Walking down the long hallway, Maius cannot but marvel at the lavishness of the palace, even thought this is not his first time here.

"... and you shall not speak unless spoken to. Now pay attention here!" The male attendant leading him chided. "Tsk! You commoner do not know what a great honour His Majesty have bestowed upon you by inviting you to meet him! You will do well to remember the instructions so as not to insult his very person."

These palace attendants do like to flaunt their superiority at common folks. "I remember and understand. I will do nothing of the sort that will insult in His Majesty's presence."

"You did better not or the punishments will be severe!"

Bollocks. I cannot wait to get this over with.

As the group approachs, the guards at the pair of grand doors reach and open it with a well practiced manner. Beyond the doors, a regal figure can be seen sitting behind an ornate desk piled up with various paperwork. Walking into the room, the palace attendant announce their presence, while Maius kneels on one knee.

"Presenting Maius Oweyn, on behast of His Royal Highness, Philippe the XI, The King of Orwell."

The man at the desk looks up. "Leave us."

"Sire?" The attendant looks confused.

"I gave an order. The guards too."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." The attendant reluctantly leaves with the escort.

Now that Maius had a clear look at Philippe XI, the newly appointed King looks to be in his late twenties. However, the look in his eyes betrayed the maturity and wisdom behind the youthful feature.

"Have a seat Maius." The King gestures to the lounge area in his stateroom as he tosses the reading glasses into the pile of papers. "You must be wondering why I want to meet you."

"Yes Your Majesty. My condolences to yours and the kingdoms' loss."

"I gratefully accept. You can dispense with the formalities and just call me 'Sire'."

"Yes Sire. Your wish is my command."

The young King had just been crowned at his father's deathbed less then a week ago. The mourning for the deceased King Philippe X will last for a month, as the kingdom grieves and also look forward to the new era that Phillipe XI will usher in.

Maius stood beside the couch out of formality, as Philippe XI took out two wine glasses and a bottle of Grande Mela from the adjacent cabinet.

"Pardon me Sire, but may I  know how old is your person. I am afraid that I have been away for too long and not been keeping up to date."

"Oh!" Philippe XI exasperated exaggeratedly. "Maius, did I not tell you to dispense with the formalities. We are not convening court! Have a seat!" He gestures to the couch facing him as he sits and begins to uncork the wine. "In case you are wondering, I am thirty-four years of age. I do look younger than I really am."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Maius flops down on the cosy couch while Phillipe XI fills the glasses. Imagine, the King pouring your wine!

"Sire, why do you want to meet someone who was ostracized from Nobility?" Maius queried. "To my knowledge, I know my father used to work closely with you. I have met you a few times in the past during official functions but we are not well acquainted. And right after your crowning! This will not look well on you if this gets out."

"Why can't I meet anyone that I wish? I am the King!" Exclaimed Philippe XI, as he pass the wine glass to Maius. "Here is to the future of Orwell." They clink the glasses.

Both men took a moment to savour the richness and depth of the Grande Mela.

"I might not know you well, but I knew the late Lord Oweyn. After all, he is my favourite tutor and a close friend of my father. I can assure you that I know the man well enough to know what kind of man he raise his son to be."

In the Kingdom of Orwell, it is practice for the heads of each of the twelve major Noble houses to take turn to tutor the offpsrings of Royalty. This allows the future rulers to get to understand the Noble houses under their rule, and also for the Nobles to jockey for favor.

"He is wise enough to keep you away, or you might not have survived. My father and I were deeply sadden by his death, but there was nothing we can do then." Phillipe XI drowns the wine. "Now, I have a chance that might help you, that is why I summoned you the moment we knew that my father does not have long to live."

Maius took the bottle and fills the King's glass. "Sire, what kind of chance do you mean? I believe you do know that I am doing quite well as a privateer, in fact I am living comfortably."

"A noble fallen from grace, stripped of his rank and all that he owns. Do not tell me that you did not have the wish, that all is yours again and to take revenge against the men who did that to your family? I can give you that chance."

"How..." Maius' eyes widen in surprise. "Sire, you are not talking about restoring my station are you? That will put the Nobles against you!" In the Kingdom of Orwell, it is law that no common man is allowed to harm a Noble. Violation is punishable by death. Only a Noble has the right to fight against another Noble by the means of a duel.

"Maius, I require your help as much as you need mine. This proposal is also born out of my own self preservation." Phillipe XI told Maius of the current situation that will no doubt cause chaos in the Kingdom of Orwell.