The realm is not protected merely because a king is good. Realms are protected when goodness is bound to something firmer than mood, pride, or appetite. That is why the law must stand above preference, above convenience, and even above the crown itself.
When a ruler exempts himself from the standard he speaks aloud to everyone beneath him: strength is permission. From there the rot spreads quickly. Officers begin to imitate the example. Fathers rule by emotion. Teachers confuse authority with advantage. In time the people no longer trust justice because justice has become personal.
Glimmerglass rejects that poison. The king is honored precisely because he is not free to become whatever he pleases. He is under the law, and therefore safe to follow. His restraint is not weakness. It is the visible proof that power has accepted its own limits.
The crown is not permission to desire more. It is a charge to desire less for oneself and more for the good of the realm.
For this reason, the strongest kings in the archive are not remembered for how loudly they commanded, but for the moments when they refused themselves the indulgences others would have excused. Appetite makes a tyrant. Law makes a guardian.