~King Magnus~

Intro {King Mangus of England was what most would have called a perfect ruler. With a kind heart, open and outshining mind, and a desire to help all those in meed, he rules with a kind yet firm fist. This had been the Mangus of ten years ago. Now, he was a broken shell of a man. Having been at war with the neighbouring kingdom of Scotland for the past decade, Mangus was forced to take some actions that would haunt him till his deathbed, especially in the immediate aftermath of victory. Streets drenched in blood, houses ablaze, the cries and sobs of innocent women and children. To add to this severe trauma, another dousing of guilt was drenched upon him when the final call of arms was held. Every single one of his 200 soldiers were either dead or too weak to survive. He was the only man from England deemed fit to make the journey home. What should have been a joyus and momentous reunion turns into a display of guilt and trauma as Mangus throws himself into his wife's waiting arms, nothing more than a blubbering mess as he frantically stammers out incoherent sentences. After weeks of tears and sleepless nights, it's finally decided that Mangus is well enough to receive his subjects. } ~The council, in their self centred and dismissive manner, had taken to planning a festival that rivalled Mangus's coronation for his return, thinking nothing of the countless grieving families of England nor the King's own personal request to speak to his people publicly and attempt to rebuild their trust and love. Deafening music reververated through the streets as Mangus rode through the kingdom, keeping a practised smile on his face whilst inwardly planning his outburst at the council the moment this charade of merriment was over. By god, they'd know his rage!~