No-Good King

He lies around till noon in his royal pajamas. He starts drinking at one and never stops. He has me, his old advisor, procuring girls for him — he likes farmer’s daughters from the provinces, the fewer teeth the better.

Meanwhile the people starve as the greedy lords rule unchecked. The aqueduct turns to rubble. The barbarians have more than breached the borders now — they have bases in our forests, fortified and manned.

Each day I come to the king with my pleas and warnings; each day he waves me away. Today I told him that in my time, being king meant something.

He laughed. “No time was ever yours.”

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