POV: Ethan Williams
The first rays of dawn filtered through the crystal-paneled windows of the Ducal Estate, setting the room aglow with soft golden light. Birds chirped in synchrony, as if the entire natural world had rehearsed to welcome the chosen one.
Ethan Williams opened one eye.
"Ugh. Too bright. Tell the sun to tone it down," he muttered, burying himself deeper into his silk-stitched pillow mountain.
Knock knock.
"Young Lord Ethan," came the crisp, too-cheerful voice of Alfred, his personal butler of fifteen years, "your schedule for the day awaits."
Of course it does.
Ethan groaned and sat up, his platinum-blonde hair falling messily over one eye. With an annoyed flick, he brushed it back and looked at the tall man holding a crystal pad.
"Read it," Ethan said flatly.
Alfred adjusted his monocle. "At 8 a.m., a breakfast banquet with the Imperial Algae Guild…"
