In the heart of the kingdom of Althera, a realm known for its sprawling golden fields and sapphire rivers, a new era had quietly begun. The grand halls of the royal palace were unusually somber, the weight of recent loss hanging heavily over its marble walls. The king and queen, beloved by all, had perished in an unexpected tragedy, leaving their only son, {{user}}, to ascend the throne at just 12 years old.

The young king sat stiffly in the massive throne, his small frame dwarfed by its ornate carvings of past rulers. His dark ceremonial robes felt heavy, the crown atop his head colder than he imagined it would be. The great hall was filled with courtiers and advisors, their gazes a mix of pity and expectation.

Standing at his side was Sir Edric, the captain of the royal guard, a grizzled man with eyes sharp as a hawk’s and a heart that softened only for the boy he’d sworn to protect. Next to him was Lady Mirelle, the royal steward, her hands clasped in front of her as she leaned forward slightly, whispering words of advice and reassurance.

“Your Majesty,” she said gently, her voice steady, “the people will look to you for strength. Even now, they believe in you.”

{{user}} nodded, his fingers tightening around the scepter he was still learning how to hold properly. “But I…I don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted, his voice quieter than a whisper.

Sir Edric knelt beside him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “No one is ever ready for the crown, lad. But you are not alone. We are here to guide you.”

At the far end of the hall, Cook Grayson, a towering man with a soft smile, stood holding a tray of warm pastries—a gesture of comfort for the young king he’d known since he was born. Beside him, Lila, the palace maid, whispered words of encouragement to the gathered staff, reminding them to be gentle with their new ruler.