The smell of dirt was rank. "Father?" Lord Berkeley asked, turning to look at the man perched beside him. "Why do we stay in this city, this dirty, underground city?"

"There are ignorant people above," the lord replied, flicking a speck of dust off his own sleeve. "We will go up soon, but we must wait until our armies are ready."

"We will fight, then?"

"Yes, we will fight, and we will take back what is rightfully mine."

Lord Berkeley fingered the amulet around his neck, watching as several servants bowed nervously to his father. That girl- what was her name? Kira. She was not among them. Idly he wondered where she was. He turned back to his father.

"Have you seen that girl that I used to play with? Kira, I think it was."

"Her? My son, she was taken long ago for the armies. I told you not to worry about the common folk anymore."

"I'm sorry father, it's just-"

"Just what?"

"It feels as if I used to be one of them."

"You? You are a king's son, you always have been. Don't fool around, boy."

"I apologize, father," the silence grew, and Lord Berkeley shifted, wishing his wooden throne had half the cushions his father's did. It would make him a man, his father said, sitting him in it before he sank down into his own heavily padded seat.

"May I have permission to leave?"

"What for?"

"I wish to visit the birthing centers. For our recruits."

"Be along then, and tell those Therin women to keep it up. We need to move quickly."

"I will." Lord Berkeley slid off his chair, readjusting his robes as he did, and made his way toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he looked back at his father, who was smiling at him. He grinned and shook his head, wondering what twist of fate had brought him such good fortune.

The city was vastly different than what he had first come to, if he could have remembered it. Most of his memories were gone, lost amidst countless shrieks and clawing hands. He knew only that the man back in the room was his father, and that this was his home.

Busy Therin wove past him as he walked, making way for the son of their king. He took no notice of them, keeping his eyes trained on the goal ahead: a large, round building on the outskirts of the city, from which wailings and screams burst forth at regular intervals. He shoved his hands in his pockets, a habit his father disdained him for, and hurried his pace. His fascination with the birthing center had stemmed back as far as he could recall, the women and men, the squalling children. It just seemed so…so unreal.

"Excuse me, sir?" Lord Berkeley started, not expecting anyone to speak to him. It wasn't exactly wrong, it was just frowned upon.

"Yes?" the male Therin that kept pace with him was young, perhaps Lord Berkeley's own age, and rather squat. He looked beseechingly up at Lord Berkeley.

"Are you headed toward the birthing center, my lord?"

"I am."

"Is it all right if I accompany you? The women terrify me, and all those cries, well, they leave much to be desired."

"It will be fine, just stay close." Lord Berkeley felt a smile creep upon his face at the gall of the young Therin, and ushered him nearer in the crowds. The center was a quarter mile away, but the massive amount of people made walking quickly difficult. At last, they reached the building, and the Therin took off, his snout blushing bright red. Lord Berkeley chuckled, withdrawing his hand from his pockets and waving at the female in charge. Rekka, her name was, and she knew him well from his visits.

"Back again, my lord?" Rekka asked, ignoring the frantic papers being thrust at her.

"Of course, you know this place intrigues me."

"Indeed it does. Birth is a wonderful thing. In fact, you're in luck today, my lord."

"Why is that?"

"The men are here."

"The men?"

"The mages, the ones who give the female Therin their seed." Briefly, Lord Berkeley thought he detected bitterness. He dismissed it.

"I know how it works, Rekka, I just didn't know that they were here. How often do they come?"

"Once ten of our females have birthed, they arrive, to bestow us with their gifts," again, bitterness, but Lord Berkeley was too absorbed to notice it.

"In a group? Do they descend from above?"

"Aye, from up top, the land you hail from."

"What? This is my home. What land do you speak of?" fear flitted across Rekka's features, and she swallowed, pushing again off pursuers.

"It is not to be discussed. Forgive me, my lord, for I was ill in mentioning it"

"Do you mean to say I lived up there, once?"

"It is not my place."

"Answer me."

"I- I" her stuttering was interrupted as several doors slammed open and men poured out. They all wore the same outfit, black robes with silver brocade, and all but one of them were panting heavily. From within the doors more crying could be heard.

"Not a bad gig, eh Jole?" one man said, hefting the other, Jole, on the back.

"Not at all," he agreed, before catching sight of Lord Berkeley, "my lord," he intoned enthusiastically. "It's been a long time since we last saw you."

"Indeed it has," Lord Berkeley nodded, still intent on Rekka's answer.

"Have you come to be a man as well?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come, haven't you had your choice of the women yet?"

"The female Therin? No, I haven't. Why?"

"Well, you'd think as the lord's son, you'd have proved yourself long ago."

"By taking a female?"

"Of course, my lord, it is a man's duty. And," he added, winking, "his greatest pleasure." Lord Berkeley looked to Rekka, who was staring at Jole with widened eyes.

"You can't be implying that-," she gasped, finally taking some of the papers offered her.

"I am," Jole said, turning to her, "it's time he become a man. I'm sure my lord will be glad to hear of it."

"I'd like to," Lord Berkeley managed, feeling suddenly nervous.

"There, the boy is ready. Go on, my lord," Jole said, ignoring Rekka and clapping a hand on Lord Berkeley's shoulder. "Pick a room, any room, and bless this kingdom with your seed."

Lord Berkeley looked uncertainly from one man to the next, taking in the grins and words of encouragement. He looked down the hall, to the last door, the only room that was silent.

"Go on," Jole urged. Lord Berkeley took a step down the hall, ignoring, too, Rekka's protests.

The room was sparsely decorated, with a bed against one corner, and one picture hanging on the wall. The female who lay upon the bed stared silently at the picture, not acknowledging lord Berkeley as he walked in.

Hands shaking, he began to undress, figuring there was no point in introducing himself. She was just a vessel, a receptacle for his seed, a female of the birthing center.

She did not move as he crept across the room, to the bed. She did not move as he lay down beside her. She did not move as he rolled over on top of her. She did not move as he looked down at the female before him and his mouth formed an O, his face frozen in surprise.

It was Kira.