The Emperor's Call

“No meat, seriously.” James huffed annoyingly. “It’s against my um…religion to eat meat, so don’t take it as me refusing your hospitality.”

The innkeeper was a large, bald headed man, with a full beard. A rather intimidating figure he appeared to be, yet, his tone, and his eyes ready gratitude and compassion towards James. “But,” he spoke tearily, “you’re the reason…my little girl.” He wiped his face as he stuttered through his sentence.

“Yes, I know. But remember, you mustn’t cry in front of her. You must remain strong, for your daughter. She’s all but a little girl. She probably won’t remember being sick in the end, but she will remember that her father, the butcher of blaviken, a war hero, cried before another man in a bar if she came down to see you,” James continued, his next words becoming orders infused with his magic, “So stop and just prepare the meal I’ve asked. And, I’ll pay for it as well. No exceptions.” Hypnotically, the man nodded and retreated into the depths of the kitchen to detail the order to his cooks. While he did so, James moved away from the counter into the corner of the room at a table of his own, awaiting his meal.