Alpheo Veloni-isha, Prince of Yarzat and Herculia, Conqueror of the Highlands, Protector of the Lowlands, and the newly minted master of Ozenia, shifted uncomfortably, absentmindedly adjusting and fondling his balls , as the crushing weight of boredom settled over him.
Silk pillows, stuffed to bursting with the finest goose down, cushioned his weight upon the cahir. The purple velvet walls of the pavilion curved overhead to form a plush roof, trapping a pleasant warmth that defied the early winter chill gnawing at the world outside.
It was a strange thing to realize that all of this, the city, the velvet, the very air he breathed, was now legally his. Yet, he didn't have the luxury of gloating. There were far worse eggs to peel at the moment.
As for what?
Well everything for a start would be fitting.
