he was a self made king. he had worked really hard to kill the ones who were in his way. he had worked his way up to the top of it all. he had to paint his own hermelin to get there, and he had to grow his own crown...
still he could not get rid of the feeling that there had been too many odd individuals on his path to his personal victory to actually stay where he was...
he was certain to die, as soon as he dropped one of the royal insignia... the knife of his most trusted friend or even brother was waiting to be used...
oh, bloody knife...