His Royal Breeder
It was the Day of the Ritual, a tradition for every ruler of my bloodline to prove they are the strongest soul in the land.
I ran a slow, casual hand through my hair. It was long and as white as a fresh snowfall, a shining symbol of my pure, royal blood.
I knew I looked magnificent. I wore a simple silver tunic that was thin enough to show the muscle beneath, catching the rays of the sun like a mirror.
"Our king is so beautiful!"
"Asher is the strongest!"
"He is prettier than all my daughters combined." I heard some of their talks
The noise was like a physical wall of sound. Thousands and thousands of my subjects sat on the stone benches that rose so high they seemed to touch the clouds.