V.
“RRRRRGGG!” The king was in a bad mood. “Where’s my council!?!” A very bad mood. “Where are my ministers!” He screamed. It was more of a command than a question. “Bring me my wise men!” He stamped down the hall toward his throne room. “Bring me my wizards!” He flung the door open with such force that his right-hand man standing behind the throne had to smile with futility. That was the fourth door this week.
The king saw his favorite minister standing where he always stood and continued ranting with all of the power evident in a king. “Am I a ruler of a kingdom of fools? Where are my fiddlers three?” The king sat down on his royal throne. “Bring me that Guru What’s-His-Name!”
“Um…”
“What is it, Riley?” the king snapped at his best friend and confidante, as well as his favorite minister. “Can’t you see I’m upset?”
“Sir, the entire kingdom can see that your royal highness is upset and has been for the past week. I can assure your majesty that the only person who has been happy during this whole time is Torel the doormaker.” The king slightly blushed. Riley made sure that he didn’t notice. “What is it that has upset our ruler so much as to throw the whole kingdom into a frenzy looking for someone who can solve the mysteries of life?”
“It’s that damned…”
Riley put a hand on the king’s shoulder who immediately regained his composure. The wizards, fiddlers, ministers and wise men gathered in the throne room.
“Have you found the answers yet?” The king was trying to restrain his temper.
The group of assorted masters looked at the king as if they didn’t understand the question.
“Well?” “Trying” was the key word. A slight growl issued forth from his royalness.
His wise men shook. His ministers took a step back. His wizards began to cast protection spells. The fiddlers three wondered how they came to be invited to this strange and most likely, dangerous party.
“Speak!” the king roared and knew that the word “trying” had changed to “failing.”
No one said anything.
“AARRGH! Out! Out, all of you! And don’t come back until you know the answers, damn it! And where’s that Guru?” The king’s face was beating with his heart.
“I’m sorry to disappoint your majesty…” Riley spoke in a soft, calming tone, “but, unfortunately, the great Guru Maltof is no longer on our plane of existence.”
“What?! He’s dead?” The king was still upset.
“Yes, your majesty. At least according to the article by reporter Morton Natas.”
At the mention of that name, the king’s eyes bulged, and his face turned redder than a newly ripened tomato. “And pray tell, how does our gentlemanly reporter know about the demise of the great Guru?” The king’s calm rage scared even Riley.
“Apparently, he was interviewing the great Guru for his ‘Mysteries of Life’ article, and after 18 months of fasting, the great Guru was about to reveal the solutions when he just up and died.”
“Uh-huh.” The king was gravely silent. “Now pray tell, why my wisest men, my greatest wizards, my wonderful council and my fiddlers three will not say a word when I command them to speak? Have they not yet discovered the key to the mysteries of life?” The king was very in control.
“Sir, to speak openly, they fear your incredible wrath.”
“My wrath?” The king gave a kind of chuckle. “That’s absurd. Why would they fear my wrath?”
“You remember the last person who was sent here to solve the mysteries of life?”
“Yes.” The king’s face was innocence.
“Your highness threw him in the dungeon and is having him tortured even as we speak.”
The king made a mental note to call for his torturers tomorrow. “Bring me my pipe! I need to think.” The king shouted at no one in particular. “Riley, have a seat.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
A previously unseen servant handed the king his pipe. The king looked around to make sure that no one could overhear what he was about to say. “The king is the leader of his people?”
“Yes, your highness.” Riley was confused.
The king lit his pipe. “And as ruler and leader of his people, the king should do that which will benefit the people?”
“As your royal imperialness has always done.”
“Now, in order for the king to continue to be a ruler, his people must look upon him with respect and awe?”
“Most correct, oh high one.” Riley was almost getting where this line of questioning was going.
“Now, if a king were to show weakness or could not answer a question (which could be construed as a weakness), a king could lose his kingly respect?”
Riley opened his mouth but thought better of it.
“About a week ago, that infernal Morton Natas came to interview me for his ‘Mysteries of Life’ article. He asked me all of those questions which are hardest (if not impossible) to answer. I muttered something about having forgotten a dentist appointment and rushed off most embarrassed. I couldn’t answer those questions, but that which was worse was that I had never even thought about what happens after death or if what we do matters in the grand scheme of things.”
“That’s how all of this started?” The tone Riley used was one that he should not have in front of and addressing the king.
The king glared loudly (if that is possible – and it is for he had done it).
“What I meant to say, your royal greatness, was that Mr. Natas is nothing but a reporter and could be easily made not to ask such unadvisable questions.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I suggest nothing, sire. I merely point out that your dungeons are large enough to hold the contents of Mount Olympus if your majesty so wished, and one reporter will not be missed in this world.”
“Ah, but to throw a reporter into the royal dungeon…”
“Would be every world leader’s and sports star’s dream.” Riley finished off the king’s sentence. “You would be the envy of all of the most powerful people of this or any era.”
The king’s eyes glittered.
Riley continued, “For now, bide your time. Wait for Mr. Natas to come to ask again, and keep trying to solve the mysteries of life. For having a member of the press in the royal dungeon is indeed a great honor, but it is a greater honor knowing the answers to life’s greatest questions.”
“Yes, Riley, you are correct.” The king returned to his merry old self, “Bring me my bowl and a bowl for Riley! Let’s have breakfast, my friend.”
“My pleasure, your highness…”
The king saw his favorite minister standing where he always stood and continued ranting with all of the power evident in a king. “Am I a ruler of a kingdom of fools? Where are my fiddlers three?” The king sat down on his royal throne. “Bring me that Guru What’s-His-Name!”
“Um…”
“What is it, Riley?” the king snapped at his best friend and confidante, as well as his favorite minister. “Can’t you see I’m upset?”
“Sir, the entire kingdom can see that your royal highness is upset and has been for the past week. I can assure your majesty that the only person who has been happy during this whole time is Torel the doormaker.” The king slightly blushed. Riley made sure that he didn’t notice. “What is it that has upset our ruler so much as to throw the whole kingdom into a frenzy looking for someone who can solve the mysteries of life?”
“It’s that damned…”
Riley put a hand on the king’s shoulder who immediately regained his composure. The wizards, fiddlers, ministers and wise men gathered in the throne room.
“Have you found the answers yet?” The king was trying to restrain his temper.
The group of assorted masters looked at the king as if they didn’t understand the question.
“Well?” “Trying” was the key word. A slight growl issued forth from his royalness.
His wise men shook. His ministers took a step back. His wizards began to cast protection spells. The fiddlers three wondered how they came to be invited to this strange and most likely, dangerous party.
“Speak!” the king roared and knew that the word “trying” had changed to “failing.”
No one said anything.
“AARRGH! Out! Out, all of you! And don’t come back until you know the answers, damn it! And where’s that Guru?” The king’s face was beating with his heart.
“I’m sorry to disappoint your majesty…” Riley spoke in a soft, calming tone, “but, unfortunately, the great Guru Maltof is no longer on our plane of existence.”
“What?! He’s dead?” The king was still upset.
“Yes, your majesty. At least according to the article by reporter Morton Natas.”
At the mention of that name, the king’s eyes bulged, and his face turned redder than a newly ripened tomato. “And pray tell, how does our gentlemanly reporter know about the demise of the great Guru?” The king’s calm rage scared even Riley.
“Apparently, he was interviewing the great Guru for his ‘Mysteries of Life’ article, and after 18 months of fasting, the great Guru was about to reveal the solutions when he just up and died.”
“Uh-huh.” The king was gravely silent. “Now pray tell, why my wisest men, my greatest wizards, my wonderful council and my fiddlers three will not say a word when I command them to speak? Have they not yet discovered the key to the mysteries of life?” The king was very in control.
“Sir, to speak openly, they fear your incredible wrath.”
“My wrath?” The king gave a kind of chuckle. “That’s absurd. Why would they fear my wrath?”
“You remember the last person who was sent here to solve the mysteries of life?”
“Yes.” The king’s face was innocence.
“Your highness threw him in the dungeon and is having him tortured even as we speak.”
The king made a mental note to call for his torturers tomorrow. “Bring me my pipe! I need to think.” The king shouted at no one in particular. “Riley, have a seat.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
A previously unseen servant handed the king his pipe. The king looked around to make sure that no one could overhear what he was about to say. “The king is the leader of his people?”
“Yes, your highness.” Riley was confused.
The king lit his pipe. “And as ruler and leader of his people, the king should do that which will benefit the people?”
“As your royal imperialness has always done.”
“Now, in order for the king to continue to be a ruler, his people must look upon him with respect and awe?”
“Most correct, oh high one.” Riley was almost getting where this line of questioning was going.
“Now, if a king were to show weakness or could not answer a question (which could be construed as a weakness), a king could lose his kingly respect?”
Riley opened his mouth but thought better of it.
“About a week ago, that infernal Morton Natas came to interview me for his ‘Mysteries of Life’ article. He asked me all of those questions which are hardest (if not impossible) to answer. I muttered something about having forgotten a dentist appointment and rushed off most embarrassed. I couldn’t answer those questions, but that which was worse was that I had never even thought about what happens after death or if what we do matters in the grand scheme of things.”
“That’s how all of this started?” The tone Riley used was one that he should not have in front of and addressing the king.
The king glared loudly (if that is possible – and it is for he had done it).
“What I meant to say, your royal greatness, was that Mr. Natas is nothing but a reporter and could be easily made not to ask such unadvisable questions.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I suggest nothing, sire. I merely point out that your dungeons are large enough to hold the contents of Mount Olympus if your majesty so wished, and one reporter will not be missed in this world.”
“Ah, but to throw a reporter into the royal dungeon…”
“Would be every world leader’s and sports star’s dream.” Riley finished off the king’s sentence. “You would be the envy of all of the most powerful people of this or any era.”
The king’s eyes glittered.
Riley continued, “For now, bide your time. Wait for Mr. Natas to come to ask again, and keep trying to solve the mysteries of life. For having a member of the press in the royal dungeon is indeed a great honor, but it is a greater honor knowing the answers to life’s greatest questions.”
“Yes, Riley, you are correct.” The king returned to his merry old self, “Bring me my bowl and a bowl for Riley! Let’s have breakfast, my friend.”
“My pleasure, your highness…”