Why I Can't Have Nice Kings

by Matthew Helbig

  Cat slapped Wolf on the back. “The joke was on you. My feet are way too big to fit in those dainty foot coffins he called shoes. My dad never taught me anything about sword-fighting, either, or much of anything, actually. I only saw him four times in my entire life. He did teach me the value of nudity, though—a gift I give to the world every time I go outside. Thank you very much.”

  Wolf did a really nice job of mixing pity and disgust in one facial expression. “Cat, I worked with your father for twenty years, and I never once saw him naked in public.”

  “Oh, right. My imaginary second dad taught me that. I made him up for Bring Your Dad to School Day. He took his clothes off in front of the class and gave all the other kids imaginary nightmares for months.”

  Wolf pretended he hadn’t heard Cat. “Tamin was a great mentor to me. We served together in the Garandian Army, along with Jorin and Fox from the Toothy Three. When Cat replaced him in the Trio and displayed such terrible skill with the blade, I felt it my duty to teach him everything his father had taught to me.”

  Cat smiled. “He even taught me how to grow this beautiful ’stache.”

  Jackal glanced at Wolf’s clean-shaven though stubbly face, then back at Cat. “Cat tried to convince me when I joined that it was a signature of our company to grow a mustache. I should have known it wasn’t part of the franchise agreement.”

  “Sorry,” Wolf said. “The first thing I should have told you is not to believe anything he says. The other Fanged Trios have an orientation packet they give to new members, but Cat traded all of ours for . . .”

  “Magic underwear. Too bad it turned out I was allergic to it. Say, remember when we ran into the Lithian Fanged Trio? Seeing their Cat was like looking in a mirror.” Cat rubbed his chin wistfully.

  “The Lithian Fanged Trio’s Cat was Ipanian and a woman.”

  “She made me wonder what it would have been like if I had decided to be Ipanian and a woman. If I had, I would have looked just like her.”

  “And if you had a fully-functional brain, too.”

  “Yeah, makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  Wolf turned away from Cat. “So, where are you from, Harry? We don’t really know a lot about you.”

  “I’m from a far-off land called Minnesota, though I grew up in Ohio.”

  “I’ve never heard of either of those places,” Jackal said. “What is your home like?”

  “Cold and snowy this time of year, but I do love how peaceful it is up in the woods.” I almost teared up, and barely held it back.

  “I love the snow. It stays yellow when you pee in it.” Cat tried to hand out snow cones, but there were no takers.

  “I wish I knew how to housebreak him, like the cats I have back home,” Wolf said.

  “They, however, did not turn yellow when I peed on them,” Cat said. “What? I had to mark my territory.”

  “So, that’s why they always give me a dirty look whenever you’re around.”

  “Speaking of dirty looks, when do I get to meet your mom and dad, Wolf?”

  “I think we should finish this journey in silence.”

  I Swear I Didn’t Spank Him, Officer

  Our journey finished without further incident. Cat even put underwear on without arguing. Evidently in his mind, being granted an audience with a king required just enough dignity to put on underwear but not enough to wear pants. We were escorted by a contingent of eight of the Garandian Empire’s finest—or at least finest dressed—to the citadel and command center of the town. Once there, we were told that right outside the town, the king was attempting to rally the army, which had just returned from a massive defeat. As our party turned around to find the army, we bumped into some old friends of mine, my two favorite knights from my books—though not really this show—Arik and Verix.

  “Look, Verix, it’s old Blue Fingers!” Arik said.

  Verix patted me on the shoulder. “Harry! I guess Axin and Weel finally got tired of you and let you go.”

  “No, I managed to outwit them.”

  I swear I could see Arik snickering behind her hands.

  “Good to see familiar faces, I guess. Arik, Verix, I’d like to introduce you to my associates. This is Cat, Wolf, and Jackal, known as the Fanged Trio, and the rest are our escorts, led by Captain Idon’trememberhisname.”

  “I’ve heard of you guys,” Verix said. “Didn’t you three once charge naked into an entire squadron of Sculander knights and still manage to capture their leader?”

  “There were only six of them, and Cat was the only one who was naked,” Wolf said.

  “Being naked makes me quicker,” Cat said. “And it provides me with an extra weapon.”

  Arik and Verix stared at each other in disbelief.

  “Hey, this is usually when Jackal calls me stupid or hits me,” Cat said. “Come on, Jackal, it’s our thing. I say something witty, then you hit me for it.”

  Jackal leaned down and pretended to tie her boots.

  “We’re on our way to the king,” I said. “We have a delivery for him.”

  “What a coincidence,” Arik said. “We’ve been assigned to his personal guards. We’re heading that way now. If it’s all right with your escorts, we’ll join you.”

  Captain Idon’trememberhisname nodded.

  “We were just coming from the royal armorer here in the citadel,” Arik said. “Our armor got pretty banged up in the last battle.”

  “We’re famous now,” Verix said. “The Duke of Trobanton said he’d commission a song of our exploits. I personally requested a gangsta rap or a sea shanty. Do you think they can do both?”

  “I do love a good rap,” Arik said.

  “There is definitely not any rap in this world—gangsta or otherwise.” I bit my lip in frustration. “Seriously, who’s writing this crap?”

  “So, what have you been up to, Blue Fingers?”

  “After I last saw you, I escaped to New Atlia where Hammurabi sent me to deliver an important item to the king.”

  “It’s a sandwich,” Cat said.

  “No, it’s not,” Wolf said.

  “You can’t prove that.”

  I sighed. “So, what’s been going on since I left?”

  “Well, we won the Battle of the Butt Cheeks,” Arik said. “Marshal Scritz praised Verix for his quick thinking. With Dyfantus on trial for all sorts of crimes, mostly against fashion, he couldn’t steal our glory.”

  “Unfortunately, our army faced a second Sculander army a few days later, and we were mauled pretty handily,” Verix said. “Their general, Sterlton Penwhicker, is a genius, and for some reason despises Garandians even though he is one. I wonder why he hates us so much?”

  “That’s odd, isn’t it?” Wolf said, looking at Cat, but Cat was busy restocking the popcorn in his underwear and wasn’t listening.

  “Fortunately,” Verix said, “Arik rallied a force that barely held off the main pursuit and allowed us to regroup here. Her scowling was very effective at keeping the enemy at bay.”

  Arik showed us her best scowl, completely missing the sarcastic tone. “The king has brought much-needed reinforcements to help us, but it may not be enough.”

  We entered the army’s camp, which seemed fairly ramshackle and disorganized. Most of the soldiers we passed were too busy staring at the ground to make eye contact. The healer’s tent was flickering with a steady glow. Untold numbers of wounded were tossed almost carelessly in a line that stretched all the way from the center to the outside of the camp. This army was definitely on its last legs, and victory in the next battle would require a miracle.

  Perhaps that was exactly what the king was hoping to accomplish with whatever was in the box. Not that I cared. My plan was to be back home before any of that occurred. Observing the next battle would provide a great opportunity to have the ending for my next book planned out for me, but at this point, I was exhausted and frustrated beyond words. Besides, my faith in the writers of this show wasn’t exactly high.

 
“We’re just going to deliver our item, then be on our way,” I said. “Better to leave the soldiering to the professionals.”

  “Can we stay, Wolf?” Cat said. “I’ve always wanted to see a battle.”

  “I’ve seen more than my share of battles, Cat, and you’re not missing anything.” Wolf looked around at the soldiers we were passing. “Besides, you really don’t want to be here for this particular one. Trust me. We need to be on to our next job, anyway.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be joining you,” Jackal said. “I need to find a different line of work.”

  “Is this because of me?” Cat said.

  “Cat, no more talking until we’re out of the camp,” Wolf said.

  Cat shrugged and gave Wolf a thumbs-up.

  “Can we talk about this after we’re done, Jackal?” Wolf asked.

  She sighed. “Sure.”

  Off to our right, soldiers were running constant sprints in pairs of two. I wasn’t sure if this was some form of fitness training, or perhaps a punishment, like my teacher used to give me for being bad at all things sports. Seriously, making someone run just because they’re bad isn’t going to make them better; it’s only going to make them hate it more—especially when he was supposed to be teaching me math.

  “Shouldn’t they carry weapons while they’re doing that?” Jackal asked.

  “They told me they’ll practice running toward the enemy when they get paid,” Verix said.

  Arik smirked. “The infantry has always been a bunch of cowards. Where is their sense of honor and duty?”

  “Easy for you to say when you have a big castle and peasants to fight the hard fights for you,” Wolf said.

  Arik’s mouth dropped. “They don’t have that?”

  Verix shook his head in bewilderment. “No, they do not, friend.”

  “Not even a little castle and a few peasants?”

  “Only if they’re toys.”

  “Maybe we could give them some.”

  “I guess I’ll have to explain how the feudal system works to you later.” Verix patted her on the back.

  “I’d like to hear that, too,” Cat said. “And could you explain the birds and the bees to me afterwards?”

  “Is he serious?” Verix asked Wolf.

  “You’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg on that one, my friend,” Wolf said.

  Cat scratched his forehead. “Where does the bird stick his penis in the bee?”

  With the royal tent in sight, I realized that my journey would finally be coming to an end. I would have enjoyed my experience on this show if they hadn’t gotten everything so horrifically wrong, except for the names and the basic descriptions of my characters. I had pretty much given up on them making me look heroic, and no, defeating a toddler—no matter how deadly they had made her look—and bravely getting my sword stuck in things didn’t count. For someone whose greatest physical accomplishment had been not finishing last in most of his college track meets, this had still been a truly epic experience. I was going to miss the Fanged Trio. So what if they were just actors? They were also my friends.

  With Arik and Verix at our side, no one questioned us as we entered.

  The tent looked like it had been attacked by an army of Smurf decorators. It was covered in royal blue, and I do mean covered—everything from furniture to clothing to even the food was pure blue. Are raspberries that are dyed blue still called raspberries? You can’t call them blueberries, can you? The guards’ skin was even dyed blue. I was so glad I hadn’t made the royal color black. I did not need racism added to the long list of things wrong with this show.

  Seated on a throne eating blue-dyed raspberries was the king of Garandia, Berin the Great, the first of his name. He seemed to be in good spirits, chatting amiably with his advisors and generals. Fortunately, he hadn’t required his advisors to dye themselves, only his personal guards. I would not enjoy becoming a Smurf in order to converse with the king, even if he was the greatest king in the history of my fictional world. While they were conversing quietly with Berin, one of the generals took notice of us and pointed his gaudily ringed finger in our direction.

  “Marshal Scritz, Your Majesty,” Verix said, “the people behind me come bearing an important package from Hammurabi Joudisz. May they present it?”

  The king clapped. “Hammurabi told us of this important object. They may.” When the king spoke, his lips, tongue, and teeth were almost indistinguishable in their blueness.

  Wolf walked forward and bowed, then handed the box and the key over to one of the guards. With a signal, the guard unlocked the container, opened it, and displayed it to the king.

  Berin gasped in astonishment, dropped his bowl, and leaped from his throne. Since the guard had his back to us, everyone had to crane their necks in odd directions in the hope of seeing what the box contained. Fortunately, our wait was short, as the king pulled the item gingerly from the container and held it up. At first, none of us could see what it was except that it was small, metallic, and shiny. Cat deflated in obvious disappointment. I was surprised that in his bizarre mind, a sandwich could not be shiny or metal.

  “Amazing!” the king said. “I thought this ancient relic had been lost since time untold. Can you believe it, Arik?”

  “Uhh . . . no, Your Majesty.”

  “Such a thing to find! It’s a shame that Hammurabi had to be removed from his post. Marshal Scritz, do you think the New Atlians will allow him to be appointed to an exclusively Garandian position instead of as their representative?”

  “He is in exile, Majesty,” Marshal Scritz said. “We’d have to find him first.”

  I still couldn’t make out what the item was, and judging from the intense squinting of those around me, neither could anyone else. Cat had lost interest now that he knew the item was not a sandwich and had grabbed a handful of blue oranges from a nearby bowl.

  “Is that man eating at a time like this?” King Berin said.

  “I wshnen eafin,” Cat said through his blue mouth.

  “Young people have no priorities, which is probably why we are losing this war. Behold! The very paddle that slew our Lord in his worldly form.”

  The entire room gasped except for me. I wasn’t sure what they were talking about. In my books, The One was slain by the blows of a massive heathen horde.

  “You mean the Padalus Rexiconum?” Verix said.

  “What was that story?” I said through gritted teeth and untold mental tears. I regretted asking as soon as the words had escaped my mouth, but curiosity got the better of me.

  “When the Paruxians, our Lord’s own people, rose against the small but infinitely devout cadre of followers of the new religion of The One, they caught our Lord at prayer and captured him,” King Berin said. “To shame our Lord, they sold him to the chieftain of the horse people, Hung’Lo, who bent him over his knee and paddled Our Lord with this very object over one hundred times. Our Lord would not submit, for the spiritual wellbeing of his followers was more important than the pain of an infinite number of spankings.”

  The king paused, then went on, “Tiring to the point of collapse, Hung’Lo called for someone to continue with the spankings. No one would come forth, seeing that Our Lord’s conviction and honor were immeasurable and that his heart was pure. Finally, after the fifth call for assistance, someone did come forth: Jaenia, our Lord’s own wife. The shock of her betrayal was too much, and Our Lord succumbed on the very next spank.”

  None of the king’s story was even remotely close to anything I had written. The One, in his human guise, was not even married in my books. And who would follow a religion where God was spanked to death?

  “Aren’t paddles usually made of wood?” I asked, because I don’t know when to shut up before I make things even worse.

  “A wooden paddle wouldn’t really challenge Our Lord’s faith,” King Berin said. “A metal one was needed to penetrate his holy posterior.”

  I decided to change the subject before this somehow got
worse. “Wouldn’t a chest full of money help your cause more than this thing? I heard the army hasn’t been paid in a while.”

  “Hammurabi said that as well in his letters,” King Berin said, “but I thought that finishing the shrine to St. William the Overly Dramatic would inspire the men so much more.”

  “Hear, hear,” the best-dressed of his advisors said. “The gold plating will be particularly inspiring.”

  “As will the thousand inlaid diamonds, Your Majesty,” said the shortest and fattest advisor.

  “I like the silk toilet paper in the lavatories,” said the advisor who was so much of a toady that he actually looked like a toad—one that was dyed blue.

  Berin stepped forward dramatically, monologuing away from everyone else toward what had to be a camera. “When the men see this great relic, they will be assured that The One is on our side and will overrun the enemy with renewed fervor. I would imagine that within days, this little rebellion will be finished, and I can continue my work of improving the holy places of the empire.”

  The best-dressed advisor started a slow clap, and soon all of the advisors had joined in with a brilliant display of yes-manning.

  What had these idiot writers done to King Berin? While I had made him rather devout in my books, they had gone completely over the top in that aspect and had ignored everything else about him. I bet this Berin wasn’t even an award-winning banjo player.

  When the clapping died down, Berin set the paddle in his lap and smiled at us. “Now, let us see the second item that Hammurabi talked about.”

  I turned toward my companions, who were just as confused as I. Teragonna had only given us the one package. Wolf had been handed back the container, and he turned it upside down. Nothing else fell out. Out of ideas, my companions shuffled their feet nervously.

  With nothing really left to lose, I decided to speak up. What was the worst they could do to me anymore, anyway? “We were only given the paddle, Your Majesty. Would you accept the gift of song as the second item?”