Forget two hours, I didn't finish anytime remotely early.

"Gr...Biji...you little...I'll...."

I twirled the rubber stamp in my hand. It was excessively large for such a thing, seemingly big enough to be a small mallet. The reason it was rubber was so I couldn't hit myself with it, and it being such a ridiculous size was so I couldn't choke on it. Biji doesn't let me near small objects. She treats me like a child!

Although I'd give anything to choke on something...

The sun had gone down a few hours ago, but this report from a border patrol was so interesting I'd had to turn it over and over in my head multiple times.

It stated that several carts of supplies had been seen being moved to warehouses on our border, in the neighboring kingdom of Nilgrim. On its own, the report wasn't anything to trouble myself over, although I've made the habit of having my scribes forward anything that has to do with other countries, no matter how trivial.

But, this report, combined with the previous two years which have seen increased intake and training of metal-working crafstman, horse-trainers and breeds, ads for mercenaries, recent expansions in barracks across the whole country, and an officer-training school built last year, have pointed towards on thing.

The fact that my country is the target has only recently been confirmed. This report is simply further proof. But now that I know for certain that a war will loom large in the future...

I put the stamp down, went over to a large cabinet, and gave a sigh.

Biji had taken a year of promises and swears to allow me to have this. Eventually, I'd won her over with my sincerity. And though I could've used the contents during the year, I feel that the effort makes the taste all the sweeter.

Pulling out a very large key, made so due to choking hazards, the lock opens and reveals one of the perks of kingship.

Alcohol in every form imaginable, in every container imaginable. Tall wine bottles, short whiskey bottles, crazily designed vases filled with crushed grape-juice from the south, even, curiously, mead within a metal can.

I had to promise Biji that I would never try to kill myself with my food ever again. But at times like these, it's worth it. And I get knocked unconscious and force-fed a lot less often, except for when I attempt to fast myself to death.

Should I go for one of the vintages...? I have a couple of over fifty years of age, and one that's over seventy...but...

I take a brand-new bottle from the top shelf, and close the door and lock it. The runes in the room itself may keep temperature and humidity at the perfect state, but if I stick around too long I could ruin generations of kingly hoarding.

In that respect, at least, I can respect my forerunners. They were excellent at taking what they wanted and keeping hold of it.

Heading back to my desk, I bite into the cork, and pop it out. Took me three weeks of practice to accomplish that, since Biji wouldn't let a corkscrew within a hundred feet of me. While letting the liquid into an engraved steel cup, I lick my lips and remember the time I threatened to bite my tongue off if Biji didn't let me climb up to the second floor.

All except the ground floor are forbidden to me, incidentally. Let's see, what was it she said...?

"Pain in the Ass, I'll say it one more time. If you don't remove the guards preventing me from heading up to the second floor this instant, I will bite my own tongue off. You hear me? I'm serious!"

Bijinor continued poking at the fire place for a minute, then slowly rose to her feet. Standing over six-feet, she's the only woman who's ever been able to look me in the eye. Those same light-blue eyes clouded over, and a wide grin spread over her face. She raised the metal poker with the tip glowing a bright orange-red, and shrugged.

"Do as you wish, Your Majesty. A humble guard like myself would never attempt to stop you. However, you yourself ordered those guards to stand there. Your stamp is on the order and everything."

"You tricked me into that, and you know it! Well!? I'm three seconds away from ending my own life, though I'd prefer to do so falling off of something. I'll count to three."

Her smile widened, and I held up a hand. I raised a finger. "One."

She started whistling, and gave her poker a twirl. I raised a second finger. "Two."

She gave the poker a few practice thrusts, then admired the still-hot tip, and gave a couple nods. I raised a third finger. "Thr-"

"If you do bite your tongue off, I'll just cauterize the wound with this poker. It's been, what, three generations since the last mute king? I'm so impressed that you'd do such a thing just to keep with your ancestors' tradition. Your self-sacrifice amazes me, and it will be an honor to apply this burning metal to the soft flesh of your mouth. Perhaps I should burn your throat so you can't scream? Ah, your determination to never let your subjects see your weakness brings me to tears, Majesty. Quickly, stick your tongue out, so we can-"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Shut it, Pain in the Ass. You've made your point, no need to continue gloating. I'll go try to smother myself again, though I know I'll only pass out before it starts getting dangerous..."

She smiles and returns the poker to its' stand next to the fire. "Sleep well, Your Majesty. I received reports of animals stealing cattle in a nearby village that you should look at tomorrow!"

"...Fuck you..."

Of course, she still came by to make sure I really did pass out before anything dangerous could happen. She's the most protective stalker in existence, I should think.

Grinning while dwelling in memory, stirring the wine with a finger, and setting my boots on the desk filled with several hundred stamped reports, and two unstamped. Everything feels so peaceful. Hmm, it's times like these when I start thinking too much, and I start to question why I'm trying so hard to kill myself.

...Hm, but it seems tonight isn't one of those nights. My reasons are fresh in my mind. But, tis' too fair an evening to be mutilating ones' self. Perhaps tomorrow...

A knock came at my door. In a good mood from the nostalgia and wine, I gave a cheerful response. "Come in!"

My chief scribe, Ferris, hurried into the room, and gave a quick bow. His spectacles nearly slipped off his nose in the process, but he seemed not to notice. He spoke in his trademark hurried, staccato sentences that waste no time.

"Greetings Majesty these reports are on the attacks we received news of two days ago that were thought to be bandits but revealed to be a pack of wolves as well as the increase in crime in the slum district and the missing funds from the merchants banking papers these reports will fill you in on the details please have a look and give your opinions." Ferris placed a stack of paper on my desk and gave another bow. He didn't seem out of breathe, hell only knows how.

"Farewell and goodnight, Your Majesty,"

I nodded goodbye, with the dignity befitting a member of the royal family, and waited until he'd closed the door. The I took my boots off the desk, and pulled up my chair.

I set my cup down on the desk, and lifted the first paper on the stack. A stack at least as large as the one that had taken me all of today.

"'Wolf Hunt,' is it? It appears I need to appoint a leader, find an experienced huntsman, and organize a squad of men."

I felt the oppressive weight of responsibility anew, and felt the fond memory I'd been reminiscing about crack, and begin to ooze pus. I turned the paper so it lay against my wrist.

"Tomorrow can go to hell." I then began to furiously slide the paper back-and-forth across the vein in my wrist, working with the furious abandon of a man possessed.

A shame Biji was there to take the paper from my hand. She patted my shoulder, then pulled another chair up.

"Your Majesty, reports aren't meant to be used as tools for murder. Here, allow me to assist you."

We spent time until the sun rose working together to finish the reports. Well, Biji finished the reports. I tried to give myself paper cuts when she was distracted.

But in the morning, I gave a big yawn and stretch.

"Ahhh~fewh, long night, huh?"

Soft breathing answered me, and I reached down to lift the hair from Bijis' face. She isn't quite as much of an asshole when she's asleep, huh?

And I never finished my celebration from last ni-

The door was opened by one of the scribes working under me, who always arrived in the morning with reports. Usually I'm not awake by now, so the scribe doesn't knock. The scribe came over to the desk, and yelped. "Ohhhhh! Your Majesty! I didn't realize you'd awoken yet! The maids in your room didn't inform me that you were awake!"

That's cause I never went to sleep.

The scribe got a huge grin on her young face, and set the reports down before bowing and leaving. As she left, her parting whisper reached me.

"King Krisenilof is such a hard worker..."

I ground my teeth. This stack was even larger than the other two put together. I reached for the nearest blunt object, the stamp, and determined to beat myself to death with it if it took me all day. I raised the rubber object, and stopped at the zenith.

But...well, Bijis' asleep. Even if I succeeded, it wouldn't be satisfying.

There's no point in winning unfairly. I picked up the first report, and let out a sigh. I reached for the wine bottle.

I'm going to have to be smashed as a sailor to do this. Biji was probably having a good dream.

She was smiling.