An Echo of Two Thousand Years

Ennraeso paused before the gap in the unearthed wall, overcome. "Gentlemen. It was our grandfathers who began the work of deciphering the Yuyingi script unread for over two thousand years. It was our fathers who scoured the land and wandered through documents in their search for remains of that civilization formerly sorted among the annals of fancy rather than history. It is we who will consummate the great endeavor."
Terefesso, Uillanso, Iflenso, and Raalhu bowed their heads as if they only then felt the weight of their inheritance despite having contributed to it themselves through worthy exertions. The other men felt nothing of the momentary emotion, but as laborers they understood the satisfaction at the end of a long job done ably.
At last Ennraeso's agitation settled and he penetrated a silence older than history. His pace was steady and his direction sure despite the obscurations of time. The settlement had been small and built for a simple purpose, that of providing what Vgounde's limitless genius required. Nowhere but the center could have been allotted for the residence of that peerless master of wisdom and every elevated art.
Inside Vgounde's study, what they expected, what they hoped, what they yearned to find, they found. Text, inscribed in the walls, etched in tablets, and written on scrolls, everywhere text in the Yuyingi script so long lost but now reclaimed. Ennraeso, his belly a battlefield between hesitation and eagerness, took hold of a scroll and manfully unrolled it.
"I, Vgounde, leave this message for the one who will read this two thousand, three hundred eight years from today. Ahaha, what are you doing, man? Hardly anyone can read this stuff right now while I'm alive. Yeesh! Why should they learn? So they read out temple accounts when the girls pass by on the way to the well? Pfft. That doesn't impress our ladies, Ennraeso, and not yours either. I have foreseen this.
"Listen, brother. Listen. It's not too late to learn a real skill. Try saddle-making. We don't even have saddles! That's how dumb we are! You want to benefit from our ancient knowledge? Ain't got none, hahaha. Whew! What a waste of time.
"I feel bad for you, I really do, so I left one little bit of magic we have that you don't in this room. You don't need it yourself, but in eighty-three years people will think of you sometimes. All right, I have to be a little honest here or the gods will take away my gifts. They're going to declare you an unequaled benefactor of mankind and the model for all scholars. No, really, they will, but brother, this is it. You can already read enough. Now get out there and pick up an instrument. One of those deals with a bunch of parts we don't have words for. We've just got wood with holes in it, man! Haha, have a good evening, Ennraeso! Oh, by the way, your butler has already sold off most of your silver. You got pewter in those cabinets, brother."
"I thought so. I must send a letter to dismiss him," Ennraeso said, unruffled.
Finis

Addendum

As for butlers, flip a coin for scrupulous or unscrupulous before anything else.

The Grim Gramble

All was decadence and dancing in the palace when the Grim Gramble came to ruin the fun. The footmen tried to throw it out but were thrown out themselves. The head butler was buffeted hard. The stiff doors were revealed as primarily ornamental.
"I am the Grim Gramble," the thing declared as it moved to pacify the ballroom. The barons took up arms, the counts saddled up indoors though they were, and the dukes prepared themselves in every way to defend their significant privileges, but it was too much for them.
"The Grim Gramble is the grummiest," all wailed. "We cannot by any means withstand it."
"You're slow to learn," the thing told them, "but at last you know. I am the Grim Gramble, and I will have what is promised."
"We promised you nothing!" So cried the dukes, who kept track of that sort of thing.
"Did I say promised to me? I am the Grim Gramble, and if something is owed and not claimed, I will have it."
Hearing that, the nobles fled the palace all the way to a small estate where the master himself labored. They begged Edwin to take the throne after all, for they regretted what they had done.
Edwin listened and marched on back. When he stated his claim, the Grim Gramble lost its strength to resist and had a beating such as no more than a few deserve. Then Edwin became a king who ruled with less trouble than most, for the fractious nobles remembered the Grim Gramble, for one generation at least.
Finis