The year is A.D. 882, and in the medieval kingdom of Speyron, infertility plagues the people. Rumors abound. Some whisper that the kingdom is cursed, others that the people are on the brink of rebellion, and still others say that the kingdom will soon be ruled by a new king.
The current king of Speyron, a young and handsome bachelor, seems oblivious to the plight of his people and unconcerned with the rumors as he monitors the gathering army of the neighboring kingdom preparing to wage war against him.
Can he repel this invader? What must he do and what alliance must he make to ensure the safety of his throne?
Some of his advisers believe that a serf, a lowly woman from an obscure village, may have an answer.
“Rather than speculate on what the King will or will not do for you, perhaps it would be more prudent to ask what you desire. Anything that you desire that is in our power to grant or entreat the King for, you will be awarded.”
Acrida was silent, her mind racing. No one had ever offered her anything that she wanted before. What did she want? More than anything else? Besides to return home to her aunt and uncle?
“Aye, everyone has a price,” Dewain said quietly. “A herd of sheep? A cottage of your own, perhaps?”
As she considered the secret desires of her heart, Acrida finally acknowledged the one thing she longed for more than any other, though she had never dared to speak it.
“A child. I want an infant.”
“What?!” Van Necht said.
“What?!” the ministers echoed, not sure they had heard correctly.
“A child? You can not be serious!” Dewain stammered.
“This is nonsense!” Grey reprimanded.
“We will get you a husband. He will get you a child,” Olbert replied.
“No!” Acrida interrupted. “You would make me answer to two masters then- a troublesome husband and the King.”
Van Necht raised his eyebrows.
“I just want the child.”
“You dare not make such a request to the King! -Lest he take you at your word and drag you to his own bed, trying to oblige you!” Dewain said, flabbergasted.
Lord Grey laughed at this remark, and Acrida’s air of self-confidence abandoned her immediately. She had not considered this possible result.
“But there are no children being born in Speyron now,” Olbert protested.