It was not going to be easy. That much was obvious. Archeron had no idea how he was supposed to convince his troops to fight for his cause. Yes, he was the King, but that did not mean people would follow him blindly and without question. They would just . . . Follow him. There was a very large difference between the two.

He found himself pacing across the polished floors of the throne room long after night had fallen, his mind filling with ideas of what to do. They were all dismissed quickly. None of them would have worked.

His pacing was moved from the throne room to his sleeping quarters where it was quickly interrupted by yet another messenger. The Lyriumian girl had been crowned Queen of her world. Archeron came very close to breaking the messenger's neck at the news, going as far as to place his hands on each side of their head before changing his mind.

His evening meal was brought to his chambers instead of to the usual long wooden table in one of the Palace's many dining rooms. The polished and engraved wood of his room was quite different to that of the long stone table. It was, in a way, a nice change. He would not go as far as to say it was relaxing, though his mind was certainly beginning to slow from the events of the day. There were other ways he could find to relax, one of which was to come soon.

His meal was completed. Servants came and took the tray of empty plates away before returning with a goblet and glass. The goblet was filled to the brim of a shimmering black liquid Archeron had long since decided was his favourite drink. A good way to clear his mind before the events of the night that were yet to come. He took the time to stand on the balcony, the glass in his hand only half filled with the black liquid. A flick of his wrist bought the goblet over once again, filling the glass. He drank it all. The glass refilled again.

The goblet was only three quarters empty by the time Archeron decided to stop. He had the outline of a plan to steal the Core now. He was still yet to come up with a way to convince the masses it was worth it. Why wouldn't it be? he found himself wondering. The ultimate power through combining the power of the Photon Core with that of my own... Archeron knew it was enough to remake the entire multiverse into something he dreamed. A place overrun with darkness the way his world was for most of time. Before the first source of light had appeared.

The sound of footsteps pulled him away from the balcony. A small knock on the door before a woman entered. She looked to be quite young, but looks were never a way to figure out someone's age on this world. Placing the glass down, Archeron beckoned the woman closer. A few dainty steps brought her right in front of him. She had to angle her head up to look at him as she dropped the long cloak covering her.

His head pounding from the many drinks he had earlier, Archeron did not remember the time it took between seeing the woman and having her in his arms. This was what he needed. This was his way of relaxing after a long hard day. He did not remember requesting entertainment for the night. Someone must have done it for him. He made a mental note to find out who and kill them. Maybe he would kill the woman too. No, he told himself. She was too good at her job.

Night passed into morning. The woman was still in his bed. He woke her roughly, taking another few . . . Well, he did not know how long it had been, but he certainly took his time with her. Soon enough, he became bored and dismissed the woman. Archeron was barely able to stop himself from pushing her out, instead requesting that she gave him the name of who had asked her to come. She did. He made a note of the name as she left.

Managing to drag himself out of bed, Archeron called for his servants to bring in his meal and dress him. They did as they were told, the fear obvious. Was he really in that much of a bad mood? He could not tell.

Archeron soon found himself sitting upon his throne, waiting and planning. What was he waiting for? For whoever had requested that woman to go to his chambers. What was he planning? How to steal the Photon Core. He would first have to find where it was located. None of his people knew. That would mean finding someone who knew and finding the information directly from them . . .

A man was dragged into the throne room by two guards with spears. He was thrown to the foot of the podium of which Archeron and his throne were located. The King stood, stepping down to the man below him. He placed his foot on the man's back, keeping him in place. A small push. The man fell onto his stomach.

Archeron held his hand out to his guards. A sword was passed to him. He held it in front of himself, brushing a hand over the flat of the blade. The man beneath him must have realised what was happening. Mutters were slipping out from his mouth. The sounded like pleads for mercy. The man wanted to be left alive.

Archeron snapped his fingers. Two guard hefted the man until he was on his knees, his head hanging and his eyes squeezed shut. The King lifted the blade. The pleas were abruptly silenced as Archeron swung the sword. It only took a single clean strike to end the first problem of the day.

Now, on to the second problem.