"No more sacrifices, you say?"

Miguel yelped and jumped, nearly stumbling off the edge of the stone tower as he teetered to regain balance. He managed to regain his footing and stepped back, putting a hand on his pounding heart and using the other to brush some blond hair from his eyes. He'd thought he was alone - he wanted to be alone. This was not how a 'quiet moment of contemplation' was supposed to go.

He turned to gaze at the mystery speaker and found himself looking down at a tiny, grinning old man. He was frail and bony, so tanned and wrinkled that his skin looked like worn, tattered burlap draped over a skeleton. His head was bald, save for a few white wisps of hair across his scalp, The man was hunched over at what looked like a painful angle, and carried upon his back a large sack, stuffed to the point that it looked bigger than the old man himself. Yet despite his load, the stranger was giving a cheerful, almost impish grin.

Miguel eyed him warily, then stepped forward. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, don't be," the man said with a dismissive wave. "Politics, all of it. Can't imagine why anyone would have thought it appeasing."

Miguel quirked an eyebrow and opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't find the words. He turned to glance over his shoulder, over the tower's edge down below to the metropolis of gold and stone. Aside from the pyramid, this was one of the tallest - and most sacred - places in the city of El Dorado. Had Miguel not wanted to be alone so bad, he wouldn't have even tried to trek up those steep, endless stairs. How could some old guy just up and follow him - with a load of junk on his back, no less?

"Right. Not appeasing." Miguel finally said a little absently. "What… what's that thing on your back?" Another offering? Oh, he hoped not. It wasn't that Miguel minded the piles of gold thrust upon him since he'd arrived - pretending to be a god had it's perks, and wealth was definitely one of them - but he hated to think that this guy had lugged that much gold up such a huge incline just for him. He stepped toward the old man again, hesitantly.

The Old Man looked over his shoulder, then gave a weak, breathy chuckle, though his smile faded. "'Tis the wealth of the world… a gift, and a load. It's a burden I've carried for a long, long time. One I suppose I'll continue to carry in the years to come."

Years to come? The Old Man looked like he could croak any day now. Any minute now, really. Miguel stepped closer, within an arm's reach of the Old Man. "Here, let me help you with that."

The grin returned to the lips of the Old Man - this time warmer, yet slyer than before. "You would carry this burden for me?"

"Yeah. Here, let me just…" Miguel was stopped when the Old Man produced a clay jug from… from the sack, presumably, though he wasn't sure how he'd grabbed it so quickly.

"A toast, then," the Old Man said, placing the jug in Miguel's hands, "to the kind-hearted new god that El Dorado - and this world - shall receive."

Ooh! Booze! Miguel grinned. How could he possibly insult his loyal subject by refusing an offering like this? "Why, thank you! Don't mind if I do!" Miguel unstopped the top of the jug and brought it to his lips as the Old Man produced a flute. He took his first sip of the drink - it was strong and sharp, burning his throat like good whiskey, but with a sweet taste, like the tropical fruits of this strange city.

With his second gulp, everything became a blur…

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Rapunzel's return to the kingdom