Nolan found himself in the most puzzling predicament, where all the clues suggest that he is perhaps a King. The peculiar garments he wore, the reverent address of "His Majesty" from the servants, all left little room for skepticism. His initial inclination to dismiss this as a mere cosplay event faded away, tying him in countless thoughts.
Yet, despite the apparent confirmation of his royal identity, Nolan's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and anxiety. The abrupt transition from his quiet afternoon at the library to this extravagant court had left him utterly bewildered. He struggled to make sense of the circumstances that had led him here, as this breaks any laws of sense.
"My Lord! Are you sick?"
The servant's voice broke through his thoughts once more as his restlessness and lack of response drives the servant ever so nervous. Since his arrival in this unfamiliar setting, the servant has diligently attended to him.
"Please, quieten your concerns. I am well enough." He tried to assure the servant.
"Yes, My Lord! But, please do let me know of any faults."
Scrutinizing the scene before him, it became evident that the nobles were embroiled in a heated debate, their voices rose above one another in a discordant symphony.
Amidst the quarrels, a voice interrupted through the grand hall. An elderly man, adorned in fancy attire befitting a military figure, demanded silence.
"I demand silence!" his voice boomed. "Is this the conduct befitting of nobles? Particularly in the presence of His Majesty!"
The noble crowd halted their verbal barrages. The debate, however, continued albeit in a more organized manner, the nobles gathering around two prominent podiums in the center of the hall. A nobleman with a self-assured posture would stand at one podium and question those gathered at the opposing one and proclaimed.
"The traitor, Julian, has forsaken his oath and declared war upon us! Why must we engage in a futile debate? We must bring him to justice and punish him for his treachery!"
A chorus of cheers erupted from the supporters of this notion, expressing their endorsement through a simultaneous hitting upon their desks.
However, their cheers were abruptly halted as the noble at the opposing podium took his turn to counter.
"Surely, His Majesty is aware of our dire financial situation. Our treasury is depleted from relentless conquests, leaving us incapable of even paying ransoms, let alone raising an army. It is necessary that we seek a negotiated peace!".
Nobles in support to this stance joined in, their voices raised in approval.
As an observer in this grand hall, Nolan noted the arguments. It seemed that a "traitor" risked abdication of the ruler, which is him.... and that means Julian is a threatening influence to his survival. However, Nolan lacked vital information. He didn't even know the name of the country he was supposed to rule. It was like being thrown into a complex puzzle with pieces missing, and he struggled to piece together the bigger picture.
As the courtiers' fervor intensified, Nolan's anxiety heightened. He was ill-prepared for such a role, never having learned the etiquettes and language befitting a King.
He gulped in anxiety, never before did he speak to so many people. But he needed to tackle this situation in any case. Remembering his earlier case with the servant, he feigned sickness, deliberately taking heavy breaths and pretending to be restless. His hope was that the servant would notice his discomfort and take him away under the pretense of a "check-up," and he succeeded.
"M-my Lord, You really are sick! Please let us escort you to the your room." Nolan nodded in affirmation to the servant's request.
As the guards swiftly approached, ready to escort him out of the courthouse, he overheard from the hall.
"His Majesty is currently unwell and cannot grant any further audience. The debate shall resume tomorrow. The assembly is dismissed!" The words were uttered by the same old man, who evidently seemed to hold a position of higher regard among the nobles.
The simultaneous cheers of "Brilliance to the Empire!" followed the proclamation from the nobles.
"My Lord, the doctors will be arriving soon," one of the more decorated guards informed him. "It is fine. I only require a moment of rest," Nolan replied.
However, the guard persisted, "As the first spatharios, the well-being of His Majesty is my utmost priority!"
The title of "first spatharios" did intrigued him, it probably held a great importance, considering the guard's elaborate attire in comparison to other guards.
"No need to be worried, I am fine," he reassured him once more.
After some time, they reached the door to the king's chamber. The guards offered their services and left, finally leaving Nolan alone. Without hesitation, he swiftly entered and jumped towards the enormous bed.
Lying on the enormous bed, Nolan couldn't shake the surreal sensation of being in a dream—of being a King in an unknown land. Thoughts of his family crossed his mind, and he wondered how they were reacting to his inexplicable disappearance.
However, he shook such depressing thoughts, 'I must remain focused', resolved to be determined.
As he was resting, his thoughts swirled with the knowledge he had gathered so far. He was thrust into the past, embodying the role of a King with no memory of how he arrived here. The debates had revealed a potential threat in the form of Julian, a traitor who sought to dispose of him.
'I need to think of dealing with that, somehow.... Perhaps I will visit the library tomorrow to gain any knowledge. I hope I can also decipher their writing system'.
However, he was tired. Though the roads ahead are full of challenges, a good rest is a must to refill his energy and deal with tomorrow's hassles.
So, he went to sleep.