THE MOMENT
Droning murmurs filled the throne room as Cyrus wandered through the nobles. The new King had been elected a few days before, and now all the Lords and Ladies were there vying for his favors. He was already considered the King, but the coronation itself was still a few days away. It was, of course, a major festival for the kingdom, and things were being prepared.
Cyrus was an adventurer, and there as a traveling guard for one of the nobles. Once they arrived in the throne room, his boss went right to work flattering the King, and told him to stay near. The room was appropriately spacious, and almost exactly like every other throne room Cyrus had been in. He was a well-respected and competent adventurer who got a lot of requests from traveling nobles. He even had plenty of offers for a permanent position, but he preferred the freedom to move around. Even staying at the same inn for more than a couple of days started to feel constraining.
He milled around the great hall, admiring the stonework in the pillars, and just generally distracting himself. He'd been to more than a few similar events for different Kings and he didn't expect much trouble. He didn't entirely lower his guard, but he was rather relaxed and ignoring the constant chatter. Then, he spotted a gleaming, golden pommel.
A stray sunbeam was coming in through the window, and it fell directly on an upright sword sheathed in stone, as if purposely highlighted by the gods above.
"Whoa..., that's a nice one...," Cyrus chuckled to himself. The broad, front surface of the stone that held it glowed with magical runes. He didn't hesitate to stride up to it and give it a solid tug.
The room instantly went silent, and Cyrus couldn't help but notice. He was already stunned when the sword glided out of its container. He felt dozens of eyes on him, and he turned to see the King himself standing and looking at Cyrus, along with every other person in the room; including the guards who now held their spears ready.
"What are you doing?" the King asked. Cyrus was a high-ranking adventurer, and he didn't achieve that without making mistakes. He was quick to recover and slid the sword back into the stone scabbard before putting his hands up.
"Apologies, your Majesty," he gave the impression of a formal half-bow and continued speaking. "It was merely force of habit. Any time I see a sword in stone, I'm tempted to test my worth against its enchantment. I mistakenly believed your country's Sword of Kings to be one such magical blade."
"If it were, we wouldn't have held elections, would we? And, it would more logically be embedded in some sort of giant boulder, not displayed in a custom-crafted granite sheath," the King said.
"I wasn't thinking, your Majesty," Cyrus replied with a firm nod, and he deliberately stepped away from the sword.
"Try to do more of that going forward," the King replied. His stern tone made it obvious how unhappy he was with the interruption. Then, he turned his back to Cyrus and his attention to the nobles again.