The First Kin

The time for lies was over.

“You have questions, Your Majesty,” Bella said, her voice confident. “Allow me to answer them.” She gestured to the small catgirl at her side, who was nervously holding the golden greatsword, Ars Caelus. “This is the true Saint Serenya.”

Then she gestured to the stoic nuns who were tending to the wounded, “And my followers, the Sisters of the Temple… Our entire ‘Saint Faction,’ as you might call it, has been a sanctuary for dark beings from the very beginning.”

The King and his knights minds reeling from the cascade of revelations. The Saint was a succubus. The real Saint was a child-like catgirl. The holy temple was run by demons. Their entire world, their entire faith, was a lie.

“You… you deceived us,” the King finally stammered, “You allowed this city to be torn apart, thousands of my people to be killed by that beast!”

“And who is in the wrong here?” Bella countered, “The kingdom that has enslaved? Or the dark beings who, in the process of their liberation, saw a corrupt city suffer the consequences of its own sins?”

“That mine was a necessity to contain a threat!” the King shot back.

“You speak of the humans who died today? We speak of the millions of our kind who have died in that darkness over a millennium. So really, who’s in the wrong?”

Before the King could answer, Gaspard stepped forward, his immense presence a calming force in the tense debate. “The evacuation proceeds, my lady,” he reported, “We have opened three additional exits. There are now four, each wide enough for five men to walk abreast. We estimate the full evacuation will be complete in under five hours.”

He looked out at the steady, orderly stream of the freed. “Many have already returned to the deep forests. They are weak, tired, but they are happy. They are respectful.” He paused, then added, his voice full of a reverence that was clearly not directed at Bella or the King,

“They are all asking for the one who freed them. They are calling the sleeping Anna their new Saint.”

The title of “Saint,” when applied to Anna, seemed to be the final trigger for the King’s fractured mind.

“Saint…” the king cackled, his eyes wild and unfocused. The laughter stopped as suddenly as it began, replaced by a cold, absolute, and utterly insane fury. He pointed a trembling, royal finger at Bella.

“TREASON!” he shrieked, his voice cracking. “You are a demon! A succubus who has masqueraded as our holy protector, deceiving the crown and all the people of this kingdom! The penalty for such a crime is death!”

His venomous gaze then shifted to the small catgirl at her side. “And YOU!” he spat, his face contorted with disgust. “A beastkin! A member of a slave race, daring to claim the sacred title of Saint?! That is the highest form of blasphemy! You have defiled a holy office with your impure presence! The penalty for that is annihilation!”

“By order of the King!” he roared, his voice regaining a sliver of its old authority. “Arrest the demon and the blasphemer! Execute them for their crimes against the crown and the goddess!”

Before the King could repeat his insane order, there was a flicker of motion from above.

A flash of orange fur and silver steel.

It moved too quickly. There she was, a catgirl with a bright orange tail again. The wind nearly drowned out the sound of a single, gentle shingle. 

The King's head, still displaying his rage, fell cleanly off his shoulders and landed on the cobblestone below.

The orange-tailed assassin disappeared back into the ruins as swiftly as she had emerged.

The royal guards were unable to comprehend what had just transpired and looked in startled, frightened stillness. In front of them, their King, who represented divine power, had been beheaded. They began to turn their weapons back at Serenya and Bella.

“Lower your weapons.”

The Queen stepped forward from behind her guards, her children clutching her robes. Her face was not one of grief or terror.

“I am your Queen,” she declared, “And I am in command now. The King was not himself. The fall of his castle, the loss of his men… it shattered his mind. His last order was madness. The Saint and her allies are not our enemies. Lower your weapons. That is an order.”

Reluctantly, confused but obedient to the crown, the knights lowered their swords and spears.

Serenya padded over to the new Queen, her head tilted, her expression one of utter, genuine confusion. “Nyaa? You’re not shocked your husband just got killed, nyaa?”

The Queen looked down at the small catgirl, “Oh, Serenya,” she said, her voice full of a strange, weary wisdom. “It’s hard to believe you’re actually thirty-six years old…”

Serenya blinked, her tail twitching. “A Saint’s body doesn’t age like a human’s, Your Majesty,” she explained, her tone a little sad, “But this shape is comfortable. This is… me.”

The knights stared in stunned silence at the headless body of their King, their minds struggling to process the assassination. It was Jarce who finally found his voice, looking around wildly.

“Who… who was that?”

“That was my sworn shield,” The queen said, her voice clear and steady. “She acts only on my command. Do not worry about her.” She paused, “Though she would probably not appreciate me calling her ‘mine.’”

She walked to a large, unbroken block of marble that had once been part of a grand archway and sat upon it as if it were a throne. She looked out at the assembled crowd: her last loyal knights, the strange and powerful beings of the Saint Faction, and the thousands of newly freed slaves.

“The old Minilon is gone,” she declared, her voice ringing with royal authority. “It fell with the castle. It died with my husband’s madness. We cannot rebuild what was. We must now decide what will be.” She looked at Bella, then at Serenya. “We have over three hundred thousand… non-human… citizens within our walls, and a human population that is terrified and grieving. A simple decree will not heal a wound that has festered for fifteen hundred years. What is the path forward? An alliance?”

“Don’t call them that, nyaa!!”

Serenya stepped forward, “They are not ‘dark beings’! That’s a mean name humans made up!” She pointed to Hela, then to Gaspard. “They are elves! And beastkin! And vampires! They were here long before many humans. Anna said they are the First Kin!”

She turned to the Queen, her young face a mask of pure, earnest conviction. “Can we have the same rights as humans, nyaa? Can we make a new law? No more slaves?”

The question, so simple and so profound, hung in the air. The Queen looked at the child-saint before her. She looked at the stoic, hopeful faces of Gaspard and Hela. She looked at the weary but loyal faces of Jarce and Zebril.

She then turned to face her own kids, who were now snuggled close to her, her ten-year-old son, the Prince, who would grow up to be King, was learning what it meant to be in charge. 

Her four-year-old daughter was only observing the "kitty girl," unaware of the significance of the choice that was being made.

The Queen stood up, her decision made. She looked at Serenya and gave a slow, respectful nod. “You are right, Saint Serenya,” she declared, her voice carrying across the ruins for all to hear. “The era of slavery in the Kingdom of Minilon ends today. All peoples—human and First Kin—shall henceforth be granted the same rights, the same protections, and the same voice under the law of the crown.”

She looked out at the sea of disparate people, and she felt not despair, but hope.

“We will build a better Capital. Together.”