The Continuation Introduction
By Arsenal
The soon to be mother heaved again, her muscles straining from the innumerable hours she’s spent tensing and releasing those same sinews. The father looked on, proudly. His face was very dignified and noble, his red hair cut short and neat, yet blazing like an open fire. His green eyes sparkled and reflected every moment of the birth back into the large, well-furnished room. He had been waiting for hours for this, the birth of his daughter. Minutes later the Practitioner pronounced the baby fit and healthy. The man held the fragile, tiny body in his arms. Oddly enough, the baby had no features that were synonymous with his own. Her orbs were a crystallized blue, and she bore a small patch of blonde hair. The man lingered only a moment upon the thought, and then handed the baby to a maid, to transplant the infant into the large, special room designed especially for her. As the maid scurried off to complete the task the man walked across the room tospeak to his wife.
“I bow to you, dear wife. You’ve delivered me a strong daughter, I hope I may live up to your standard as a father.” His voice was very strong, the words reverberating around the room with nobility. His face never lost the constant firmness, aesthetically describing his in her strength.
His wife simply looked up, exhausted from her efforts this day, “I’m sure you’ll do fine. By the gods, who would’ve ever thought that our future would be predicted by a sheet of parchment. It is quite unnerving to find out the exact details of your daughter’s birth from your very own Chancellor. Have they verified the weight yet, my Dear?”
“No, the Practitioner is weighing our daughter right now. The sheet predicted a weight between eight and nine pounds.”
“Have you readied the . . . situation yet?”
“Of course, months ago. The whole thing is documented and stored in the Basement eighty-seven. She’ll depart at the normal time, as was agreed beforehand.”
“I regret my words now, my lord, but it discomforts me to have to give what is predicted as my ONLY child to the hands of such persons. To lose her is bad enough, yet with them, I shall never feel she’s safe.”
“I feel the same way, yet we must restrain ourselves. There is more than our whims at work here. In fact the fate of mankind may rest upon a sexual act performed nine months ago!”
The man looked away, obviously distressed somewhere inside. “Well, enough of that, it upsets me. What shall her name be? It must be burned into the memories of those around her.”
The man looked beyond the bed his wife lay upon. His lips uttered two syllables, thus labeling history books for untold centuries. “Laura Lee.”
An hour later, when everybody was in bed, the doctor reported to the King. The infant weighed in at eight pounds three ounces.
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