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                               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

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