Lord Oberon Ambrosia was the husband of Liliana Ambrosia and the father of Johnathon, Ryan, Jessica…  

…And the cause of his current concerns, Elizabeth.

He was a tall man, one who was clearly fit, and the chair he sat on was almost too small for him.  He gave a respectful bow to an older man wearing fine, if simple, clothing.  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me so quickly, your majesty.”

The man was Harold Mason.  When compared to Lord Oberon, he was almost offensively mundane.  Black hair, black eyes, a shape that was just fit enough to keep him healthy, and with attire that somehow existed in the intersection of ‘modern fashion’ and ‘utterly boring’.  

He was the Back King, and only a select few knew his face.  

“I trust your judgment,” he said in a tone that was just shy of brusque.  “Times are busy, so tell me what this is about.”

Oberon didn’t take offense.  Harold had been working himself to the bone, and Oberon's job was only a small fraction of what the true king had to do.

Damn Lordgod, Oberon cursed inwardly. They only got the prophecy informing them that the Land Grab would continue halfway through the first year!  The entire economy had to be braced against the shock!

“Of course, your majesty.  Did you -- ah.”  Oberon stopped himself with a bemused smile as Harold waved him off before gently placing what appeared to be a large, clunky, rusted metal key on top of a small side table.

The side table was formed of the same metal as the key, and it was installed into the floor -- clear and obvious metal ‘rivers’ flowing decoratively through it and all across the room.  The rivers branched and swam around like a particularly creative art piece, and each river ended with a small, almost unnoticeable, hoop at the end.

Both lord and king already held chains made of the same metal wrapped around their hands, both lengths hooked into nearby loops.

It had taken the Kingdom a long time to rediscover the Atlantean alloy after the sunken city had disappeared, but rediscover it they did.  It was of the utmost importance for their most critical and secretive operations and decisions.

Atlantean alloy, when touched by an artifact from Atlantis itself, blocked the sight of the gods.

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing they did.  The Back King looked intentionally plain, and boring; many would have a hard time picking him out in a crowd.  The room they were meeting in was one of dozens, each practically identical, and each equally boring.  And they had protocols that would ensure that each meeting would seem to be, to the omniscient entities that ruled their world, utterly mundane.

But only Atlantis had ever found a way to truly block their sight.

Every relic from the city lost beneath the waves was immediately acquired by the royal family at any cost, and only occasionally loaned to their most critical and trusted allies.  It didn’t matter how small or big they were.  So long as they could confirm it was an original artifact, even a piece of metal the size of a thimble would serve as a power source to hide them from the gods.

And they had lost a good three quarters of their artifacts a century ago, when a previous Back King had decided to use the artifacts to hide entire buildings.

The gods don’t notice when you hide occasional meetings from them, or small spaces that are unimportant.

But they will when you suddenly make the entire palace vanish from their sight.

Ever since then, the Kingdom has been much more circumspect in using the artifacts' power, and only spread the information of what they are -- and what they could do -- to those that absolutely required that knowledge.

Which makes it curious as to why Oberon, one of Harold’s more trusted agents among the Front Nobility, would request a private meeting with him about his daughter Elizabeth.

Oberon tapped a finger on his chair’s armrest, jostling the chain wrapped around his wrist.  “...I don’t believe I told you about my eldest daughter’s condition?”  At the shake of the king's head, he continued.  “...I’ll summarize, then.  Until just last week, when I saw her during the ending break from the Land Grab, she was akin to a puppet.  And now, she isn’t.”

Harold squinted at him, and told himself that he wouldn't bother him with a normal family matter, not like this.  He cursed his sleepless nights of reworking everything for the Land Grab entering its second year, and wracked his brain.  "...Oh.  Elizabeth, yes? Our Land Grab's commanding leader?"  He asked, looking at Harold and getting a nod of confirmation.

There were always strange things happening in the Land Grab; it was well known to attract the fancy of Lordgod.  Time loops, strange illnesses that make women's mammaries grow, and a wide array of addictive, mind-altering fruits were common occurrences during them.  It was sometimes difficult for Harold to remember all of the details, especially when the chaos was usually kept contained.

That, however, was no excuse for negligence.  It was only an excuse for increased observations.

This year had more oddities than usual. Two in particular were rather alarming.  A young individual noted as being a ‘potential hero’, with all the problems that entailed, named Takeo.  And, of course Oberon’s own daughter, who sold Potential-Freeing Elixirs far earlier than anyone should have managed.

While the potential hero Takeo clearly had either knowledge or capability that he shouldn’t have had, which was especially obvious once they learned the Land Grab would continue for a second year, Elizabeth’s own capabilities gave strategists headaches.  She completely ignored the standard, accepted strategies of the Land Grab.  Instead of finding a good starting point and blobbing out to create a small area for her to rule, she darted towards the underground tunnels that nobody was even aware of, claiming what amounted to an entire underground highway system that spanned the entire area.

Harold opened his mouth to speak, when two solid knocks echoed from the door.  He snapped his mouth shut with a frown as both he and Oberon waited in silence for two seconds.  The door opened, and Joseph Mason walked in.  He looked almost identical to how his father did when he was younger, and his hair was messy in a subtly unattractive way.  “Father.  Lord Oberon.”  He gave them both a bow before walking into the room.

Both older men remained silent; they knew he wouldn’t be here without cause.

Joseph walked forward and rested on an outcropping of metal, one that was attached to the flows of Atlantean alloy.  “I bring news.  The potential ‘hero’ Takeo has surrendered all his gains in the Land Grab.”  He glanced at Oberon for a moment, before refocusing on his father.  “To one Elizabeth Ambrosia.”

Oberon just gave a tired, bemused sigh that morphed into a chuckle halfway through as Harold pinches his nose.  “...How official is this?”

“I came to alert you as soon as the paperwork came in.”  Joseph said with a subtle bow of his head.  “It’s been tested to ensure it was signed willingly and without magical influence.”

Left unstated was that Harold had a long-lasting rule regarding potential heroes.  He was to be informed of any suspicious or strange behavior the moment it was confirmed.

“...Thank you, son,”  Harold said with a sigh.  “You are dismissed.”

“Father.”  Joseph gave him and Oberon another pair of short bows, before leaving the room.

The moment the door closed behind him, the king gave Oberon the look.  The ‘tell me everything right now’ look.

Oberon chuckled and flashed a wry grin.  “...Would you rather read the notes I prepared?”

“...No.”  Despite saying that, Harold relaxed.  It was always a relief when his friends and servants did their jobs properly.  “If your daughter has gained the loyalty of a hero, this has suddenly become one of the most valuable uses of my time.  Start from the beginning.”

Oberon paused.  He hesitated one last moment, then took a slow, deep breath.

“...It was only when she began to talk that we really noticed something was odd with her,”  Oberon said with a soft tone.  “There are always surprises when you interact with people.  They don’t react the way you expect them to.  They take offense at odd things, or don’t hear the most critical piece of information.  They have opinions you wouldn’t expect them to.  My wife and I already knew some of that from Johnathon, but when it came to Elizabeth, it was as if…”

He shook his head slightly at the memory.  “It was as if she was a doll shaped into the image of our child.  Like she was a -- figure in the background of a painting.  She always acted as expected.  And occasionally, when we turned to face her, for just a single moment we saw an expression that should never be on the face of a child.

“We saw an utter lack of care, or even recognition, of what was in front of her.

“And then, a moment later, her eyes would light up.  Exactly as we expected them to.  And immediately after, she resumed her role.”

A noise from Harold made Oberon halt and look at him.  “You think she's a puppet?”

Oberon's expression became pained.  “...We suspected so, but what could we do?  She was our child.  Our second born, our eldest daughter.  We filed a report, of course, but other than a few extra doctor visits, there was little that was done.  Little that could be done.”

The Back King nodded in understanding, and waved for him to continue.

“It was only when little Jessica was born that we saw a shift.  Occasionally, and only with her, would she display an actual interest, but it was -- muted.  As if the light of her soul was filtered through a thousand panes of dirty glass.  Even so, we thought that this was a good sign.  A sign that she was getting better.  So when she requested to go to a specific school, we decided to let her.”

“And then the Land Grab,”  Harold said with a tired voice.

“And then the Land Grab,”  Oberon agreed.  He gave a hollow chuckle.  “We saw her progress, and we were pleasantly surprised.  She was claiming land at a rate that surpassed even the chosen male of that event.  She quickly got one, then two fellow students to accept her as their liege, and made use of them splendidly.  I had to spend most of the last month of the year working through the complaints from my fellow nobles about how my daughter had claimed the most convenient paths across the entire area.”  He gave a slight grin.  “The mountain in the middle of that land means the tunnels will become the most convenient mode of transport for trade after the area is fully tamed.”

Harold cleared his throat.

…Oberon gave a polite cough, realizing he’s gone from ‘explaining’ to ‘bragging’.  “...Right.  I got messages from my wife about how much she had changed, but I admit I thought she was exaggerating.  I only saw her for a single day, but…”

He trailed off and thought back to it.  “...It was as if a shadow had gained color.  Ryan, my second youngest, didn’t seem to notice, and Jessica was clearly struggling to understand the change, but it was clear to my wife, Jonathan, and myself.  It was as if she was finally here for the first time in her life.  Suddenly, even her actions in the past made more sense, if one could discount the occasional oddity.  I could and can see how my daughter grew into who she is today.”

Oberon continued waxing about his child, the relief of a parent clear in his tone.  And Harald listened as best he could.   He knew his servant and friend was relieved beyond what he showed, that he needed to offload his emotions to a friendly ear.  Harold reminded himself that a good friend would listen, reminded himself to keep his mind in the moment.

But no.  He was too consummately a politician and king for his thoughts to not go racing. 

A child that was empty, and was now full… if that wasn’t the work of a god, he’d eat his crown.

Not that he had one, but the point remained.

He could think of two probable reasons for this story.  He’d seek other opinions, of course, but he felt confident in his deductions.

Firstly, Elizabeth had some sort of… illness of the soul, when she was younger.  And then a god had ‘healed’ her, probably at the start of the Land Grab.

But that didn’t entirely fit with all of what Oberon was telling him.  To have the child that was blank become painted in a way that felt natural…?

That felt planned.

…He considered for a moment the idea that, instead, when healing her, her benefactor goddess had been careful when doing so.  That she made sure to take into account who she was and what her past was like when making her more present.

But that didn't explain her prescience, it didn't explain a hero submitting himself to her banner, and most curiously of all, it didn't explain the goddess painstaking concealing all traces of their intervention.

Leaving the second possibility.  Elizabeth had been made as a puppet and this was all planned, with enough finesse that he could discount Lordgod’s involvement.

One of the goddesses had a plan, and needed, or wanted, somebody specific to be in this and Grab.

The predictive capabilities of the gods were one of Harold’s worst fears.  The thought that everything they did was some grand plan… he had decided long ago to act as if they only utilized that capability for specific goals.  To do otherwise would be to cripple himself with paranoia.

…He would need to ask one of the goddesses for advice.  Who to petition was often a tricky question, but Modesty was always an excellent first choice.

With his thoughts finally settled, he shook them off and returned his full attention to Oberon, hearing him continue to use a variety of increasingly creative metaphors to describe the change his daughter underwent.  The man should have been a poet; he was showing a new talent for the art.  

“I understand,”  Harold said, cutting in when Oberon paused to take a breath.  “Tell me, what kind of person is she?"  Harold's lips nearly twitched into a small grin as he teased his friend, but he managed to hold it down.  "Now that she, ah… ‘has the spark of a star in her eyes’.”

“Ah.”  Oberon paused.  “Well.  She took after her mother.”

Harold needed a moment to recall what he knew of Oberon’s wife, and when he did, he felt his expression slowly drop into one of pained exasperation.  “...I must ask to confirm.  You were the one that married due to the sex, correct?”

Oberon gave a shameless nod.

Harold felt a migraine start welling up behind his eyes.  Was this girl that had suddenly become a national interest a nymphomaniac slut?  

He asked in a calm, even tone, “...Oberon, is your daughter one of those ‘blessed with pleasure’?”

Oberon froze in place.

“...You know, my wife is a lot smarter than she seems.  It’s easy to underestimate her, and I really feel like Elizabeth is the same way -”

“Oberon!”