That’s it, I know what my first official act as king will be! I am going to outlaw banquets! By the time I get to the throne, I will have sat through enough to last five lifetimes. I’m sure I’ll never want one again. Heck, I don’t even want them now. Gods know how much I’ll detest them by the time I take over.
He smiled as he walked and thought about that glorious day. Then a darker thought came to him.
Who knows, though, maybe by the time I ascend to the throne, I will have grown accustomed to banquets. Maybe I’ll even . . . like them! No, I can only hope that this is not the case. Please, Esmerelda the Merciful, please never make me like a banquet, not even ones in my honor!
Unable to push the topic out of his mind, his thoughts inevitably turned to what happened at the nightly banquets and a long sigh escaped his lips.
Every night it was the same spiel. They watched the same jester do the same tricks, and the same singers sing the same songs, and the same actors act the same things. Utterly boring. While it was true that the acts changed out once every few months, it wasn’t often enough to keep their tales and shows exciting.
And the noblemen – the same people each time – were almost worse. Each night they’d tell the same stupid stories of how they did this or that, hoping for some strange reason it would actually be funny this time around. Sure, the stories got laughed at, but more out of pity and unity than because they’d said something original.
Christopher let his thoughts drift again, and he thought about many things – homework, teachers, the lack of classmates in his school because commoners weren’t allowed for his ‘safety,’ and a great many other things. His mind eventually circled back to his argument with his father, still fresh on his mind. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t let it go like he did every other day, but for some reason this argument irked him in ways that previous ones hadn’t.
Maybe it’s the whole birthday thing, he thought, giving himself a reaffirming nod. But still, it’s just not right! I mean, twenty percent of earnings is just an exorbitant amount for a peasant to pay. I can’t believe my father, and my grandfather for that matter, think the peasants could be happy paying that high a tax rate. I’ll bet they’re planning revolts right now as I sit here thinking, and they probably would revolt as well, if they had any money . . .
For a brief moment, he let himself think about how effective taxation could be as a method to stop uprisings. It made sense, in a twisted way.
He shook his head in disbelief at his own thoughts. He would not think such things. He was better than that!
Christopher rounded a corner as his thoughts drifted back to the events of this evening. “Well, I guess I better get ready for this dull banquet tonight,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “Not that I want to go to a banquet, not even one for my birthday, but I guess I kind of have to, so I might as well buck up and get it over with.
“Who knows?” he continued, “Maybe something will happen tonight, something strange and unexpected, and I’ll never have to go to another banquet in my life.”
He rubbed his chin. “It could happen, I suppose, but it’s really unlikely. I must keep my hopes up nonetheless.”
Needing something to break the monotony, he decided to seek out his advisor, Adam. “Adam!” he yelled, looking around for his trusted advisor. “Adam! Where are you, mam?” He called out to his advisor a few more times as he navigated the twisting hallways of the castle proper.
The castle’s pathways had been built in a maze-like pattern on purpose. The original architect claimed this would buy the royal family precious time to plan a proper escape if the castle were ever invaded, but Christopher wasn’t sure how that would work, since the royal family would have to traverse the same maze to get out anyway.
As Christopher rounded another bend, a middle-aged man with black hair and brown eyes jumped into view, scaring him half to death.
“Here I am, my Lord,” Adam said. “What is it you require, sir?”
Christopher’s breathing slowed down as he realized who it was. “Never do that to me again, Adam. You scared me out of my wits with that little jump around the corner and that stance of yours.”
I am truly sorry, my Lord, I was only trying to have a little fun. I assure you it will not happen again,” Adam replied, bowing deeply.
Christopher twiddled his thumbs while Adam bowed as a way of saying he didn’t like the formality. Adam didn’t seem to notice. “Adam, you have always been my most trusted advisor, so advise me on something.”
His assistant shuddered slightly. “Yes, my Lord?”
“Tell, me, Adam, do you think a seven-percent tax rate would be enough to run all the programs we have? I sure as dimgate think it would.”
“Really, my Prince, you should not use such foul language, it is a dishonor to your mother’s memory,” Adam cautioned, referring to the word dimgate – a slang term for hell.
At the mention of his mother, Christopher got teary-eyed again. “I’m sorry, Adam, you’re right. I’ll be more responsible in the future.”
Adam nodded and put a hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “Now, about that matter of taxation.” He let out a long sigh. “I really do not think you should worry yourself about such matters just yet, Your Highness, for I am sure it will be years yet before you need to make such a decision.” He cleared his throat. “Now I really should
