The next day dawned, bright and full of a buzzing, nervous energy. The official signing ceremony for the Strathmore-Jorailian Alliance was set.
King Reginald, Queen Kate, Princess Eleanor, and a full, formal retinue of guards and ancient, sour-faced ministers arrived at the Jorailian pavilion.
King Reginald looked… amazing. For him, anyway.
He wasn't the usual slumped, defeated-looking man. He was bright-eyed. His chest was puffed out, like a proud rooster. He was actually strutting. His "vigorous" night, which had been loudly confirmed by his adoring, grinning guards, had put a pep in his step he hadn't had in decades. He felt like a new man. He felt, for the first time in his life, like a King.
"A fine morning for an alliance!" he boomed, his reedy voice cracking with false heartiness.
