âSays the man dipping his quill into the jelly pot,â Owl said, giving him an unimpressed look that even his mask couldnât hide. It had been several days since heâd seen Lord Viren properly rested and his signs of fatigue were growing more prominent. Baggy eyes, increased irritability, absentmindedness, and so on had all manifested in Viren today.
âAs much as I admire your dedication to your craft and country, you need rest sir,â he continued, stepping around to Virenâs side of the table. âA mage is no good to his king or country when heâs dead on his feet, and you, my fellow, are the image of walking dead. So letâs get you to bed so your mind and body can rest before you decide it prudent to use the milk for your wash basin.â
Dipping his quill in the--oh that was ridiculous. Heâd been at his writing desk for the better part of the past hour, and certainly would have noticed by now. He dipped the quill in the jar, and had just begun to write again when he caught sight in his periphery of the actual jar of ink--on the far other end of the desk. Glancing back, he saw the berry symbol--plain as day and directly facing him--on the jar he had been using since he set to work.
â... Ah,â he said. Shoulders slumped as the quill slipped from his hand, a raspberry-tinted dot spreading from the end onto the parchment. Viren rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes closing. âAh. So I was.â
Viren was tired, certainly; he could concede that much as an obvious point of fact. But when wasnât he tired? A man in his position, and a father of two besides, he doubted heâd known a good nightâs sleep in years. Still, heâd adjusted to it in time. He hadnât missed it. Sleep seemed such a pointless, trivial thing, a waste of time that could be better utilized in countless other ways. Heâd have to come up with a draught or potion to cure the need for it, one of these days. How much more productive the world would be.
He sighed, waving off the offer. âI donât need to be escorted up to bed like a drowsy toddler,â he said, and only sounded a little petulant. âThereâs no need to fuss over me. Iâll head up to bed for the night once Iâve finished these notes. I donât want to lose this train of thought.â