Frowning, J-8 took the parchment and looked at it. The words were in an unfamiliar language, but that wasn’t a problem for him. In an instant, the ocular scanner that usually molded itself to the right side of his skull extended and positioned itself over his right eye.
When J-8 looked through the scanner, it began to translate the printed words into his own language. At the same time, the implants in his brain stored the new language so that in the future, he wouldn’t need any help to translate it. In fact, after reading this single sheet of paper, he would be able to speak, read, and write in the Regalian language with perfect ease.
But the workings of his implants and enhancements were so natural and expected, that J-8 didn’t even notice them. Instead, he was engrossed in the contents of the parchment, which seemed to say some very strange things indeed.
At the top of the parchment, in flowing script was the heading,
Lady TittleTattle’s Breadcrumbs.
Under the heading, the writing went straight to the point.
Gentle Reader, it began. Has there ever been such intrigue in the High Court as we have lately seen? The Season has but just begun and already there has been an attempt upon the Crown Princess’s life! Thankfully, the despicable attempt was foiled by the loyal palace guards, but one can only imagine the fear and anguish it caused our dear Princess Ka’rissa—and just as she is entering her very first Heat Cycle, too!
Of course, we all know of the tragedy of the sweet Princess’s life. Her own dear Papa, our late King, died when the Princess was but ten years old and her mother, the Queen, followed him only a year later when no suitable match could be found before she self-immolated in a dire and dramatic display, right in the middle of the Grand Ballroom!
J-8 frowned. Self-immolated? Was his scanner translating that correctly? It sounded as though the Regalia Queen had burned to death in the middle of a ballroom. Could that possibly be right? It had to be a mistake of his language-translation program.
Reading on, however, he saw that he hadn’t been mistaken after all.
Who can ever forget that moment, when our beloved monarch went up in a tower of flames, right in the middle of a splendid cotillion? And who can forget the Princess’s grief as she became an orphan, with no one to care for her but her fine old family Steward, who even now guides our planet with a gentle, fatherly hand, just as he guides the Princess’s own life and Royal career.
With a Papa cold in the ground and a Mama who is sadly no more than a handful of ash, the dear Princess Ka’rissa needs all the guidance she can get—especially as she enters her first Cycle and the search for a suitable suitor to cool her Royal Heat begins, the parchment went on, in a rather gossipy tone.
Already the Royal points glow pink and some say there is a distinct smell of burning about the Princess—though we may hope that scent is simply a new perfume or wig powder Her Highness is trying out. Surely she will find the right suitor—one deemed eligible and correct by the Steward himself—to cool her Heat before she, too, succumbs to the awful fate of her sweet Mama—that of spontaneous combustion.
We can only hope for the best, Dear Reader. Until we know Princess Ka’rissa’s fate, I shall continue to faithfully report to you all the intimate details of the High Court. Follow my breadcrumbs to know the latest news!
I remain your obedient and humble servant,
Lady TittleTattle.
J-8 read the strange words twice more and then frowned as he looked up at Commander Sylvan.
“As far as I can tell, the gist of this…” He waved the parchment. “Seems to be that this ‘Princess Ka’rissa’ is in some kind of danger—either of being assassinated or burned to a crisp. Though I confess, I don’t fully comprehend the last threat.”
“The Royals of the Very First Family of Regalia have what they refer to as ‘Fire Blood’,” Commander Sylvan explained. “Once a year, starting around the age of twenty-five years old, they enter what is known as a ‘Heat Cycle.’ At that time, if they don’t find a mate, their blood can get so hot that they actually do self-immolate or experience spontaneous combustion.” He shrugged. “At which point, they burst into flames and burn so quickly, there’s no saving them. In a matter of moments, I’m told, there’s nothing left of them but a pile of ashes.”
“That’s not good,” J-8 said blandly.
“I believe that’s the worst understatement I’ve ever heard,” Commander Sylvan remarked, frowning. “It’s horrible to think that a promising young female could suddenly burst into flames and die—or that she could be assassinated in her own home. But then…” He sighed. “I know you Dark Kindred have no emotions, even about the most tragic events—you keep a cool head no matter how extreme the circumstances. That is, in fact, one reason I think you’d be perfect for this assignment.”