[Short Story] The King and I

The court magician stared at the King.

“I cannot turn straw into gold.”

“But you are a magician! That is in your title! Why can’t you perform magic?”

The court magician sighed wearily and shrugged. This was the real world. Magic was merely illusion and sleight of hand. He didn’t quite know how to explain this to the king.

After all, if he could truly turn straw into gold, why was he working for the king for such a pittance? Evidently, the king had never thought this through – but the king never thought things through. He only thought things through when it affected the economy. And even then…

So the court magician pulled a rabbit out of his hat, doves from his sleeves, and left in a grand flourish of smoke and mirrors.

The king was unhappy. He wanted to look for another court magician, so he called together the Royalty to discuss – the queen, the princess, and the duchess.

The king had often said he was not fond of rank and titles, hence he was the king instead of the King, and his wife was the queen instead of the Queen. Yet the whole was greater than the sum of its parts, and hence they were the Royalty instead of the royalty. Nobody understood the king’s logic, but then again, nobody really understood the king.

So the king wanted the court magician to leave, and he asked each of the Royalty what they thought. Having no use for the court magician, they could not answer truthfully, so they told him what they thought, which angered the king greatly. Why would they not his people first instead of their own duties?

Whilst the king simmered in his rage, the court magician thought of several ways to spin straw into gold. The use of an optical illusion with a spinning wheel, but this would be costly, for he needed real gold. Spray painting the straw with golden paint, but the paint would come off easily. Or perhaps coating gold with an easily shed straw covering. Yes. He would show these tricks to the king.

But the king flew into another rage upon hearing all this.

“I want real magic! Real gold!”

“But my lord – ”

“You are always full of excuses!”

“I am sure there are other ways to gain riches for someone with as much as you.”

“It’s not about wealth. I want a golden coat! For that, I will need golden thread! Use your magic and make me golden thread!’

So the court magician went away. If cost was not the issue, then well, golden thread it would be.

The king summoned forth the Royalty once more, disrupting the harmony of his government functions as he ranted angrily about his useless court magician.

“I do not understand why he is our court magician! I want another one.”

The Royalty hesitated. Here was a court magician who could preoccupy the king, who could help them get the inept ruler off their backs. It was not easy finding a court magician, for those in the kingdom knew how many of the court magicians had died from impossible quests that the king perpetually set off.

Yet this one had survived thus far, and had managed to fulfil the king’s quests satisfactorily. He also conveniently came from a distant land, and knew not of his predecessor’s deaths.

Or so they thought.

For the court magician had gone to seek out the previous court magicians, to see how they would have handled the king.

And they were all dead.

So the court magician prepared golden thread, but even as he did, he prepared a wooden boat to escape in the dead of the night.

The aged monarch met the court magician, his belly full of anger again.

“Well?”

“Here is your golden thread, your majesty.”

“You say it with such conceitedness. I could have done it myself if I had the time.”

“If you say so, my lord.”

“Look at me when I talk to you!”

The court magician looked up, and saw into the king’s eyes, gazed into the soul of the ruler. And then he realised.

The king was lonely.

The king had rallied good people to his cause, brought prosperity to the kingdom, and established a land of peace for his citizens.

But his drive had isolated those who cared about him. His ambition had murdered those that he loved. And the ruthless determination with which he had set about to achieve these things had lost him the love and respect of his people.

The court magician continued looking into the king’s eyes. It wasn’t golden thread that he wanted.

“Your highness. I wished I had the ability and skill that you had, but I do not. Please forgive me for failing to be as wonderful as you.”

The king was taken aback. Did someone finally… look up to him?

“You are forgiven. Come, sit by me. Let us talk about your day.”

The court magician sighed, and sat next to the king.

And so the kingdom continued to prosper. Not because of the king, not because of the Royalty, and not because of a mighty army.

But because a man decided to sit down and look at his ruler as a human being, instead of a distant tyrant.