King Olyn stared at the stable boy through the glassy left eye of his portrait. The boy was more of a man, really. Nicely muscled in all the right places. The King shook his head to dislodge that thought. He had been a woman in his last incarnation, and these gravitations toward the male physique kept bleeding through. Either that, or he was gay. He hadn't figured it out yet.

He never got any instructions from one lifetime to another. That really sucked. He should take that up with the gods. Then again, maybe not. The gods brooked no dissension in the ranks. Also, they had a very strange sense of humour. The last time he disagreed with them, they turned him into a goat. The gods thought that was hilarious. He was not amused. To this day he still liked the taste of roses and tin cans. Not that tin cans were abundant in this stupid time frame.

As Berin was led out by the guard, the king wondered if he should make the stable boy a knight. He came from knightish stock, or so he had heard. It was impossible to verify anything in this illiterate age without computers. He was hungry. He should go down to the kitchens to see what had been killed for supper.

The End

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