“Sire, the armies have all arrived and been stationed around the fortress.”
“Good. There’s no way those villagers can defeat my trained soldiers!” King Bluetooth’s ego oozed from him and infected his staff with a sense of discomfort. It was the same feeling you get waiting for the executioner to come.
“Servant! Bring me some duck! And Something for Esben!”
“Sire,” the servant bowed low and spoke to her shoes, “we are out of duck.”
“What! Well, what do you have?” Bluetooth sounded impatient.
“We have Halibut, sire.”
“Bring the biggest Halibut, then!” the servant bowed herself out backwards through the door. (Far be it from the King to stay anywhere but in his own fortress!)
“Sire,” Esben gulped, knowing what he was about to say might cost him his king-sized dinner. “I have word that the Pope is willing to make a compromise. To appease the villagers, and prevent this bloodshed.”
“WHAT? That pansy refuses to aid me, and thinks I’ll just give up? I don’t need him! This is MY war, over MY peasants! I am KING !”