Morning arrived with a lot of cries from cockerels and the scents of food cooking. It was probably very early, but I couldn’t wait to get started. Rolling out of bed, I dressed myself in a long, loose tunic and a very fine cloak, it was a real struggle, though, sitting on the edge of the bed, to bring my foot up to a position where I could get a sandal on it. Should I wear my crown? For now, I just carried it in my hand.

On leaving my room, a guard outside looked at me in astonishment before composing his face into a neutral expression.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea of my way around this castle, yet it would be very strange if I were to ask the guard. So I just followed my nose and again, was met with looks of disbelief and alarm by servants and soldiers until I found my way down and around some wide stairs to a hall big enough for a feast, though all the tables were bare.

‘Ah, sire, we weren’t expecting you for many an hour yet. I’ll hurry the cooks.’ A female servant came over as I sat myself at the top table in what was obviously the king’s large, padded chair.

‘Just two poached eggs please and an apple and an orange.’

‘We have apples, sire. Not the other.’

‘Ahh right. Two apples then. And if you can press a few more to get juice out of them, I’ll drink that.’

‘Yes sire.’ The servant, a middle-aged woman, had worry lines across her forehead. ‘So no roast pork?’ She gestured towards a door that I presumed led to the kitchen, judging by the concentration of cooking scents from that direction.

‘No.’

‘Er… forgive me, but just to avoid error, sire, no beef slices in horseradish sauce?’

‘No.’

‘Nor the chicken breast in garlic? The bread-and-butter pudding? The…’

I caught the servant’s eye and with a gulp she stopped speaking.

‘Nothing,’ I said firmly, ‘other than the eggs, apples and the juice.’

‘Certainly sire,’ the woman backed away with an anxious bow.

It would have been interesting to chat with someone and learn something about the world, but none of the guards and servants would dare look at me. The large dining hall was silent as though empty, even though I could count six guards and four servants.

Oh well. I raised my right arm and cascaded some menus. Good, steel pickaxes had been researched, my town now had the knowledge of how to produce them. So I opened up the smithy and planned for a build of 84 new pickaxes, one for every miner. That left my research queue empty and I crunched on one of the hastily delivered apples as I eyed my options, there were hundreds of possibilities, grouped into three core categories: economic, cultural and military. Currently, the food crisis was my biggest concern and my plan to solve it was via exporting ores. Assuming all my neighbours were hostile (and even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t want any of them to have extra iron supplies), I needed to get my ores further afield. And that meant… Navigation. A six-day research project.

After breakfast, with the help of a servant, I changed into tunic and trousers and good boots, then sent for my trainer.

Carradock Goblinbane was missing an arm at the elbow. I didn’t ask; maybe the king knew his story already. On the short walk from the castle to the barracks training ground, I briefed him. I needed strength training as rapidly as possible. I didn’t voice it aloud, but I knew that I just could not risk progressing my character until I understood the issue of stats better and, in particular, whether I could push them up through training.

‘Strength it is, sire, and all-round fitness.’ He looked at me longer than most people did. In fact, most people here didn’t look me in the eyes at all. ‘It will take a while. We must not rush. You’re too big and too – excuse me – soft. You’ll hurt yourself. For the first day, I just want to you walk around this ground fifty times.

‘Fifty?’ How hard could it be to walk fifty laps of a square whose sides were only about a hundred metres?

It was very hard. After one lap I was sweating. After the second my thighs began to ache and I found myself slowing down from my fast initial pace. After the third, I was panting and my huge body was complaining pretty much everywhere. On ten, Carradock handed me a tankard with cool water in it and I gulped it down. Then he offered me a sword hilt. It was a practice weapon, a rod of iron with no sharp edges. I reached out for it.

‘Are you sure?’ Carradock looked sceptical.

‘Of course. I can do this.’

‘No, I mean, your left hand.’

I had grasped the sword and raised it in my left hand. I tried it then with my right, shook my head, and shifted it back. ‘This is better.’

Back on Earth, I was left-handed. Had the king been right-handed? Was this a sign to everyone I wasn’t their old ruler?

‘Carry it as often as you can. It will make your sword arm stronger.’

‘Now?’

Carradock nodded, perhaps with a hint of a smile on his narrow, fox-like face.

Then off I went again, with a new source of pain slowly moving up from my left wrist, my arm and along my left shoulder. At twenty I took another breather. One side of the barracks square was a two-story, grey stone building. The other three were enclosed by a low, wooden fence. And at the fence were gathered a dozen people, looking in at me. On their faces were expressions of dislike but also astonishment.

All this walking had been good for my thinking. ‘You,’ I pointed to a woman with dressed in a tunic whose design matched that of the other castle servants. ‘Get me the ambassador, Figus.’

‘Yes, sire.’ She curtsied, but I could tell from her body language she didn’t like the duty.

‘And the rest of you, get along with your business.’

No one spoke, but they all immediately hurried away.

It was another two laps before my ambassador came to the square around which I was walking. No doubt I was red-faced and quite a sight, but that didn’t excuse the smirk on his face. Figus was quite the rock star. Unlike everyone else here, his hair was not a natural colour, rather it was bleached somehow and stood up in clusters of spikes. With a grace in his walk and a cynical smile in his bright blue eyes, I could see his Charisma of 15 was definitely in play. What was mine again, 3? I suddenly felt very conscious of my frown lines and a posture that was sagging at every point, including my face.

The ambassador drew up close, took in a breath and then bowed. ‘Sire?’

This was a welcome excuse for a break, though I was aware that Carradok was watching and probably disapproved.

‘We need to trade ore for food, what’s the best way to go about it?’

Figus looked up with some surprise on his face. ‘You are seeking my advice?’

‘Uh huh,’ I was still catching my breath or I’d have pointed out that he was our ambassador after all.

‘Well, as you know, we are at war with Southway and Trolland, our nearest neighbours. So they are out. That also blocks the inland routes. By sea, we could trade with Cantreth, the Kingdom of Lost Souls and Rockguard…’ he paused in thought. I paused in tiredness.

‘Your majesty has no scruples dealing with a necromancer?’

‘Not at all, some of my best friends are necromancers.’ I was thinking of Storm Wars of course, but the look of consternation on the face of Figus made me feel like laughing.

To be fair to him, the ambassador recovered his poise quickly, ‘in that case, I think the best deal we could make would be with the Kingdom of Lost Souls.’

‘Right so, off you go and make that arrangement.’

‘Now sire?’

I nodded.

He hesitated. ‘How much ore and of what kind and quality will we be offering?’

I didn’t have to call down the menu for the mines, we were currently producing 2 ingots of standard iron ore per day. Assuming that would rise with the new pickaxes… ‘Fifteen standard iron ingots a week.’

Figus nodded and then with a temerity that was unusual in the people around me caught my eye. ‘One more question, sire, if I may?’

‘Yes?’

‘We don’t have a trading vessel, but we would get much better terms if this exchange happened in our ship.’

‘I’ll make that a priority.’

‘Right so, I’ll be off then.’ There was a jauntiness to the man’s step as he left me to my circuits. Had he deliberately just parodied my turn of phrase? If so, I rather admired him for it.