Life is quite a bore for Jean. The morning sun wakes him long after it has risen, and often he finds himself confined entirely in his bed for the day. When he does have the ambition to leave the solace of his chamber, he finds himself merely wandering the gardens, wondering what lingers beyond the walls he’s be trapped in for years.

Of course, that is not how his father views it. Life within the palace is not the prison Jean views it as, but rather a sanctuary not offered to the citizens of their kingdom. Here, Jean is able to learn and flourish as many boys his age ought to, and to grow into a man fit to lead a kingdom.

But no one has cared to ask Jean what he wants. His desires are thrown to the pigs, serving as nothing but fodder seasoned with royalty. Come his father’s death, he is to be king, and that’s the short of it.

Jean sighs and draws his arm over his eyes. Dawn has long since passed, and his mother will soon come demanding him to rise. There are duties for him to attend to, allegedly, though he’s yet to find what those are beyond spending his days by the fountain.

A knock raps on his door, but he’s far too indifferent to answer it. Another one follows, and by this, he knows it is not his mother on the other side, as she would have burst in.

It opens, and a young servant, one he does not know the name of, steps in. Their dull and concentrated expression molds to one of horror as their eyes land on Jean still laid within his bed, despite the late hour; their hand tightens around the broom handle. They must be new, Jean remarks—all the other servants know better than to clean his chamber before noon.