Go To Dwyer

You call for your servants who dress you in the traditional flowing robes of your country. They buckle a small gladius to your belt and obediently leave. “Take my to the Prime Minister at once.”

The minister is named Dwyer and you don’t think much of the man. He is a conniving weasel who would sell you and the kingdom down the river for some cheap women and gold. He is never-the-less elected by the people and acts as your chief advisor. The man has always wanted command of the armies, but you have left him in charge of palace security because you doubt his capabilities.

You enter the throne room and find Dwyer sitting in his small marble throne at the foot of yours. He is a small frail man with a mouse-like face and a bald pate. His small beard is kept in a greasy point and his black eyes peer out through thick spectacles. He stands nervously as you enter the room.

“Greetings, my lord. I did not expect you.”

“No, why would I consult the head of the palace guard after reports of an intruder.”

“Oh, so your guards told you about that. Minor problem. I should have it dealt with quickly.”

“An assassin is not a minor problem. This will be dealt with now.”