I remember now. This is why I rarely drink. My head feels horrible and if I move too hasty, I’m sure to puke. I don’t know how dad managed to drink the way he did.

Kristofer moves to sit up but with slow movements. The royal chamber. The difference to his previous bedroom is mainly in the size of the room and the bed. This bed could swallow four people without issues. The room feels too large. They’ve filled the room with things, a large desk, wardrobes, vases and more. Carefully he stands to look out the window. He removes the blinders to see what kind of view this room can offer. Yes, as expected. The room was located to give a great sight of the city of Rhena. The heavy snow has enveloped the city so the soft white is ever present no matter where you look. Beautiful. To Kristofer winter had always been a symbol of peace and quiet. War in winter was infrequent since most people agreed nothing good would come off it. The illusion of peace had been broken by Brockmark so Kristofer II decided to act quickly. He succeeded but at the cost of his life.

The houses close to the castle are large and well-maintained. These houses of stone are owned by the more affluent people and the fanciest are owned by nobles who see fit to own a place in the capital even though they live elsewhere most of the time. The houses of the regular people are further away, barely noticeable from here. They are most likely cold. Burning the wood they’ve prepared for winter to fend of the deadly chill. The sound of wood cracking makes the monarch inspect his own fireplace. Who is keeping this fire burning? Or rather how did I fail to notice whoever is caring for the fire. Alcohol. Dulls the mind and even make a twitchy sleeper fail to notice people walking about in the chamber.

“Aahh” The monarch exclaims as he stretches his body. He dresses himself in comfortable fur to keep warm. He moves along the winding corridors of the castle. It’s a rather new castle. Construction began roughly a hundred years ago but was altered and expanded when Kristofer I claimed it for himself. Two generations of kings have called it home and with time more luxurious goods stockpile along corridors and walls. According to Katyla it was barebone and boring not too many decades ago.

“Your majesty, you’re up!” A servant boy named Thorn say with surprise.

“Yes?”

“It’s just.. I was supposed to help you.”

“I see, well there’s no need for that. The crown is not so heavy as to make me unable to dress myself.” Saying so the king continues to his destination.

Thorn is unwilling to surrender his duties so he follows his liege to the dining hall. The throne room is rarely used in day-to-day affair so the king and his servant head for a smaller room to break his fast. Marquis Jorn and lady Katyla is already present and chatting. As the king enter they both stand and offer a small bow before resuming in their previous position.

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony.” This room is for the king and a select few with the permission to eat here. Servants busied themselves with arranging plates and food for the new arrival. Thorn hurried his steps to pass ahead of his liege so he can hold out the chair for him.

Trays of food is placed before the king. Boiled eggs, different kinds of bread, cheese and a pitcher of milk. The chef is well acquainted with the king’s likes and dislikes. Most day’s Kristofer prefers to gather his food from such trays and butter his own bread but as if reading his mind one of the servants present a prepared sandwich. A generous helping of cheese and sliced egg on top with a pinch of salt on for good measure.

“Hah, compliments to the chef.” The king immediately took a bite and felt his aching head ache a little less.

“You’re not a prince anymore. Your hair is ruffled, you’re not properly dressed and you still have the poor eating manners of your father.” Such a lecture this early would only every come from Katyla.

“I know but I’d rather not have help getting dressed and I can manage my hair well enough.”

“No, you can manage well enough for a prince. You can’t manage well enough for a king.” Her tone of voice changed to the broker no argument version.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I’ll take your point under advisement.” The king was aware it was a losing battle. He’ll eventually cave in but sometimes a battle must be lost to win the war.

Jorn, the epitome of a proper noble carefully brushed away crums for his shirt. “My king, if I may bother you with such a topic this early.” He raised his eyebrows in a questing manner. The king nodded his consent. “I’d never presume to serve you as I have served your father but I am ever loyal to the throne and would be honoured to be your adviser.” Jorn’s face reveal no emotional while looking the king square in the eyes.

“Yes, Marquis Jorn Trimstedt I have need of your experience and knowledge. I want you to serve as my adviser.”

“As you wish, your majesty, I shall serve faithfully and diligently.”

Kristofer emptied his glass of milk. Katyla and Jorn both watched their monarch carefully. “You have something on your mind, don’t you?” Katyla eventually interjected.

“Hmm. I’m considering whether to warn our Marquis or not.” The king offers a conspiratorial smile. Katyla returns the smile. “I think you just did.” Jorn’s eyes darted from Kristofer to Katyla, his brain working overtime. “I’m not sure I know what you are referring to my king.”

Kristofer picked up a slice of cheese to chew on while thinking. “If you are going to serve me I ought to be honest with you. I’m not like my father, I’m not content with hunting and drinking.” The king pressed his fingers against his forehead with a bothered expression. “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead. Father wasn’t wrong. He kept our lands safe and peace amongst the nobles and peasants. That’s no small feat.”

Jorn’s expression start out confused but in quick succession to uncertain and fearful. “My king, I don’t understand. The king’s duty is to keep the nation Kristofer I founded united and prosperous. He succeeded. What else can be desired?”

Katyla clapped her hands. “We need a moment, wait outside.” The servants bowed and scurried off.

If the Marquis was anxious before then this was something new entirely. A drop of sweat took shape in his forehead and his hands fiddle with his jacket.

“Is this really necessary?” He says with a slight stutter.

“Jorn, as my advisor I will be forthright with you. My goal is not to manage what was but to build what isn’t. The king of Kalixen is little more than an arbiter between bickering nobles. The king is hailed as the shield and sword of our lands against our enemies but I don’t even control the soldiers.”

Jorn interrupted. “That’s not entirely true my liege. During times of war the nobles must offer their men to you. The king is the highest commander of our forces during war so you do control the soldiers.”

This time Katyla see fit to take over. “True, during times of war the king control the forces for the express purpose of defeating the enemy. However, these soldiers are paid by their noble. Where does their true allegiance lie?”

Jorn became silent and thoughtful. “I see your points but it works. The nobles have a vested interest in maintaining the order of things because otherwise civil war would jeopardize everything for everyone.”

The king sighed. “Nobles have special permission to create local laws that varies from region to region. Taxes are collected by nobles; they vary from region to region. Some nobles have even managed to get the rights to collect taxes on goods traded within the nation. We are a patchwork of compromise based on a power struggle that never ends. Yes, nobles have offered soldiers to the king during wartime but if the king, me, displeased them, what then?”

Jorn is just about to interject something but is forestalled by the king. “I don’t know exactly how or what needs to be done but I know that Kalixen won’t last like this. You are both travelled and read, Jorn, so you should know what will happen eventually if nothing is done.”

Jorn’s previous hesitation is giving way for frustration. “This is Kalixen, your majesty. This is your inheritance. I’d advise against violating the spirit of what you grandfather built.”

The king is used to rebukes from Katyla and his father but not from Jorn and his expression show he’s not a fan of it. For the first time since his coronation the king takes full advantage of his station. He sits straight and with eyes the colour of wrath he stares down the insolent marquis.

“My apologies, my king. I forgot myself.” Palpable fear oozed from Jorn. His eyes turn down.

“It is because I care for our nation that I see the need to improve it. Left as is it will inevitably fall. What will happen if many potential male heirs battle for the right of kingship? What will happen if one noble family, like Duke Tendir, accrues too much power? The king wields just enough power to keep the nation together but not enough to improve it, not enough by far. So now is the time to choose, Marquis Jorn Trimstedt.”

His reply came immediately and without hesitation. “I’ve sworn to dedicate myself to the king of Kalixen and will so do until such a time comes that my service is no longer desired.”

Kristofer III slowly reclined in his chair. Jorn took his handkerchief and wiped of the sweat from his face. Katyla sipped from her tea with a satisfied smile on her face. She offered the exhausted Marquis a comforting pat on his shoulder.