Ahsan listened to the Mistress of Domestics prattle on, the old woman’s voice like a mosquito circling his ear. For three days now, he’d been crammed full of as much information on palace protocol and etiquette and city law as was possible on such short notice. Had he not been able to read, it would have been an impossible task. Literacy was a rare commodity, seldom necessary outside of marketplaces and temples, yet one that would certainly be expected of a king. At least the education his father paid for would not go entirely to waste.
After being instructed to not make a scene upon tasting the kitchen’s many delicacies and to not marvel at every inch of the architecture’s craftsmanship, he was subjected to memorizing the duties of the throne. Or, at least those that were required of him
