He had grown sick of the court. Sick of all the problems the people kept bringing before him. All the complaints. And especially sick of the way the various members of the court whispered among themselves when they thought he wasn't looking. But he was looking. And he did see. He saw far more than they realised. The complaints though were only a symptom. The disease was failure. Incompetence. The things that separated a successful king from a soon to be deposed one. But the problems kept mounting for him. The city was short on food. Destroying the stores had been such a good way to put pressure on King Byron's rule and distract him, but now it was putting that same pressure on his rule. And with the city locked down, no food supplies were able to enter it. They faced the very real prospect of famine. And that in a farming province in the springtime! Water supplies to the city were also compromised. Many of the wells had been contaminated following the destruction caused by the mammoths.
