I don’t really want to be a lord, but everybody in my family expects it of me. Especially my father. He has been a king ever since he turned twenty and took the throne from his father, and he expects that any day now I will try to steal the throne from him. It’s the vicious cycle of our little kingdom but I don’t really want to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors.
Not many people realise that Melbourne still has a kingdom. We are in the north-east of the city, taking up the size of approximately one suburb. Most people here like to pretend that we are still living in the dark ages, but every once in a while somebody with a smartphone and an online blog (like myself) comes along and breaks the immersion. I don’t really understand why anybody would want to pretend they live in the darkest period of the world’s history, though. Father says I will understand when I am older, but I don’t think I will.
Oh, if only I could get career change advice near Melbourne and become something other than a noble, but I’m afraid that doesn’t really count as a career in the first place. Would I even qualify for career counselling? I doubt it.
All I want is to settle down with that peasant girl I’m hopelessly in love with, even though she will always see me as an entitled brat who contributes to the system of oppression she and her father live under (by choice, mind you). If I could just find a career counsellor within Melbourne who was willing to help me change, maybe Alice would notice me. If I could become a simple cobbler, butcher or blacksmith, would we have a chance of being together?
I doubt it. Once, I tried talking to Alice in the street, and she said that she would rather swallow a bucket of lard than hang out with anybody related to King Carrion II. That’s probably not a good sign.