The rulers of a small, but wealthy, kingdom make a decree. Anyone caught abandoning their child in a midden, or deliberately harm their children, no matter what the child looks like, will be imprisoned. Needless to say, sadly, families who bear a Tiefling child are NOT happy, and drop their children off at the palace instead. -- Anon Guest
There was a guard stationed at every palace door. The King and his Princess-consort knew what the kickback from their law would be. In fact, there were guards and staff ready at every government building for this.
The man with the bundle paused, staring the guard in the face. The guard, impassionate, said, "You won't be persecuted for leaving them alive with us. His Majesty wants to prevent deaths, that's all."
The man came as close as he dared, put the bundle carefully down, and ran away. The guard did not sound an alarm, nor draw her weapon. She went, very carefully, and scooped up a babe not worth keeping, according to one. She pulled the wrappings aside. Bright, "fireman" red skin, the beginning nubs of a pair of horns at the temples. A Tiefling child.
She pulled a discreet bell-cord and passed the child to a waiting nurse. One of the sad ones, not one of the mad ones. His Majesty needed a special sort to look after his Legion of the Unwanted.
The realm would learn in time.
The nurses were Tieflings as well as mothers in enough mourning to care for any child, and those who had lost the brains to be discriminating. The mad, the sad, and the presumed to be bad. They were all good at looking after otherwise unwanted babies.
His Majesty would be inspecting them in the morning, of course. He, too, was ready.
Not one dawn had passed after the decree was circulated by both news sheet and cryer, and there was already a room full of occupied cribs. Most of them filled with little Tieflings. Tieflings, girl-children, the deformed, and halfbreds.
The guard remained on watch. No child would die of the cold while she could still stand and be ready.
..oOo..
Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep, ninth of the name, the Thrice-Sworn King of Threespire Mountain and the lands beyond, was dressed and ready for his first order of business. Looking to the care of the smallest and most helpless of his subjects. He had been ten years old when he saw his first corpse, and the memory of an abandoned Tiefling babe stayed with him even now. Not even swaddling for a shroud. Never again. He made the law, and now he would see its consequences.
Over half the cribs he had commissioned were full. Some had twins, clinging to each other in their sleep. He counted them all.
"Two hundred," he said when he was done strolling through the rows. "One hundred and thirty and four teufellen, Twenty and eight perfectly ordinary girls, Twenty and four misshaped, and fourteen halfbreds. Just the ones close enough to my house. Gotts. People are so wasteful." He caressed the cheek of a sleeping Tiefling. A Tiefling just like His Majesty. "No need to fret, kleine, I want you."
Some would be adopted out instantly. There was always someone somewhere willing to nuture a child no matter what their appearance was like. His Majesty had agents to be certain they were nurtured. Ones with sharp eyes and canny ways of asking questions, and hidden charms that would compel the truth.
They would all be schooled and cared for and, in time, taught a way to be beneficial to others. The army always needed the strong and the capable to fight or defend.
In time, many of them were heroes. His Majesty's Legion of the Unwanted gained a reputation for honour above all else. And once upon a time, a King had taken the time to dandle every single one of them on his knee.
There were not so many unwanted children by the time the first ones were fully heroes.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Penywise]
If you like my stories, please Check out my blog and Follow me. Or share them with your friends!
Send me a prompt [50 remaining prompts!]