Breakfast

You awaken slowly. It had been almost a year since you slept on land and the bed provided in your royal chambers was the absolute pinnacle of comfort for your aching body. Your eyes opened a crack, squinting out as the morning sun shone down into the lavish chambers you found yourself in. There was a moment of confusion as your sluggish mind struggled to catch up with the events of the last day or two, but eventually you remembered that this was now your bedroom. The king's bedroom.

A yawn escaped your mouth and you rubbed at your eyes, but otherwise you made no effort to get up. For several heartbeats you were simply content to stare off into nothingness as awareness returned. You recalled a memory from your childhood lessons, that it had been your great-great grandfather who had ordered the royal bedchamber redesigned into something more elegant to appease his new bride. It was almost comical that such luxury existed in a place like the Dreadmont; all else was harsh, grotesque stonework and utilitarian design.

The sound of the door opening and closing broke you from your musings and even managed to coax you to sit up. Your new guest was a servant girl. She had bold, brown eyes shaped like almonds beneath a fringe of silken black hair. Her garb, the simple yellow dress all chambermaids wore, did nothing to conceal the generous swell of her breasts and contrasted nicely with her dark skin. In her hands was a tray containing several dried fruits and a bowl of oats. Smiling politely at you, she brought the food over to a small table and performed a perfect curtsy.

"Your Majesty," her voice lacked the accent of peasantry, though her appearance marked as her someone not of Itherian stock. A foreigner. "Will you be requiring anything else this morning?"

You eyed the food, the girl and struggled to suppress a smile. Someone wanted you in a good mood this morning.

Sitting up, you stretched out, keenly aware of how the girl watched the muscles of your bare chest move as you worked life back into them. You threw the blankets off and padded over to the table, looking down at the meal and then up at the girl with a smile. "It seems to me that you've already spoiled me this morning."

The girl smiled prettily. "Only doing my duty, Your Majesty."

You hummed noncommittally, picked an apple slice and chewed it thoughtfully. Swallowing you asked the girl to bring you a dish of water so that you might wash the sweat of the night away. She nodded and hurried out of the room, your eyes following the delightful bounce of her ass with each step.

She returned a few minutes later, placing the water and a neatly folded cloth off to one side. "Will that be all, Your Majesty?"

"Just one more thing," you said, taking note of how she straightened to attention. "What's your name, sweetling?"

"Me?" The surprise was naked on her face. "Agatha, Your Majesty."

You took note of her again, and then gave your most disarming smile. "It is a great pleasure to meet you this morning Agatha."

Her smile was girlish and full of adoration, though she shifted awkwardly unsure of how to respond. Despite her apparent education it seemed that she was not used to the attention of men, or at least, the attention of kings. You made a mental note to follow up on her.

Once she was dismissed you broke your fast and went about washing, feeling yourself rejuvenated by the ritual. Standing before a mirror you dressed into dark breeches and a ruby coloured tunic, fastened your dirk to your belt and took note of your features. You had your father's sandy brown hair, grey eyes and strong jawline, though you owed it to your mother's northern blood that you retained a pale complexion defiant of the scorching sun. Small scars collected from an unusually harsh early life were sketched across your face. You were handsome, though in a roguish way rather than the regality of your lineage.

Taking a final appraising look at your appearance you nodded to yourself and left your chambers for the throne room. The room in question was large, littered with stonework gargoyles, Chimaeras, Krakens, Sea Serpents and Leviathans all threatening to devour any who approached the central dais and the Dreadthrone of your mad ancestor. Of course the intimidation factor was lessened among the regulars of court, several of whom congregated together as you entered, bowing their heads as you took your place on your father's seat. A servant brought your crown, a metal band adorned with a series of crimson gems, and you casually placed it upon your brow, signalling the official start of your first day as king.

It was Lord Einon who stepped up first. The man moved with relaxed confidence, owing to the fact that he was your father's Court Mage, closest companion and a sort of honorary uncle figure to you. "Your Majesty," he wore a crooked smile as he greeted you, "you seem well."

You smiled. "I feel well," you leaned forward a little, your voice lowered, "and I take it I have you to thank for my new attendant this morning?"

"Pretty little thing isn't she? I thought you might like breakfast in bed." He replied with a knowing grin before addressing you in a louder, more formal tone. "I feel the need to reaffirm....just how damned good it is to see a Trevelyan back on that throne. Three years of regency was, frankly, three too many," his cheeky smile softened some, "the tremendous pride I feel today is only a fraction of what your father would have felt."

There was a stab of pain at the mention of your father, but your stern countenance did not break. You gave a firm nod. "Thank you, Lord Einon. Your loyalty to my family is well known and much appreciated. My father was a great king and," you searched for the words, "....I hope in time that I might equal him, at least in some respects."

There was a healthy and expected applause from the gathered courtiers, some of whom looked like they might have felt genuine about the whole thing. Though of course you weren't so naive and foolish to believe there was complete loyalty among this lot; politics was a shifting sea and at the first taste of blood you would have to contend with a frenzy of sharks.

You cast an eye on the advisors you had inherited. Einon was perhaps your closest ally at court, but you also had the Countess Myerling whose gifted mind for trade had helped your father enrich the kingdom considerably. There was the Lord Admiral, Bondrache, whom you had served with during your apprenticeship in the royal fleet. He was a simple military man and would serve as a good blunt instrument in times of peril. Old Lord Amadis had been a fixture of court going back to your grandfather's time and though age had worn down his ambition, you thought that there was wisdom to be mined from him.

Undoubtedly there would be changes during your reign as different people rose and fell from prominence and favour, but in the short term you could rule a kingdom with this collection.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way," you gestured to Einon, "let's get down to it, shall we? What matters need my attention?"