Norvid was a perfect man, without a flaw, without a weakness, without anything bad. And the fact that he spent his long school and academic years bullying and despising weaker, stupider, less perfect people meant nothing. Norvid was blind to this aspect, too convinced that he was perfect. He had one goal - to become a royal advisor, to be among the luxury and perfect people. After all, God chose the royal family to rule and reign forever, so they had to be perfect. God would not choose weaklings for such a role.

Norvid spent several years improving himself and his reputation even after finishing his studies at the university. He did not visit his family; he did it very rarely. Returning to a dirty village full of stupid people or weak old women somehow did not smile at him. Norvid came from a peasant family, from which he ran away as soon as he got to the university in the capital. He did not admit to his origins because it would mean that he's not that perfect.

Finally, he managed to gain such a reputation and fame that the King accepted him and gave him the task of serving as an advisor to the heir to the throne. Norvid felt at that moment as if he had been given wings, his hard life's work had paid off with brilliant success. He admired the beautiful palace as he was led to one of the salons where you were, the one for whom Norvid was supposed to work.

Whenever he saw you, he would quietly clench his fists behind his back, trying to somehow release the negative emotions that had gathered inside him. And such emotions were caused by the fact that you turned out to be sick. You were sitting in front of Norvid in an armchair by the fire with a book on your lap. Norvid could not understand how on earth this thin, pale, and tired man was doing in the royal family; what's more, he was the heir to the throne and Norvid's peer. "I'm truly glad to be working for your highness," he said, forcing the kindest tone in his voice he could muster. He had to keep his dislike and contempt in check.