This choice: Trussed Up and Betrothed • Go Back... I awakened to a cawing ruckus. Perched on the window's ledge was a pure white raven, the King's own personal messenger. At once I noticed the tiny scroll attached by a leather strap to its right foot.
"Blasterly, or whatever your name is, get in here!"
My man-servant arose from beside my bed, where apparently he'd slept on a portable bed. "Ye...yes," he coughed, his voice raspy with sleep. "What is it, Sire?"
"Don't call me that!"
"As you wish, Si...Sir."
"Go and find the real King, and tell him he's a raven returned, a white raven."
After he'd gone, a knock came upon on the door, and when I opened it, there stood a plump man so short he came only to my shoulder. He had pins stuck in his red velvet coat, a measuring tape slung about his wide neck, and he carried a small stool, which he set before me and hopped up on.
"Good day, Sire. I am here to measure you for your royal wedding garments, if you please." His breath reeked of garlic and some other foul substance.
"My...oh, yes. Well, get on with it, I've more to do than stand around all the day, you oaf."
After I'd rid my self of the chattering tailor, it was one intrusion after another: the caterers, not just one, mind you, but one for everything: the salads, the main courses, the deserts, what wines, and on and on. "Why isn't the queen seeing to all this?" I demanded of the winesman.
"I do believe the good queen's feeling rather poorly this morning, Sire."
"I see. Well, if there's nothing else, you may take your samples and leave."
Alone at last, I burped. All those small cups of wine had rather gone to my head. Really, being the King is rather tiresome work. I wonder if Jorkie and the boys are down at the local inn. I could do with a spot of Marlor's good ale.
I turned as the wall next to the massive marble fireplace swung outward and out stepped the real King. He was dressed most peculiar as though he were a huntsman, I guess, though it was not very convincing.
"Sire," he said to me with a sweeping bow and a grin that spread across his handsome face. He stood back up and twirled one of his hands in the air. "Ah, he said noticing all the small wooden bowls still partially filed with wine. I see my good lady wife has been slack as ever in her duties, hmm."
"Ah, yes, Sire."
"No. No, I am Huntley."
"Right." As stupid a name as that outfit. You'll be fooling no one.
I sighed as yet another disturbing knock came, but whoever it was barged right in...
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