That being, not only would bounden be released after five years of service…

No new ones would be taken.

Even by pirates.

This would not be popular for some, but True had been right, the time not only had come, it was long past.

Not to mention, regimes that allowed just that were breeding grounds for causes like The Rising.

And he would not have that in Mar-el.

Therefore, upon arrival, he was ready.

Thus, he set his secretaries to putting pen to paper, and he signed his signature at the bottom.

He then ordered the royal heralds ready to ride, for the bounden holders would be given advance notice to the changes in the law in order that they could begin preparations immediately for said changes.

He then had the paperwork drawn up to make just those changes in the law.

At the same time, Aramus sent ships to ports and soldiers across the land to provide presence, and if necessary, quell resistance when the letters were received and when the new law was officially heralded.

This had taken days.

It was now done.

However, in all of this, he had forgotten how it was when he was away on a long voyage and what he came back to on his return.

Copious missives, grievances, arbitrations, decisions that had to be made, orders carried out.

The good news was, although the last tidal was extreme, it did not cause significant or long-lasting damage, though there were two losses of life.

The bad news was, for the last three days, his arse sat that throne as his people came before him in an endless stream with a variety of complaints, concerns, and in a few rare, but exceptionally annoying cases, demands.

Through this, to the now, his men, save Tintagel, loitered around the base of his podium, already displaying impatience to get off land and back to sea, to some adventure, to anything but this ridiculous, time-wasting lunacy.

He had never liked this part of his role.

His father hadn’t either.

His men didn’t either.

However, in all that had occurred, he’d forgotten just how much they all found this trying.

Thus, he could feel his men, too, radiating exasperation when the doors began to open but minutes after Aramus had demanded everyone get out so they could have a rest from the incessant chatter.

However, when the heavy doors opened enough that Aelia could slip through, dancing, followed by Dora, who, even not of Elena’s blood, had the Nadirii princess’s economy of grace, and finally his wife entered, Aramus not only relaxed.

He found himself confronted with the only thing at that time that could set him to smiling.

His girls.

All three of them.

Three beauties.

Thus, he smiled.

“Uncle Aramus!” Aelia shouted. “I touched a shark!”

Aramus stopped smiling.

“You what?” Xi growled.

Suffice it to say, Aelia as Aelia was, Dora a budding warrior fascinated by those who had already bloomed, thus hero worshipping all his men, along their voyage, the two girls had earned themselves five new uncles.