The Mostly Danger-less Game Page #5

• Humour
• Satire
• Short story
• Fiction

								


“Thankee your lordship!”

            Seven minutes to eight in the morning.

Bernard raised the case which was carefully labeled “BLANKS” and set it down once again with the label turned to the wall. He then did the same with the case marked “LIVE ROUNDS”, placing the two side by side. He then reached into latter case, extracted a live cartridge and loaded it into the Prince’s beautifully restored antique hunting rifle.

“Whoops!” He said, inspecting the sight.

                Eight of the clock in the morning.

“Higgens!”

“Sire! You’re looking smashing as usual!”

Ludwig strode to the edge of his hunting grounds dressed in his traditional hunting attire. A full buckskin shirt and pants with frilled trimming, knee high brown leather boots and a coonskin cap perched at a jaunty angle on his head. The rifle, it’s barrel shimmering in the morning sunlight, was tucked under his arm with casual disregard. 

“Glorious day!” The prince thundered, “perfect for a hunt!” This was true. It was a rare spring without the customary rains of the reason. The sun was beaming down from out of a light blue, cloudless sky. The forested grounds were a wall of solid green. 

“Humph! Humph! Most agreeable indeed.” Said Sir Lawrence. ‘Pray Sire, have you, eh, enough ammunition?” He asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“Bah! My rifle is primed and ready with a single shot Sergant-at-arms!” The prince answered, caressing the butt of his rifle lovingly.

Though not a natural actor Lawrence diligently followed his part of the script, raising his eyebrows and assuming a look of preposterous wonder. “One shot?! Humph! Sire! Oh! Dear! Oh dear! Should you not have extra?”

“Bah!” Ludwig threw back his had and guffawed. “One is all I need, my dear fellow.”  He delivered this well-worn line with such gravitas that is took every ounce of Higgens’ self-control to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

“The prey,” Higgens said, “was dispatched two hours ago as you specified Sire.”

“Bully! A splendid lead! And he is a suitable candidate? I can’t abide another easy kill!”

“Oh, Sire! I believe you are in for a real treat. We have found a most spectacular specimen for you. He is a true woodsman! A master of his craft! He will be a truly worthy adversary!”

“Really?” Ludwig’s eyes sparkled with delight.

“Absolutely! Isn’t that right Sir Lawrence?”

The Sergent-at-arms blinked and put what was left of his acting skills to the test. “Humph?! Eh? Oh! Yes, quite! Woodsman, very sporting.”

“Splendid! Splendid!” Exclaimed the prince. “You know, I envy the poor bastards. I really do! The thrill of the chase! The rush of living so close to the edge! And then to die in a magnificent service to their Prince and county! It’s the stuff of poetry really.”

“You have the soul of a philosopher Sire. The Photographer is anxiously standing by.”

“Bully!” Ludwig repeated, “Then I shall be off! Gentlemen!”

“Happy hunting Sire!” Chorused the ministers.

At this time, it would be prudent to pause and reflect on what we know at this point: Ludwig believes he is has loaded rifle and he will be stalking, shooting and killing a peasant. Higgens and Lawrence believe that the prince’s gun has been loaded with a blank round and that he will be killing no one. Bernard believes that has given Ludwig a loaded gun and with it he will kill Montigue. Montigue believes that he will be doing a little light duty outdoors on a beautiful day, play acting and collecting a fat bonus in his pay. The People of Upper Cracotia believe that God is in his heaven and that their monarch is an utterly insane psychopath. Now that we have reacquainted ourselves with particulars, let us return to our narrative.

“How long has it been then?”

“Humph, eh, let’s see now, hmm, yes, one hour and forty-five minutes.”

Higgens exhaled and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he did. “Mmm, nearly finished then I imagine. Here’s hoping this satisfies the great loony for a while.”

“Here, here.” Lawrence agreed, lifting his teacup to his lips and draining it.

“Perhaps it’s time we started shopping around for heirs Lawrence.”

“Humph! Oh? Dear! Oh dear! Tad premature for that isn’t it? The prince is just barely in his forties.”

“Tut, don’t remind me” the weary Higgens said shaking his head. “It’s too risky not to have an heir and a spare as they say. It gives all the wrong people all the wrong ideas. We must find a suitable young noble man and name him as Ludwig’s official successor. With Ludwig’s blessing of course.”

“The Royal couple is young yet though, humph, humph! Eh, Can’t we allow nature to take it’s course? Everyone loves a royal baby?” 

“Ludwig has spilled his seed in enough fertile soil to have germinated a rainforest by now. Nothing. Not a single baby, legitimate or otherwise. If it were going to happen I daresay it would have by now. I think it’s more than his rifle firing blanks.”

“Oh? Mmm, Oh dear! That is unfortunate indeed.”

“Besides,” Higgens said, pouring himself more tea. “Even if were possible, do we really want to roll the dice on whatever offspring he’d produce?” He asked, shuddering as he did.

“Mmm! Oh! Dear! Oh Dear!” Lawrence said in alarm as he thought his over, shaking his head. Suddenly the midmorning calm was ripped asunder by a great CRACK! Making both man flinch and spring to their feet. The table rocked and then teetered over to the tiled floor as the did. 

“Good lord! What in god’s name was that?!” Higgens cried as he dashed to the balcony overlooking the hunting grounds.

“Forest! Eh, humph! Humph! Came from the forest! Look see the smoke? What the devil happened?”


As the two ministers were taking their tea and plotting the future of the monarchy in Upper Cracotia, Montigue was standing  in the forest, crouchng behind a bush and preparing to make himself seen. Up until now he had watched the ruler with amusement, giving way to pity and at last a form of numb dread. As he stood not fifty yards away, Ludwig threw himself to the forest floor to inspect meaningless bends in the grass, raised his head to sniff the air and cocked his head as if he could hear something. He wildly pointed his rifle at everything moving in the forest, shrieking in either fear or rage as he did.

“This is who God has given the right to rule the Kingdom?” Montigue asked himself, rolling his eyes in disgust. At last, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He cleared his throat loudly and Ludwig once again cocked his head towards the sound. He started to lumber out from behind the bush with theatrical slowness and throw his eyes about, giving off an aura of confusion and fear.

“Tallyho!” The prince cried triumphantly and took a absurd leap forward. “Thought you could outfox Ludwig the Indestructible, eh? Ha! Now meet your fate devil!”

This was Montigue’s que to freeze in place, splaying his arms and opening his mouth in a silent scream. Ludwig took another astonishing leap forward and again, closing the distance to no more than ten feet. He raised his rifle to his shoulder.

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