The massive doors to the throne room groaned open, the sound echoing through the high, stone chamber. Balthor stepped inside first, followed by Redna, Noriel, the councilor, and the general.
The "king" sat slouched on the throne, one leg hanging lazily over the armrest. A full barrel of beer rested beside him, a mug already in his hand. His posture was relaxed—too relaxed—and the vacant, half-lidded stare in his eyes made him look more like someone enjoying a long drink at a tavern than ruling a kingdom.
Balthor's gaze narrowed. He didn't need more than a few seconds to recognize the body language. 'He's just like me…'
He exhaled slowly. 'But I'm the true heir. Guess I'll have to step into the role. That kid Noel… he's going to make me work. And I was so comfortable at my place, the Drunken Hammer… Guess I'll have to leave someone in charge there.'
