The helmet game me a slight headache. It felt tight, too small. Was it small on the king as well? Would a king complain about such a trivial matter? Is my head larger than the king’s? Is it a change that has happened in the five generations since my ancestors left the kingdom? Or is it just me? Is my head too big?
I felt like a king for three, maybe four hours. Though I could be wrong, time seems to have a mind of its own in these caverns. I don’t pretend that it’s a serious theory it’s merely based on how I experience this underground world.
Since we arrived at the Kingdom under the Mother Mountain, 187 days have come and past. Now I, Tordhir, am the last survivor of our band. My companions have all fallen victim to the machinations of that ancient evil we unwittingly awakened in our foolish search for the treasure left by our ancestors. Now the evil in the shadows and its minions are behind me, ever near. I must find the stairs that will lead me out, but I have no idea where they might be. I still have water and rations for a few days. I hope I can make it.