You were the slave of the great emperor of Azkaban. He was a tall, brooding man whom always wore a grimace on his face. One day- during a garden party you had been ordered to make and serve him a drink. You walked towards his throne drinks in hand.

As you walked you felt something in your way. Perhaps a wrinkled rug or a guest? But either way you had tripped and fallen at the emperors feet. Spilling the drink all over him and his attire. Everyone had turned to look at you.