When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Dinner the previous night had been many things but eventful. Lancelot had retired to his room with his half empty bottle of vodka spirit. And he had drank all of it that night, right before falling asleep on the floor, right by his king-sized bed. The pressure was too much for him. How did everyone expect him to fit into the huge shoes they had prepared for him. While half of the Dankworth family looked up to him, it was clear from yesterday's dinner that a greater half resented him and expected nothing but failure from him. How was he to disappoint them all? He had been working, training and schooling towards this period for fourteen years of his life. Yet, it still felt as though he wasn't ready. It was one thing to be born for power, it was another thing to be forced into acc