Count Tomkin sipped his drink carefully; it was a practised habit, but he could not savour the drink. The staff, whom he quite often ignored, were all his eyes could see. He watched closely as they carted food and drink from the kitchen and walked among the guests. No mistakes!
"Seeing your excellent management of your lands, Count Tomkin, gives me hope." The king nodded agreeably.
"I'm undeserving of your praise, sire."
"Nonsense! If only the other counts had half your ability. This has been a fine evening."
Count Tomkin sullenly sipped his wine. Fine evening... The garden, main hall, banquet hall, and royal suite! The wine, meat, entertainment, extra staff, lumber, cutlery, and dishes! Half the vault! Half of his carefully saved-up wealth was gone in a week to entertain this fool for a day. One day!
The count looked down at the wine in his goblet. A handcrafted masterpiece, he thought, remembering his first encounter with the wine. Everything else was bland in comparison. The premium charged and the wait for a shipment were well worth it. Yet the king downed glasses of it like water.
"Ack!"
"Watch what you're doing, girl!"
Count Tomkin scanned the room quickly. The uproar was close, but he couldn't see where.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Move! Your family's death wouldn't be enough to pay for the damage you've caused."
There was a loud thud, followed by a crash, then the snapping of ropes and the groaning of lumber. The walls began falling, and the party guests fled the banquet hall, barely escaping with their lives. When the dust settled, portions of the beautiful banquet hall stood propped against the deteriorated walls of the mansion.
"Count Tomkin, what is the meaning of this?" the king roared.
ns 15.158.61.46da2
