His Golden Majesty. Outside the Royal Palace, the phrase might refer to the currency of the highest denomination. Within it, however, it was also a fitting description for the sovereign of the Saint Vallova Kingdom.
Charles XVI had inherited his family's build—short, stout, and lacking in majesty. But judging from his court and his intricate, predominantly white-and-gold attire, it was easy to see that he was the most illustrious man in the Holy Kingdom.
Right now, he was in his study, chatting idly with the Court Guard Captain while indulging in a personal hobby: tinkering with clocks.
"Your Majesty..." Their previous chat had revolved around amusing anecdotes from Valuva. The Guard Captain, observing that King Charles was in a good mood, hesitantly spoke again. "A few days ago, there was a fire in the city center."
Charles carefully placed an uninstalled balance wheel onto a piece of velvet cloth, his expression turning serious. "Guard Captain, were any of my subjects harmed?"
