(James)

The sun hit my eyelids and I sat up, running the comb once through my hair before wriggling out of the fur blankets and pulling my morning coat over the shift I slept in.

The twins were still asleep, they were allowed to be. Asa always slept with his head facing north, Healer John had told him that that was the cure for death at an early age and I don't think he's worked out that he was joking yet. Hadis had managed to roll off of his bed and onto the floor. His nose was at an awkward angle.

I pulled open the door and walked down the corridor to the room where we kept my clothes. My manservant was already in and had pulled out my favourite doublet and trousers. Nothing special was happening today, so I didn't have to look quite as formal.

Once dressed, I headed to the operations room. We weren't allowed to have breakfast until everyone was up and the operations room was my favourite.

The wide map on the table was currently set up depicting the civil war between the Keepers and the Glendowers of the West Country. Father said that they were trying to ally to overthrow the Decretas. In all the books I've read, making pacts with other armies to try and win against the Decretas will only end in civil war.

That's why father raises us the way he does. I need to take Ebia with cunning. We are lucky, living in the south, we are far enough away from the Decretas in La Fer that they don't command over us so harshly, they can't really be bothered with us, don't think us a threat.

Well not yet anyway.

My father is Lord Ethan the fifth of House Balliol, we own many many acres and workers in the south. We do without the Decretas, they assume we follow them to the bone but every day father makes me read another report from Harlev, his informant from the capital. Every day I read of children begging any of the royals for the merest crust of bread and consequently being flogged in the street, or even hung if it was the King they asked. They are my future subjects and when each one dies I feel failure and regret eat away at me. Father says I have to use that regret and turn it into a passion to learn and to organise, so that when I'm king no one will suffer.

I went over to the shelves and pulled off one of the heavy books, it contained the accounts of the last civil war the Balliols fought in. My grandfather fought in that war. He died in it. That too was against the Glendowers. Our army outnumbered them easily, but Ethan Balliol the fourth was a stupid man apparently. His tactics were like nothing my father would ever teach me.

I sat down in the chair by the window. All of the chairs father let me use were hard backed, hard wood, dark brown, that of a nearly-king. When I was the actual king, all my chairs would be solid gold, until then only my dining chair was.

Out of the window I saw something glinting in the morning sunlight. It sweeped and snapped around, and it was Lychorida with her sword. Kiro, her trainer, sat back against the cherry tree and dozed. Lycho isn't allowed to sleep more than four hours on an average night, as she often whinges. If I or any of the other siblings had to try and live off four hours of sleep, we wouldn't be able to manage it, but she can, because she has done her whole life. Father used to wake her up and walk down the beach with her when she was little, and he would drop her in the water if she began to fall asleep.

That's what's so special about each of us; none of us are as good as each other at what we're trained in, but between us we have the ultimate pool of wealth and power.