Chapter 1 - IT IS WINTER
written by Tom McNally, illustrated by Bruno Stahl
The first volume of The Saga Of The European King is destined to soon be in print. Help to fund the rest of the illustrations and the print run through Indiegogo.
You can listen to this chapter through the magic of KINGCAST
It had been a good day, just like pretty much every other day in Medieval Europe. As the night powered up, the King of all of Europe went out onto the balcony of his rad bedroom and looked out over his Kingdom, and he liked what he saw. With his eyes, he saw the snow-capped rooftops and roadways of Brussels - the capital and most awesome city in his Kingdom - which was a cool thing to see, but, with the super pair of eyes he kept inside the most powerful of his hearts, he saw the whole of Europe as it really was. From the green fields of Celtland to the Mirror on its pedestal in Constantinople, and, from the pleasant islands that hosted the remains of the Atlantean Empire to the frosted crinkles of Viking Europe, everyone was at peace and just doing their thing.
It was a good time for the Kingdom of Europe because it had no enemies that would dare to stand against its King. He was about as hardcore as it got, and people were generally a lot more hardcore back then than they are now. The King's hardcorarity wasn't just some rumour that you read about in a dopey mass-mail or were told by your older brother when his friends were around, it was stone cold fact and everyone knew it. The King led a lifestyle of almost constant adventuring and beat up a boss at least once a week. He was covered in mad loot he had wrestled off one adversary or another and you could be sure that it was the maddest possible loot to have at that moment because it was the Law that the King had to have the best stuff of anyone.
Not only was the King formidable on the battlefield but he was probably the best person at Politics too. The King had a B.A in Psychology and would use it on you whether you liked it or not. No one had outwitted or had a better argument for the King in all of recorded history except the King himself, on those occasions where such a thing was necessary/possible (eg. Evil clone, mind control or something). It should be no surprise then, that entire nations were basically terrified of being in the same room as the guy.
But then the King's satisfaction turned upside down because he saw something from the balcony that made him so angry. He saw it with his normal eyes, not his super eyes, which were really just a metaphor all along. He saw one of his loyal subjects, a citizen of Europe, shivering outside in the snow and being cold. The loyal subject down there had paid his taxes on time, every time, had fought bravely whenever there was an attack on the Kingdom of Europe by some assholes or monsters and had been a close childhood friend of the King and had sent him handmade cards on every birthday.
'Why?' thought the King. 'Why should anyone in my Kingdom be cold and shiver so while I am King? Am I so feeble as to allow this to happen?' He then got tired of thinking it and bellowed it out the window so everyone could hear. It made the news that night. The funny part is that even though the town crier, whose job it was to bellow at people, tried to repeat it while doing his best impersonation of the King, even he couldn't bellow as good and hard as the King had from his balcony when he had seen what Winter had done to his people.
The King gathered up every messenger in his court and sent out word that not one of the European Officials in Brussels were allowed to go to bed until he had told them what he now had to say. The Big Important Council Of Europe was called, along with every Duke, Lady and Baron is the area and every Adventure Team that was hanging out in any of Brussels' many quest-filled inns. They were ushered into the Grand Hall of Laeken Palace. It was the best Hall in Europe, and almost certainly the whole world. It had a pool table and a pinball machine and a round-the-clock kitchen so you could order a plate of chicken wings just whenever. It was always warm and atmospheric and there was almost always something relevant to the story going on inside of its impenetrable walls. But, on this occasion, when all these important and charismatic people found themselves seated there in the middle of the icy night with no explanation, it didn't seem like all that great a place any longer. The fires were not lit, and there was no hot tea to drink or steaming pig-meals to feast upon. The Grand Hall felt cold and empty and they were not used to that. For hours they sat in the cold, for the King was taking his time in arriving himself. It would have been rude and against the Law for any of them to start talking among themselves before the King arrived so they grew very uncomfortable and were chilled to their very bones.
Just then, the King burst through the truly immense doors of the Grand Hall. He was followed by scores of adorable little slave guys holding torches and gas heaters and flaming puddings and hot onion rings and cheeseburgers and kettles full of tea. Within moments, every one of the hundreds of powerful people in the Grand Hall had a big, hot plate of food in front of them, a lovely cup of tea in their hand, and the strong and caring arms of a slave thrown over their shoulders, pulling them into a warm and loving embrace. This had all been rehearsed. The King had spent many hours beforehand in one of the empty stables with the slaves and the Royal Head Of Theatre, practicing all the blocking and choreography. The effect was tremendous. Before anyone could do or say anything about this sudden flood of toastiness, the King leaped up on the table and bellowed, “That's what we're going to do!”
Everyone was confused. They didn't know what the King was talking about. No one talked like this in Medieval Europe.
They asked, as one, “What? What are we going to do?”
'We're going to kill Winter!' replied the King.
Everyone gasped.
End Of Chapter 1
