Wouldn't it be great to be a king? To sit upon a golden throne and command the subjects with a mighty fist. Wouldn't it be great to rule a country? To be a God among men, to be one of history's first rock stars?
Yes, a great life indeed. To be in constant jeopardy from revolutions and assassinations. To be in constant fear of one's life and one's power. In a matter of seconds a dynasty of a thousand years can crumble into ancient dust.
Are the people being fed? Are they happy? If not it's the kings duty to make it so. What about the nobility? What are they doing? What are they plotting? Will it be your end?
Then there are other kings in other lands that would love nothing more than to overrun every hill and valley in your kingdom. In their eyes everything the sun touches is theirs, including the lands that make up your home.
It's as if from every angle, from every direction, there is a threat of some kind or another. Around every corner danger lurks and the king must seemingly dodge a hail of arrows with nothing but his own wits.
Oh yes, it's a great job if one can survive. But with such odds even the strongest is doomed to fail. Instead I'd be the voice behind the curtain, the mouth whispering into the crown-covered ear. I'd be the one to truly run the country, I'd survive every revolution and upheaval and never be in any real risk. Though without glitz and glamour, it has all the power of the king and all of the safety of a peasant farmer.
Yet, despite the risk, people still dream, dream of being a king or queen. They build the castles in their minds and place themselves upon their thrones. I suppose within the mind the danger is nil and the risk is naught but that is no comfort for me. You can keep your golden thrones and mighty crowns, I'll stay hidden behind the wall. Though not a soul will know my name I'll be the most powerful man of all…
