The Mostly Danger-less Game

• Humour
• Satire
• Short story
• Fiction

								
As a rule, royals lean towards the eccentric. Prince Ludwig the IV of Upper Cracotia was no exception to this. He was exceptional in a great many ways, exceptionally cruel, exceptionally petulant and of course exceptionally insane, but with regards to eccentricity, he was perfectly in keeping with the norm. 

The eccentricity takes different forms for different royals. For example, Count Bartholomew of Hungraland was known for keeping a separate palace, identical to his own in every detail, except at a quarter the size and filled with perfect replicas of himself, his wife, children and the entire royal court, in doll form. Elsewhere, in Brekinbergia, Lady Francis Hemmelif’s collection of wooden shoes filled an entire wing of her mansion. Some collect glass eyeballs; others learn the secrets of plumbing. One Duke, who shall remain nameless, had a rather unhealthy interest in the mating habits of the common beaver.

Being the man that he was, Ludwig’s particular interest took a decidedly more bloodthirsty flavor. His love was for hunting. The trophy room of the Castle Balfor was packed, floor to ceiling, with the heads, hides and horns of thousands of creatures from across the earth. If you asked the Prince (and indeed, even if you didn't) he would regale you for hours with vivid tales of how he had brought each and every one of these beasts on the Royal Hunting Grounds.


He was in this very room, considering this mighty collection, on the day he summoned his chancellor Higgens to speak with him.

“You called for me Sire?” Higgens said, as he stood in the doorway, bony hands clasped behind his long, thin back. The Prince was seated in a magnificent wing backed chair, staring wistfully into a roaring fire. Cognac in one hand, cigar in the other.

“Higgens?” Ludwig said gravely, “Yes, come in man, I need to speak with you.”

The chancellor took his customary place on the Polar Bear skinned rug at the prince’s side and bowed his wigged head. Ludwig rose, very slowly from the chair, never taking his eyes off the fire. He stared a moment longer in silence as Higgens felt sweat breaking out on his forehead. Finally, the prince tossed the stub of cigar into the fire with a disgusted “Bah!” 

Then followed it with the cognac glass which shattered against the back of the hearth. Higgens flinched ever so slightly. The prince spun round, revealing his ruddy, mustachioed face twisted into a scowl.

“Look around Higgens!” He roared.
The Chancellor did as he was instructed. Hundreds of taxidermied faces stared back at him from the walls. Above hung two chandeliers, one of elephant tusks, the other of antlers. “What do you see?” Demanded Ludwig.

Higgens blinked. “Why Sire!” He exclaimed, “I see your many triumphs! Right there, the Hyena you felled with your crossbow!” He said pointing at the stuff animal which appeared to be mid fit of laughter.

“Bah!” The prince waved a dismissive hand.
Higgens continued, “and there, the Komodo dragon you snared with a brilliant manilla mantrap!” 

“Pssh!”

“The marmot you– “

	“Animals!” raged Ludwig. “You see animals Higgens! Furred and fanged, hoofed and scaled and not one damn brain in any of them!”

Higgens could think of no suitable replay and merely stood silently, watching as Ludwig began to pace the floor, his arms angrily folded across his chest and his head down, fuming. At last, he asked “this…is a problem Sire?”

“Yes, it damn will is! I’ve personally killed nearly every bleeding beast in creation and there simply is no thrill left anymore!”

“Ah…” Higgens nodded. “I see. Surely though Sire, some challenge left”.

At this, Ludwig raised his head and his eyes fell on the chancellor. Higgens saw a twinkle in them that made his blood run cold. “Oh yes there is!”

Higgens raised his eyebrows quizzically. “Oh? Do tell Sire!”

The prince raised his eyes to the ceiling as he began to speak. “It came to me this morning, as I was strolling the garden. I saw it so clearly…” He began to walk, waving his his hands as he did. “A misty morning at dawn…I am on the trail of my prey…stalking it deftly through the trees and bushes of the royal hunting grounds…then I spot it! Off in the distance, coming over the rise of a hill…” Here he paused and grabbed hold of a fire poker, raising it to his shoulder. His eyes were transfixed on his imagined target. “I raise my rifle…fix my sight…” He stopped and gave the chancellor a ruefully glance. “What do I see Higgens?”

Higgens shrugged, shaking his head. “What indeed Sire?”

“A man!”

“…Ah.”

“Mmm! Yes! A man! One capable of cunning! Guile! A creature able to put up a real fight!” He spun ‘round and faced his minister, holding the poker in his clenched fist at his side. “What do you say to that eh?!”

Higgens exhaled slowly, smiling as he spoke. “A most inventive idea Sire. Did you have a particular, er, participant in mind?”

“Pssh! Anyone will do! So long as he is fit! And not a halfwit! Send out a call for a volunteer from the National Guard!”

“A…volunteer? Sire, I must say…that might prove problematic.”

Ludwig’s brow darkened. “Problematic? Why problematic? Aren’t they my damn soldiers?!”

Higgens eyed the poker cautiously. “Of course, Sire, I only mean, that the men would be all too eager to serve their beloved prince in an honorable manner. It would create a sense of disunion in the ranks, the rush of volunteers jockeying for their chance to be of service.”

The prince rolled his eyes. “Bah! Very well! Have a lottery then! Draw a name at random. Then I get my hunt and there’s no discord.”  He said with the bored annoyance. He was once again holding the poker like a pretend rifle and scanning the room for prey.

Higgens nodded slowly. “A most ingenious solution Sire, truly…however…”

Ludwig whirled around again and faced the minister, pointing his make-believe weapon directly at his heart. His eyes flickered with bewildered rage.

“Oh, Ye Gods what is it now?!” He demanded, his foot stomping on the stone floor.

Higgens raised his hands in supplication, “Please sire, I only mean to say, that is…while the men might be eager to volunteer for such a role, if they were to learn that a random lottery was being held which might result in their rather certain death, it could be somewhat damaging to their morale.”

The prince gaped, incredulous. “Psssh! What’s this nonsense?!”

“Incredible as it may seem Sire, it is indeed the truth.”

“Damn and blast if it isn’t always something!” He exclaimed, first stamping his foot again, then with petulant kick, sending a taxidermized squirrel careening head over tail across the room. 

“My profound apologies sire. It was a most intriguing notion. Perhaps we ought to return our attention back to animals? You say you lack challenge, well, my intelligence sources recently informed me a of a species of ferret, that- "

“The Nobles!” Ludwig interrupted.

Higgens blinked. “The…nobles Sire?”

“Yes! The damned nobility! Always whining about their bleeding taxes and land and suffrage! Pick one of them, surely, we can afford to lose one?!”

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