Whitney Writes…

The first day of Gudstar’s rule, he set about visiting each of the work stations that kept his palace running. He made a quiet assessment of what type of person would work best in each station. Workers at the mill would need keen perception to spot the flaws in building materials to construct better structures. Cooks in the kitchen would need to be considerate of the tastes of others, but also inspired to think outside the box. Weavers at the loom would need to consider the weight of the fabrics they should weave for various seasons, and also creative to create fabrics that inspired the sewers. And so on.

Once he completed those assessments, he began assessing his potential work force. He offered retirement to all the old staff that his grandfather had filled positions, poorly, with, stating they had earned their rest. Over the coming weeks, Gudstar began slowly filling the positions of his work stations with people he felt demonstrated the traits he thought the most desirable for each position. Within months he had the palace running smoother than it ever had before. It reached a standard that even his grandfather had failed to achieve. And most of all… Gudstar’s subjects were happy. Those he had working were enjoying the work they did and enjoying those they did it with.

He also implemented a lottery system for those living in the palace to have babies. If they were all just procreating, as they had been for generations now, all over the place, the palace would become as overrun as it was currently. So whilst he had his kitchens running in tip-top shape, there were still far too many souls living within the walls of Gudstar’s palace.

Gudstar then set about creating an ambassador program, setting up those who did not fit his job slots with small pensions and provisions to allow them to travel abroad and bring their unique set of skills to other castles. The program was such a shocking success, that after the first wave of people left, Gudstar threw a ball on his midyear anniversary of his coronation.

On the night of his grand party, the throne was bedecked with glowing red lanterns, tables piled with delicious smelling food. A beautiful, soft music floated through the giant chamber. Gudstar had made certain that everyone had the funds to procure a new gown or suit, as they wished. And as he stood upon the balcony opposite the music, he watched as his throne room filed with his people. He smiled as he watched their happy faces looking around at the transformation that had come over the room.

He could remember the struggles his mother had had, always claiming the people were “impossible to please”. And his brother, Rolund I, had struggled along after her death. But Gudstar found it incredibly easy. He made them feel heard, feel seen, feel appreciated. He went out of his way once a week to travel to the work areas in the palace to see how everyone was getting on, what they needed. And even when there were needs he could see, they were often so eager to please him that they said nothing. Obviously, Gudstar saw to any repairs or needs he saw while he was present, mentioned or not, and that seemed to go further. He trusted they would speak up if they were desperately unhappy, and they trusted he would notice before that.

Gudstar had listened to Ulfric’s advice – though via his son, Tangarion – to steer clear of advice from his father, or anyone, really, unless he was well and truly conflicted. Gudstar had found the freedom both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Thus far, he had found his instincts to be sound. On the few occasions he had mis-stepped and angered someone, he had reflected and approached them within a day to find a hopeful solution. He found he earned greater respect in doing that than just pretending he had not erred.

As the moonlight filtered in through the high, round, rose stained-glass window, Gudstar found himself smiling, watching the happiness radiating off these people. His people. Together, they would create a bright future.

Inktober 2024, Prompt #30: VIOLIN🧡🖤👻🎃