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You decide that perhaps it's time for you to leave the throne. You're old, you're tired, you're getting affected with ailments.
Yes. Yes, it is time. You had a good run. Exactly forty years on the throne, in the age and the land where ten is considered plenty and twenty deserves a separate, commemorative history scripture.
During the next meeting with your court, you announce your desire to abdicate the throne. The courtiers' reactions are mixed; some are relieved, some are sad, some nod heads in agreement, some bemoan this as if it's some world-ending disaster.
You assure them that Houlandin will do fine as your successor.
You are
Houlandin, son of Cyl!Your father has just abdicated, and by the law of the Empire, you ascend to the throne of Methiant! You yourself are getting slightly old, 36 years is nothing to scoff at.
You are
martial genius, and has proven that many times in the history of your princedom. Some people know, most do not care, that you're
homosexual. Being
one-eyed is, nowadays, just a nuisance to you, and some show respect to your battle scarring, too!
You've made one son with Estrid. The girl has always been a faithful companion, and when she found out about your... preference, she swore to protect your secret. Truly, a woman to be rewarded for her loyalty! Llewyn himself is a very
charismatic fellow, his eloquence and silvertongue noted by his tutors, and he loves poetry to boot (gotta score those points with ladies)!
Wearing the decorated, hand-knitted eyepatch for your coronation, you also adorn yourself with the leaf-necklace. Holding the Coronation Staff in your hand, you accept the Imperial Crown from the crowd of courtiers, the Advisor then places it on your bowed head.
What regnal name should you take? You consider this for a moment.
You never were like your father. Except stubborness, you two always warred about something. Dissappointment for him or not, you cannot simply accept his name as regnal name. Shall you go back to the old times of the dynasty, and assume the name of your venerable ancestors?
No, you're a self-made man! Thus, you decide to use your birth name as your regnal name. Long live Emperor of Methiant, and King of Felonsein and King of Ceodwell, also Duke of Eval, Master of Tiftit Hurthlings, the Overlord of Donuth! Long Live
Houlandin I!1154 AD, Late Summer
And now to the first order of business.
Estrid enters your study, wearing a simple dress. You know why she is here, so you take the papers, prepared long ago, from your desk. This has been a mutual agreement made over a decade ago, and finally,
finally, you can set her free.
You sign the papers, meanwhile she sighs with a hint of regret.
"I wish you weren't like this, Houlandin."
"I wish you were a man, Estrid."
She gives you a chaste peck on your cheek, and happily takes her copy of the divorce documents. Llewyn, of course, will remain at the palace as your heir and can visit his mother whenever he wishes. As for Estrid, she is still young; you hope that she will lead a happy life beside that nobleman Ansdwyn (they started seeing each other last Spring, if you remember correctly), in her newly purchased keep and with her newfound riches.
3
Unfortunately, the court isn't that happy about this. People of the Empire will surely dislike having a wife-less Emperor, but what they shall do about it? You have a son and heir, and two of your brothers are still alive. Plenty of dynastical backup there!
Few days later, you have to deal with something else entirely.
The silver mines, the backbone of Methiantese economy, has suffered a terrible flood! Apparently, the miners hit an underground river, and numerous tunnels were flooded, with quite a few miners drowned in the torrential water pouring into the shafts. The administrators of the mines are worried about both the cost and time that will have to be spent to reclaim the flooded areas. Part of the mines is still operational, but the income from them might not even be a third of what the mines produced.
A) I'm sure they can fix them on their own.
B) This is terrible! Let's sponsor their attempt with supplies, money and hired workforce. The silver must flow!!
C) But can they manage this on their own? We should turn to the local experts in mining and geology - that's it, the Dwarves!
Guuuuuuuys, not only you managed to get a single monarch live to his fifties, he also reigned for 40 years AND retired peacefully.
I'm so fucking proud of you guys.
* Haspen sniffles into a handkerchief.