Temptation Isthmus (Daily Planet email #966)
Temptation Isthmus
or
The Castle Hassle
or
Why is there heir?
or
The Question of the Lower Turret
or
My Kingdom for a Prince! No, wait…
The scene is a castle. Drafty room, large table, absolutely massive amount of candles. Tapestries. You know. A meeting is taking place, and the King speaks.
The King:
Members of the King’s Table, unnamed royal helpers, and various sneaky people peeking in through the surrounding architectural slats! I have convened this gathering to consider a matter of the utmost urgency, for before we are all somehow inevitably betrayed and gratuitously and bloodily murdered, we must solve for once and all the issue of succession.
The King (still talking):
As you all know, but I shall recap anyway for the benefit of storytelling protocol, tragedy has claimed my single male heir in an off-screen tragedy, very tragically, long before we started talking here, in a tragic prequel. Explicit and illicit couplings with my niece, my cousin’s enemy, my enemy’s cousin, various patruels both fetching and taciturn, the fishwife’s husband’s wife, assorted tea wenches, minstrels and wastrels, all these pleasurably wasted minutes I have suffered through and yet my non-connubial conquests have failed to bring forth a longplum-commanding child of my blood, plus that of somebody else.
Royal Secretary:
Your grace, what about your daughter?
The King:
…My what?
Royal Secretary:
Your female son. Could she not rule our kingdom?
The King:
Ha, ha, if only there were such a thing as a female king. Why, it sounds well-nigh impossible. I don’t believe there is even a word for it…
Master of Laws:
A king-y?
Undersecretary for Health and Human Services:
A kingette?
Nearby, passing cobbler:
Dear little female almost-king?
Tea wench:
Little ruling lady?
Meandering and portentous live rat:
Fresh ankles?
The King:
Enough! …OK, I’m just spitballing here. Perchance if I were to marry again, my new bride would bear to me a male heir.
The King’s current bride:
Like fun you will.
The King:
Mayhaps if you were dead?
The King’s current bride:
Mayhaps if you were able?
The King:
Mayhaps you hold your tongue?
The King’s current bride:
T’would be better than many things I have been asked to hold.
Master of Coin (breaking the rhythm):
Mayhaps the third daughter of my second cousin would be a like prospect?
Master of Laws:
Oh no, to that I must protest: she is but an infant.
Master of Coin:
Very well, when she is old enough to swallow not the ring, then.
Master of Laws:
Do you mean when she is a toddler?
Master of Coin:
A toddler plus a score, who could ask for anything more?
Master of Laws:
I would ask that you stay well away from my family.
Lord Commander of the King’s guard (interrupting):
Your grace, if I may suggest the first daughter of King Retsyn. He has control of the eastbound lanes of I-290, from here to Water’s Edge. If we are to have have any hope of attending the Solstice festival this year, an alliance must be made, posthaste!
Master of Ships (quickly interjecting):
If I may, your grace? I am like to recommend the fifth cousin of the third uncle of the half-sister’s ex of Sir Speedy. His house rules the Glen Ellyn area of south of Roosevelt. If our houses were to be united, we could rule from Route 53 all the way to the western fringes of Lorraine Avenue. No longer would we be required to pay tribute to do trade with the Walmart Supercenter, and risk to beggar our coffers in search of frozen custard.
Grand Maester (piling on):
I beseech you, your majesty, to sew your seed closer to home. My family has hewn strong to this land since the ancient times of The Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company, since even before written history when The Stones That Roll were but youthful pebbles and The Who were merely unknown, since God was a boy, and when dragons ruled The Land Before Time! Since before the first spring, from the era of epochs, when only the, the… (falls asleep)
The King’s Hand (having quietly anticipated his moment):
If I may speak frankly, your grace.
The King:
My dear friend, for years I have enjoyed your wise and dedicated counsel. Please do, speak clearly.
The King’s Hand:
Your grace, you are a fool.
The King:
…Not that clearly.
The King’s Hand:
Your grace, as all who enjoy your benevolent rule know, your desires are nothing short of honorable and do not bear questioning. As I consider with contented thrall the myriad of ways the light of your wisdom brightens the dimmest and most distant corners of your kingdom, you inspire me to wonder if there are ways in which your actions in this instance may yet be made even better.
The King:
I see. Well put, by the way.
The King’s Hand:
NP.
The King:
And you suggest?
The King’s Hand:
I hold that we should announce a contest! A challenge, throughout the realm, where families may pay fifty crown for a chance to be wed to none other than …The King!
Master of Coin:
We could charge people to watch!
Master of Strategic Partnership:
And solicit sponsorships!
The King:
You propose to have me auctioned off like a common, dirty slave? Or worse yet, to be sold to a great unwashed rando as if I were a woman?
The King’s Hand:
I am but suggesting, your grace, that through this competition all subjects of your kingdom may be brought together and made to feel closer to Your Majesty, that they are filled to overflowing with the joyous and foolhardy expectation that they will rise above their station while, all the while, we relieve them of the weight of their coin for the honor.
The King:
And may we then select the winner of our choosing? I mean, based on the power of the family, the size of their purse, and allure of their lady?
The King’s Hand:
Oh no, t’would be unfair. Wholly unsporting. An inequity unbecoming a King. No, no, it will all be subject to chance. However, you may in your wisdom determine that some runners-up are more likely to bear the heir of your preference. There’s nothing in the rules against it!
Master of Laws:
That’s true.
The King:
Oh, very well, send out the press release. I admit, I grow weary of this whole enterprise. Why oh why must there be two genders?
Master of Laws:
(Do you want to tell him?)
The King’s Hand:
No.
