Oscar strode into the council chamber, at 8 am sharp, the next day, the heavy oak doors swinging shut behind him with a resounding thud. Around the table sat a collection of generals, advisors, and emissaries- each a familiar face, though this morning each wore a shadow of apprehension. They rose to greet him, but he could sense the doubt in their stiff, formal bows.
Since his father’s death, whispers had spread through the ranks. Was he truly prepared to shoulder the weight of two wars?
As if his father had ever been a good leader. As if Oscar had not been king all along when his father passed away.
The murmurings hadn’t escaped him. Some questioned his restraint, his judgment, and his commitment to the crown’s legacy. But Oscar knew long before he was crowned king, that being his
