To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML, please visit our website at: /~vivian Now offering over 140,000 words of pure prurience! -------------------------------------------------------- Sangrelysia by Vivian Darkbloom In Which the King Reprimands Our Wizard for his Antics The King scowled, frowning at the scroll unfurled on the desk before him. On either side stood a tall, muscular armored guard. The one on my right was Roderick, the captain of the guard, who (like me) had seen the days before George's ascension to the throne. The coup had taken place after the suspicious unsolved disappearance of George's predecessors, Sylvia's mother and father, Megan and Hieronymus, the rightful Queen and King of Sangrelysia. After their disappearance, we discovered that the ascension committee had been carefully stacked with members who adhered to ideologies distinctly antithetical to the compassionate and peaceful egalitarian reign of Hieronymus the Good. Whoever had masterminded the power-grab was deceitful and clever, the latter of which meaning it couldn't have been George himself. "I heard about your antics last week," growled the King. "Antics," I replied. "Don't know anything about those. Ants, sometimes, in the kitchen if I leave out brownie crumbs. Then I have an Aunt Nellie in the countryside, but I don't think she has ticks. Unless she has a nervous tic that comes out when I'm not around." Roderick was struggling not to laugh, so I winked at him. He coughed furiously. "Your antics in the marketplace," continued the King angrily, "have resulted in the complete dismantlement of my campaign against the terrorists from Valeplysia!" "Actually, there's no such word as dismantlement. You could say `dismantling,' or perhaps find a more suitable root that wouldn't require a suffix, `collapse,' for example." The King ploughed on in ignorance: "Do you realize that I didn't gain a single recruit on that day? And furthermore, inspired by your inexcusable interruption of the recruitment meeting, a group of men decided to set out on a peace envoy to Valeplysia?" "I can't tell you how disappointed I am to hear that," I replied. "What's worse," grated the faux-King, "Someone has spread a rumor that the women of Valeplysia are more beautiful than those of our fair Sangrelysia. . ." "Might be on to something there. Or maybe it's just a grass-is-greener thing -- I mean, er, how awful! Who on earth should spread such a terrible rumor?" "And -- how shall I say it -- of looser moral virtue." "Some long words there," I said. "Better calm down, or you'll wear yourself out." The King's gradual reddening continued. "And because of those rumors," he whined, "I've lost all of the recruits I once had! They've all decided to join the peace envoy!" "Deplorable!" I exclaimed. "Young men would rather frolic orgiastically with beautiful young ladies instead of breathing the glorious stench of rotting flesh on a blood-drenched battlefield riddled with maimed corpses and severed body parts. What is the problem with today's youth?" "Young women, too!" he nearly shouted. "Hm. Our young women, traveling to far-off lands in order to get familiar with other beautiful young ladies of loose virtue. I like the sound of that. Oh yes, I do!" "Stop joking around! This is a serious matter! We're talking about the war on terror." "Yes, given that you're the biggest terrorist in these parts, I'd say we are. Say, Roderick, could we offer you a glass of water or something?" At this Roderick completely lost it, slapping his thigh and doubling over briefly with a burst of laughter, then snapped back to standing attention with solemnity. "OK, I'm better now." I would have joined in the guffaws, had I not been thinking of the loss of life which had resulted from George's last war. King George glared at me. "Wizard, you can be replaced, you know." "So can you," I retorted. "No, because I'm Divinely Appointed." I laughed. "Meaning that, your ego tells you that it's the voice of God, which you take as proof that God talks to you." "The Wizard Elwrong subdued the red dragon of the North." "Did he? And you think that was a good idea." "Now the people of the North can enjoy their freedom without being afraid of the dragon." I snorted. "So Elwrong's on your leash now? Or is it the other way around? What other foolhardy enterprises has he embarked on recently?" "Subduing the red dragon was a necessary step. We're at war, you know!" "Yes, war is always a good excuse. I know you can be counted on to always start a war, so you'll have something to blame for your foolish and irresponsible actions. Did it ever occur to you, that maybe it's the red dragon that keeps the mundanes from invading our world? And without the dragon, we face the possibility that the influx of boring lackluster morons from the non-magical realm will dispel the magic in our own world? Oh right, given that you yourself are a lackluster moron, you wouldn't understand how lack of imagination can trigger disruption of the supernatural metasphere." George shrugged. "All of my experts tell me that there's no evidence for such theories." "The `experts' you bought, you mean." "It's bad for the economy to have a dragon around." "This from a King who has bankrupted our nation by bloating the military budget, and devastated productivity by entrapment in senseless destructive wars? Who cares about that big picture anyway? Why bother learning from history? Or planning for the future? " "I suppose you think we should just sit around at let the terrorists take over." "With you in office, they already have." He sniffed "Elwrong is a wizard, a damn sight better than you are. And he has a name. He assured me in his last letter that there's nothing to worry about." King George smoothed out the scroll on the desk in front of him. So, I thought, The two of them have been corresponding. It was beginning to add up. "Convenient that he justifies your policies," I said. "Elwrong certainly shares your proclivity for being sleazy, exploitive, and power-hungry." I had heard of Elwrong's teacher, and knew that many dark and dreadful things had been whispered about this unwholesome instructor of conjuring, whose sorcery had struck terror in the hearts of many who scarcely dared speak of him. It was also certain that this evil instructor was no relative to the infinitely benevolent Ancient Mother. Our archetypal Goddess, whose loving inspiration has ever been the wellspring of all magic in Sangrelysia, is the Ancient Mother. Her wisdom is the source of all magic in Sangrelysia, and she has given roots to the flourishing of all generations of wizards, myself included. The King dipped a quill in the inkwell in front of him. "I've decided that the princess needs to spend some time visiting her aunt in the countryside. You'll be escorting her." He proceeded to sign his name in an uneven scrawl that would have been the shame of many a 5-year-old. I was surprised he didn't get any of the letters backwards. Chapter 6 _______________________________________________________ For more stories, please visit our site: /~vivian