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“Don’t waste our time,” said Stoker. “Hurry up and sign them.” His accent was much fainter than Karkash’s, and his voice had a rougher base to it.

“I do not sign things without reading them first,” said William.

Desmond rolled his eyes. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Your Majesty. I can’t rip off your other arm, but I’m more than happy to find creative alternatives.”

‘Please,’ said one of the reapers, ‘there is no need to hurt him.’ It was Nize.

Everyone but the King turned to look at her, even her own servant.

‘Look at him,’ she said. ‘He will do as you say. Just have a bit of patience.’

The King picked up his pen, but a remnant of his stubbornness still lingered. “Please, just tell me what I am signing...”

“No.” Karkash placed a hand on the desk’s varnished wood. “Sign now, or I will bring your children here. I will torture them in front of your eyes.”

The King met his gaze evenly. “I do not have children.”

Desmond snorted, earning a glare from Karkash.

“I will find someone else,” said Karkash. “Whoever you care for. They will suffer. Until you sign.”

Nize left the room on her own. Stoker eyed the others hesitantly before following her.

“What’s with them?” said Desmond.

‘Do not concern yourself with them,’ said Hoyohté.

“Uh. No. That’s sorta my job here.”

‘It is not your place,’ she said. ‘We will see to the matter ourselves.’

The door opened again, but instead of Stoker and Nize, a little blond serving girl appeared. She paused when she saw the King’s guests and then proceeded with the offerings of tea. Desmond took a cup, but Karkash, having now acquired the King’s written approval, ignored her and left without another word.

William accepted a cup, as well.

Desmond eyed the girl. Her long bangs hid her face rather well, but he liked what he saw. “You’re a cutie.”