The weary warrior

A weary warrior stood before the looming doors of the throne room, awaiting the moment that he would be admitted. The warrior had journeyed far and wide on a quest from the King, seeking a legendary treasure. After months of searching, he had finally found it. But returning to the kingdom had been perilous: for there were many who desired the treasure for themselves.
The warrior looked up as one of the great doors opened. Laboriously, the warrior limped across the grand throne room. Practically falling into his bow, the warrior waited for the King to speak. Finally, after the silence had stretched over many minutes, a deep voice echoed throughout the room.
"Have you found it?"
The warrior removed a small pouch from the inner pocket of his vest. "As you commanded, Sire." The warrior answered, his voice rough as he held out the pouch. The King grabbed the pouch, eyes gleaming as he carefully opened it. Turning it upside down, a single object fell onto his hand. It was a thin, round disc of the lightest blue. Gleaming in the light, it drew the eye's attention to it.
"The Dragonlord's amulet." The King said, voice quiet as he slowly turned the disc.
The warrior closed his eyes. The amulet was one of many lost relics from the age of magic. If their magical properties had not died, such objects would grant a person untold power. For none possessed magical abilities in this age, though the beasts of yore still ravaged the land.
"Go rest." The King ordered, looking down at the warrior. "For once you are fit to travel, there is another treasure that I would have you search for."