Wealth isn't as important as a good sleep,
Love isn't as essential as a good rest
I don't know if I love you or not,
I'm too lazy to think about it.
~Damion~
In the kingdom of Acedia, where rest matters a lot, lived a, the history of Acedia is long and it's almost nap time in Acedia so I'll have to say it a bit later.
The very thought of the ritual made King Damion's eyelids grow heavy, and as he turned on his left side, he caught sight of his own golden statue, glinting in the light. 'Ah, a proud masterpiece that I'll admire later,' he thought with a yawn. "Surely it's not too much to ask to postpone this ritual to a century from now—such tedious matters can wait while I slumber," he mused.
Staring at the golden statue of himself, King Damion sighed, too tired to even lift a finger. As he closed his eyes, the statue's gleam was soon overtaken by the peaceful darkness of sleep. However, this rest was short-lived, as a faint yet persistent knocking echoed through the halls.
Groggily opening his eyes, Damion realized it was his advisor, Niddal, at the door.
Niddal, there had better be a good enough reason for you disturbing my nap." Damion said lazily.
Bowing down he said, "There is, your majesty."
"Speak."
Niddal shifted nervously, as if the mere act of speaking was tiresome. "Your Majesty, the hurricane's destruction has not only affected the naps of your subjects, but also their productivity. Our food supplies are running low, and the neighboring cities have demanded compensation for their lost sleep due to the commotion."
King Damion yawned, unperturbed. "And what do you suggest we do, Niddal?" he asked, rolling onto his stomach.
"I don't know your majesty that's why I'm here." Niddal squatted down in tiredness.
"Then it appears I must lend my wise guidance once more," King Damion murmured, burying his head in the silk pillows with a sigh. "Tell the neighboring cities that they may compensate themselves with the gold they can find at the end of a very long and winding tunnel. The entrance is at the center of my court, beneath a statue of me." He pointed to the statue in question with a languid finger.
Niddal was taken aback. "But, Your Majesty, there is no tunnel under your statue!" And no gold as well, he thought.
Well create--yawn--one then," King Damion eyelids closed after
Niddal blinked, "But Your Majesty," he said, trying to keep his voice level, "that would require a significant investment of time and labor."
Damion opened one eye. "And you think my sleep is not an investment?" he said with a lazy drawl. "Consider this tunnel a monument to the value of rest. If they want gold, they can work for it. I, however, will continue to rest, as befits the King of Acedia" With that, he closed his eye again, and his breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.
"I leave now your majesty," Niddal bowed and quietly exited the King's chamber, sighing with relief as he shut the door behind him. As he made his way down the palace's lengthy corridors, he allowed himself a wry grin.
*Better the subjects in question than me digging a hole,* he thought. *And anyway, if there's one thing we've got in Acedia, it's time.*
He imagined the shock on the neighboring cities' faces when they discovered there was neither gold nor a tunnel entrance he chuckled to himself.
In the land of Acedia, where sleep was prized above all else, King Damion ruled with an iron pillow. His kingdom was renowned for its mastery of the art of slumber, where days were spent in blissful repose, and nights were filled with the gentle lullaby of snores.
When neighboring kingdoms dared to question the value of rest, King Damion would reply, "Wealth is fleeting, but a good nap is eternal." His subjects adored him, for they knew that under his reign, no one would ever have to rise before noon.
One day, an emissary from the kingdom of Ira arrived, bearing an invitation to a grand festival celebrating productivity. King Damion, lounging on his throne of cushions, merely blinked sleepily at the messenger. "Tell your king that we are far too busy having a siesta to attend," he drawled, before drifting off once more.
Despite his commitment to slumber, King Damion had one weakness: his golden statue, a tribute to his own greatness. As he lay in bed each night, he would admire its gleam, pondering his own magnificence until sleep claimed him.
Alas, even in Acedia, trouble sometimes stirs. One day, a terrible storm swept through the kingdom, damaging homes and disrupting the sacred sleep of its inhabitants. King Damion was roused from his rest by his advisor, Niddal, who begged him to address the crisis.
" Your Majesty," Niddal pleaded, "Our people are restless, and our food suppliers are unable to transport food over.
King Damion yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Surely such matters can wait until after my nap," he mumbled.
Niddal bowed deeply, too weary to argue. "As you wish, sire," he said, shuffling out of the room.
"Don't forget the gold underneath" He said wearily.
"Yes Your Majesty." Niddal closed the door quietly.
And so, King Damion returned to his bed, lulled by the knowledge that his kingdom was safe in the embrace of slumber. In Acedia, the storm would pass, and the sun would rise on another day of blissful rest, for there was no greater wealth than a good sleep, and no love more essential than a good rest.
Superbia Kingdom...
"Why would you want to give me the book of the dead?" Alaric asked suspiciously.
The princess with the carved box smiled, "We have a deal to make, Your Highness."