Saga Of The European King

They didn’t leave right away for the North. Even though Winter was growing harsher and colder – no doubt taking advantage in the delay to build its strength – the King had urgent business to attend to at the Capital before he could set off on his adventure again.

First, there was the town that Terrorthaw had used for his body. Everyone in the town was homeless now, and they were cold, hungry and making everyone sad. There were also eighteen thousand armed gypsies prowling around the lands of Europe that needed taking care of. The Devil wanted to renegotiate the alliance between Europe and Hell. The King had to make sure that the Capital City Of Europe couldn’t be sneakily attacked again, that David was taken better care of and that everyone knew about David’s designated wedding to Roxy Tripfoot. General Majesty was waiting to give his full report on his travels so far, he had to brief a scouting party to track down the ever-elusive Terrorthaw and Father Dominoes wanted a quiet word when the King wasn’t so busy. To top it all off, his girlfriend wanted a fancy dinner alone with him, and none of his friends were allowed to come. Not even David. It was so infuriating.

The King looked down at his plate and chewed his pizza in the most awesome way imaginable. He managed to crunch it, even though it was pizza and quite soft. Not only that, but he ground it to fine paste in just three chews. The King’s teeth were peerless in all of Medieval Europe. He had killed many men and gypsies with them, and no pizza was going to give them any bull. To make matters even worse for the pizza, the King was angry.
“So tell me what you guys got up to on your adventure,” asked the King’s girlfriend sweetly.
“Jesus.” Said the King. “You have no idea. There is just too much for me to tell you. We did so much stuff, almost all of which was awesome. I killed people. I can’t possibly explain it to you. It would be limiting, and destroy the whole experience.” The King’s girlfriend understood this, and went back to her pasta. In exactly sixteen seconds, she asked, “Did you sort everything out with the Devil?” At this, the King just went nuts. He jumped up on the table, kicked the crap out of his pizza and stamped his foot until the table broke in half and he was just standing there, surrounded by broken table and spilled pizza. Tears were streaming down his face. He was sad, and she knew it. Everyone in the restaurant knew it and they went quiet, out of respect for the sadness. “What’s wrong?” asked the King’s girlfriend, understanding him completely.
“He’s taking Father Dominoes!” wailed the King. “I’m never going to see him again! He’s going!” The King’s girlfriend shushed him then and gave him a long, understanding hug. Some of the King’s sadness diluted into his girlfriend and the mean average of their combined sadness was now low enough for the King to be able to speak again.

The meeting with the Devil had gone pretty well, up to a point. They had used the Grand Hall for the meeting, because it was the only room in the city big enough for the Devil to sit in. The King was wearing a special Ring Of Diplomacy, which gave him the ability to negotiate plus two. The Devil’s problem was that he wanted to leave Hell. He wanted to go home. He couldn’t do that until everyone in Hell loved the King and were then permitted to leave. What he wanted from the King was a complete rehauling of their alliance so that souls could be rehabilitated en masse. The first thing that needed to be done was to reorganize all of the doorways to Hell that were lying around Europe. Starting from the one just outside the Capital City, each doorway would lead to a pit full of more difficult demons than the last. The reason being that the King’s warriors would be able to go off on adventures and they would meet progressively more difficult demons the further they got from the city. The Devil, in turn, would be able to rank the souls in Hell along with the demons. So long as every European warrior slayed demons in the name of the King, word would get out in Hell about how awesome and cool the King was. Souls who already knew about the King and maybe even liked him a bit would be settled around the doorways that came out closer to the city, because they didn’t need so much convincing to love the King and so be allowed to leave Hell. Souls who had never heard of the King or were gypsies would be settled much farther away, so that they would hear of the totally badass and hardcore warriors who adventured far and hard, but also really loved the King and weren’t afraid to admit it while killing gigantic, awesome boss-demons. The downside to this ranking system for the King was that it would be impossible to travel through Hell to take shortcuts, because Hell was going to be all sectioned up and under construction for at least another century. The upside was that Europe would have better warriors on the whole and that the demons that came out of the doorways near cities would be easily beaten by any plucky boy with a wooden sword who was destined for greatness. There were a ton of those in every city in Europe. Also, when the Devil was done with Hell at some time in the future, the King would get claim to all of its lands, which were infinite. This was a pretty good deal, and the King kissed his Ring Of Diplomacy for landing it. There was a catch, though.

The Devil needed missionaries to preach the good name of the King within Hell itself. They would be led by the greatest and the goodest priest in all of Europe. At that point, Father Dominoes stepped out from behind a pillar and said, “Your Highness, I want to be the one to lead the missionaries into Hell. I want to save those poor souls. This is the reason I became a priest. Please, let me go with the Devil.”
“You want to go to Hell?” asked the King, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Yes. More than anything.” Replied Father Dominoes.
“How long will you be gone?” said the King.
“There are a lot of lost souls in Hell, my Highness. I cannot say.” Said Father Dominoes in a low voice.
“When will you come back?” asked the King, his voice rising high. Father Dominoes said nothing. He only looked at the Devil. The Devil looked down, unsure of what to say either. The King cried. He went up to his room and cried for half a day and then went to dinner at a fancy restaurant with his girlfriend.

“Don’t cry,” said the King’s girlfriend, understanding him. “It’ll be okay. He’s doing good work. You’ll see him again.”
“No I won’t!” burbled the King. He blew his nose, then cried again.

Everyone in the restaurant was sad for him, too.

End Of Chapter 19