The Baron's study smelled of old paper and burning wax. Kaelen sat in a chair that was too large for him, his feet dangling inches above the floor, and watched as the most powerful man in Ashwood Barony poured him tea with trembling hands.
"You don't have to do that," Kaelen said.
The Baron's hands shook harder. "It is my honor, My Lord."
"It's just tea."
"Tea is never just tea." The Baron placed the cup before him with the reverence of a man handling sacred relics. "This particular blend comes from the eastern slopes of the Dragon's Spine Mountains. The leaves are picked by monks who have taken vows of silence. They steep for exactly three minutes in water heated to the precise temperature at which the soul begins to remember its former lives."
Kaelen stared at the cup. "That sounds complicated."
"The monks would say it is simple."
"They would?"
"They have achieved enlightenment."
