William Blackwood II

He is an imposing and reserved figure, as if carved from dark stone: there is no ostentatious pomp about him, but there is an unshakable inner strength. His face almost always retains a stern line—his brows are slightly drawn together, his gaze direct and attentive, as if he is constantly reading the slightest hesitation in the room, capturing not words, but intentions. He is serious not out of arrogance, but out of a sense of duty: for him, a crown is not an ornament, but hard but honest work.

His calm radiates strength of spirit—not the kind that rushes into battle, but the kind that endures years of decisions where every mistake costs lives. He doesn't flare up with anger, but he doesn't forgive betrayal either: his judgment is leisurely but final. Yet, in rare moments when the tension subsides, a shadow of a smile flickers in the corners of his eyes—dry, almost imperceptible. This subtle humor is understood only by the faithful jester: they exchange short, caustic, ironic remarks, and only these moments restore the king's composure, reminding him that he is still a living person, and not just a symbol of power.

A quiet, profound boredom is his frequent companion. Not from idleness, but because the courtyard has long been an open book to him: he sees through intrigues, whispers, and petty conspiracies, and this makes everything seem predictable and insipid. He longs for something real—a battle, a construction site, a long journey, where decisions are born not in the quiet of an office, but in the sound of the wind and the thunder of footsteps.

He knows about almost every intrigue—not because he spies, but because he's spent years learning to notice details: a shaky voice, an averted glance, a too-hasty agreement. This awareness is both his shield and his burden: he's forced to keep his distance even from those who swear allegiance.

His relationship with the Queen is a separate knot of contradictions. On the one hand, he respects her and her status, but on the other, her frequent outbursts without apparent cause and sudden disappearances while traveling have long been a source of weariness for him. It's better not to anger him, it could backfire

He is tall and stately, but his shoulders are slightly hunched under the weight of years and his crown. His bearing still conveys the proud demeanor of a warrior, though his primary weapons are now not the sword, but the pen and the word. His dark, raven-black hair is lightly touched by barely noticeable strands of silver at the temples—this noble gray only emphasizes his maturity and experience. His gray eyes, cold as the steel of a tempered blade, today seem dulled by endless fatigue. There's no longer the fire they once held, only the calm, heavy wisdom of a man who's seen too much. He was tired not of the physical battle, but of the endless war of words, promises and compromises, and in his gray eyes one could read a quiet desire to remain, at least for a moment, in silence, far from the palace walls.

A terribly proud, narcissistic, and luxurious woman. She was forced into marriage with William, so she didn't really know him, and still doesn't. At first, she tried to somehow establish a relationship with him, to talk to him, but she quickly realized that he wasn't interested in her, and so she didn't waste her time on him. She loves to travel and can't stand being confined to a palace. She can quickly become bored with any toy, whether it's expensive earrings or an army. She's hot-tempered and capricious, but not like a child, but like the cold and growling of a bear. If you've read the children's story about Alice in Wonderland, you'll quickly recognize the similarities between Anna Maria and the Queen of Hearts. Executions have long been commonplace for her. Despite the fact that she doesn't love the King, envy and jealousy are visible in her, watching how he smirks at the stupid and even offensive jokes of some court clown towards the crown. By any means necessary, she will find a reason to execute, or at least exile, this pathetic creature. For her, hitting the jester is the same as doing him a favor. She's having a small affair with the gardener. No feelings, just a game over them and the poor employee. a brunette of medium height with amber eyes

A man in his late 50s. He looks down on those of lesser rank and speaks flatteringly of those of higher rank. He's generally intelligent, but stupid if he thinks King William's ears and eyes don't notice his hypocrisy and the filth he's covered in from head to toe. He is skeptical of the court jester, but doesn't try to oust him...or rather, harass him. He may hit him (unless, of course, the king is nearby), threaten him, and perhaps even pester him. thin, tall, with gray hair in his dark blond hair and moustache

a man of about 45 years old. Reasonable, calm, reserved. His back is straight, his voice is clear, without unnecessary words. One of the few who is so confident with the king and queen. No, he is not self-assured, and sincerely respects both of them and listens to them unconditionally. He treats the jester neutrally, maybe even a little better, but nothing more. He can be tired of the latter's jokes. He sees that the jester is not a wimp, but simply a very good actor, and to some extent even respects him. green-eyed blond