King Phillipe woke up screaming, covered in sweat. His face was pale and his breath came uneasy. He slowly began to realize that it was just a nightmare, a horrible-horrible nightmare. He rose from his bed and began walking through the stone halls of the castle. Lately he'd had the same nightmare over and over, night after night. He remembered it all too well; his father and brothers dead on thr ground, his mother and sisters butchered by the soldiers, while he and his sister barely escaped.
His sister Isabella, the only other that had survived with him, had long since disappeared. Phillipe had been over-protective of her, hardly letting her leave the house. In the dark of night, she rode off. Though she had left Phillipe all by himself, she promised to rejoin him one day, after she had found herself in the world.
That was 5 years ago. He had sent scouts to find her, but no one knew where she had gone or even if she was alive. He knew it was his fault that she left, but he had promised his mother and father he protect his sisters, and she was the only one left. He bore a great guilt on his shoulders for pushing her away like he did, he had failed his parents.
After his sister left he had no one but his beloved Seville. He watched as she began to decline, invaders pilaging her stores and killing her people. Phillipe recruited men to join his band of soldiers, training them in the arts of war. As the only armed force in Seville, Phillipe proclaimed himself King and Seville under his protection. The people didn't know what to do, they hadn't had a King for decades. But Phillipe protected them, punishing the criminals in the city and repeling invaders. He conquered lands to feed the city and set up a bartar system. With time the people grew to love him, constructing a castle for his residence in the center of Seville and having a grand coronation ceremony in La Iglesia de Sevilla, formally recognizing Phillipe as their King in the eyes of God.