By: Kyle Jacobson
Down the mountains, over the valley, beyond the gilded sea, should a traveler make the voyage a kingdom there will be. Inside walls, outside halls, engage a king with sir. Not just a sir but a General of sorts, the sort of the King’s most Generally. The General dismissed the King’s orders on boarders which enemy has yet to set foot. So positioning his power, the King requests the hour where his General’s place could be put. And goodly timing for now we’re finding the King is beginning to speak.
“General you must,” The King holds his cuss, “listen to orders from your King. For without orders lack order, and you bring disorder, just think of the chaos you bring.”
“My liege rest assured, your power is supreme. But when further away I have the say of things not to and to be. For my power is mine, in strength of my sword, and in courage of my will. I follow my lord, and sheath my sword, but when brandished I choose the kill.”
“No battles for ages, and blank are the pages, of a kingdom with no victory to hold. So this, I command thee, go out and land me an enemy like times of old.”
“Your sight is a blight on thinking of might, though you go on assuming that robes, thick and regal, enable that legal action be taken unto me. Your power has presence in minds of the peasants who blindingly work for you, but my power is felt with the blows I have dealt, thus making my power be true.”
From sitting to standing, the King thinks to branding his traitorous General a fool. He grips on his scepter and ‘members Sir Ector whose prowess justly brought rule. Adjusting his crown, the King makes a sound of grunting recourse in action. His power is presence, and teaching of lessons to lessers does grant satisfaction. So twinkle in eye, the King points to the sky, and the General drops to his knee. “It is Him, I remind you, who granted me throne. He you offend when taking to rend no foe I have deemed to be so. My power’s divine, and your course serpentine for cause of me things will go.”
Well it happens just then, a peasant walks in, and the two are rendered befuddled. Closer they grow, eyes piercing to show their discontent with the peasant who muddles. And muddling about in deep thought and great doubt, the peasant pays neither attention.
Angered, the King stands once again and thinks to bring peasant detention. “How dare you come to throne of your Grace. Now eliminate your trace you disgrace.”
The peasant glances over the two men. “I don’t know either of you.”
King and General redden with ruffles of rage, and try to force power of word and sword, which the peasant ignores, and the two grow abhorrently.
“I mean no offence, but I really don’t care. The violence and punishments you threaten me with are of no consequence. I’ll be on my way now. Good day to you both.” The peasant bows low, as he would to any person, and makes for the door. As peasant left the two grow bereft of power that never existed. However they insist their power exists, how else has the kingdom persisted?