The Image Of A King

Yuraon stood before the tall mirror in a wide gilded frame, his bright blue eyes meticulously scanning his unusual appearance.

The man staring back at him, his own reflection, was someone he did not recognize but was certainly willing to accept. Dressed in impeccably neat noble attire, he finally looked like a king. Or a more commonly acceptable image of a king, as he liked to think.

His attendant, Lord Cyrille, a man slightly older than the King, although equal in his handsomeness and build, stood right behind him, his narrow dark brown eyes continuously running up and down Yuraon's reflection, his expression—a clear sign that he was still unwilling to accept his King's new appearance.

"I still find it far too strange to see you dressed like this. It will probably take quite some time for your subjects to get used to this new look."

Yuraon's lips spread into a wide grin.