The Mostly Danger-less Game Page #3

• Humour
• Satire
• Short story
• Fiction

								

“Hmm? Oh, well, Humph! Perhaps so yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Ludwig wants to hunt this poor devil,” Higgens said. “Unlike a lion or a tiger, we won’t be able to chain him to a tree or put him to sleep without the prince noticing. I doubt very much we can find a prisoner willing to walk slowly up to the prince and stand still while Ludwig tries his best to kill him.” 

Lawrence nodded. “Hmmm…. humph, well, eh, It is a pickle. I ‘spouse we could just lie to him.”

“To whom?”

“The bloke being hunted. Tell him, eh, he’s in no danger at all humph! That well, it’s all just a trick. A jape. The prince has a trick gun. Something like that. Stop him from trying to run.”

Higgens listened to this proposal, wheels spinning his brain. He began to nod as a cautious smile spread over his face. “Indeed…why don’t we do that?”  

“Eh, why indeed? Humph, humph!”

“No, not the lying. At least not to the prey…the actual lie itself. We just do it. Pick a volunteer from the ranks. Have him wander around the hunting grounds a while, let the prince find him, fire off a few blanks, bob’s your uncle, he’s ‘hunted’ a peasant!”

“Hmmm…” Lawrence considered, stroking his facial hair. “Eh, won’t the prince recognize the bloke as a member of the guard?”

Higgens raised his eyebrows. “Ludwig can barely distinguish his wife from one of his mistresses, even when they are mid coitus. Do you truly believe he will spot the difference between a peasant and member of guard?”

Lawrence nodded, tapping his finger to his chin. “Hmmm, eh humph, well, does all fit together rather nicely doesn’t it? But wait! Oh! Dear! Oh dear!”

“What?”

“He’ll want a trophy! Humph! Humph! You know how Ludwig is with his heads! Can’t very well stuff a live man!”

Higgens’ shoulders slumped. “Shit…no!” He snapped his fingers and the smile returned, fuller then ever. “Let me handle that bit! You go find a us a man to be hunted!” He said, as he stood and affixed his wig back to his head.

“Ahem!”

“Hmm? Ah! Higgens old boy! How comes the preparations for my hunt?!” 

Higgens stepped into the bed chamber, beaming at the monarch lounging on a magnificent four poster bed as he went. On the far wall hung a fabulously gaudy oil painting of Ludwig, bare chested, sitting atop a rearing horse, holding aloft a massive Upper Cracotian flag.

“Splendidly Sire! Sir Lawrence and I are reviewing candidates even as we speak.”

“Smashing!” The prince bellowed, causing the buxom young woman asleep at his side to stir. “I want a perfect specimen of manhood to mount above my hearth!”

Higgens’ smile faded and he bent his head slightly, “Ah, that is what I need to discuss with you Sire. There has been one further, tiny, complication.”

  “Oh, not again!” Screamed an enraged Ludwig, making the lady at his other side start in her sleep. “What in the blue fires of hell is it now?!”

“A most disagreeable issue with the archbishop.” Higgens said. 

“Oh, by Juno’s Ghost! Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?!” Ludwig shouted as he sprung from under the covers to stand upon the mattress. He turned to seize a large battle axe that had been mounted overtop the headboard. This caused the woman at the foot of the bed to turn over, muttering, “oy! Keep it down!”

“Sire! Sire! Patience, I beg of you, patience, let me finish please. The archbishop has granted you dispensation to perform the hunt.”

“Oh. Well then, good show. Fine chap he is. So, what’s his issue?”

“He insists that the remains are not to be tampered with. As such, alas, I dreadfully fear, you shan’t be able to keep a trophy.”

Ludwig’s expression became a childish grimace of anguish. “Aaaaw! I can’t ever have things my way!” He kicked a pillow, sending it tumbling off the mattress to the floor. “Why?!”

“He says that while it is within your divine right to kill the prey, to desecrate his corpse would be sinful and as such he must be given a proper Christian burial.”

The Prince sighed and folded his arms over his chest, pooching his lips. “You told him it would only be a peasant?”

Higgens nodded understandingly, “I mentioned it Sire, but he persisted in his view. You know the clergy, bleeding hearts for the rustics.”

“Not even just his head?” Ludwig asked.

“I asked that as well and he informed me that it was a theological gray area. As such he elected to say no.”

“Blast it and damnation! Tell me you have a solution chancellor!”

Higgens gave his most charming smile. “Sire, would I come to you with a problem and not a solution?”

“Spit it out then!” 

“We’ve hired the best photographer in the entire kingdom. He’ll take a magnificent portrait of you as you stand gallantly beside your fresh kill.”

Ludwig’s eyes grew wide. “A photo? Really? Are you…sure it’s safe?”

Higgens’ face remained neutral. “Safe, Sire?”

“I’ve heard it…can capture a man’s essence…his soul! Dark magic and all that!”

“Ah! I see, ha! Not at all Sire! The church has investigated the science of photography carefully for any signs of witchcraft and determined it is entirely benign.”

The prince nodded. “Bah! Very well! If it makes mister ‘I talk to God’ happy, we’ll do it his way!”

“Marvelous Sire! I assure you; this will completely exceed all expectations!”


The plan as it turned out worked perfectly. A volunteer was selected from amongst the ranks of the national guard. He was dressed as a poor dirt farmer and instructed to wander around the royal hunting grounds for a bit, keeping an eye on Ludwig. He was to allow the prince to make a show of “tracking” him while still staying out of sight. After a suitable length of time had passed, he strode across the monarch’s path in a clearing. He gave a most theatrical display of “dying” at the sound of the dummy rounds being fired from the prince’s rifle. Throwing himself backwards and splaying his arms as he issued a prolonged groan. A person in the know would have deemed it grotesque overacting, but Ludwig was delighted. The affair went off so brilliantly it was decided that this was to be a regular event. No more exotic animals from far flung lands, from now on the prince exclusively hunted his subjects. 

A lottery system was implemented, drawing the name of a soldier at random who would be given a small bonus in his pay for his trouble. In truth most of the men were all too pleased to be drawn, considering it a bit of easy duty. The hardest part by far was remaining still long enough for the photo to be taken. The closest anyone came to unraveling the whole plot was when a soldier dropped into a cluster of wildflowers on a lush spring day and suffered a bout of hay-fever. Disaster was averted by convincing Ludwig that the man’s sneezes were in fact howls of agony.

That incident aside Higgens could not have been more pleased with the results of the project. It wasn’t just that the prince was content, but the Kingdom of Upper Cracotia was thriving. Ludwig spent so much time orchestrating the details of his “hunting expeditions” that he was leaving the bulk of the work of running the country to his privy council. As such, things had never gone smoother. Furthermore, his newfound homicidal hobby served as an welcome outlet for his more murderous impulses.

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