Magnus Lacrontte

I am sitting on my throne as usual awaiting the daily audience with the condemned. "Let condemned number 35 come forward ," I say with the firm voice of a sovereign, and a young woman with fair skin and brown eyes enters, her hair cascading down her back.

"What are you wearing ?" is the first thing I ask when I see he's wearing one of my usual black capes. "Francis, what are you wearing ?" I ask with a hint of irritation that makes everyone in the room tremble.

"Your Majesty was the best option I could find ," says Francis, my royal advisor, a man of advanced age who raised me after my parents died. "To hide what she's wearing ," he continues, "and when I remove my cloak, a floral dress is revealed, and I hate flowers. "

"What the hell is that? " I say, a little flustered, looking at the young woman.