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Sunday, September 8, 2024

the prince



by horace p sternwall



the sun rose slowly over the royal city on the morning of day 302 of the year 34786.

the prince woke up.

another slow day, he thought automatically.

another day in which my respected parent, the king, will perform his vigorous exercises vigorously, and continue to rule the kingdom peacefully and wisely in his interminable vigorous old age.

the prince rang the little bell on the table beside his bed, and his servant appeared.

the usual, your highness?

yes. a little extra jelly on the toast, if you please.

certainly. will your highness be attending the council this morning?

i think not.

the servant bowed and left, leaving the prince to his thoughts.

after leaving the prince’s request for a little extra jelly with the cook, the servant repaired to the snug office of the vizier.

unsuspected by the prince, the servant was able to read all the prince’s thoughts, and he reported them every day to the vizier, who used his discretion in passing along to the king what he thought the king needed to know.

well? the vizier enquired.

he seems a bit more agitated this morning. his fantasies are a bit more vivid.

and more violent?

it is hard to see how they could be more violent. i would say they are more vivid - perhaps more urgent.

thank you. you have done well. you may take the rest of the day off, as the prince will not require your services.

the servant departed.

the vizier gazed out of the small window of his office.

the king had ruled in peace for many years, but the prince, as the vizier well knew, had other ideas as to what he would do when he inherited the kingdom.

the prince was profoundly bored with his life and with the life of the kingdom, and was turning over in his mind plans to sow discord in the kingdom.

first, he would announce that life in the kingdom had grown stagnant, that the kingdom had lost its claim to greatness, and that the reason was the abolition of the old and honorable factions of the reds and the greens, when every person in the kingdom adhered to one or the other. then, argument and oratory had filled the streets and the air, giving spice to everyday life.

that would be the beginning. a slow trail of powder would lead from the reestablishment of the factions to the outbreak of full blown cicil war.

and the world would be interesting again.

the prince was finishing his breakfast, when the door to his chamber was unceremoniously opened, and the vizier appeared, followed by the royal executioner.

to what do i owe this honor? the prince asked.

come, your highness, you know perfectly well what this visit signifies, the vizier replied.

may i finish my tea and toast?

of course, we are in no hurry.

as they proceeded down the stairs to the execution room, the prince observed -

i can not complain. i had a pleasant enough, though occasionally tedious, thirty-odd years.

actually, the vizier replied, the memories of thirty years was just something we planted in your brain. you have really only been alive for four days.

that evening, the king and the vizier enjoyed a sober repast in one of the palace’s smaller rooms, attended by a single ancient servant.

a period of mourning would be announced at dawn, after the kingdom awoke to another peaceful day.

a new crown prince would be decided upon, and installed in the afternoon.



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