Agnar
The table creaked under the weight of steaming yam, golden fried eggs, and crusty bread. The air smelled faintly of garlic and oil, mingling with the sharper sweetness of palm wine. Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, painting the room walls in stripes of gold. My brothers were sprawled along the benches, loud and restless as always.
I tilted the pot a little, piling more food onto his plate. “Enough for you, your majesty?”
He stared at the yam and eggs, then smiled. “Yes, Agnar. Thank you.”
I took my place at the head of the table before realizing something. “Guys, the king will be joining us for lunch.”
Sebastian snickered. “No s**t, Sherlock.”
“I know, right?” Etienne chipped in, leaning towards Sebastian conspiratorially. “There was no way we could have figured that
