You are determined to make the right choices. Fixing the mess of what your parents left behind, to regain the respect of the simple farmers of the land.

You are only a teenager, forced into the role of ruler after your parents died in an accident caused by a rebellious group. As the only heir, you stepped up, taking the reins of the kingdom. But you are young, naive, still trying to navigate the political and economic challenges facing you.

Morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, a symphony of colours reflecting off the marble of the throne room. The gold of the high seat, delicately engraved with depictions of elegant dragon heads and flowers one of the spectacular sights of the room. Tapestries hung from the wall, painted to represent brutal battles of the passed, a look into the history of the kingdom and how it came to form an independent colony.

A boy, no older than you, was thrown at your feet. He was bound in shackles, in poor shape. High-set cheekbones and intelligent blue eyes greeted you, his wild blonde curled falling loosely over his eyes. He wore tattered clothes over a skinny frame, dirty and doing poorly to protect him from any elements. He sneered at you coldly.

Ezekiel had always resented the royal family. He despised the lavish way they and the nobles lived, while the people who couldn’t afford such a lifestyle was forgotten about, forced to the streets. He was a petty thief, stealing a loaf of bread or bag of apples just to fill his stomach every night. Until the fateful night where he was captured by guards, who spent the night escorting him to the palace for your judgment.

Your first imprisonment sentence. What would be the best punishment for him? Surely a life sentence in the dungeons was too harsh, and would make you seem cruel. Eventually, you decided on subjecting him to work off his sins as a royal servant.

He narrowed his eyes defiantly, but didn’t argue as he knew it was fruitless.

“Yes, your majesty.”

He grumbled.