Saga Of The European King

Travel was difficult in Medieval times. We've discussed this a few times in this story. The King had access to a magic reindeer and even he had to spend days travelling distances that we in the present day would laugh at. Plus, there were dangers and random encounters and thirst and it was generally a really big deal to go anywhere at all. People who were poor or lazy or had people they felt they had to look after often did not travel anywhere at all. None of these factors applied to Will Smith, however, since his superpower was being rich, he was raised in a can-do environment and his son was small and portable and adorable.

The Smith Expedition was the biggest operation that Roxy Tripfoot had ever seen. Remember that she was a gypsy who had lived quite some time before the Medieval Age. Even in Hell, where she had lived for a hundred years or so, she had never seen people congregate in groups of more than ten or so. There wasn't a lot to do in Hell, so people weren't motivated to get together and make stuff happen. That wasn't the way it was for the Smith Dynasty. Organising huge groups of people to do lots of little things that all added up to both achieve monumental works and keep the Smith family living in the utmost luxury. Will Smith had splashed out on this search for the King of Europe. He knew that the King could be a valuable business partner and could be paid to do all sorts of useful things for the good of the family. Here's how Will Smith, his son, Roxy Tripfoot, Bernadetta Leathervest, Axe Axewound and Astrid Gimmerleck travelled from Miami to the Mask Temple and then up through Mexico: They sat two apiece in spacious, cool carriages filled with board games, cards, dominoes, ice water and pastries. There were portholes lined up along the walls of the carriages, through which slaves would alternate between blowing cool air into the carriage with their mouths or singing sweet music. They would take requests and knew every song. There were comfortable beds that folded up into the walls and a wash-basin with a decent-sized cistern and equipped with many sensuous sponges.

The carriages were only one small segment of the leviathan centipede that was the Smith Expedition. They weren't even the head segment. They were somewhere near the middle. They were flanked on all sides by the Smith family's private mercenary army. They were mostly made up of Winnebagos. They rode beside their carriages twenty four seven – never seeming to take a break or sleep. In actual fact, they had their own, less fancy carriages near the back where they rested and swapped their shifts with those who had spent a while napping good and hard. The Winnebagos rode on llamas (a kind of weird camel-sheep) because they didn't have horses or donkeys or oxen or reindeer! Llamas made up a big part of the Expedition. They carried the staff and the bodyguards and the administrators and the messengers and the washer-women and the Winnebago's wives and the jugglers and the fire-breathers and the cooks and the map-makers and the Smith Dynasty shareholders and the people from the bank and the marketing department and everyone else. There was also a full complement of Chiricahua trackers who travelled far ahead of the bulk of the Expedition whose job it was to hunt the King down and give directions. They were on his trail.

“This King of yours is a fast mover. He's a good jogger, you know what I'm sayin'.” said Will Smith when he visited the carriage of Roxy Tripfoot and Bernadetta Leathervest. The slaves immediately started singing one of Will Smith's songs as he entered the carriage.
“He's lived out in the wilderness before,” said Roxy Tripfoot, who by now knew almost everything about the King's biography.
“Not this wilderness.” said Will Smith. “Ain't no wilder and badder back o' the woods than Mexico on a bad day.”
“Our King can survive any hardship this dusty little patch can throw at him.” said Bernadetta Leathervest while a slave blew on her face.
“How'd you know? You've never even met the guy!” screeched Will Smith. Bernadetta Leathervest shot him a cold and steely gaze.
“Everyone in Europe knows this about our King.” she said. “He loves us, so he tells us everything.” Will Smith laughed a hollow laugh at that.
“Lady, I come from a long line – a looong line, a'ight? - of Fresh Kings. And I can say with one hundred percent accuracy that it's an old Kingy trick to tell everyone that you love them and that you can survive out in an alien landscape without nothin' to eat and zero help at all.” said Will Smith.
“I can see why you were deposed.” she sniffed.
Man, Will Smith got burned!

Actually, the King had eaten a scorpion and a cottonmouth for breakfast and was sprinting across the desert thanks to Ba'al's Sprint spell. His plan was simple. He had a long, long way to go before he got to the President Of The United States' roost in the Spokane country. Ba'al was flying on the winds far above his head, getting the lay of the land. He would scout out all of the U.S tribes that suffered under the President's rule, talk to them frankly and turn them over to his side, which was the side of Europe. When he finally met the President he would kick his butt, annex his nation and take his armies up through Alaska to vanquish Winter forever. Then he would sail back to Europe, meet up with all of his Adventure Friends, take up his throne in Brussels and continue to be the greatest King in the world.

It was the perfect plan. Nothing could go wrong.

At that very moment, the President Of The United States was meeting with his Secretary Of Defence. The meeting was about the King. The King of Europe can't just stroll across the United States, killing wildlife, without the President being alerted.
“Our man in the Smith Expedition reports that the trackers are on his trail. He is moving very swiftly, but the Expedition is very well-prepared.” said the Secretary Of Defence. The President Of The United States shifted his huge bulk uncomfortably.
“His friends – irritant factor – within our power?” he whispered telepathically.
“We have an agent watching every carriage, sir.” said the Secretary. “Colonel Glowfist – the archmage – was killed in a swamp in Florida. He was the most dangerous of them.”
“Pleased. Invasion fleet – preparation of – on schedule.” hummed the President.
“We should be ready to invade Europe by next Spring, sir.” said the Secretary.
“Kiss me.” said the President. The Secretary Of Defence did not hesitate. She hoisted herself up the Feeding Ladder and scored the President as passionately and as fiercely she could, which was huge. They made love then. It took many hours and was very dangerous, but that only made it all the sweeter. Their desires replete, the Secretary dressed and returned to her office. She was smiling all the way down the hallway. It had taken years, but there was not a doubt in her mind that the President was completely under her control. She found that she had fresh smoke signal reports in from her pet agent in the CIA. They had been transcribed for her by an underling and told her that her son was well – he and the fat archmage had killed a monstrous alligator chief that had been pestering a nearby tribe. They were recuperating with the tribe's medicine man that night.

Oranje was so very proud of David. She knew that he would soon be a fine King, with his sister at his side and the power of the United States behind him. Oranje sat back in her swivel chair and sighed a happy sigh. It was the perfect plan. Nothing could go wrong.

End Of Chapter 71