The servant was nervous.
He hurried down the corridor of Galbatorix's castle, his feet making no sound as they padded against the stone flagons of the floor. On his right were rows of simple doors, and on his left was a series of high stained-glass windows looking out into the gardens, and beyond that, the faint glimmer or Leona Lake.
It was twilight, and the servant, being only fairly new, was lost. The dish he carried carefully in his hands leaked the delicious aroma of honeyed ham as he walked. He knew that he had to be present for the feast at the main dining room on the floor below, but he didn't know how to get down there. The castle was like a maze, and trying to retrace his steps only ended in him becoming more lost. The man was beginning to worry: the king would not tolerate his tardiness.
He decided to begin checking each of the doors on the right side, just in case they held a staircase or something that would allow the man to get to the lower floor.
The first and second rooms were locked, enchanted by magic. The third yielded a plain room, bare except for a large telescope angled out open window.
The fourth room was the most uninteresting of them all. A small bed was pushed up against the far wall, the sheets dirty and worn. The floor was dirt slate. A single small, barred window looked out into the spine.
And in the centre of the room, on a wooden plinth, was a small, oblong object which glimmered faintly in the light coming in through the open door.
The man looked around to make sure the corridor was truly empty, before stepping inside the room and shutting the door. Gloom filled the small space as the door shut, but still the object shined. The man walked three steps up to it, and peered down.
It was a rich, forest green colour, shot through with webs of a lighter green. It was cold to the touch, and smooth. It was obviously valuable, and the servant wondered why such an object had been left out in the open.
Maybe it is not worth much, then, the man reasoned. Otherwise the king would take better care of it.
What the man didn't know was that the king had been taking care of it; in fact, the man should have been killed several times over when he entered the hallway, but a curious combination of luck had saved him.
For a start, Galbatorix had enchanted the entire floor so that anyone with the intention of going up it would have been blasted back down to the floor below. The man, however, did not purposely go up the stairs; he was lost and looking for the dining room, and had therefore thwarted the enchantment because he had not intended to go up to that floor. Spell-casting was a tricky business, and even the mad king himself could not think of every possibility.
The second rigged enchantment was timed. The instant the man had touched the landing, the corridor outside the room had become invisibly charged with magic. If the man had set so much as a toe inside the corridor at that time, he would have been utterly incinerated, and several alarms would have gone off inside Galbatorix's head. However, the enchantment was set only to last for three minutes, in case the king himself wished to visit the room. Because the man had then searched around trying to find another staircase, he had avoided the corridor completely for more than three minutes, and the enchantment had faded a minute before the man had rounded the corner into the corridor. By sheer luck, the man had managed to make it to the room, in which Galbatorix's most prized possession lay, inconspicuous and out of the way.
Like any servant who didn't particularly like his employer given the opportunity would do, he picked up the object and slipped it into the pocket of his leather apron. Then, carefully, he snuck back out of the room and onto the floor.
The man eventually found his way down to the second floor, and handed his dish to another of the servants. He then turned and walked swiftly back to the kitchen, asked the head cook if he could borrow her horse, and from there urged the horse out of the stables and onto the long gravel drive which lead to the black gates. A hurried excuse about needed supplies for the kitchen was sufficient enough to let himself past the two bored looking guards, and then the servant was away, galloping down the road into the city of Urû'baen, intent on trading the perhaps-valuable stone.
It was several hours before the castle shook with Galbatorix's anger, and by that time, the trader and the pretty green stone were far from Urû'baen.
I know that this may seem a tad unlikely, but I promise that everything is as realistic as I can make it.
Until next time.
Atra esterní ono thelduin