King Richard the Lionheart stood up and the room about him hushed.

"On this proud day in history I would like to announce my intention to reclaim the holy lands," he began. His statement was met with applause, though some of his councilmen looked decidedly unhappy about having their king going off to battle miles from home. "For too long have we allowed heathens to control a major area that should be made clean and peaceable for Christian pilgrims everywhere." More applause; Richard held up his hand. "This being the case I would like to assure you that all pains are being made to insure that my top priority is being taken care of here at home," he paused, "Which of course is you, my people." He smiled at the enthusiasm that met this statement. Yet even as he waited for the court to fall silent again he couldn't help wondering if he was making a mistake. He looked over at his brother, who was sitting on an ornate chair at his right hand. Was he ready? It was impossible to be sure, for John's face was unreadable behind a regal facade, as if he didn't know what was about to be granted to him. Richard sighed, but what else could he do? The crusades were something he had wanted to pursue since he was a tiny boy. But now that the time had come to do so, he hesitated, something Richard had never done before.

He blinked, looking out on the noblemen before him, who were waiting on his every word. Praying to God that this was for the best, he continued.

"I would like to name my brother, John, regent in my place until the time of my return." Richard beckoned for his brother to stand, and there was more, less enthusiastic applause. Richard held his breath; he could not under any means leave if John's authority was not as universally accepted as his own. If it was challenged while he was away he might come home to no throne at all. Yet just as Richard was about to despair his knights took up the chant,

"Long live the King! Long live Prince John!" and soon it was impossible to hear himself think over all the praise. He let out a long sigh of relief. Perhaps he was meant to go on the crusades after all.

As the press of noblemen towards the dais grew stronger Richard glanced over his shoulder to see how John was taking the news. He was smiling and had the look of king about him, his passive look gone. Richard leaned over to shake John's hand, and then enveloped John in a brotherly embrace.

Richard didn't seem to notice that the warmth was not returned.

"Your majesty," pressed John, pulling away from his brother and dropping instead to a courtier's bow.

Richard sighed internally; wishing that court etiquette was not so cold. He nodded to his brother and then to the court, which took up the cheering again. Then the brothers, John following in Richard's wake, left the hall to a fanfare of trumpets that brought the noise level in the hall to an almost oppressive level.

Richard felt his pace quicken even as he descended, feeling the support of his people like a burden settling around his shoulders. He needed air, and quickly.

"Oh, pardon me, my lady!" Richard amended as he collided with one of his courtiers in his haste.

She bowed low, but whatever she said was swept away with the noise. Striking girl, Richard thought as she disappeared, I wonder what her name is.