A king, huh?

Amity mulled the idea over, as the others went through their answers. It was an interesting prospect, one he’d never really thought about. In a way, he was already king; the people of Starpeak bowed to him, whether they realized it or not. He saw it in every shift of the trading routes, in the fear of every noble’s gaze, in the blood of anyone who got in his way.

But if he were truly King… the dynamic would change.

Servitude to the kingdom would no longer be without thought, without sacrifice, without suffering. No; to give oneself to the cause of the Kingdom would be painful and unrewarding, at least in the earthly sense. The soldiers would be underpaid, the nobles would be cast out, and punishments levied against agents of the state would be balanced against them.

To serve the Kingdom would be an act of altruism. An expression of faith. Only those willing to give without taking would be anointed to carry any sort of authority. If there should not be enough soldiers to fill the barracks, enough mages to maintain the college, enough civil servants to keep things running… then he would let it crumble, and it would be their fault.

He pauses, as it comes around to him, and he says: “I’d let the whole damn thing fall apart. Take the throne and run it into the goddamned ground. Let ‘em hate me, so that they get the wisdom to hate kings in the future, too.”

His answer is sharp, and pessimistic… but the plan lingering in the back of his mind betrays a spark of hope, that maybe there’s a chance they’d make things right.