Thrones and Unspoken Pasts

The four of us strode through the grand double doors, prompting the council members to rise from their seats arranged along a long wooden table, adorned with a dozen chairs. At one end sat a conspicuously larger chair, set against the backdrop of a crackling fireplace casting a warm glow in the room.

The floor boasted dark wood, accentuated by a regal red and gold rug. Above, chandeliers crafted from antlers lent a distinctive touch, deviating from the crystal fixtures I had seen elsewhere in the estate.

"Thank you for your patience," I addressed them, endeavoring to convey a sense of composure and authority.

"Of course, your highness," one of the men responded.

I made my way to the larger seat and settled into it. The men gathered around the table, one side occupied by my family and the other by the four males constituting my predecessor’s council. It was an unconventional arrangement, but if Harold deemed it necessary to hear their counsel, I was willing to entertain their perspect