Niklas König of Königreich der Welten
Niklas opened his eyes, awaking from a dreamless sleep as suddenly as he would if he sensed danger. He kept his breathing even, in the dark, shadowy room, casting out his senses to detect the slightest anomaly. But no- nothing. And he was confused, because he did not easily wake up if there was nothing wrong, and he couldn't detect anything.
Then it came to him- there were sounds in the room below. Sounded like some richman brought in a companion, and they probably hadn't gotten on squick of sleep during the night. He mentally shrugged it away; life was life, and while most wouldn't dare to act out of turn around him, there were still some that were less than sensible.
He rolled out of bed, letting the movement to get out and get on his feet without faceplanting be his wake-up call, enough to clear out what's left of his drowsiness. He stretched luxuriously, happy that he wasn't sore as he had been for the majority of his life, and then brought his hand down on the alarm clock by his bed. Not even a second after its alarm started, his hand smacked against the top of it, silencing its wails.
He stood still for a moment, just breathing. He glanced at the clock- 6 a.m.- and mentally groaned at the coming day. Diplomatic missions he could do, but now he was supposed to mix with the royalty of everyone else. As far as they knew, he bet, he was their lesser, the one that didn’t grow up in a castle, but in a military academy. No matter; if they didn’t like him, then it didn’t matter- Niklas König of Königreich der Welten was their better, and if they didn’t see that, they soon would. Maybe not so soon; his father hadn’t arrived yet, so everything wasn’t in place, yet.
Donning the white shirt, gray slacks, and gray suit vest he had set out the day before, ensuring the presence of the small black, red, and yellow flag pinned to the pocket on the left side of his chest. He pinned his Weltarmee SS-geschützt emblem- shown as an eagle holding an olive branch, and an older bolt-action rifle, wings spread, in an angular fashion, with a gold border and the coloring of the eagle being the colors of the flag- right next to his country’s flag pin.
He went to his bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments. Muttering to himself, he went back into his room and took off both layers of his upper torso; this time, he added the thin, special-forces grade combat protection vest. Strapping it around himself, he tightened the straps almost as tight as he could make them. He took a deep breath, and then loosened the two straps around his torso, so he could actually breath. Then he threw on his white shirt and gray vest, and returned to the mirror- all good, barely noticeable that he had extra bulk. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with him wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
Nodding to himself, he relieved himself in the bathroom. Finishing up, he searched around for his belt, and slipped it around his waist, cinching it tight. He went ahead and attached the holster for his handgun on his right hip, but left it empty, forgoing it for the sake of diplomacy- no Royal would take kindly to another walking in openly armed. Instead, he left the handgun in its case on the nightstand by his bed.
Continuing on, he pulled out a pair of thicker, more substantial dress shoes. He checked the bottoms of both carefully, including the slight heel they bore, before pulling on his socks, and then the shoes themselves. Satisfied, he clipped a decorative chain to one of his belt loops next to his empty holster, and attached the other side to his wallet- which held his money, ID, and other items.
Now satisfied with his outfit, he considered calling his father- but no, his father would not appreciate being questioned. So instead, he walked halfway to the door, surveyed his temporary living space, and wondered why, exactly, he needed to be here. He felt as if he were forgetting something; but that could wait for later. Instead, he turned again, and walked out the door, keycard in pocket.
He glanced both ways in the hallway; one way, a maid stood, staring wide-eyed at one of the most important young’uns in the world. The other way- the elevator. He chose the elevator.
The specially imported SUV was practically a tank, compared to other cars. It was standard when transporting the Royalty of Königreich der Welten, because of their status and some of the peoples’ grudges held against them. His chauffeur was also from Königreich, being his personal servant and all. He was a fine driver; he navigated through the city with apparent ease, even though the people driving here were way dumber than the ones back at home.
Eventually they pulled up to the castle’s main entrance, other people emerging from their own vehicles, most of them big fancy limos or the like. No matter; Niklas knew that they were inferior to the König-made SUV slash tank, black and sleek. All the other royal families had their parents, and brothers and sisters, and he was here, an only child, with a nonexistent mother, and a father busy elsewhere.
It was nothing more than the usual, and he strode right past the other, much slower groups, exuding confidence like a cologne, despite his loneliness. He would be acting as both the Prince and the König, today, speaking with both Kings and Queens, as wells as Princes and Princesses. Speaking of which, the Mei’An girl that he had been engaged to was supposed be here- but to turning around to face them might seem arrogant, pretentious maybe. So he walked right ahead, unable to catch up with the earliest two or three families that had come.
He felt nervous, sure. He was meeting the royalty of a dozen different kingdoms, maybe, all prominent and powerful, all of them targeted by one organization or the other, including him. It was a dangerous gamble, gathering them all here- if there was ever a terrorist attack, now would be time for it to happen, with the leadership of so many prominent governments here.
He glanced up at the balcony hanging over the main entrance, noting the Aciras royalty standing there, locking eyes with the Princess. He stared only for a moment, before returning to his straight-forward stoic stare, keeping his face impassive. It would do no good to show emotion; it could get him friends, or enemies, depending on the other person’s personality and feelings towards him.
So he followed the other people right in, feeling nervous butterflies rising, and hoping he could keep up with his father’s expectations. He did not pause, he did not slow, but walked straight up even with the rest of the royalty ascending the short steps into the castle, confident that they are equals, or he above them.
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