfa about the warbaa'ds and the yaks?"
"No." Tahrust bluntly answered.
"'No'!?" Inga snarled, chomping down on his cigar stamp as he gritted his teeth. "Whaddya mean 'no'?"
"I'm sorry, Minister Inga, but I cannot risk my and Prosecutor Nahyuta's safety again by going through with another one of your calls."
"But what about Rayfa?" Inga pleaded. "Her development depends on this knowledge!"
"Look, Minister Inga, if Her Eminence called and asked for my services, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi and I would be more than happy to oblige. We just refuse to come at your request."
"Don't forget who you're talking to, Abbot Inmee." Inga sternly warned. "Saying stuff like that will land you a nice spot at the top of my execution list."
"KAAAAAH!" Tahrust yelled, causing Inga to flinch. "And risk a nationwide scandal by executing one of Khura'in's most beloved priests?"
"Damn!" Inga yelled, pounding his fist on his desk in anger. "C'mon, man! You gotta help me out? Can't you send Beh'leeb over to explain this stuff to Rayfa?" Inga pleaded.
"And risk my wife and unborn child's safety? I think not. Perhaps if you wish me a happy birthday this coming Leap Day, which you failed to do four years ago, I will forgive your transgressions against me and will not pray to the Holy Mother for your life to be filled with pain and misery." Tahrust mused.
"Well joke's on you, Abbot Inmee! Ga'ran's been doing that for years!" Inga angrily retorted as he ended the call before covering his face with his hands and letting out a muffled scream of frustration.
"Great, just great…" Inga groaned. "Now who's gonna teach Rayfa this stuff? I don't wanna do a live example with Ga'ran!"
Inga's loathing was then interrupted by someone knocking on his door.
Inga sighed "Come in, the door's open."
As Inga went back to his loathing, rubbing his palms against his eyes to ease his tension, he was greeted by the sound of a dahmalan being played. Turning around to see the source of the sound, the Minister of Justice saw a man with long brown hair and a brown goatee, a red butterfly tattoo in the middle of his face, wearing a violet robe with a red and yellow Khura'inese sash that only covered the left half of his torso, leaving the right side completely exposed, holding a dahmalan.
"Uh, and just who are you?" Inga asked, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. No one looking like this guy was in his appearance notepad, so he had to verify his identity.
"I'm Pees'lubn Andistan'dhin, the new head monk at Tehm'pul Temple." Pees'lubn stated.
Inga cocked his head in confusion. "When'd we get a new head monk?"
"My swearing-in ceremony was last week. Even Her Eminence was there. She told me how you would have come, but you, like, were busy bringing the fight to the Dragons."
"Riiight, that thing Ga'ran went to last Thursday... Sorry I couldn't make it. The paperwork really piles up when I'm gone, see? Makes it kinda hard for me to get involved in Khura'in's spiritual life."
"Don't worry about it, Minister Inga. I can pick up what you're throwing down, man." Pees'lubn struck a chord on his dahmalan before playing a song.
Fish that swim through the seas,
Honey that is made by the bees.
That is what the Holy Mother speaks,
From me to you, with these dahmalan techniques.
Every person has a different task,
As well as how the Holy Mother's glory they bask.
Pees'lubn clasps his hands together. "You see, Minister Inga, the Holy Mother has given each and every person a different purpose in life. But whether or not that purpose allows you to fully embrace her spiritually, as long as you keep Her in your heart, She will always smile down upon you."
Then explain why she stuck me with Ga'ran? "Andistan'dhin, I don't think that you came to my private quarters to give me a sermon, so why are you here?"
"Well, Her Benevolence didn't show up at the temple for our Dance of Devotion rehearsal, so I stopped by to make sure that everything was copasetic. As for why I'm talking to you, when I found Her Benevolence, she was outside this building waiting for you to answer her question about how mommies and daddies become, well, mommies and daddies, and refused to come to rehearsal until she gets her answer. So I was wondering if you'd be down with me teaching Her Benevolence about the facts of life."
Thank the Holy Mother! I'm saved! "That could work." Inga calmly responded, not wanting to make himself look too desperate.
"You sure? 'Cause I know how some parents wanna teach their kids that topic themselves."
Inga nodded "Yeah, I'm sure. Just let me get her."
A few moments later, Inga returned to his private chambers and had Rayfa sit on his bed.
"So Father, are you ready to teach me how babies are made?" Rayfa asked with a look of intrigue.
"Well Rayfa, I've decided that since you're the Royal Priestess, it would be best for you to be taught this by a spiritual man. And who better than the head monk?"
"A high priest like Abbot Inmee." Rayfa answered.
"Well, Abbot Inmee is busy at the moment, so Mr. Andistan'dhin is the next best thing." Inga turned to Pees'lubn. "Alright Andistan'dhin, do your stuff."
The head monk strummed a chord on his dahmalan. "Don't worry, Your Benevolence, me and my girl here are gonna lay the facts on you. So buckle up and enjoy the ride."
Pees'lubn then proceeded to play a song on his trusty instrument.
The creation of life is done by two,
An activity married men and women do.
They have hot and steamy sex.
They have hot and steamy sex.
Not expecting the lyrics to be so straightforward, Inga's eyes widened as his cheeks started to redden; contrary to Rayfa, who remained perfectly composed and shot a look of confusion at the head monk.
"Mr. Andistan'dhin, what's 'sex'?" Rayfa asked, prompting the head monk to resume his song.
'What is sex?' I hear you ask.
It's the wondrous reproduction task,
Involving the differences in our bodily possession-
Organs that that warrant much digression.
The penis for him, and the vagina for her.
They're needed for the Holy Mother's act to occur.
First there's kissing and light foreplay.
Followed by penis in the vagina thrusting away.
Then when the pleasure is far too great,
The man climaxes posthaste.
The man then releases his sperm,
Which wriggles up the vagina like an earthworm.
The spunk then moves through the fallopian tube,
Fast and quick, like a gear that's been covered in lube.
Once it reaches the end, one of many penetrates the ovarian egg.
Then over time, the combo forms a baby with arms and legs.
Finally, on the ninth month the baby is born.
And with that, a lack on the topic you no longer have to mourn.
"So, did I answer your question, Your Benevolence?" Pees'lubn asked Rayfa, who looked pretty content. Contrary to her father, who just stood there in shock, his mouth rapidly opening and closing like a fish gasping for air as he struggled to get his words out.
"You did a wonderful job, Mr. Andistan'dhin. Thank you." Rayfa replied.
"O-O-Ok… Lesson's done. Let's move on with our lives!" Inga stated as he tried to push Pees'lubn out of the room, only to be met with resistance from the head monk.
"Hey now, we're not done yet, Minister Inga." Pees'lubn calmly stated.
"We're not?" Inga asked.
The head monk shook his head. "Now my girl and I are moving onto the next lesson…" Pees'lubn strummed a chord on his dahmalan before starting his next song.
Your Benevolence, don't have premarital sex,
Or you'll face the Holy Mother's hex.
You'll feel the inside of your thighs burn.
Your body will writhe and turn.
And for Her Holiness' mercy you will beg,
To soothe the burning pain between your legs.
But Her forgiveness you will not see.
Why? Because you got yourself an STD.
What these letters mean, I'll tell you with ease.
They stand for sexually transmitted disease.
That's right, sexually transmitted disease.
That's right, sexually transmitted disease.
First your vagina will get a firm, round sore.
Next comes symptoms galore:
Sore throat, fever, joint pain,
Headaches, loss of appetite, and energy drain.
Then when you think that it's all done,
The Holy Mother's wrath has only just begun.
Your mind will deteriorate.
Perpetual depression and irritability await.
From your brain your memories will fade,
And the strength of your bladder will degrade.
So save your flower 'till marriage and you'll be fine,
Or a life of pain and misery you'll have to resign.
Upon the song's completion, Rayfa burst out into tears, wailing as she ran over to and practically squeezed the life out of Inga with a death hug.
"Father! I don't want to get an STD and die! Don't let any dirty nincompoops touch me with their disease-riddled hands!" Rayfa wailed as Inga gently patted her back.
"Everything's gonna be okay, Rayfa. No punks with STD are gonna touch you on my watch. I promise." Inga directed his attention to Pees'lubn, flashing the head monk a death glare. "What is wrong with you!? My baby girl just wanted to know how babies are made, not what happens in the free clinic! You looking to get on my execution list for traumatizing my daughter and making her cry!?"
"Simmer down, man. No matter how much you don't want to admit it, STDs are a real and dangerous aspect of sexual intercourse in this day and age, so Her Benevolence needs to be aware of this. If Her Benevolence just simply waits for marriage, then she won't have to worry about contracting an STD in the first place." Pees'lubn calmly explained.
"She's the Royal Priestess, not the whore of Babylon! You don't have to worry about my little girl sleeping around." Inga snarled.
"Yeah!" Rayfa chimed in with a sad, shaky voice as she started sniffling.
"And as for any boys who even think of trying anything, they'll have to deal with my Ten Laws of Dating that I had passed last year." Inga boasted.
"I'm not implying anything negative towards Her Benevolence, Minister Inga. I'm just saying that there are a whole slew of STDs out there and my song about syphilis was just the tip of the iceberg- there's also gonorrhea, chlamydia, herpes, HIV…" Pees'lubn stated as he started counting off the number of diseases mentioned on his fingers.
"Yeah, yeah, we get the point. So now are you done?" Inga growled.
The head monk shook his head. "Nope, I have one last topic to cover: masturbation."
"No! No! No! No! NOOOOOOOO! We are NOT going there! Rayfa DEFINITELY doesn't need to know about that topic." Inga bellowed at the top of his lungs, his face growing noticeably redder with rage.
"But Minister Inga, masturbation is the mortar used to lay down the brimstone bricks of sin on the path to damnation that the Devil is trying to force the youths of today to walk- along with tight pants, hip-hop music, and Tootsie Pops! Her Benevolence needs to know its evils in order to protect her soul!" Pees'lubn proclaimed as he struck a chord on his dahmalan.
"Over my dead-" Inga tried to object, but was interrupted by the head monk starting to play his third song.
In life people always try to find an easy way out.
Sex is no exception to this, no doubt.
That's why people stroke their junk.
Pleasuring themselves like a bunch of punks.
And while they get some euphoric high,
With her wrath, the Holy Mother will make them fry.
Your palms will grow hairy and you'll be blind.
People will also see you as unrefined.
Your womb will shrivel up and die,
Making you undesirable to any guy.
You'll die, sad and alone.
You'll die, sad and alone.
Inga, after looking over to see his daughter whimpering and covering her ears in a futile attempt to block out the song, had enough of this and went over to his desk, where he pushed a button activating a silent alarm. All the while, Pees'lubn failed to notice this and continued with his song.
But don't think that it's limited to the female half.
Guys who choke the chicken don't get long to laugh.
Their peepees become so very wee,
Like a tiny, tiny flea.
They'll have to use tweezers to do a number one,
And from them, women will run.
On Friday nights they lie in bed, crying alone,
For their carnal sin they wish to atone,
While ironically jerking off to groan.
In the end, any woman sees them as a bother.
Want more proof? Just ask your father.
As soon as Pees'lubn finished the song, several armed members of the secret police barged into Inga's private quarters and pointed their guns at the head monk, who quickly raised his hands in the air, dropping his dahmalan.
"Minister Inga, what seems to be the issue?" One of the officers asked.
"This wise guy thought that it would be funny to commit lese-majeste by traumatizing Rayfa and making her cry; in addition to spouting off horrid lies pertaining to my… physique."
"Say no more, Minister Inga." The officer stated as he went behind Pees'lubn and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him.
"Hey, hey, hey! I swear to the Holy Mother that I've done nothing wrong. All I did was teach Her Benevolence about the warbaa'ds and the yaks at her father's request." The head monk objected.
"He's delusional! Take him on down to the interrogation room so I can teach him a thing or two later!" Inga retorted with a sinister grin as he clenched his cigar stamp between his teeth.
The officer saluted the Minister of Justice. "Yes, sir! Come on, Andistan'dhin, we don't have all day!" The officer sated as he and two others dragged the head monk out of the room.
As they secret police left Inga's private quarters, the Minister of Justice focused his attention on his trembling, red-faced, whimpering daughter who had tears streaming down her cheeks.
Inga went over to Rayfa and hugged her, gently shushing her as he stroked her hair. "It's okay, Rayfa. That horrible performance is over."
"F-Father… Wha-What if I accidently do one of those bad things? I… I don't want to die alone!" Rayfa wailed as she shoved her face in her father's shoulder, soaking it with tears.
"Rayfa, that Andistan'dhin guy wasn't singling you out. He was talking about those ruffians that don't have half of the solid grounding in Khura'inism that you do- like thieves, Defiant Dragons, and Ahlbi Ur'gaid. So don't worry about all that nasty stuff happening to you, 'cause it won't." Inga calmly explained.
Rayfa sniffled, looking up at her father with bloodshot eyes. "Really…?"
"Yeah. And like I said before, if any disease-riddled goons wanna get to you, then they'll first have to get through me and my Ten Laws of Dating!" Inga boasted with a smirk. "So, you feeling better?"
"Yes, Father. Sorry for coming off as so weak-willed and crying like a child. I know that it's unbefitting of the future queen of Khura'in." Rayfa solemnly stated, casting her gaze downward in shame, only for Inga to use the tips of his fingers to push her chin upwards so that she could look him in the eye.
"Rayfa, I don't care what anyone tells you, you are never too old to cry in front of me."
"I'm not?"
Inga nodded. "Of course! It's practically my job as a father to protect my little girl and provide her comfort when she's down."
Rayfa flashed Inga a small smile. "Thank you, Father."
Inga broke off the hug and walked towards the door, making sure to pick up Pees'lubn's dahmalan. "Good. Now I'm off to give that head monk what for, so I'll be gone for about an hour. If you have any remaining questions about what Andistan'dhin sang about, I'll answer them when I get back."
"Okay, Father." Rayfa softly replied.
All Pees'lubn ever wanted to do in life was spread the joy of music and appreciate the little things- the clouds in the sky, the fish in the water, and the company of others. That's why he immigrated to Khura'in and embraced Khura'inism so fully. It was as if they reached into his body, pulled out his soul, and showed it to him. Granted, the nation lacked his main outlet for venting his anger, rock music, but that was but a small price to pay for living his dream. So what did the head monk do to deserve his current situation- his arms and legs tied to a chair in the middle of a locked room behind a table, with the only source of light being a dim lamp hanging from the ceiling?
As Pees'lubn shook in his chair like a leaf in the wind, his breathing becoming shaky, the door to the room flung open, the bright light from outside temporarily blinding the head monk, only to be greeted to the sight of Inga flashing him a malicious smirk when his vision returned.
"M-Minister Inga…" The head monk stuttered.
Inga leaned forward to exert his dominance. "That's right; it's me, Minister Inga- your worst nightmare incarnate. Now, about your punishment…"
"With the Holy Mother as my witness, I once again voice that I have done nothing wrong." Pees'lubn calmly stated, prompting Inga to slam the table with the palm of his hand.
"Oh, I don't know where you were, but last I checked, you committed lese-majeste by making Rayfa cry! Now, what kind of punishment should I suggest to the Magistry for this most-heinous of crimes…?" Inga mused as he cocked his head and stroked his beard in contemplation. "Excommunication, execution… Hell, why not both?" The Minister of Justice mused.
"Please, Minister Inga! Have mercy, for I am but a humble lamb belonging to Her Holiness!" The head monk begged.
"You know, I'm feeling rather generous today, so I think that I'll drop all the charges and forget that this ever happened."
Pees'lubn breathed a sigh of relief. "May Her Holiness bless you tenfold, Minister Inga!"
Inga waggled his finger. "Not so fast, pal. I'll pardon you, but only if you prove your loyalty to the royal family by doing me a favor."
"I'm listening. So do you want me to do something dangerous, like infiltrate the Defiant Dragons?" The head monk asked.
"No, it's a nice, safe job. All you need to do is go into the treasure room at the temple, steal the Founder's Orb, and deliver it to me personally, got it? Do that and I'll drop the charges for your act of lese-majeste."
"I don't know, Minister Inga. I don't think I can go against the Holy Mother like this."
"Oh, so I need to light a fire under you, eh? Well, good thing I brought some firewood!" Inga sneered as he showed Pees'lubn his dahmalan.
"My girl!" The head monk gasped, his eyes wide like saucers, before slumping over in defeat. "You win, Minister Inga. I'll… I'll do it. Just don't hurt my girl."
"Glad you see things my way, monk. Oh, and don't even think of double-crossing me, because one way or another, I'll find out. And if I find out, then…" Inga summoned a servant holding a stack of execution papers to appear right behind him before using his cigar stamp to approve one of the forms. "Capeesh?
Pees'lubn gulped as a few beads of cold sweat dripped down his brow. "Crystal clear."
"Good, good…" Inga grinned before placing his hands on the table and leaning towards the head monk. "Now, about that last part about me in that masturbation song, what gave you the idea that my manhood isn't so grand?"
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If not, you'll be glad to know that this is going to be the last chapter regarding development. You see, given that this story is about Inga's experiences regarding Rayfa's childhood, I knew that I would sooner or later have to write chapters entailing the talk and puberty, so I decided to get those chapters done as soon as possible. As for maters of torso development, I figure that Nayna/Amara dealt with that on account of it being less dangerous than Rayfa menstruation and less awkward than the Talk. So for those of you looking for something tamer, you'll get just that in the next chapter.