<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="360" width="640"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/2OMFkTM5Mrs"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><embed height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/v/2OMFkTM5Mrs" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="640" wmode="transparent"/></object></div><br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-family: Papyrus;"><span style="color: #FF4000"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-align: center;">King Allistair</div></span></span></span></span></span><br/><br/>A morning sun's first rays of light shines down upon a sleepy kingdom named Scarborough. Its citizens were just waking up from their slumber the night before. It remained a peaceful kingdom albeit on the smaller side, but not so tiny that they would have any sort of trouble trying to hold their ground against others. The birds sang and dominated the sky on a usual, lazy spring morning. Flowers budded from the ground here and there throughout the kingdom and opened their petals to praise the sun for its warmth. The towns to the east of the kingdom where the marketplace and the business region lay were just getting settled into their bustle for the morning, the farms to the west were already being hoed and tilled by farmers who'd rose even before the sun, to the south lay the residential area and the town surrounding the castle, and to the north was the castle and epicenter of the entire kingdom.<br/><br/>The castle staff were already at work. The kitchens were cooking breakfast for the staff as well as for the King and his usual accompaniment to breakfast. He usually ate with his wife, his general, his archivist, and a few of the other staff about the castle such as some of his select knights and his heads of various jobs at the castle. He liked to know what was going on when it was going on and discussion over a meal proved an opportune time. He liked to look at them as his family since they were all he really had after his mother and father's passing. He'd even come to see his general as his brother since they were only a short 6 years apart. Being the younger of the duo, he often would consult his "brother" about things whether they were personal matters or matters to do with the military. He trusted his judgment with his life.<br/><br/>Allistair was roused from his slumber by a familiar tapping that came to him each morning when he would rise from his slumber. He opened his eyes and peered through the dark mop of onyx hair in front of his face to find he was laying on his side facing his chamber door. He spoke at the noise his voice coated in a gravelly sort of tone remnant from sleep,<span style="color: #FF4000">"Yes?"</span>A maid's voice answered in return, "Your highness, it's nearly seven chimes. Your breakfast is nearly ready."<br/><br/>He sat up with a stretch and glanced beside him at his wife and offered a soft smile at her form whether or not she was still sleeping. He loved her with his whole being. If it was for her happiness, it would be done. She was another that had gained his trust after the death of his family, and she held it above everyone else. He spoke in return to the maid once more,<span style="color: #FF4000">"Very well then. We will be down."</span><br/><br/>He leaned down kissing his wife's forehead gently before whispering to her,<span style="color: #FF4000">"Darling, it's time to rise and shine." </span><br/><br/>After that he stood himself and stretched once more before moving to the wardrobe to get himself dressed and ready for the day.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00"><span style="font-family: Lucida Calligraphy;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-align: center;">Harold the Archivist</div></span></span></span></span><br/><br/>Harold didn't start his morning off quite as gently as his highness. He was roused from his sleep when he felt a soft sort of tickling on his arm. The man grumbled in his slumber and shifted slightly trying to fall back into the land of dreams. He often worked later than he should, and when morning came, it was a task for him to get going. Especially in his advanced age. The tickling persisted until finally he opened his eyes to see what it was his vision blurred and clouded with sleep. It took a few blinks before he realized where he was or what was touching him.<br/><br/>When he did come to he woke with a start jerking into an upright position. The reason? He found he'd fallen asleep at his desk once more whilst categorizing, and he'd left his window open only to allow a crow to fly into his window and begin to peck at the shiny ring he wore on his right hand. The crow squawked and began to flutter about wildly and blow a few papers into the floor before darting out the window from whence it came.<br/><br/>Harold swore his heart was beating as loudly as thunder cracked, but gathered himself and looked around. He mumbled a few unsatisfactory words under his breath as he straightened his stiff back and tried to get loosened up. He needed to clean his mess. There were papers in the floor and now bird feathers, a few books, and he noticed a couple of quills and ink wells dripping their contents onto his majesty's tiled floor. He must've fell asleep when using his magic to record multiple things at once and now he'd made a mess.<br/><br/>He knelt down using a handkerchief to begin wiping up ink as he wondered where his apprentice had ran off to.