The throne room was a place designed to impress, yet Alexander had long ceased to notice its grandeur. Not tonight anyway. Called away from the celebration to honour his wife, he sat on the throne now, nodding indolently to the report of his minister. Annoyingly, it could not be delayed.
The minister—a man narrow of face and precise of speech—stood before him, holding a ledger. He was going over the plans to survive the winter, but Alexander was not listening. His thoughts were with his brother, and his curiosity wished he could escape this meeting. A king, though, rarely had such luxury of choice.
The vaulted ceiling soared above him, the stones catching and holding the pale yellow candlelights. The banners behind his throne stirred quietly to the easy draft. They bore the sigils of houses that had pledged fealty to his crown.
And he had ensured it was all of them.
