King was many things. Big, strong, handsome, famous, charismatic, desirable. He turned heads where he went with his chiseled jaw and sculpted physique. He was well loved by his comrades, by his fellow adventurers, by guild staff, and by tavern wenches everywhere. The man was practically the gods' gift to mankind, and definitely one of the most famous members of the prestigious Spades.

He only had one tiny little flaw.

"My head hurts," he admitted sheepishly. King had been trying to read the spellbook for three hours now, and the little funny symbols were all starting to blend together. And no, this wasn't some fancy arcane language. It was just ordinary language. "This is hard. How do you do it?"

It wasn't that he couldn't read. He could. Just...when there were so many words, all so close together, and talking about complicated things like magic and science and which mushroom was good for cooking and which one was deadly, his brain just didn't want to do it anymore. He could handle reading a book with a story and some pictures, but a dry, dull spellbook was too much for him.

He scratched his cheek, casting his very patient friend an apologetic look. "Do we have, um, the same book, but with, like..." He wanted to say "simpler words," but he didn't want to come across as stupid. The other kids and the staff at the orphanage had always made fun of him, calling him slow and dumb and saying he'd never amount to anything. He didn't want his best friend to think that of him, too.

King was a renowned adventurer now! Not a kid crying in the corner anymore. He was strong and skilled with a sword, and handsome and genial, and everyone thought he was cool. And he was! He was pretty cool. He was one of the best in a group of adventurers known for being the best, which made him like, best of the best. So...why did he still feel like that? Small and weak and inferior.

"...Bigger letters?" he finally finished, wincing at how lame that sounded.