Tiny sprinkles of rain trickled down the window of my humble room. The sky was filled with scowling clouds, reassembling a tremendous canvas of dark shades of grey. As I gazed outside, thousands of thoughts began flooding my mind, arousing the anxiety I had tried so hard to control. A chill ran down my spine as I realized that in no more than a couple of hours, my unworthy being would be standing before the beloved King of England and Scotland, James I. The sound of horses neighing broke me out of my trance and in no time, I found myself sitting in the luxurious royal carriage sent to take me to the king`s residence.
The village was by far the most poverty-stricken place I had ever seen. Complementary to the massive and immaculate Castle situated on the clover-green hill, the town around it was the pure definition of squalor. A pungent smell filled my nostrils when a herd of mules passed by, desperately seeking shelter. The upcoming storm rushed all the villagers to their shabby clay bungalows, fear and confusion tensing the atmosphere with every minute passing. In the shadowy corner of the main street, a thoroughly frightened homeless man lay under a torn cardboard box. Tears mixed with raindrops silently rolled down his dirty cheeks, and in that precise moment, my respect for our irresponsible king dramatically decreased.
Subsequently, we reached our destination and I was led to the royal chamber. Never had I seen anything like the sumptuous chamber of King James. Intricate adornments completed the long crimson-red carpet. The ceiling laid out elaborately painted scenes from the ancient times and oversized paintings of previous kings and queens filled the walls. A magnificent low hang chandelier intensified the finesse displayed through every object the room possessed.
King James I was the embodiment of arrogance. His hands were filled with golden rings and expensive-looking necklaces encircled his neck. The red sleeves of his extravagant coat were perfectly completed by matching ruby diamonds. His cold dark eyes filled with asperity and his throaty voice contributed to his rough attire. The noble features he possessed were overshadowed by the constant frown on his young and rigid face. I was sure his intentions were honorable, but the sarcastic attitude he used with those inferior to him made me realize that he was not the exceptional person I, as an experienced English writer, thought he was.