So here I am out in the woods. Having had a lot of free time to think about it, I have a new hypothesis about the king's illness. I now suspect the root of the king's problem lies not with karmic retribution but with existential ennui but, of course, I don't have the courage to say that to his face. Even if I did correctly identify the problem, I have no idea what the remedy for existential ennui might be. Anyway, the forest is sort of growing on me. I like the strange calls I hear in the night. Still, if you happen to think of a cure, be sure to look me up and let me know. I'm living in a hollowed out trunk of a dead oak tree just to the left of the heart of the deepest, darkest forest.