Nothing was different that morning. The sun rose, climbing its way into the sky and stained the clouds, before turning the whole world blue again. Even he could do nothing about that. The servants came in next, only moments after the first rays of dawn slipped their way in through the window. Balanced in their hands was a luxurious breakfast that he did not need, but enjoyed none the less.
Nothing was different, everything happened exactly the way it always had, which was the way he insisted that it be. But why was he so dissatisfied this morning? He stood on the roof, banally eying the tide of the city below him. Here the houses were still luxurious and his favored and the favored of his favored lived in luxury. In the cities outside of these walls the squalor began, becoming worse and worse the further it got from the capital city. He had visited those little wastes of towns, laughed as the people came out and bowed before him. As it should be.
They survived on the waste of this high society, trying to make anything that they could use to earn something. And they may not know it, but they made everything that those in high society used, tricked out of it by the merchants that had an eye for business, and those merchants made the profit, making those who knew no better do all the work.
It was not the most efficient of systems, but it kept the general population under control. Kept them naive and controllable. But, mostly, it was amusing to watch their suffering and their longing for that which could never be theirs.
But today there was no amusement in watching them. He had tried it already, casting his gaze out far beyond the reach of mortal man to watch their squabbling. Today, they only seemed like dirty little ants, not even fit to be squashed.
He wanted more, more than the benign existence he had come to know, and so it was that he cast his eyes out further than he had looked in a long time. To that society of perfection that had to be content to maintain its own little corner of existence. They had been a thorn in his side for so long now, him unable to destroy them, them unable to master the power to get further in than the very borders of his lands.
Now he felt a spark of interest emerge within him. Perhaps it was time for him to take a more direct hand in the downfall of that country of plenty. It was time to bring them back to the real world.
And in the blink of an eye he was at the edge of his lands, no longer wearing the elegant robes of court, but rather the simple clothes that the rest of the people in his world wore. Nor was his face anymore his own. His face was known, even to those oblivious, happy people in that nation of plenty. This face was young, sharp, exotic.
And now he walked right past the guards that watched the borders of his lands, their eyes glazing over as they looked at him. He had never bothered to come to this part of the world before, and would have to learn a little bit more about it before he could turn it into his plaything.
He mirrored the clothing of the first group of people he saw, settled into a walk, a speech, that no one would distinguish as foreign, and slowly bounced his way to the center of the country, trying to learn a little bit about it as he went. It wasn't enough for him to get started, but it would be enough for him to blend in until he could figure it out.
He appeared in a park, and paused for a moment, looking around him. There was very little in his country that was that purely green, and for a moment he alternated between disgusted and amazed. He took a few steps back, not looking where he was going.