It was odd, staring at the document presented to him. Of course he recognized the red wax seal upon it and the spidery script. His father. It wasn't the document itself that bothered him so much as what was upon it. He read over it twice, thrice, four times, content to keep the rather fidgety clerk that had delivered it waiting. His eyes weren't deceiving him it seemed. The ink didn't magically change despite his expectations. Calmly he set the parchment upon his neat and tidy desk, leaning back in his seat to tap lightly at his chin.

Prince Erik Lostrem turned his gaze to the man who had delivered the missive, finally opting to address him. He tapped at the document once. "What is this?"

The older grey haired man cleared his throat. "A list of names, your grace."

Cool blue eyes narrowed sharply. "I can see that, you fool. Why has my father sent it to my desk?"

The man stood ramrod straight under the displeased gaze of the prince. "Your father opted to compile a list of... possible suitors from abroad. It is quite comprehensive, your grace."

Suitors? Erik picked up the list once more, looking over the names listed. There were four columns and each column had twenty five names. Beside each name was the name of their respective nation. Sure enough none of them hailed from his own country. Meaning that none of them were homunculi. Just what was his father trying to pull with this? The man stood, crumpling the document in his fist as he rounded his desk and barged straight out of the room. The rather shocked clerk stumbled after him, sputtering incoherently but Erik paid him absolutely no mind as he stomped through the halls of the Citadel.

The Citadel was a maze of elegantly wrought steel, blue globes lining the hall as they glowed with a magical light. High vaulted ceilings bore extravagant chandeliers, runes engraved into the surface beyond. Tapestries depicting various magical and scientific disciplines lined the walls, each one more outlandish than the last. Servants and courtiers went about their duties, shuffling through the halls while others discussed this or that breakthrough in research. Any along the irritated prince's path were quick to step aside however.

Erik knew well the hallways of the Citadel and navigated them with ease, paying little mind to the goings on around him. There was only one place his father could be cloistered after not even having the courtesy to speak of this matter in person. He entered a large chamber, columns arrayed along the path towards the double doors atop a set of stairs. The prince climbed these stairs quickly enough, silencing whatever one of the guards on duty had been about to say. He then pressed his hands against the doors of brass and pushed hard, a light squeak of metal heard as they drifted opened easily enough.

A round table dominated the large room, chairs set and filled with various robed men and women. At their head was an older man with a comically large mustache that curled up at its ends. He stood rather than sitting, his arms behind his back. Erik locked eyes with him and held up the hand that held the crumpled parchment in it. The prince's brow was pulled into a deep scowl, his displeasure clear as day.

"What is this rubbish about suitors, father?" He asked, loud enough that everyone would hear.

All chatter at the round table stopped and the mustached man let out a sigh. He waved a hand errantly to all at the table. "Leave us."

With bowed heads the circle of advisors and councilors cleared the hall, the double doors closing with a resounding clang. The older man tapped his fingers idly against the table, shaking his head slightly. Erik took the opportunity to stride up to the table and set the crumpled parchment out on the surface. His father, Mage-King Fredrick Lostrem clucked his tongue in displeasure at the sight of the wrinkled document.

"You've no idea how long that took to compile." He remarked.

"I'm certain it was a great effort. However I would very much like to know the reasoning behind its very fabrication." Erik shot back.

Fredrick walked around to the other side of the table, the various medals and his uniform clattering loudly with each step. He took the parchment and smoothed it out as much as he could; nodding once he was assured that it wasn't ruined. After this he turned a tired pair of blue eyes to his son's sharp and irritated ones. He looked entirely unsurprised, something that very much pricked at Erik's pride.

"You are of age. Thirty-two is right about the time I was wed to your mother, Erik." The king stated.

Thirty two and yet he looked half that age. His youthful, sharp, and rather arrogant features were as a younger reflection of his father. They had the same eyes, the same dirty blonde hair, and the same fair skin. Their clothes were similar as well; a vaguely military style blue and gold uniform with epaulets and knee high boots though Erik lacked the impressive array of medals his father possessed. Homunculi tended to take after their creator race, the short lived humans in appearance. Indeed but for the aging and a few rather... scale related differences one might never tell the two races apart. Erik crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his father.

"Perhaps. The different being is that mother was a homunculus as you were. Judging from the list... humans? Dwarves? Elves? And Creator only knows what else? Is that your idea of a joke?" Erik demanded.

The king removed his crown, setting it down upon the table with a loud clattering noise. He rubbed at his temples, as though he was dealing with a pouting child. It rankled at Erik's pride once more, something flashing behind his eyes briefly. "Erik, I understand politics have never been your forte. You much prefer your books and your illusions, however even you must understand my reasoning."

"Please, enlighten me oh wise father." Erik ground out venomously.

"You know well that all the realms are recovering from the long wars five years past. We homunculi can no longer remain cloistered in our burrows of metal. We must embrace the world or face it unprepared. To that end we need alliances. Alliances forged through marriage." The king stated.

It made sense Erik supposed however there was also another matter to consider. "What of Walter? He is the elder sibling. Certainly his wedding could be canceled if this was so important. Would not the elder Lostrem brother be a much more enticing prospect?"

"Walter's marriage is to a very influential family. We cannot simply insult the Yistols by calling it off. You have no such arrangements in place."

Erik frowned, looking away from his father's gaze. He had contented himself as the youngest because it meant avoiding this, avoiding politics. Despite his pride the prince knew well that when it came to politics he was hopeless, the complex web of social intrigue escaped him. Magical research and development, mathematics, science, these things made sense to him. He was happy he was not the heir, let Walter have the spotlight and waste away over endless piles of grievances and approvals. Erik was a genius. A prodigy. His talents couldn't be wasted on trivial matters of the heart or state.

His shoulders slumped as a sigh escaped him. Screaming and crying and blustering would do him no good here. He needed a logical solution, an argument based off of factual data and not so much on emotion. Such things would not move or convince his father. Erik needed to get out of this. He needed to just slink back to his workshop and melt into the background again. Anything but... this!

After thinking for a moment he came up with something. "I can't imagine finding a woman from the other races would delight at the prospect of a homunculus being her partner. Would not those named here consider such a match... insulting?"

"Actually those named there are quite eager to meet with you. I already corresponded with each and every one of them." Fredrick stated.

Well, that was out then. As were the next two arguments. Alright... something else. Erik traced a finger down the list, turning a half gaze towards his father. "Quite a few names here. Surely you are not thinking of my meeting all one hundred at once, father."

"Why not? It will make matters easier and we do have some more... to scale accommodations for non-homunculi around."

Erik saw an opening there and struck quickly. "Ah, but father, might it not be more efficient to grant attention to each one first? Narrow the prospects as it were. It will seem much more respectful than simply calling them all to Eteria for what might be a wasted trip."

Fredrick seemed to consider that. "You are suggesting meeting each one in their turn."

"Indeed! It would allow both I and this potential suitor to see if we even possess a bit of chemistry. I would very much prefer not to be shackled to one that might make me miserable."

The king considered this for a long while, tapping at his chin. Erik was felt his palms grow clammy. This might make the selection progress longer but if he simply turned down each one in their turn then perhaps his father would surrender this foolish idea of forcing him to wed. It would put far more control in his own hands at the very least rather than his father's. Of course he could very well not end up going for it. Fredrick was a rather shrewd man after all.

Instead he actually smiled. Oh dear, that wasn't good. A smile curling along that wrinkled face was rather a bad sign. "A good idea, my son. Indeed. I think it might behoove you to travel to meet with each one. Spend a little time out of that workshop of yours. I'm certain absorbing culture outside of our own will be quite the experience."

Erik's heart sank immediately as his father took his own idea and turned it on its head. Not only would he be forced to waste his time on this but he'd have to travel across the entire blasted continent to meet one hundred women? He felt set to smash his forehead upon the table. He didn't want to broaden his experience with foreign... culture. He wanted to be in his workshop and in his private study!

Feebly Erik tried to salvage something. "If I refuse each one you have to drop this father. Agree to that and I'll meet with them."

"Very well, however I expect you to spend at least a day with each prospect. With them, not just near them or across the way. In their company, making conversation and playing nice. I will be sending someone along to see that you do just that." Fredrick said.

The prince was trapped in a cage much his own making. There was an out, a light at the end of the tunnel; however there was a long road to reach it. He couldn't just refuse outright and move on. His father had thought of everything. Still... if he could endure then certainly he would be left to his own devices. He stared down at the list of one hundred names forlornly. Some were from places months away in remote parts of the continent. Truly the Creator was quite cruel to one he had imparted with such brilliance.

With a weary and defeated sigh, Erik met his father's eyes. "Very well, father. I will do as you command."