Sit down and try to work

Stewart looks around his quarters. On a desk in his study, he sees the red box with all the official papers awaiting the sovereigns’s review and signature. He had witnessed his father pour over the documents from that box so many times. Much to his surprise, he sees the box has been changed. No longer does it have the royal crest of his father; some efficient member of the staff has already replaced it with Stewart’s crest: a unicorn, reared on two legs, stomping on a serpent. Someone once explained the symbolism to him, but at the time he chose it, he did so because he thought it looked cool.

He smiles, wryly, as he remembers his brother’s dismay when he was formally presented with his official crest: a large rooster, surrounded by several smaller cats. It served Duncan right for not insisting on actually seeing the artist’s concept of his wishes. Instead, he simply proclaimed that his crest should reflect the most important thing about him: “I want my crest to have a cock — a really big one — surrounded by eager, young pussies,” were his exact words. Unfortunately for Duncan, but fortunately for the decorum of the royal court, the artist had a different concept of what those words meant.

Stewart sits at the desk and opens the red box, pulling out the papers that call for his attention. Again, he rubs the back of his neck, feeling the knot in his muscles, caused by all the stress.

There is a brief wrap on the door, followed immediately by its opening. A maid steps in and curtsies.

“Good evening, Sire. I was just going to turn down the bed for you, if that’s alright.”

Stewart nods his assent and watches her step into his bed chambers. This is another perk of being king that was new to him. While he certainly had household staff tend to making his bed every morning, the Crown Prince did not have anyone to pull down the covers at night. Well, no one got paid for doing that, anyway....

The thought makes him lonely for Chantelle. She would know how to ease his tension right now. He wondered what she was doing, and he wondered how best to get word to her. No doubt she was also missing him and worried about how he was holding up.

The maid steps out of the bedroom and says, “Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?”