The kid asked what it was like to be a king. They were made king for the day. After a few hours the kid said it was absolutely no fun and by the end of the day? The kid was very glad they were not the king! -- Anon Guest
"Scuse me mister, are you th' king?"
Kosh had to lean to see who was speaking. Small for one of the Castle Boys, and very new to the uniform, too. He recognised the cowed hunch of a kid who'd been in one of Tansie's worse fosterhauses before his own reforms. Given that he wasn't wearing the Demon's Diadem, and only in house uniform, he could see why the tyke was confused. "Ja. I'm the king. Why do you need to know?"
"What's it like? Being in charge?"
"What's it like being a Castle Boy?" he countered.
"I dunno how it's different from nothin'," said the kid. Kosh finally matched their appearance and dimensions with his recent files. "Memblei Shaydden, ja?"
That shocked them. "You just know that?"
"I remember a lot of things. It does take me some time to put things together. And as you said, I don't know how it's different. What I can show you is a day. He got a fresh page and worked on it with a brush. Hurried jotting somehow resulted in an official license to follow the king on his duties for the day. "I start my day just before dawn, but you can arrive after breakfast at half past five of the clock."
"You have to get up at five in the morning?"
"Nein, I get up at four in the morning. It takes me an hour and a half to get to breakfast. Exercise, bathing, dressing, going through the schedule of the day..."
Memblei boggled. "If I was king, I'd lie in until noon."
"Only the worst kings do that," Kosh said. "Leaving the responsibility to brown-nosed yes men or vile sorts grasping for power they should never have. Nein. A good king keeps his eyes open and his mind sharp. Will I be seeing you at breakfast?"
Defiant determination. "Yes you will."
Memblei turned up while Kosh was still working on his food. Ember was reading the highlights from the news sheets while he and Delia worked their way through a balanced meal. They were grumpy and bleary-eyed but also bloody-minded enough to be there.
"Have you eaten today?" he asked. His usual first question to anyone smaller and more bereft than he was. Or at least smaller. He'd given the last meal he could afford to buy to someone he assumed was a child at the time.
"...'es?"
"A stolen cruller from the kitchens doesn't count as a meal. Have some sausage."
"Dear..." chided Delia. "We have enough trouble getting you to eat."
"I can stand the loss, liebe. Just one day."
She sighed, leveling a glare at him. One raised eyebrow was all it took for him to buckle.
"I'll make sure we both have a proper lunch." He nodded to his seneschal who did make a note. "And I'll eat it all."
"I'll make certain," she threatened. "Even if I have to feed you."
"One bright spot to my day," Kosh grinned. "Ready, kleine?"
Mouth full of sausage, Memblei nodded. They took a seat at Kosh's direction and listened attentively to the list of appointments. It was heading into winter, so most of it was inventory and store reports, but there was a judgement coming to his court before midday. Which meant he had to study the evidences and records before lunch.
Memblei was just old enough to read, and balked at the thick books of cases and evidence. Kosh could read much faster than they could. And he could catch the inconsistencies in the testimony and evidence. He made his own notes as he flicked through the pages. Some were drawings of connections. More a reminder for the shape of things than any true study.
He reached the appointed hour, made sure his hands were clean, and left for the throne room with a simple, "Gekkommen sie."
"You left the papers behind," said Memblei.
"I've read them, so I don't need them." The court were getting used to him having a little one tagging along, and thus drew no attention to Memblei as Kosh sat the more ordinary throne. Listening to the arguments that had been polished to a fine shine by all the appeals. He asked a few salient and disarming questions that caught the lawyers on the back foot, and made the petitioners blurt out things much closer to the truth. "Well, kleine? Any questions?"
Memblei shook their head.
"You sure? Lives are in the balance, and we have to make a judgement."
They startled at that. Realising that being king meant more than wearing gold and bossing people around. Realising, too, that lives in the balance was too much for a small child. "...i think i'd rather be a castle boy," Memblei squeaked.
"Not so good to be king," he said, and went through with passing judgement from the Blood Throne. When he stood from it, Memblei had returned to their normal duties, and was probably glad of it.
[Photo by Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash]
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