The fine bed he sat on was soft, of course. Tor would have expected nothing less of one found in the King’s palace. The dark wooden frame had a high polished sheen, the covers silky and new looking, not worn with age at all. Whatever they used to stuff the mattress just formed under him when he shifted and sure as heck wasn't straw. That he was in it was a bit of a mystery, but no one else seemed to mind, at least they hadn't come to tell him to get out yet.

That it was comfortable didn't mean all that much. It had a lovely brown and gold coverlet, done in silk, like the sheets, which were both wonderful… and a complete waste of resources to his mind. Silk sheets? Expensive and far too easily stained, plus hard to reuse for anything else later. Cotton would have made a lot more sense really. Then when it got too worn it could be turned into children's clothing or even rags and given new life. Personal comfort shouldn't outweigh practicality, should it?

Ursala, his friend, had assured him that she'd make sure no one bothered him while he worked, palace or not. After all, he was building magical devices she wanted, so it was kind of critical that his focus remain as intent and smooth as possible the whole time. Those things led to quality work, which was important.

So far that hadn't happened at all. Not even a little bit. Being left alone that was.

That he'd managed to focus was a bit of a miracle really.

For some crazy reason people kept trying to visit. Tor realized how absurd that was, sure, but it kept happening anyway. Ursala was Countess Thorgood, and even her words hadn't kept them from his chamber door. What did he have to do, hire the King himself to stand guard?

It was insane, of course.

The man was way too busy for that.