It was the first thing he noticed when the king walked into the council meeting room.
It was gone.
One man; one beard. One was incomplete without the other, it seemed. That certainly applied to the king. The king without his beard was like a sheep turning into a lamb at the stroke of a razor.
Maybe that wasn't the best comparison, but Duke Gareth couldn't help but make it today. Today his nephew, the king, walked into the room with no beard to speak of at all. After months of it being there, the duke had gotten used to it, marveling at his young nephew's exceptional talent for growing facial hair. But now there was no such thing, and Gareth the Elder blinked at the clean-shaven lamb of a man before him.
Before, the king would seem a man close in age to the rest of his council, including Duke Gareth himself. But now, it was a bit unnerving to see a man even younger than the duke's youngest son leading a discussion about rye crops in the south.
"Your Grace?"
That clear, even voice cut through his thoughts like the sun on a cloudy day. The beardless man had turned to face his equally beardless uncle. King Jonathan was addressing Duke Gareth of Naxen as a king addresses his advisor, not as a nephew addresses his uncle. (Nor as beardless man to beardless man.)
"Would you please make sure that there's enough set aside in the treasury to import from Maren?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"Thank you, Uncle." A flash of companionship ghosted across his face, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced with all kingliness.
Well, Gareth mused as he made the note, Jon may be king at only twenty-four, but he sure is ready for the job. And with an heir on the way―the duke glanced at a very pregnant Thayet on Jon's right―he is only growing up all the faster.
Sure, the beard made Jon look older and wiser than he actually was. But the beard held no sway over the man.