Phil realized that he never should've let it get this far. Oh, it had begun harmlessly enough. His daughter Amelia had come back from one of her misadventures with Miss Lina ready, willing and able to dive back into the responsibilities and hard work of her life as princess. The one problem was… things had been rather quiet back then. There was an all too rare and brief lull in the chaos that usually characterized the governing experience in Seyruun. With no trouble around to sort out, Amelia was obliged to create trouble on her own.

He'd approved of it when it all began. She was using her spare time to make an effort at brushing up on her philosophy. It was not, Phil had to admit, the most entertaining pastime one could choose, but it was essential for someone in her position in life to learn such things in order to govern with fair-mindedness and wisdom.

She'd also begun to cultivate a relationship with the new but growing population of fish people that had migrated to landlocked Seyruun after being forced from their old homes by naval activity. At first Amelia had wanted to avoid them. Like most people, she'd been put ill at ease by their large, staring eyes, their slime covered scales and their strangely sexy legs. But Phil had spoken to her and counseled her not to define them by their appearances, but to justly look into their hearts instead. To her credit, Amelia had gotten past her initial revulsion and formed many friendships. Hardly a day had gone by in the last couple of weeks where she hadn't run off to the downtown cafes and hatcheries where the fish people of Seyruun spent their off hours so that she could hear their stories of life at sea and sample their cuisine, renowned the world over for its creative use of seaweed.

And he'd been proud of her. He always knew his daughter was the kind of soul whose justice-filled heart could allow to look past the superficial differences dividing people and instead focus on the strength of the bonds that tied all creatures together. Surely, that was the hope for a lasting peace in this world.

It was only when he walked out of the palace one fine summer's day greeted by a throng of scaly protestors that he realized this venture might've gone awry somewhere along the line.

An orange and black fish person elbowed its way to the front of the crowd, holding a sign in front of its shiny abdomen which read: "Just because I'm a fish doesn't mean I'm not a person!" The fish standing next to it, one with more lacey, feminine scales held one that simply declared: "Enfranchise now!" A sign hovered between the two figures, held up by a fish person blocked out by the crowd. It read: "Who's cold-blooded now, Seyruun?"

And leading the charge, loud, brash and unapologetic, was his daughter Amelia. She held a megaphone to her mouth and shouted out into the frenzied crowd. "Everybody, let them hear you!" she yelled. "We're here, we float—let us vote!"

Phil stared, nonplussed into the lawn of his palace as a mob of bipedal bass chanted back to her: "We're here, we float—let us vote! We're here, we float—let us vote! We're here, we float—let us vote!"

"Amelia…" Phil murmured over the aquatic battle cries. "What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Amelia replied, with a decidedly unapologetic gleam in her eyes. "But you always taught me to stand up to injustice and it's wrong to deny these people the right to vote just because they're different. We have to do something about this! And I won't stop until we've won them the treatment that they deserve!"

Phil stared from his daughter, whose blood was obviously boiling with righteous purpose, to the mass of expectant marine life and then back to his daughter. His adjusted his crown awkwardly in an attempt to dull the pain suddenly throbbing through his head. "Amelia," he got out in a somewhat pained voice, "Seyruun is a monarchy. No one can vote."

Amelia looked back at him, the bubble of her honorable ambition punctured. "…Oh," she said meekly, looking down at her hands. "…I had forgotten about that," she finished lamely. "Then I guess… I guess…"