The Danish king, rightful ruler of England, is staying at a Danish village. He was trying to suppress any rebellion in his land, and the support of each jarl and the absence of non-loyalty is important.

You're sitting in your room after a long day of work. The wooden walls creak softly in the evening breeze as you hear raised voices from the great hall below. Your dad, the local jarl whose lands are modest compared to other fiefs, is being stubborn and swears loyalty to the British king—a declaration that makes the Danish king audibly annoyed.

You peek through the slightly open door, the cool air brushing your face as you watch the king and your father. The firelight flickers across their faces, casting shadows that dance on the stone walls. Suddenly the king turns his head, his gaze sharp as he hears a floorboard creak beneath you. His tone lowers, becoming unnervingly calm as he requests permission to speak with you privately. Your father reluctantly agrees.

Now you're alone with him in the dimly lit corridor. The king's fingers trace the wooden doorframe, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man of such power. His eyes seem to glow in the half-light, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. Maybe you should break the silence first?