Robert Veracker woke up from a stabbing headache in his temples. He slowly opened his eyes and was blinded by a beam of sunlight shining blindingly through a crack in the roof. The bright light was further reflected by some shards of mirrors that lay along Robert's bed and that he consciously stepped over every morning. The attic was a mishmash of old and broken things, bright colors and cobwebs. Most of the items were already there when Robert moved in together with Janus after obtaining his Courtly Functional diploma. Erim and Dorian had lived there for some time. All four were handymen who were hired for a wide variety of tasks, from repairing loose cobblestones to shining up the palace's gold chandeliers. They were also called upon to do odd jobs in the homes of other members of the Courtly Functional Bourgeoisie and Lilian Emelot made good use of this.

Robert swung his legs out of the bed, hopped over the mirror shards, zigzagged between the stacked boxes and climbed down the rope ladder. He greeted Dorian, who was shining his yellow wellies. Robert didn't need a morning conversation. The rain of shit had bothered him, the incident in the throne room had given him a headache and the thought of the appointment with the very boring king, his irritating advisor and the crazy speedster made him nauseous. He yawned and felt his stomach growl. Robert peeped through the living room curtains. The sun was already very high.

He was expected at the king's house at half past twelve. Whimpering, he pulled the curtains over his head and hid from the cruel outside world for a few seconds.

"Already 3 minutes and 22 seconds late, Your Highness." The pacer noted the split time in his table.

"I would really have been surprised if he had arrived on time today," the councilor remarked disdainfully, as he lay slumped in his chair and slowly stirred his cup of tea.

"May I make you aware that you are experiencing an unruly pace when it comes to stirring your cup, sir," the pacer babbled, "perhaps you should try stirring more consistently."

Siel stared at him. 'Mind your own cup of tea.'

'Unfortunately that is no longer possible. I drank it all in seven and a half seconds, including my brief choking.'

"I wish you would have choked on it, idiot!" The councilor leaned towards the pacer, snorting, ready to come to blows with him. The purple riot bubbled up.

'Stop bickering! People of your class should have the sense to avoid childish quarrels." The king looked pointedly at them one by one.

The councilor nodded understandingly. "If this failed temporizer didn't display its time-keeping abilities like this, I wouldn't feel the need to wring its fat neck!"

The king sighed in boredom. "Eggers, I expect you to keep yourselves low."The pacer smiled to himself. 'Again an unruly pace in terms of speaking. It is normal for people to speed up their pace at the end of the sentence if they want to emphasize their words. Unfortunately, even at such an acceleration, Mr. Eggers is constantly changing his pace.'

'WHAT DID YOU SAY?!' The counselor jumped to his feet furiously. "I'll kill you right away at an 'unrestrained pace'!"

'ENOUGH!' the king roared so loudly that Robert Veracker stood paralyzed at the door. The councilor and the pacer flinched.

"If you cannot get along, I undertake to replace one of you with someone who is able to respect the other."

The councilor shot a murderous glare at his slowing enemy. 'Then pick that walking clock.'

'SIEL EGGERS! One more word and you'll be thrown out unceremoniously!' The king breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the newcomer. 'Ah, there you are, Veracker! I trust you do not yet know why I have called you to me?'

Robert nodded and walked carefully to the throne podium. Of course he knew, he had been right there yesterday when they made this appointment.

"Well, it's about yesterday's incident. I assume that you still remember the shameful fall of the entire Courtly Functional Bourgeoisie and its perpetrator?' A blush crept from the tips of his toes, shivering down his spine to his cheeks and stopped there like two crimson orbs. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

The councilor pressed his fingertips together and dug his gaze deep into Robert's forehead, who suddenly felt short of breath.

"How are you able, Veracker, to lose your balance so drastically on the smoothest floor in all of Yths?" he asked scornfully.

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Robert stared at the tips of his bright yellow wellies and wondered how much longer they would be his. 'Don't know. I've apparently been seriously lacking in sleep for the last few days and sometimes at the most undesirable times it starts to take its toll, sir.'

The counselor snorted. 'Everyone experiences a dip every now and then, but to fall over like a weak blade of grass seems completely ridiculous to me. Let me bring up the maybe-he's-doing-it-on-purpose idea, Your Majesty.'

The pacer turned his head a nod to the left. 'Could indeed be, Sire. Perhaps he is no longer satisfied with his position here?' He laughed briefly and then turned back to his best friend, the tempo timer.

The king scratched the top of his head in thought and looked Robert Veracker in from head to toe. "Maybe I should give you one last chance," he said hesitantly.

'Ruled out!' the councilor brushed this opportunity off the table. 'This idiot has already caused too many problems, if we keep him in service any longer we risk extreme delays.'

'Delay?' The pacer shook his head decisively. 'It is impossible to speak of slowing down or speeding up, given that our Courtly Functional Citizenry is unique. This means that there is no country anywhere that applies the same state structure. So we do not have to conform to certain standards and we cannot compare ourselves either, so we cannot know whether we are fast or slow because we cannot say that we are ahead or behind someone else because there is no other.' he rattled.

Siel Eggers narrowed his eyes and breathed deeply, very deeply. Robert saw that he was slowly turning red and he would bet that a purple spark came from his ears.

'Delay or no delay,' the king mediated, 'I give you a week, Veracker, to prove that you have a rightful place in Azucar.'

"I thank you very much," said Robert, avoiding the murderous gaze of Siel, whose knuckles were now whiter than the royal beard. He threw his head back and seemed to be having an unspoken conversation of facial expressions with the ceiling.

'Let's round this off with a cup of Ythse cherry tea.' With these words the king stepped down from the stage and walked with large controlled steps towards the tea room. The pacer caught up to him just before the doors and pushed them open. The scent of Lilian's flower arrangements greeted them. Robert also walked to the tea room. He felt the councilor's eyes burning into his back. Siel swallowed slowly. He felt the fire burning in his head, but when he thought about a cup of tea, a thin smile appeared on his lips.

King Lodehart sat at the end of a seven-meter-long oak table. He motioned for the pacer to move the giant bright pink flower arrangement in the center of the table for a moment so he could get a better look at his counselor, who was sitting at the other end. Robert sat on the king's left and the pacer on his right.

Robert was happy that he did not have to look Siel in the eye, but could focus on the pacer who timed every action at the table. King Lodehart beckoned to Pepijn de Tierlantijn who arrived with a large platter containing four porcelain teacups. The Tierlantine looked at each cup with some hesitation and then first placed a cup for the king, then one for the pacer, one for the councilor and the last cup for Robert. Siel narrowed his eyes. The riot felt warm and pleasant in his chest. Wouldn't you know it, it seemed like each of them had a scented cup of cherry tea in front of them. Wouldn't you know it, there seemed to be a puff of pale pink vapor rising from the cups everywhere. If you didn't know it, it almost seemed like a cozy reconciliation. But anyone who looked closely saw that the vapor above Robert's cup did not turn light pink but gray, almost black, before it disappeared into the air. If you looked closely, you could see that there was a dark shadow floating in Robert's cherry tea. Pepijn exchanged a knowing look with Siel. He had put extra cherries in it to hide the sour smell of Burone's blood.

The councilor became impatient. He raised his head in the air. "Veracker, you should be very grateful that our kind-hearted Majesty is inviting you here. I sincerely wish you all the best.' He stood straight from his chair. "Here's to a second chance!"

"To a second chance!" the king, the pacer and Robert also exclaimed. Robert was thrilled. He usually only saw the king from afar during one of his speeches and now he actually sat right next to him. And the same king forgave him for taking the entire Courtly Functional Citizenship to the ground and ruining the entire throne room. For a moment he forgot his tiredness and the leaking roof and enthusiastically reached out to the king with his cup. With a warm smile, King Lodehart also reached out his cup and tapped Robert's porcelain in a friendly manner. If you didn't know it, you saw two cheerful men sounding out for a second chance. If you didn't know it, all you saw was the warmth in their eyes. But Siel looked closely and saw how, at the sound of the sound, a few drops of tea splashed out of Robert's cup and ended up in the king's cup. Siel turned ashen in an instant. The king lifted the cup to his lips while laughing. Purple steam whistled from the councilor's ears. He quickly reached for the king, but the table was far too long. Siel wanted to scream. He will watch the king's Adam's apple move as he swallowed the first sip of tea. Robert also raised his cup to his lips. Just before he wanted to drink, there was a sound of porcelain breaking. Robert looked up and saw the king lying limply across the arm of his golden chair. He heard the earthly scream of Siel shouting 'NO! screamed as the chandelier above him caught fire from the purple flames dancing around it. The pacer flinched. Pippin knelt and took the king's arm with his colorful hand.

Robert stared for a moment at the pacer who slowly began to sob and then sprinted to the door of the tea room. He grabbed Madam Haclaire's dress for the second time, which was the only one in the room near the pastries. Before she could bombard him with a protest, he formed 'the king' with his mouth and pushed her through the door. She screamed hysterically when she saw the fallen king and flew, howling, towards Robert, who caught her just in time before she crashed to the ground. She watched with a white face as a purple steaming Siel flew past her and out to get help.