"What is this crap? You mean to embarrass me don't you?" Fraser yelled at his third tailor. No one could get the idea in his head created to his liking. They all presented him with an outfit similar to the ones past kings had when they were crowned king. He wanted to be different. He wanted to stand out. "Get out of my sight. How am I supposed to get my portrait done wearing this filth?" He asked, tossing the waste of material onto the floor.
"P-please allow me to fix it," the tailor said, getting down on his knees to apologize and pick up what he worked hard on.
"Fix it? You should be happy I don't have your head for wasting my time. Leave before I throw you in the dungeon," said Fraser.
Beth watched from the shadows as her son failed before he was crowned king. She waited until the tailor left before making her presence known. "Fraser, how many times must I tell you to control that temper? You are not making me proud when you act this way," she said.
