He dreamt he sat on the throne, above them all, a sun around which the world revolved.
The crown atop him was of gold. Horned with silver, and encrusted with rubies.He touched the top of it, and felt the silky red cloth that hid behind the gold and silver.
It was his crown. He was prince. He was ruler.
And he ruled.
Long, shimmering lines of supplicants stretched into the horizon: knights in unscarred plate laying their swords at his feet, begging for the honor of his service; high lords bending their knees until they touched the marble, whispering oaths of fealty.
Beyond the arched doors, the exultant crowd made their roar known, their cheers echoing in the hall.
And they had reason to cheer.
He dispensed justice with a flick of his wrist, ruling with a wisdom his father taught him to wield.
Peasants wept with gratitude for his aid; merchants bowed low for his protection; even the bickering lords left his presence satisfied by the weight of his word.
