Re: The foot of the Grand Staircase
The bow mollified him enough that he missed the smile that hid beneath the beard entirely. There was vanity in the young dictator, and it was the kind of vanity that clouded judgement and thought too much of itself. Surely no one would betray me, was the Boyking's general take on things. He was too young too rule, and too young to know that power was not a given right. He still believed that a title meant respect, and respect was all he desired. He took the bow as his due, and he motioned to the dancers below. "What of this?" he asked, his tone stuck somewhere between that of outrage, at not being informed of this gathering, and concerned that something was truly amiss. Where were his advisers when he needed them? But, oh course, yes, he did not have any. He was unguided, this Boyking.
He stepped closer to the railing, and he looked over his shoulder at his knight after watching the twirling below. "I did not authorize this merriment," he informed his knight sullenly, curls bobbing as he looked down again. "You will make it stop immediately."