Chapter Sixty-One

The early days of Nikolas’s reign were a whirlwind of activity. The echoes of the coronation still lingered in the air, but already the weight of his duties pressed heavily upon him. The young king found himself rising before the sun and retiring well into the night, determined to meet the enormous expectations placed upon him. Despite the ceremony’s jubilation, the challenges now loomed like towering shadows ahead, and Nikolas knew he had no room for hesitation.

His first act as king was to assemble a council meeting in the royal chambers. The men and women seated at the table were the kingdom’s guiding minds—a mix of veterans of Charles’s reign, those who had advised Gibson, and a few youthful faces representing the future. Each advisor brought experience, but they also bore differences of opinion, priorities, and passions. The task of unifying them rested on Nikolas’s shoulders.

Seated at the head of the long, ornately carved oak table, Nikolas glanced around the chamber. The morning light poured in through the high stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the room, a stark contrast to the gravity of their discussion. Olivia sat close by, pen poised to record details, always a steady and calming presence. Advisor Bennett, a wise but sharp-tongued diplomat who had once served Charles, cleared his throat, and interrupted the chatter.

“My king,” he began, addressing Nikolas with an almost loving sternness, “it would be prudent for us to review the state of our alliances first. Though Charles’s legacy has tied us closely with neighboring nations, such bonds must be actively nurtured.”

“As ever, Bennett, timing is key,” interjected Lord Darnell, a robust man with a deep, resonant voice. “Yes, alliances are critical, but the kingdom is still recovering from Charles’s loss. Our people hunger for stability, not diplomacy.”  

Nikolas raised his hand, silencing the disagreement. “Our people deserve both,” he said with measured softness. “If we fail to focus on external relations, alliances may falter, leaving vulnerabilities we can ill-afford. At the same time, we must redouble efforts to strengthen stability within. These goals are not mutually exclusive.”  

There was a murmur of approval from some at the table, silence from others. It was a careful dance Nikolas sought to tread—one that he hoped would balance legacy, pragmatism, and his own vision for the future.

Deciding to act decisively, Nikolas turned to Gibson, who had opted for a less central position at the table but whose wisdom and steadying influence were cherished. “Father, you’ve dealt closely with the neighboring kingdoms for decades. Can I count on your guidance as we navigate this?”

Gibson nodded, his weathered face betraying pride. “Of course, Nikolas. We’ll arrange for envoys to make rounds with our most trusted allies. Charles always believed in strengthening bonds through trust, not just treaties. That approach must continue.”

As the meeting progressed, the topics ranged from irrigation systems in the kingdom’s drought-prone south to the protection of merchant routes in the north. Yet, every issue circled back to a single theme—change. Nikolas leaned on his advisors for insights but did not shy from making his own voice heard. He understood the fine line between listening and leading.

By the time the council disbanded, the sun had risen higher in the sky, casting a golden glow on the palace grounds. When Nikolas stepped out into the open air of the royal balcony, accompanied by Olivia, he let out a small breath of relief. Preparing for kingship and living in it were two entirely different things.

“The more decisions I make, the more I realize how many decisions remain,” Nikolas confessed quietly as he rested his hands on the marble balustrade.  

Olivia stood by his side; her expression thoughtful. “You bear the weight of the crown differently than Charles or Gibson. Less by command, more by collaboration. That is why they both believed in you.”  

He gazed across the sprawling city beyond the palace walls. The streets were alive with activity, but he noticed the signs of strain—buildings in need of repair, marketplaces that lacked the same bustling vibrancy they had years ago. There was a lot of work ahead.

“Sometimes I wonder if I would’ve been better prepared had I asked Charles more questions,” Nikolas admitted softly, his voice tinged with regret. “He taught me so much, but I never imagined losing him so soon.”  

Olivia placed a hand over him. “He trusted you to find the answers within yourself. He saw that you had what it takes, even if you haven’t seen it yet. And Nikolas, you’re not alone in this.”

Her reassurance steadied him, as it always did.

The days that followed saw Nikolas delve headfirst into the demands of ruling. He approached his role with equal parts determination and introspection, seeking to honor his grandfather's legacy while setting a course uniquely his own. His mornings began with council meetings—focused and rigorous discussions that covered everything from the stability of domestic trade to the intricate nuances of foreign relations. Yet among these duties, he remained acutely aware of the people he served, mindful that their welfare was the cornerstone of his reign.

Nikolas's next major decision came with a proposal to overhaul the kingdom's agricultural policies. The southern regions, long plagued by drought and inadequate irrigation, had suffered under years of law that catered more to the nobility than the needs of the peasantry. “Charles often spoke of reforming these lands,” Nikolas said during the council's third gathering of the week had his voice had steady. “But the time for planning has passed. We must act.”

“Your Majesty,” Advisor Bennett interjected cautiously, “might I suggest we tread carefully? Drastic changes often provoke unrest, especially among the landowning class.”

Lord Darnell, uncharacteristically silent until now, turned to Bennett with a sharp look. “Unrest, yes, but only from those unwilling to see the greater picture. Reform is inevitable, particularly if we’re to sustain this kingdom’s prosperity.”

Nikolas nodded, giving Darnell a glance of approval. “The southern harvests have failed to meet demand for years. If our people must rely on imports, we weaken our position both economically and strategically. A new irrigation system is non-negotiable, but I am open to suggestions on execution.”

Olivia, sitting to his right, spoke up. “Shall we consider forming a council specific to this issue? Representatives from the south, advisors from this court, and the engineers who’ll oversee the implementation. At the very least, it will ensure that all voices are heard, and the project moves forward with both speed and prudence.”

Her suggestion was met with murmurs of agreement, and Bennett, perhaps wary of stalling further, quickly nodded. “That would be wise, Your Majesty.”

The council adjourned soon after with a renewed sense of purpose, and Nikolas spent the remainder of the day reviewing details of the proposal with engineers and emissaries. His hands soon grew familiar with blueprints and maps, his mind quickly absorbing facts about water allocation and crop cycles. Though the work was taxing, it gave him a sense of clarity. This was where Charles had always excelled—planning for the prosperity of future generations.

A fortnight later, Nikolas found himself drawn to the bustling streets of the capital, a desire stirring within him to reconnect with the pulse of the kingdom. Discreetly accompanied by Olivia and a handful of guards in simple attire, he ventured beyond the palace walls. The market square was alive with energy: vendors called out to passersby, children weaved between stalls, and the scent of fresh bread mingled with that of spices and roasted meats.

Yet, as vibrant as the scene appeared, Nikolas could not miss the strain that lingered beneath the surface. A tailor haggled desperately for fair payment, a farmer spoke with anguish about the decline of his yield, and an elderly woman muttered about the rising cost of oil. These were not complaints of discontent per se, but reminders of the hardships left unresolved in the wake of Charles’s passing.

“What do you think of our kingdom, Olivia?” Nikolas asked as they paused by a fountain where a group of children splashed merrily, oblivious to the struggles of their elders.

Olivia’s gaze momentarily softened as she watched the children before meeting Nikolas’s eyes. “I think it’s a kingdom of potential—one that has endured great trials and yet remains strong. But its strength is fragile. The people need to see that they’re supported. That their king sees them not as subjects but as people.”

Nikolas pondered her words for a moment, then turned back to the market square. He approached a fruit vendor, his guard subtly keeping close watch. “Good day,” he greeted the man behind the stall.

The vendor, an aging man with bright, weathered eyes, hesitated before bowing slightly. “Good day to you, sir.”

Nikolas reached for a ripe apple, studying it thoughtfully. “You must see much of the city here in this market. Tell me, how are things?”

The man, uncertain of whether his answer was truly being sought, hesitated again before speaking. “The city fares as it always has, I suppose, though times haven’t been easy. The harvest was poor this season, not that it’s any news to someone like you.”

Nikolas smiled warmly, placing a coin in the man’s hand before taking the apple. “News reaches the palace, but not always the heart of the matter. Your honesty is appreciated—it helps more than you might think.”

Before the vendor could respond, Nikolas turned back toward Olivia.