The great hall was built to be spacious and with a sense for the ostentatious that would rival any monarch on the continent. The throne, that currently carry the king, have a backrest that reach for the celling. The fine handywork of a carver is evident everywhere but the most striking feature is the armrests. When the monarch rests his hands on said armrests his hands will hold two wolf heads. The wolf to his right has an open maw, showing of great fangs. The wolf of dark wood to his left has a closed mouth but its face is twisted, like its angry. These heads are made to match the size of real wolf heads. Katyla has influenced the art of the royal court to a great extent but she has always complained about the throne. She used to say it made her husband, Kristofer I, look like a barbarian.

From the throne to the door is a luxurious deep blue carpet that forms a pathway. There are paintings of different size and shape on the walls depicting kings, armies, mountains and animals. For today they have arranged an additional touch, a great deal of wooden rods with large flags stationed along the walls. I didn’t know we had so many flags, nor where we’ve kept them.

Kristofer’s mind wanders, surveying his surroundings. It’s all familiar of course, what’s different is the perspective. The hall looks different from up here. Some overtly stare at me while other glance towards me but its clear they are all observing me. Marquis Jorn has assured me the nobles are positive to my coronation and Katyla likewise thinks no trouble will emerge. I’ve read far too much about the fall of nations, clans and families to be calm. New kings have a significant risk of “unfortunate” or “untimely” death. I’d rather not join their number if I can help it. I’d like to say it is out of obligation to my family but truthfully, I just don’t want to die. I nod my head to Duchess Leonora Arbigga. She offers a small smile and nods back. Although, it does little to stop her from staring at me.

There are two large long tables on either side of the prominent blue carpet. These tables are occupied with various nobles and religious leader and a couple of important merchants. The third and by far the smallest table is in front of me. To my right is Katyla who by virtue of being the former queen to Kristofer I, the mother of the former king Kristofer II and grandmother to me, may sit at my table. Marquis Jorn has the privilege to sit here too, not on account of his title but as an advisor to the king. He was the advisor to the former king at least and it’s presumed he will continue such duties with the new king, me.

I’ve yet to be poisoned so I consider that a win. There are slow acting poisons however. Any would be assassin would be wise to be far away from the action if I kick the bucket.

“A toast to our new ruler, may his reign be long and prosperous.” All around the hall people stand up and raise their glass. The speaker continue: “Your father was a good king, wise and strong. Through his strength he continued the unification of our nation. But of his many virtues I could list the single most important quality of our late king was his respect for others. He always respected the domain of the nobles and important decisions was often offered to the council for deliberation. This aspect of the great man fostered a common purpose that united and strengthened us. I’m sure you have learned a lot from your father so I know you understand the value of such virtues.”

Duke Tendir Ulfven, the most powerful man in the country besides the king. He controls most of the mountainous land in the north. Kristofer simply nodded in the duke’s direction and resumed eating. No applauds or voices could be heard in the king’s hall. Everyone present understood. The newly crowned king understood.

Katyla gave a command to an attendant and soon musicians entered and performed for the assembled gentlemen and ladies. Chatter resumed once again, albeit with a lower tone and the occasional glance to the duke and the king.

The duke’s speech made the king return to his earlier thought of poison. Does this wine taste strange? Maybe, probably not but if anyone here would take a stab at me, I’d wager it’ll be him.

A servant girl approached the king with a platter of salmon. She curtsied while holding the large platter of fish in one hand and a carafe with wine in the other.

“Thank you.” Kristofer presented his chalice for her to refill and looked hungrily at the fatty salmon.

She scurried off. Probably back to the kitchen to fetch more plates for hungry nobles. A feast in the king’s castle happens infrequently at best and Kristofer is hardly inclined to change that.

The music stopped and a musician dressed in a colourful outfit coughs to politely get the attention of his liege. “Your majesty, I’ve heard of your interest in the culture of the south so if it will please you, we would like to perform some music we learned while in Pülzen.”

“Yes, go ahead.” A slow and meticulous starting with a low volume only to slowly grow more powerful. The man who spoke played a violin while a woman played some kind of flute. A fat man played on a strange instrument. He blew into a tube to produce noises. Together they produced a strange yet pleasant sound.

As they finished the king clapped his hands to thanks the troupe for the entertainment. The music was offered to the king but it was Katyla who was moved by it. “That was splendid! I’ve not heard music like that since I was a little girl. Thank you.” She tippet her head at the trio whom immediately responded with a deep bow.

“You honour us, we are pleased to have the pleasure to perform for the king and lady Katyla.”

Ruldan have been silent due to the abundance of good ale and a generous assortment of stronger drinks. Now, however, he felt compelled to contribute to the festivities.

“Eyy you boy.” He points at a servant. The servant flinch and stare at Ruldan. “Fetch the drum for me.” He makes his way to the centre of the room. “Majesty, I’ll provide some real music for ya.”

The next thirty minutes was loud and less than great for the young monarch. Ruldan’s definition of music involved stomping in a rhythm and smashing on his drum while producing a noise akin to a wounded animal.

“Thank you Ruldan.” He offered a small nod to the man still covered in bull blood. In response Ruldan smash his right hand to his chest and moves away. He stops next to a baron to help himself to some chicken from the man’s plate. Ruldan only smiled at the complaining baron and took another piece from his plate before seating himself.

One is not inclined to fuss to much against a hulking priest covered in blood who only a few hours ago displayed his proficiency with a huge axe. You have my sympathies baron but that’s not a hill one willingly dies on. Any change to this country will probably be opposed by the likes of Ruldan, at least in regards to cultural change. Economic change will be opposed by Duke Tendir and the people he got under his thumb. Father spent most of his time as king drinking ale and hunting dear. He always said he was hunting bear but if he happened upon a dear he felt compelled to hunt it, something about a hunters honour.

For the first time since the feast began a real smile appeared on Kristofer III’s face.

The level of intoxication rose at a steady rate as casks of ale and carafes of wine was readily available for all. Even the king’s cheeks flushed red and his hands were unsteady at times. Tales of heroic deeds are shared with all the ludicrous embellishment one can expect. One story went so far to suggest the former king wrestled a bear to submission but opted not to kill it out of respect for the bear’s prowess. Some young folk listened with wide eyes while most snickered, choosing not to laugh too much out of respect. The king nor Katyla felt such restraint warranted so their laughter came freely.

Perhaps the occasional feast is not so bad after all.