The Throne of Kings

[Ludens]

oops sorry If I offended anyone reading my post, I apologise unreservedly.

I am not offended, and in fact I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment that good dialogue does not have to agree with the rules of grammar, but if you have three spelling errors in once sentence it seems more a case of laziness.

Put it like this: if you do not think your post worth the effort of giving it a quick spelling and grammar check, why should others think it worth the effort of replying?

Anyway, good to see you doing your best on the story, and looking forward to part three.


Edit: D'oh! Laziness, not lazyness :embarrassed :

[frogbeastegg]

Princess Ingar sounds delightful

The topic of spelling and grammar has arisen several times, perhaps it would make a good addition to your technical topic, Ludens? Then it would be stored safely in one place and new writers could look at the various viewpoints with less difficulty. It was certainly a topic that intimidated me waaaay back when I started writing a year ago.

I always try to get spelling and grammar spot on; I consider it a real achievement if I do. I'm dyslexic and it has been a year long struggle to get even the basics right; only now am I beginning to feel comfortable with bending the rules when it suits my work.

[Desiderata]

I think that I often rely too heavily on MS Word to point out my spelling and grammatical mistakes - The Throne is written in that package and its having a complete field day with slang!!!

[Desiderata]

The wedding was agreed to by the Holy Roman Emperor and so the planning and preparations began, including a new throne to be placed on the dais next to me. The preparations took many months and as I had never witnessed nor indeed knew exactly what a wedding was, I was particularly interested. My initial thoughts were, that a wedding was some kind of agreement between two countries as there were endless discussions about money, what was agreeable and what was not, who would get what title and so on. It all seemed very clinical.

One month before the wedding day, Princess Inga arrived in the castle with her handmaidens; although calling some ‘maidens’ was pushing that definition to breaking point. Of the twelve that accompanied her, at least eight were by far the most mature looking maidens I had seen in my short time in the court. In fact, two looked as they had been felling trees their entire lives so broad were the shoulders and large their hands. Their arrival was marked with a celebratory feast that lasted seven days! Such was the importance placed by the Chamberlain on making sure that the event was marked appropriately; but in doing so the preparations sent the Chamberlain in to an apoplexy of hand wringing, whilst the King sat blithely by, hunting, carousing and generally letting the whole affair blow over him. Whilst the Chamberlain was concerned that everything was “just so”, the King was completely underwhelmed by the whole affair. A typical exchange went something like this:

“Now my Liege, for the main feast when the Princess arrives we will have roast quail, turtledoves and partridge, goose, venison, roasted boar, gilded and slivered calves' heads, fish, roasted peacock, mutton, cheeses, walnuts, fresh fruits, oysters steamed in almond milk, ale-flavored bread, stewed cabbage, tarts and custards, fresh fruit preserves and spicy mulled wine. Will that suffice or do you think we should have some other meats as well?” mused the Chamberlain.

The King lazily scratched his throat and grunted. The Chamberlain’s looked up from his parchment that he was squinting at. It was obvious that the King was bored and uninterested.

“Sire, perhaps we should include some other roast meats?” asked the Chamberlain, hoping to elicit a response from the King, who was staring in to space and did not respond.

“Sire?” pleaded the Chamberlain.

The King shifted his position on the cushion and swung a leg over my arm, “You know old friend, that forest by Adney’s old castle is chock full of deer – I might go up and visit him and hunt for a few days.”

The Chamberlain’s bottom lip parted company with it’s partner as his chin fell, “My Lord, do we not have the tiny detail of wedding to arrange?” he pleaded.

“Pish George. You have a wedding to arrange; that’s the easy part. I’m the poor bugger that has to consummate it on the night.” the King stated devilishly.

“My Liege is making fun of me. To consummate the marriage with the fair Princess Inga, twil be a pleasure surely Sire? Does she not have hair like golden strands? Skin of the purest ivory?”

“Aye; and shoulders like a ox, eyes like a stagnant mill pond and teeth that would grace any castle wall!” said the King, cutting in on the Chamberlain “Sorry, you muttering something about the feast – now that does interest me. So what do we have planned?”

The Chamberlain hurriedly picked up his parchment and squinted at it once again “We have the Princess arriving in two days time. Her arrival will be marked with a feast that evening and the celebrations will go on for seven days. We have lots of different roasted meats, fish and fowl, fruits, wines and delicacies from around the world”

“Good; let’s hope that she knows in which hand to hold her knife then” said the King “Now back to Alney’s forest.” the Chamberlains shoulders sagged and he had the look of a man who realised that he had had his two minutes of the King’s attention.

So the day of the Princess’s arrival came. The Throne Room was full of the great and the good of the Kingdom. Every provincial governor was in attendance, whispering in corners, moving around the crowd and speaking behind hands. There were nobles from every part of the kingdom, visiting emissaries from other Kingdoms with expressionless faces but eyes that drank in information, traders who had grown richer under the hand of Hugh D’ Gascoigne and the Chamberlain, a picture of nervous energy; darting between groups, checking last minute details, waving to old friends, nodding at old enemies, a fireball of motion. Flags for every province were lazily moving in the breeze, attached to the poles set in to the walls near the ceiling. The servants had spent the morning washing and polishing the tiles until a look would slide off them. I was dressed with the finest cushions and a new smaller throne sat beside me on the dais, also bedecked with cushions. An expectant air hung in the room like mist. Then there was a movement by the Kings door, the trumpets blared and in strode the King. He was dressed in his finest ermine, his hands bedecked with rings and jewels and on his head the crown. It was an astonishingly simple affair; made with Welsh gold and studded with only a few jewels to signify the different parts of his kingdom. The nobles, governors and all dropped to one knee until the King lazily waved a hand and they rose to resume their quiet conversations. The Chamberlain extracted himself from what ever group he had been with and scurried over to the dais.

“Sire, the Princess has arrived, bathed and will be here shortly,” said the Chamberlain “and if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must speak a word or two to the emissary from Doge Vitalle?” The King flicked his hand and the Chamberlain hurried off.

After a little while, he returned “So where on earth has this woman got to?” demanded the King, quite bored now with the whole charade.

“Unfortunately Sire, it is quite common for ladies of the continent to increase the anticipation of their menfolk, by arriving a little late. It may be a case of hurry up and wait Sire” said the Chamberlain apologetically.

The King grunted, “Then you could at least get me a cup of wine”

The Chamberlain gestured to a servant and the cup appeared in the King’s hand almost by magic. Time passed slowly with the King getting increasingly irritated and the Chamberlain more anxious.

Suddenly, there was a fanfare and the double doors to the Throne Room were opened. As they did, the crowd parted and respectfully bowed or curtsied. The King remained in his seat, but I’m sure I could hear him whisper under his breathe “Suck it in Will, remember you’re a king not a knight on the battlefield”.

The Princess and her retinue arrived at the foot of the dais and curtsied. The Princess stood apart and was wearing a gown of blue, interlaced with yellow and white trimmings and veil that hid her face. Her hands were clasped in front of her and even I could see they were shaking from where I was. The King stood and bowed. Pleasantries were exchanged in fluent French; on the journey, the state of the Emperor’s health and on the suitability of the apartments for the Princess.

The King stepped down from the dais and gallantly said “Let me take you by the hand and help you to your throne, so that you can see everyone and everyone can bask in your beauty.”

The Princess offered her hand and the King gently grasped it, guiding her to the other throne he asked, “My court would be blessed if you would lift your veil; so that they may catch a glimpse of their future queen.”

“Of course my Lord” said the Queen-to-be. And indicating with her hand, one of her maidens came forward (if I remember correctly, Lumberjack number 1) and lifted off the veil. The Princess shyly turned to look at the King and as she did so, I felt the King stiffen and then sit straighter.

“Ah. Yes. Well. Ah. Um. Ah you see I’m a little confused; sorry, are you not Princess Inga?” asked the King clearly confused, for sat beside and slightly below him, was a young women unlike the Princess Inga that had visited earlier that year. This woman had golden hair, eyes the colour of the summer sky at midday, a small and delicate chin and lips that curved languidly with the slightest hint of a pout. She bore no resemblance to the Princess that had visited from the Holy Roman Empire earlier that year.

“I am my Lord. But my name often causes confusion as I share it with my elder sister. Although the pronunciation is different; my name is pronounced ‘in-gah’ whilst my sister’s name is pronounced ‘en-ger’.” Explained the Princess.

“However, we are very rarely confused by sight my Lord.” She added with the suggestion of a smile.

“I should coco” said the King breezily and waved his hand for the festivities to begin. Seven days of feasting, with food, wines, cheeses and fruit. Contortionists, jugglers, musicians and troubadours played each evening. It was my first experience of a feast and it was lively, especially as the Queen-to-be was able to match the King cup for cup in wine drinking.

Throughout it all, servants cleaned, scrubbed, cooked and served just as the ants in the Forest, whilst the nobles and emissaries like wolves and foxes prowled the Throne Room and the Chamberlain watched and noted, often sharing a look with the King. I came to understand that this Chamberlain was not the fool everyone thought he was and that the festivities gave him an opportunity to watch people whilst their defences became impaired. That there was more to this man than just an able general.

[zelda12]

Very good.

I would of liked, en-geh to have married the king. Nice to see a king that wakes in the morning and starts banging his head against the wall in his misery of a smart domineering women who demands his presense every night.

[Desiderata]

Very good.

I would of liked, en-geh to have married the king. Nice to see a king that wakes in the morning and starts banging his head against the wall in his misery of a smart domineering women who demands his presense every night.

Thank you for your thoughts - - I did think about that as a possibility, but I felt that having a beautiful and smart queen opens up other possibilities for the plot. In-gah is also a tribute to my partner - a beautiful and intelligent woman; ok, Im sloppy.

[DemonArchangel]

the King must have a beer belly

"Suck it in Will, suck it in"