---
Back at the palace, Jax had one goal: teach Azgar humility. Unfortunately, Azgar was as stubborn as he was lazy, and every attempt ended in disaster.
First, Jax set up a fake public hearing where Azgar had to listen to the "commoners'" complaints. Instead of showing compassion, Azgar critiqued their fashion choices.
"You call that a hat?" he asked a baffled peasant. "It looks like a melted pumpkin."
Next, Jax staged a scenario where Azgar had to compliment Quindlehurst. The King managed to say, "Nice… monocle," before adding, "It's amazing it hasn't fallen off your face yet."
By the end of the day, Jax was ready to give up.
"This is impossible," he muttered.
Azgar, lounging in a tea saucer, shrugged. "I told you. Humility's overrated."
Jax groaned, then paused. An idea began to form in his mind.
---
The next morning, Jax called for a public audience in the great hall. The nobles and commoners gathered, whispering curiously as Jax took the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Jax began, "Our beloved King has chosen to take on a new form as part of a bold initiative: to better understand the lives of his people."
The crowd gasped, staring in awe at the tiny Azgar perched on Jax's shoulder.
Azgar's voice hissed in Jax's ear. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you," Jax whispered back.
He continued, "In his reduced state, His Majesty has chosen to forego royal comforts to walk among his subjects. This act of great humility is a testament to his wisdom and compassion."
The audience erupted in applause.
Azgar's face turned redder than a dragon's scales. But as the cheers grew louder, a strange thing happened: Azgar began to grow. Slowly but surely, he returned to his full size.
Jax stepped back, grinning. "Looks like you've been humbled."
Azgar stretched, clearly relieved. "I wouldn't go that far. But… I suppose I owe you one."
"Don't mention it," Jax said.
"Seriously. Don't," Azgar added, smirking.
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