Nikolai Lantsov crept down the dimly lit hallways of the Grand Palace towards the kitchen.

Being King of Ravka was a massive weight on his shoulders. The constant meetings, papers and responsibilities left him drained and longing for relief. So he decided on baking.

Nikolai pushed the wooden door of the kitchen open and was relieved to find that neither the serfs nor the cooks were inside. His hand reached towards the oil lamp, and he twisted the knob to allow more light.