The Last King's Amulet

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There are those who believe every day should be full of meaningful tasks, rising before dawn and only seeking their beds when exhaustion overtakes them. I am not one such. Left to my own devices I would spend the whole day in the comfort of my bed, so the gentle knock at my door was enough in itself to make me frown. My household slaves know better than to risk awakening me rudely, no matter the hour, as I often sleep late; for such inconsideration I have sold more than one slave with a bad reference and thought no more of their fate; they should have thought of the possibility of ending their days in a mine in the provinces before hammering at my bedroom door like deranged and desperate debt collectors.

“Enter.” It wasn't what I wanted to say. I was reading, and 'Tetrin's Study of the Barbarian Peoples' had me enthralled. There was food and drink to hand, all my comforts were met. I wanted instead to say nothing in the sure and certain knowledge that no second knock would sound should I choose silence. Yet the slaves, few as they are, are well trained and would not disturb me lightly.

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