“My liege! You’re not supposed to come here!” Gebb, Sonnabeg’s town head and an old Orabean, sermonized. He was appointed herself by the late Naim Queen, King Raithen’s mother when just took over the throne. The need for the appointment was done when the predecessor died of an unknown disease.
Thirty-four-year-old King Raithen jumped off the leith, followed by his six saighs. He glanced at the three-story abode that stood prominently before him. It was made of gold bricks with deep-slope roof of the same color. He’d been here before during the appointment and oathtaking on the same day. He could still remember the vast front yard with well-cut grass and dwarf white palm trees that lined up on the right side. From where he stood, nothing changed view-wise.
The old Orabean stood near the r
