Commoners equate noise with excitement, a sentiment not shared by the king.
Of passing note:
A few commoners throughout the ages have been born, apparently, with a desire to leave their native ranks, and ascend to the throne. The innate differences in commoners and kings, is such that making the move seems improbable at best.
Yet a few try:
They plot, they scheme; they chafe, they dream. They make what regal-directed efforts a commoner can come up with; but the journey from the town up to the castle is a distance damn near impassible. Yet, there are always a few…down in town…who want, dream, and scheme.
A lion cub becomes king of the jungle by coughing up that verbose commonerball.
…Is it still necessary to point out that everything said above is about what goes on inside of you?