My king… A man moved forward, obviously a merchant by the look of him. He fell to his knees. I beg your aid. A nobleman has taken goods from my carts without payment, claiming that they are his by right, yet I have the papers to show that they are mine.

Ravin quirked an eyebrow. It took bravery to come to him with something like this, given what the penalties could be for wasting his time. Still, let no one say that he was not a fair and even generous ruler.

You will bring these papers to my chancellor, he ordered. If all is as you say, your goods will be returned, and the noble will pay on top of that.

You are the wisest of rulers, the merchant said.

However, Ravin said, I will also be sending word to the noble. If your goods fall within his legitimate taxes, the rest of what you own will be taken as an example.

He saw the merchant swallow, and wondered if he would be so foolish as to say something then.

Of… of course, your majesty, the man said, starting to crawl backward. Thank you.

Ravin sighed and looked around at the men and women there. He wondered how many of them understood what it was truly like to sit where he was. They all had their schemes and their plans, which was why he had so many guards and spies, his sorcerers and his quiet men, yet did any of them think about what it would be like if they actually succeeded? Did they understand that there was no point where it ended, that every day meant dealing with the problems of a kingdom, trying to gain more, be more, to pay for the rest of it? Of course they didnt.

Instead, they came to him, one by one, with their problems. Guards brought in prisoners and Ravin ordered some sacrificed to the gods, some sent to the arena to fight and die, some sold, some maimed for their crimes. A couple he even let go, teary-eyed and grateful for his justice, because it was important for a king to be just.

Eventually, a figure staggered in. He was so ragged and rough looking that Ravins guards started toward him, and it took even the king a moment to recognize the form of his emissary to the northern lands.

Let him through, Ravin said, and although he didnt raise his voice, it still carried over the rest of the sounds of the hall. His dead architects had seen to that as well.

The man came forward, staggered slightly, and then managed to execute a perfect bow in spite of how unsteady he was.

Your majesty, I bring grave news.

My generous offer to the north has been rejected, I take it? Ravin guessed.