Fractured Lives of Puppet Masters.

Political Lanscapes

Fractured Lives of Puppet Masters.

(Any similarity to living persons is purely coincidental.) (minor language and phrasing)

 

Once upon a time in a land far, far, away, and existing only in evil men's dreams, lived an orange-haired boy who dreamed of becoming king. His father, a notorious Land Barron, promised the overly plump lad that once he acquired and foreclosed through nefarious and unscrupulous means the remaining portions of the Empire’s lands, the empire would be ripe for the taking. He would hand him the Empire on a silver platter. After a few assassinations, and a power grab, here and there, all would then bow before him; his word would be law. His father’s promises made his body from head-to-toe tingle with excitement, and made his private parts burst with ecstatic delight.

 

Deep beneath the ice thousands of feet below where our would-be king's empire stood was another empire filled with riches and wonders beyond imagining.

It’s where all the magical beings lived and played. There were dragons, lots and lots of dragons. Also, humans, elves, pixies, dwarves, and other assorted creatures. They mostly got along, although occasionally there were a few hiccups.

 

In that land lived a little boy of slender build who stuttered and muttered when speaking to anyone of significance. Many of the little boys and girls snickered and laughed when our little prince spoke. His father was King of the land, and when he saw his little boy cry at being made fun of, he decreed that anyone who snickered or laughed at him would be exiled to the land where the wicked and mundane lived. This was the land where the fat little orange-haired boy lived. The little prince felt bad about the exiled, but shrugged it off, being that he was one of the entitled and his rights superseded those of lesser folk. But he promised himself when he became king, he would go above ground and gather up the exiled and return them home. Of course, they needed to apologize to him first before they were allowed back.

 

…..

 

Days became months, months years, in the lands of Air and Ice. The orange-haired chubby one and the slick slender stuttering guy became Kings. Harold the Orange seized the throne by force, while Reginald the Orator inherited his. Both were utterly charming, one sincerely so and the other for show. The winds of war were brewing. King Reginald was for open borders between the empires, while King Harold was for closed. Harold hated magical beings, such as elves, pixies, dragons, and other magical things. They polluted his lands, causing him political problems with their progressive and outlandish views. They advocated for the equality of the sexes, equal justice, and other scandalous things. He wanted his people ignorant and apathetic. It made it easier to manipulate, control, and rule his people to do things the Harold way. The foreigners started to poke the applecart by getting his subjects engaged.  That’s the last thing he wanted, an educated populace. He called for a summit. He wanted to meet the bleeding-heart King and tell him to get his demon spawn the hell out of his empire, or he’ll throw them out by force. War be damned.  

 

King Reginald accepted King Harold's Summit invitation, although it was more like a summons. This would be his first visit to the Land of Orange. He wasn’t looking forward to it. The Orange King was a despot, ruled by intimidation and known to flaunt the law.  He needed to play to his ego and convince him that the influx of his subjects to his empire was beneficial to him.  He wasn’t known as Reginald the Orator for nothing. He had the gift of gab; he could persuade almost anyone with his smooth talk.  He wasn’t that stuttering and muttering little boy anymore. He made a deal with one of his demon friends to relieve him of his stutter and make him a smooth talker. It only cost him a piece of his soul; he had plenty left. He put his dark Reggie shades on, as the Land of Orange was filled with blinding light, from a shimmering shiny ball in the sky. He went into the elevator portal and pressed up.

 

While Harold the Orange was waiting for Reginald the Orator to appear at the summit, he was whisked off the podium stage by his security detail. There was a dragon overhead breathing fire all across the area where the summit was to be held. Harold in a rage screamed, “This is an act of war, that Weaselly B*****d planned this all along. Release the Kraken. I bet he didn’t know I had monsters of my own.”

 

Meanwhile, Reginald went to the village where the exiles settled. They needed to come back home, but not before they apologized. It grated on him that not everyone loved him.  He left the summit thing and negotiations to his subordinates. He rarely paid attention to governing. One of his aides ran to his side and said, “The war has begun, our agents that came over the border have fermented rebellion, and our dragons are now attacking the Orange Man and his army.” Reginald was surprised, he didn’t remember ordering a war, but what was done was done, and he had the advantage of being a magical kingdom.  He had wizards, witches, and dragons, they had a Fat Man with a bad temper.

 

The Kraken appeared more formidable than anticipated. They were impervious to magic and knew how to walk on land. The damn things flew as well and knocked the dragons out of the sky. Harold's army had advanced weapons, they had freaking ray guns. Reginald’s magical armies retreated to their empire. But Harold followed and started to lay waste to Reginald's lands. Reginald surrendered.

 

Reginald pleaded with Harold to show mercy. King Harold laughed and said, “You gambled and lost bigly.  I made a deal with Satan. My Demon’s demon trumps your minor demons and magical monstrosities. I now declare myself Emperor Harold of Orange. “

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

let it rip