No matter how great in power someone is, there’s always something inescapable—chores. Sure, as a ruler, you can hire people to clean for you. But when your people riot and servants go MIA, it’s your job to keep the palace clean.
Correction, my job.
I sweep what I can only hope is the last pile of dirt and dust into the large pile in the middle of the grand hall. The grandest of halls, I made the builders line it with gold, brass, and marble. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to clean any of this. And I can’t find the key to supplies room.
“Sarai must have took it, that punk,” I say to no one but myself.
My voice echoes through hall. It only reminds me of all the nooks and crannies I already cleaned. I stuff as much dirt onto the broom pan as possible, spilling some as I carry it to the trash bin. It takes a few extra moments before I find the floor satisfactory.
I take a large breath and plop into one of the many cushioned chairs. The shine on the brass has browned a bit. The gold, thankfully, does shine once more. Most of the dust disappeared after multiple passes. My heart warms.
Sure, it wasn’t flawless like Sarai and those with her could accomplish. But I had accomplished this. I smiled.
Maybe the revolution wasn’t so bad after all.