… They met secretly, in the dark chambers deep within the depths of their cloud mansions, and schemed. There were many ideas on the manner in which they could remain in power, ranging from the simple to the obscene to the downright deranged. Some were in favour of merely trying to influence the young prince’s judgement as puppet-masters behind the scenes; others claimed the only way forward was to imprison him in a tower; but the majority knew the only way to be absolutely sure of power was to kill him.
How else could the people be dissuaded from continually trying to reinstate him? It was for their own good, the nobles argued, for while the prince was all kindness, goodness, understanding, he was thoroughly incompetent in matters of state. His reign would inevitably lead the kingdom to ruin. There was nothing for it but to betray him. For the good of the people.
But how was this to be done? And who could be entrusted with this most delicate task? While the decision had been made, none really wanted to be in charge of the actual deed. None, except one minister: Lord Tartarus. A lover of trickery and bloodshed, it was even rumored that he had killed his own children and fed them to guests. All the other oligarchs feared him with a scorching dread that left them sweating whenever his cold, granite voice spoke.
“Completely insane,” the other ministers concurred, but none dared do anything about him. After all, he rarely interfered in matters of state, as long as he was left to rule his own autonomous cloud region without investigation.
So it was settled, and the die was rolled, and the bets made, and life’s roulette wheel began to spin, circling the black and bloody numbers.
The oligarchs parted.
Left to his own devices, Lord Tartarus began to consider how best to dispatch the prince. First he considered a poisoned chalice, but that seemed so boring. Perhaps a knife-wielding re-animated corpse? No. His experiments in that area were as yet unsuccessful. Then, suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning had shot out from one of his pointy-sharp contraptions and struck him, it came!
A tiger juggling ….grenades! What could be simpler or more full-proof?
First, he would need to train the tiger to wield grenades, then give it uni-cycling lessons, and finally figure out how to how get the grenade-wielding tiger to attend the coronation without arousing suspicion. The wheels – or more accurately the wheel – was in motion…
This is brilliant! You have a very sophisticated writing style, and yet, manage to keep the subject matter light and amusing. Like it.
xxx
“So it was settled, and the die was rolled, and the bets made, and life’s roulette wheel began to spin, circling the black and bloody numbers.”
Magic in a sentence
“A tiger juggling ….grenades! What could be simpler or more full-proof?”
What a great line!