'For probably the millionth time, why do I have to go? I'm a ruler of a country, the ruler of over a billion souls, ten thousand of which are currently around two days march from laying siege to this city. Why do I have to go?' I shouted. My advisor replied, looking pale, small and frightened, 'my lord, you know it's part of your, um, ancestral, um, heritage.' He seemed to grow smaller the more words he said. I started to pull the glove on my left hand off. The Chief "adviser" (notice the sarcasm?) blanched even more, if that was possible, given that he already looked like an albino. Or a dead person. I stifled a laugh at the last thought, given that it was exactly what I intended to do to him. It was fairly commonly known, but I could do magic. I only used it on the most worthy of occasions
'For the last time, I am not going to go on this stupid voyage that the goody-good generations of my family went on. Will I go? No. Do you agree?'
'N-no my-'my once advisor started.
'The payment for arguing with me is to become a half-being. Deyja. Medh neiat stydja.' Death. With no rest.
Already I could hear the tortured screams, sounding like metal breaking under strain. In this case, it was the strain of being, but not living. I didn't mind the screams. There were already at least a hundred of them. I slipped my glove back on, then chuckled and resumed following my twisted thoughts through the dark and gloomy expanse of my mind.
'Ah, the joys of a reputation of evil' I thought.