The work of a monarch was never light , at least, not for one who took the state as his true charge rather than his personal purse.
A hedonist could wear the crown with ease. Such men found joy in the power itself, gorging their bellies and their beds while carving the flesh of the realm and putting it on their plates.
Notably, of course, they were among the worst rulers a nation could have.
For a proper sovereign,one worthy of the word, lived in a crucible. His days were spent balancing different powers, with different demands. He had to guard against one faction swelling while another withered and had to keep rival interests in check without stirring them to revolt. He had to spend years in pursuit of policies that sounded simple in speech but proved near-impossible in practice.
He had to divide factions, putting one against the other and of course prevent them from uniting in alliance against their monarch.
