The piercing roars of those sheep were already irritating to hear from the start. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion; a moment to celebrate... to drink and make merry. The young princess was now being enthroned as the new ruler of their kingdom. What could possibly be a reason for someone to feel immense hatred? A dozen of reasons... apparently. These events were nothing more than just fodder for those naive citizens who were already satisfied with filling their bellies with useless indulgences; people who were content to reproduce and live another day without a care for those who had died to defend them, to keep them alive. Last time the books checked, the King wasn't in the battle of the Moors where almost a hundred soldiers died... The King wasn't also in the battle of the Plains where more than just commanders sacrificed their lives to keep those peasants safe. The King didn't even dirty his shiny shoes to even just empathize with those who lost their limbs... Nothing that the King did was worth praising.

His daughter? Where in Ashmedai's name was she when the generals were dying? Where in heaven was she when the soldiers were starving when the supply routes were cut off by those damned dwarves? No. Not even the queen was worth praising; none in the royal family were worth praising. They were all cowards who used the bodies of innocent men with wives and children to save their own sorry carcasses. Such vile creatures, such greed. Yet, these mindless cattle praise them as if their blood was the one spilled on swords upon swords. At the very least, these pathetic excuses of rulers could have legalized magic, and erased the sickening stigma that was implanted upon all who use the arcane arts, but no... they despise everyone who could gain the upper hand on them... Son's family had to hide their abilities in fear of those wretched fools. Even he had to hide his abilities, lying to the masses that his tattoo was mainly for design... nothing more, nothing less. Living in the shadows of those he could have easily ended... No. This selfishness has to end...

Son watched the Queen... err... Ariben? Ari? Aribelle? Ah, Aribelle. Queen Aribelle... Son forced himself to digest the disgusting sight of the bloodstained crown to be placed on that worthless head of that poor excuse of a princess. The crown which his father... his mother... his family... died defending, was now being placed on another incompetent ruler. Estoria will fall if these kinds of leaders were the ones being thrown to be the King or Queen; in fact, based on what Son was seeing, it looks like as long as you have a connection with the royal family, you're in! Brains? Obviously not. Heart? Only if you have one made out of ice. However, Son knew his duty... He was the queen's adviser, and as such, he should act as one... No matter how unbearable it might become. If he allowed Estoria to fall, he would have let his family down... He wouldn't want that.

Son closed his eyes in fury as the crown was set on the girl's head... assuring her position as queen. Son knew what was going to happen next... She was going to give a speech... Nope, that was his limit. Son closed his senses entirely, trying to muffle all of the hypocritical words she was spouting from that horrid mouth. After a few agonizing moments, Son joined the rest of the royal group towards the dining hall. Son kept his distance as FAR as possible from the hypocrite queen. Son ignored every person who met with the royal group; not that there was anyone who wanted to shake hands or exchange pleasantries with a man in a dark robe and hood. Even the other royal officers were keeping their distance from him. 

Suddenly, he noticed that the crowd was relentlessly closing in on their small group, to the point that it became constricting. Those fake smiles that the royals were giving the crowd just rose the frenzied fanaticism that was already boiling in each sheep. Son noticed a group of young men who were now edging closer to the queen, apparently trying to sate their fanaticism... The dark adviser rushed forward through the formation of royals as he held up his left hand, effectively blocking the group of boys from edging any closer to the group.

"Pardon my manners, but my majesty, the Queen, would like to take a breather from all these commotions." Son said in a grim tone as the other peasants looked at him with ire. "If you truly wish for our Queen to be at her best, then you will allow her to rest, for she is human like all of us." Son smiled; an evil smile. Then he whispered something to those vile peasants that he hoped the queen wouldn't hear. [i]"Step away from the queen, you witless worms."[/i] Son whispered in a morbid way as he smiled and looked at the path ahead of them, apparently instilling dread into those peasants who wanted to meet the queen and exchange pleasantries. He turned to Aribelle, speaking in a calm tone now.

"Pardon my manners, your majesty. Please, your meal, as well as the meals of the honorable officers and guests have been specially prepared for this glorious occasion." Son chuckled as he bowed and returned to the back of the formation; causing every peasant near him to edge further away then they already were...